Technical Difficulties

So I know enough about computers to be dangerous...to myself. In my efforts to "secure" my laptop, I accidently did some things to make it so secure I can't access my internet. Or connect my camera. Or download things. And apparently I am not the administrator to my laptop-which I bought and paid for several years ago- to UNDO all these things. Soooo, I am not sure when I will be back to blogging. 

I am going through all my files/ pictures and backing them up --thank goodness I can still burn CD's on my computer. Once this is complete I am going to take it to a computer guru in hopes we can undo what I did. If not, we will wipe out the hard drive and start over.

Yes--I did try a system restore point--No Go. I followed instructions for the program I installed (which is Spy Bot, btw) and the problem is the administrator thing. I truly have no clue as to why I am not my own administrator. Not sure if it was due to when it was repaired several years ago and the tech changed something but then didn't change it back. Siiiggghh.

In the interim, I will be lurking about reading everyone else's blogs on a tiny 3 x 5 inch tablet screen.  Maybe this will be a good thing. Maybe being "unplugged" will force me to work on more projects. Right?

The one where I nearly scare myself to death...

It was a mistake to venture outside only partially awake and without my glasses. But 3 dogs and 1 cat were quite persistent they needed to heed nature's call. I flung on a coat, slipped on boots and fumbled around for leashes. I allowed myself to be pulled by the dogs to the backyard. I managed to hook them to their tie out cables after only a few episodes of dropping the lines into the muddy-melting snow muck accompanied by some well deserved curse words.

As I am standing (really more like half asleep swaying) waiting for them to finish, something in my blurry line of vision catches my attention. Panic sets in and I begin screeching like a banshee. There is a huge hulking dude wearing  blue coveralls by the garage skulking  around. As I take off hauling ass to the house (sorry it is everyone woman and animal for themselves), I simultaneously realize several things...

1. The dogs are definitely not barking
2. No one is giving chase
3. Maybe...just maybe... I didn't see what I thought I had seen...After all it could have been my neighbor, right? Except he isn't huge and hulky...

So after a short respite-- where my legs no longer felt like jello, the cold stab of fear receded from my stomach and  I was no longer sucking wind--I found my glasses and ventured back outside to take a look. I was feeling fierce as I had my cellphone with 911 dialed in and  waiting for me to press send.

I cautiously creep around the back of the garage, my heart hammering so loudly it has to be audible to the psycho, lurking mccreepster in the back yard. On my way I pick up a metal shepherds hook. Armed and I ready I leap around the garage with a fierce "A-HA"!

Except nothing is there. Ok well nobody is there but there is a something. It turns out my gut wrenching panic attributed to a murderous maniac  lurking in my yard,  was merely my blurred myopic mistake . What exactly did I see?..the wood rack. Covered in a blue tarp. Oh yes, it is true...I am certifiable.

THIS. This is what nearly made me pee my pants from fear...So yeah...

This is what happens when a woman --who is half blind, has an overactive imagination (fueled by a late night reading of a murder mystery book) and on some days  may be of questionable sanity-- is left to her own devices. Don't say you weren't warned...

The Dress Shirt Debacle

Happy Friday Y'all!

It is a sunshiny (albeit chilly) day here in Ohio. I made a pilgrimage to Kohl's to deal a with what is now called the dress shirt debacle. Just hang with me while I veer off on a slight tangent. Um you may want to go get yer diet coke or coffee 'cause I am gonna yammer on for a bit! 

The hubbs had a recognition ceremony to attend this week for his 15th work anniversary. The problem, as it were, he no longer fits (chubby hubby or as our daughter calls him--Fatty McDaddy, haha) into his beautiful and expensive  black suit that we purchased 2 years ago for our daughter's wedding. And yes- he only has 1 suit because the hubbs is strictly a non suit wearing kinda guy with the rare exceptions of walking his baby girl down the aisle, being a pallbearer for a funeral and in this case, his recognition ceremony.

Well, we are on a tight budget with me still not working and going to school full time. So I needed to find him a suit that didn't look cheap but wasn't going to bust the bank account.  I checked around a few stores and everything was too darn pricey.  I decided to check Kohl's because they tend to carry a nice selection of reasonably priced items. It was my lucky day! Mix and match suit separates were buy one and get the second piece for an additional dollar. A dollar makes ya' holler! Oh crap-I totally just channeled Honey Boo-Boo.

