Monday, September 30, 2013

Monday Meh, Too Much of a Good Thing edition


I've always loved learning, being a student, and BOOKS! But here, in the last semester of my M.A. program, it's all a little too much. As long as everthing goes according to plan, though, I'll be DONE just before Thanksgiving.

Crap - that only gives me 2 months to read & write all I need to read & write!           

Sunday, September 29, 2013

A Supposedly Profitable Thing I'll Never Do Again

   
Yesterday our household had a yard sale, and we divested ourselves of much clutter, outgrown toys, books, dusty knick-knacks, and the usual crap that yard salers hope to pass on to passing strangers in exchange for a few dollars. Whatever intellikid and I didn't sell is now loaded in the back of my car, to be dropped off at at charity thrift shop tomorrow. My mother hardly sold any of her stuff -- a table of Christmas ornaments, some pottery  http://youtu.be/HOEnj89XnA4

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Wienerdog Wednesday, Ooh-la-la edition


Animal lover, movie star, and iconic sex symbol Brigitte Bardot is pictured here with her wienerdog buddy. Let's wish Brigitte an early Happy Birthday - she'll turn 79 on Saturday. Woof!

Monday, September 23, 2013

Monday meh, Best Face Forward edition


This is my Monday face.  Especially on Mondays when I've been awake since 4:15.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

It's Only A Number

Not my bed.
What's my sleep number? I need a new bed. I've needed one for some time, actually, but I keep finding excuses not to spend the money, or the money disappears from my bank account altogether. Nevertheless, having spent last month's vacation sleeping on beds of much more recent vintage than my own, which was purchased during the Regan administration, I have to acknowledge that I can no longer attribute my morning aches and pains to "sleeping wrong"  or mere aging. For once, it's not me -- it's definitely the bed.

I did spend a recent couple of hours mattress-testing, but was overwhelmed by the myriad options and, of course, the price tags. Do I want a pillow top? Plush or plush-firm? Memory foam with -- or without -- the cooling gel option? How much sleep will I lose by plunking down a whole month's pay on a new mattress and box spring, no matter how heavenly it feels to lie down on such a bed in the showroom? And then there's the matter of size. I currently have a queen, but would it make more sense, economically, to downsize to a full set, or would the need to purchase new bedding cancel out any savings? 

Alas, my bed-mate, Scooter Pie, doesn't really care what sleeping surface she uses, as long as she gets her half, so no help there. And -- here's where it gets kind of sad -- I caught myself thinking, maybe one day I'll be sharing the bed with a bigger-than-dachshund-sized dog, so I'd best stick with the queen sized set. No, no --  it's not sad that I'm acknowledging Scooter Pie's certain demise one of these days. It's sad that I no longer entertain even the prospect of entertaining a human in my bed. 

Or it was sad, for a bit, until I realized that I really don't care anymore. I no longer peruse the profiles on Match.com, GreenSingles.com, or even that site for those of us aged 50-plus. I used to log on to the singles sites much the same way I would go shopping online, optimistic that I would find something that fit, and if I tried something that didn't work for me, I could always send it back. Any hopefulness I would experience has  been replaced with the realization that, no matter how far beyond my own zip code here in Bubbaville I look, I'm not going to find love on an online dating site. But that's okay -- I know that there's nothing for me at Victoria's Secret, too, so I'm not going to waste my time even looking either place.

As for stumbling across a prospective mate in real life, well, that hasn't yielded any better results. Sure, there's that separated guy in my building at work who said he missed me when I was on vacation, compliments my smile, and even brought me some chocolates the other day; but in my book, separated isn't single and, in spite of his decidedly attractive cerebral qualities, he's really not all that when it comes to his views on god and guns. Some things I just can't compromise on. And anyway, since my hormones have pretty much packed up and left, these days the only stirrings in my loins happen when I'm too far from a restroom after having a second cup of coffee in the morning.

Having realized that my sleep number is a one, though, doesn't make the prospect of mattress shopping any easier. Maybe I'll take Scooter Pie along next time.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Wienerdog Wednesday, Relativity Edition



Evidently the physics-defying properties of dachshunds captured ol' Albert Enstein's imagination. And speaking of relativity, resident wienerdog Miss Scooter Pie had her 14th birthday earlier this week. Long dogs have long lives, apparently!

Monday, September 16, 2013

Monday meh, Aaaaahhh-chooo! edition

I have a cold. Meh. Hope your Monday sees you feeling well. 

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Wienerdog Wednesday


It doesn't seem logical, but Leonard Nimoy is a dachshund lover, too!

Monday, September 9, 2013

Monday meh, WTF edition


I have no idea what's going on here -- but I'm okay with that.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

A Different Point of View



A number of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to exchange my rain-soaked view (see previous post) for something much better when friends in Canada welcomed me along on their vacation to picturesque Lake Chandos, a couple hours northeast of Toronto. I had been planning a couple days' "staycation" once my summer responsibilities for the Institute ended, but screw that -- I decided that everyone at home could fend for themselves while I vacated northward to relax and reboot. 

Back home now, I'm trying to hold on to some shreds of my vacation-induced zen while enduring the dysfunctionality and disaster that make up my work days, also getting through this final semester of study for my M.A. degree (which hopefully is the ticket out of the former!), and last but not least, balancing the appropriate measures of patience, supportiveness, and ass-kicking that my daughter requires to get her back on the path to becoming an independent adult. So far, so good, but it's only the second week of September. 

Here at home I may not have a lake just outside my door, but I do have a new perspective, I think, focused less on what I need to do for others, and more on what I want -- and, dare I say it, NEED -- to do for myself. Imagine that....

Now, if the dog would only realize that she doesn't need to have breakfast at 4:30 a.m....