 I found him a a nice Navy Blue suit jacket and pants. I had a choice of blue, black, brown or grey. It turns out the blue was the set I found in his size (46L jacket and 36/34 dress slacks). The hubbs is tall and broad in shoulders and looks mighty fine when dressed up, haha. So ANYWAY (shesh this is a long story) I found him a nice tie, new dress socks and a pinstripe dress shirt (18 1/2). Cool right? Wrong!

The dress shirt fit great in the arms and shoulders but billowed like a tent everywhere else. It seems I knew nothing about buying a man's dress shirt. So the next day I went back to Kohl's and found the same dress shirt in a size 17. Easy peasy even exchange. I came home gave it to the hubbs and thought all was right with the world.

The next morning the hubbs is tapping my shoulder at 7am  to wake me. Mind you I am a bit delirious because I had not gone to bed until 4am. I had stayed up late to study for my exam, I barely remember staggering up the stairs to fall into a sleep like the dead. So there I am, all squinty and bleary eyed, as he is yammering on about the shirt not fitting. WHAT?!  The hubbs ceremony is scheduled at noon...crap crap crap! Sure enough--his arms and wrists were sticking out the shirt sleeves like he was a gangly long limbed teenager. URGH! Panic...

So yeah, apparently I didn't know there other numbers indicating the shirt size-which I found out was the neck size the followed by the arm length. Well then...it seems I had bought a 17 (34/35). I convinced the hubbs to go to work wearing  a white dress shirt sans tie so I can either get the correct sized dress shirt or a new tie that works with the navy blue suit and white dress shirt without making him look like he stepped of the good ship lollipop. "Don't worry", I tell him, "I will meet you at your work in an hour-you will have plenty of time to get ready  before you need to leave."

So I jump out of bed, run through the shower, grab the shirt and receipt,corral the dogs, let the cat out,  head to my car to take off to Kohl's when I realize I don't know what time they open. I run back in the house, tripping over dog toys AND dogs , make my way to the laptop, impatiently wait for it to  power up, log on, pull-up the website and yeeeesss-I am in luck-they open at 8am. I look at the clock it is 7:45am. Sweet, I have plenty of time.

I take a few minutes to refold the shirt, make sure I have the receipt and then realize there are no tags on the shirt.  Oh no! Where are they?  I call the hubbs to ask what he had done with the tags. In the trash...arrggg! So here I am, gloved up, picking through banana peels and coffee grounds (Thank goodness the trash had been emptied the evening before) and I ask myself 2 questions. 1. Why isn't the hubbs composting those like I asked him to? and 2. Is this really worth it? Then I remember it is a $30 shirt so, yeah, totally worth it.

After wiping of the coffee grounds and putting the tag in snack sized zip lock baggie (it was in the trash after all),  I finally arrive at Kohl's and hope I can get  the situation fixed pronto. I must say I am feeling a little weird because here I  am3 days in row- going to the same Kohls- for a dress shirt. I was convinced they were gonna call security on me because they thought I was pulling a scam.

When  reach customer service, it s the same lady who had done my exchange the day before.  I stammer through my apologies feeling every bit of an idiot. It turns out they did not have the same dress shirt in the hubbs size. So I found a new tie, took it to the hubbs and was relieved to be done with the entire debacle.

His recognition went well. He had a great meal, an award and the best part? The hubbs was awarded gift cards (Target-which he gave to me-yay!) and he was awarded a big fat bonus (which he kept, haha)!  Everything worked out but the next time I go shopping it will NOT be be for the hubbs, definitely NOT for a dress shirt and am pretty sure -thanks to the  gift cards-I foresee a trip to Target. sheesh

Going Postal

I was on the naughty list for the post office. Not naughty enough to be on a wanted poster or be charged with crimes by the postmaster general. My mail was stopped because of one of my dogs.  Tovah to be specific. She was un-tethered (with me), at least 20 feet away from the post carrier (who arrived an hour and half early) and she barked at the carrier.

I told Tovah to "SIT" (she did) and I clipped her on her line. I immediately apologized to carrier, indicating she had caught us off guard because she was early and she said it was no big deal. Cool. Except it wasn't cool. She reported me. And they stopped my mail service!

Does this look like the face of a troublemaker?

Except I didn't KNOW they had stopped my mail service until after a week of no mail when I called. This is when I was informed of everything.  I asked them WHY I wasn't informed earlier of the issue and they told me they sent me a letter.

THEY SENT ME A LETTER...BUT THEY HAD STOPPED MY MAIL SERVICE! 

DOOOHHH! (That is our tax dollars at work folks.)

I was not happy, obviously, but need my mail service. I asked what was I required to do. I was told to write a letter indicating my dogs would be tethered.  No problem!  A short time later I take my happy ass over to the post office to deliver the letter and get my mail. THEN I was informed  , tethering the dogs wasn't good enough. I need to either move my mailbox or rent a PO box. WHAT??!! Suffice it to say I was FURIOUS! 

How I felt

According to the post mistress, the carrier felt "threatened".  The reason I am so angry is because there are dogs constantly running loose on my street and the next street over. ONE TIME I am caught off guard with one un-tethered and I am punished. 

There is a back story for all of this. This particular carrier has had a multitude of issues. She has complained there was snow on the path (when it was still snowing). She has complained the stepping stones were slick (the same morning we had sleet). She complained my dogs frightened her by jumping up on the inside of a LOCKED storm door--yes that is right they were inside my house at the time--and she complained. 

All she had to do is talk to me. Be reasonable. I would have made accommodations. Instead things escalated to the point of hostility. I would never downplay work safety or the potential for an aggressive dog. ANY dog can become aggressive given a particular set of circumstances.  Yes, it is true my dog was not tethered at that moment but I had been running her in the back yard. We were 20 feet away. I had control of the situation. Tovah only barked. She was excited from running and there was someone in the yard. (According to my neighbor, a complaint was also made about their 14 year old toothless dog being vicious...guess if he could hobble that far he could gum her leg...)

So back to the post office I went, to to lock horns with the post mistress, who suggested I fence my back yard. Gee why didn't I think of that? Unfortunately that is not on the top of my MUST do list. That is a would be nice to do when when I have a few extra thousand dollars kind of project.  We argued over where the mailbox would be located. The carrier wanted it on a post by the road. Not gonna happen. Turns out we can't do that anyway because on one side of the property there are water and gas lines (so we can't dig there). On the other side of the driveway it is the neighbors property. Our previous mailbox location was on the house (on the porch) but our porch sets further back than the neighbors. 

The only place we could move it was the end of the carport (which is the opposite side from original location). There is a line of sight from the road for the mail carrier, a line of sight from my living room window and even better for me-I can get my mail without going through the house first to get to the main entry (since we use the back door off the carport).

The driveway is shabby and on our never-ending list of repairs!

Although I did discover a slight issue with this location (on this lovely second day of Spring). I think I may need to install a clear deflector (not sure what the correct term is) to protect the mail from getting wet during driving rain or snow. The hubbs had planned on "toenailing" a board between the studs so the mailbox sets flush instead of recessed.  Maybe that wouldn't be the best ideal after all...

We need to spruce it up a little. I am not sure how yet. Maybe painting the interior wall of the carport? We will add some new house numbers over the carport. Reflective ones? Or maybe I can talk the hubbs into adding a solar spot light. and I can order some snazzy french enamel sign house numbers

Traditional House Numbers by Other Metro Ramsign

Or how about this?

Traditional House Numbers by Other Metro Furniture And Accessories Pottery Barn

Or this?

Traditional House Numbers by Other Metro Ballard Designs

Regardless we are gonna roll with it. The funniest thing when the mail was delivered Monday-we had a new mail (male) carrier, he said he was taking over this route for a while. Then he wanted to know why the mailbox moved....

Winter blahs

I have the winter blahs...or maybe the I just turned 46 and am unemployed blahs...

I don't have a good reason to be depressed--I just am. I am fortunate in many ways--we have a little savings, a cozy little house, the hubbs has job security, we don't know hunger and mostly are in good health...Am I just whining and feeling sorry for myself?

I am still getting up to go to school but that is about it. No socializing, my house is a wreck, and I have no motivation.  All I want to do is sleep. In the last month I have found myself close to tears for absolutely no good reason, especially since I am not a crying kind of gal...

I need to make repairs from the destructive puppy--eating my office chair, my curtains, chewing the corner of my step and peeling slivers of wood from the floor--not kidding! And no he was not harmed after doing all this--good thing he is so cute. And btw--he ate my Kohl's credit card so I couldn't even do therapy shopping!

I need to go buy the supplies for the dining room flooring update--plywood, adhesive and linoleum. I am worried if I spend the money these items will just sit in garage with all the other unfinished projects.

You see it isn't just me. The hubbs is worn out as well. Maybe we need a nice vacation. Someplace not cold, gray and dreary. We talk about it...ALOT... but then like so many other things in life it languishes and is quietly pushed to the recesses of our minds.

We are practical people. We think about who will take care of the animals, how all that money could be spent on the house or stay in safely in savings and let the spark of spontaneity wither. 

It is a vicious  cycle of broken  dreams, high hopes, and  indecision.

Is it just me? Is it the events of the past year finally catching up with me--the loss of my job--my identity and and my father dying-perhaps? Is it SAD-Seasonal Affective Disorder? Is it something worse? 

Typically I pick myself up by my bootstraps, give myself a stern talking to and soldier on. I am embarrassed for writing this and and have thought more times than I can count about deleting the post. But maybe the first step is to say it out loud and ask for help. Or at the very least acknowledge things aren't normal...

Are any of my bloggy friends out in bloggyland sad? Overwhelmed? Lonely? Struggling?  Because if you are--I know what you are going through. Maybe we can get though it together.

Thanks for letting me vent spill my guts.

A new chapter in life

Oh My Goodness! Life has been so crazy of late. I have been dealing with many family issues (a terminally ill father, my ill mother, my daughter who broke her foot), try to finish harvesting my garden, canning and preserving my harvest and finally--getting ready to go back to college.

EHRMEHGAWD!! In less than 8 hrs I will officially be a full time college student....again.  I am a bundle of nerves. 

I wonder how long it will be before this happens

(I totally made this meme, haha)

I know this will  be me by the end of the week (me as pensive and surrounded by books. Not young and pretty--if  only!)

So wish me luck as I begin a new chapter of my life!

Time is fleeting

The last several weeks have been an emotional roller coaster. I received a call that my biological father is stage 4 lung cancer. It is a grim prognosis. He has been given 3 to 6 months to live. As my stepmother told me this admist the tears and breaking voice, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I was immediately overwhelmed with a plethora of emotions. Shock, anger, disbelief, and sadness. My heart is so burdened.

You see-- my parents divorced when I was 5. My dad  remarried and had 3 boys. Due to geography (they lived in Florida for a short time) and life,  I really didn't get much time with my dad, step-mom and brothers. Everything was always so busy. Life was moving at an accelerated pace and their never seemed to be time to foster a relationship. To reconnect. To talk. To laugh. To share stories. To make memories.

Me- the Christmas  (1971) before parents divorced 

I always believed we would have time to do all these things. And that phone call changed everything. And if losing my dad isn't hard enough, my mom is also very poor health. It is a difficult realization to know this is the year that I could lose both parents. It doesn't matter that I am 45--I still want  my mommy and daddy!

My mom preggers with me (1966). This also explains my love of dogs, haha

Me and my dad (1984)

Life is fragile and time is fleeting. Someday all you are left with is faded memories and tattered photos. Whatever hurts you are hanging on to, let them go. Someday arrives sooner than expected and you may  never get another chance to make amends, to make memories, and to learn your history.  A life filled with regrets is not a life.

And regrets? Yeah, I have them. I am sorry that I didn't make a better effort to know my dad. I'm sorry that I was angry at BOTH my mom and dad for things I obviously had no control over and not understanding the intrinsicies of their failed relationship. I am sorry I didn't get to know my brothers. I am sorry I didn't ask the questions for which I long to have answers. I am sorry I don't know my history.  I am sorry I felt like I didn't belong or fit in. 

So what have I learned from this painful wallop life has given me? My foolish pride, my anger, and my insecurities robbed me of something I can't replace....time. That I can't change my past but I can change my future. Let go of the hurt. Reach out. Apologize. Forgive. Accept. 


Today I took those tentative steps.  I met up with my dad, my step-mom and my 3 brothers for the first time in nearly 12 years.  It was a bittersweet reunion. I took some pictures (which I am not ready to share). I listened to the stories. I hung onto every every word, committing it to memory, along with the raspy gravelly sound of my dad's voice. 


I made myself hold it in and not cry...at least until I began the hour drive home. I am sure there are more tears to come. I just hope somewhere during this journey I find the answers that I seek. That I find the way back to my parents. That I find myself. And that I find the clarity to sharpen the hazy memories in my mind and next to those are new memories. Good memories. Filled with laughter. And always love.

Can I get a do-over?

Hey y'all. I am having a bummer kind of day. A terrible Tuesday

 I went and took my math placement test since I am going back to school and  I kinda choked on it. UGH! I mean I took Calculus the first time I was in college. (Not saying I did well in it--but I passed it) I worked as a Chemist for 20+ yrs, so math was kinda required for that. I am embarrassed to say they want  me to take Algebra. Apparently in the state of Ohio any math class older than 2 yrs, you have to test and take a new class. Ummm, I wonder if they will let me re-test? To say I face-palmed would be an understatement.

I broke the corner of  of a mirror I was working on. I sure don't need 7 yrs bad luck. Not that I am superstitious or anything--(as I toss salt over my shoulder). I think it will be ok though because the frame covers the crack.

Then I went to the store and my wallet wan't in my purse!! (It had fallen out in the car...phew)

I got lily pollen on my favorite t-shirt and it won't wash out. I found a website that offers instructions on how to remove it--hope it works!

http://www.howtocleanstuff.net/how-to-remove-flower-pollen-from-washable-fabrics/

I managed to get thorns my hand when I was pulling weeds. It was two-fold. Prickles from prickly lettuce and rose thorns.

And something is wrong with AC on my car. Wonder if I will need to get a new one...

Seriously I need a do-over today!

The dog and banana bread debacle

I would like to tell a little story of a dog. A very cute dog who is very spoiled and most times very sweet. Except she is really, REALLY needy. As in I feel like she is connected to me by some invisible tether.

This is the dog in question, Tovah. I wasn't kidding when I said there was a major cute factor...

So here's what happened...yesterday I was making Choco-chip Banana bread. I opened the oven about 50 minutes into the baking time to check the breads (I always make 2 at a time). Just as I was pulling our 1 loaf  to check and rotate the pans, I stepped back AND onto Tovah. There was a LOUD YIP! (from her), obscenities (from me) and like the Goliath slain giant I was going down...hard.

Somehow I managed to NOT burn myself, break the glass pan,(or my neck) OR kill my dog after I landed over and on her. Although I can't guarantee it didn't register on the Richter scale. Can you imagine the geeky geologists manning their seismic activity stations?--Holy Crap-It's the BIG one in Southwestern...Ohio... Suffice it to say there was a HORRENDOUS mess because the bread was not finished baking.

Because not only was there partially baked banana bread goo everywhere, the incident literally scared the piss out of my dog. So there was a trail of piss (not counting my trail of tears as I limped, hobbled and cussed) dragging the mop and bucket with me to clean it up.

Unfortunately there is no photo of the banana bread goo. I had to clean it up before my dog Chubbs (aka the canine garbage disposal) tried to help. Because that would have resulted in a different kind of mess completely. And besides the resulting mess sorta reminded me of a particular night in my early 20's involving to much Bacardi 151, raisinettes and peanut butter cookies. I didn't eat either again for probably 15 years. So yeah you kinda get the visual. No one wants to see that....


Today I feel like I was the heavy bag used by Tony (aka KRYPTONITE)  Lopez, 2012 MMA Heavyweight champion


My backside is more tender than a prime rib on the early bird special. The bruises will soon exhibit all their technicolor glory of purple, blue green and yellow. Maybe even  art canvas worthy. As for my dog--she is still cute, very annoying but much quicker to step away from me. Although in the future I think I will put up the baby gate across the kitchen. And the worst part of this debacle--I kinda lost my appetite for the sole survivor loaf of banana bread. And that's kinda crumby....

That's right folks I am here all week!

The one where I give myself a concussion

I have said it before and I will say it again. I am a walking, talking disaster. How I have managed to not kill or at the very least maim myself I will  never know. Although I came pretty close this time. While in the garage cleaning I managed to kabong myself on the head with an iron plant holder.

This is the offending weapon

The re-enactment

I think I actually dented my head. OMG it hurts! My hubbs said "look--you bent the stake on your plant holder. See-you do have a hard head."  He is such an asshat! And I am pretty sure the stake was already bent on it. I think so...maybe...

The good news is this side of the garage went from this

To this

At least some progress was made before I caused irreparable brain damage to myself. When I can actually chew and raise my eyebrows without my head hurting, then I will resume work on the garage . Until then I am sitting in my recliner with an ice pack on my head and double vision. And no I am not listening to Foreigner. I really have wonked out vision. I hate being short. And clumsy. And having a bruisy goose egged noggin.

In my next life I want to be tall. And not clumsy.  (And while I am at it-- thin, rich and gorgeous isn't to much to ask for, right?)