Still Pathetic, Different Reason...Kind Of

A whole 2 days earlier than I could get in to an insurance covered eye doctor I was able to get an appointment at Wal Mart, and because I am incredibly patient I took the Wal Mart appointment. While waiting for my appointment I decided it would be an excellent idea to get contacts. Now mind you, I can't even watch someone touch an eye on television, so why I thought I could not only touch my eye, but purposely put something in it, I have no idea--none whatsoever.

It started out pretty well. The technician was very patient with me while I repeatedly closed my eyes *just* before getting the contact in my eye. After about 15 minutes, I managed to get one in. Then, I had to do it again. The second one didn't take so long, but I still had several missteps. I was thrilled! I managed to actually get the contacts in my eyes...both of them, even!! Then she gave me the horrible, terrible news. I had to learn to take them out. Take them out?! I just managed to get them in! But I did it. I took them out. Well, I took one out anyway. And, I managed to get it back in.

I left, went to the glasses area, and ordered a pair. You know, just in case, my eye gets irritated or something, but that wasn't going to happen, but I knew I should have a pair for "an emergency". After ordering my glasses, I went to the jewelry department because now I can have more than one pair of sunglasses, and I needed them to drive home. Cool.

I went home, and spent the day randomly trying go adjust my glasses that were not there. I was reveling in my new found freedom from the lens. No more smudges. No more fogged up lenses. No more rain on the glass. Until, I started to get tired. Then I rubbed my eyes. Not good. Apparently, if you rub your eyes with contacts the contact pops right out. Hmmmm. Didn't think of that. Ok, it's alright. I can learn to not rub my eyes. Really, I can. Then, I did it again. I decided to leave them out for the night, and start again in the morning.

Thaaat went well...NOT! It took me for.ev.er to get the contacts back in my eyes. Not only that, but, as hinted at by the name of my blog, I can be a bit obsessive. My new obsessive thought? I was going to miss something while washing my hands, and I was going to transfer a virus to my eyes, and then I was going to have to have people put things in my eyes. In them! I had to puuush that thought back. Way back.

Later that day, we went shopping. My eyes hurt. I felt like I had an eyelash in them, and I was getting sick to my stomach. I could not wait to get them out. Except I would have to wait. Because I could NOT get them out. I tried. I panicked. I gave up. I tried, again. Repeat and repeat again. I finally get them out, and I put them away for the day. Determined to try again later.

Then that obsessive thing comes in to play again. See, between every try I was washing my hands. Which would be great if it weren't for the fact that I am allergic (sensitive?) to anti-bacterial soap. I woke up in the middle of the night with my fingers so red and swollen that I could barely get my wedding rings off, and so itchy that I had to slather them with hydrocortizone cream. Not fun.

The good new is that when my new glasses came in about 2 weeks later, the skin was almost completely healed on my fingers. Oh, that, and I chose glasses that I really, really like, and not just some "they are ok, but they are not really going to be used so get the cheapest ones" glasses. Sometimes, *I* don't even know how well I know myself.

Yesterday I signed my own death warrant

Also known as joining a gym. Not only did I join a gym, but I prepaid for 4 months because we are moving, and they usually only do 1 or 2 year contracts. The exception: military. Thank you Anytime Fitness. I really wanted to wait procrastinate until we moved...got a house...unpacked...settled...died to join a gym, but since the gym was willing to work with our short term status they took away my second best excuse (first best being this pesky herniated disk that refuses to heal).

Today I took the first steps (no pun intended)to serve that warrant. I actually went to the gym. Wisely, (<--- I don't get to say that much), I went immediately after dropping Brendan off at the fire station. Do not go home. Do not use brain cells. Only listen to the radio and drive blindly to the gym or torture chamber. You choose. It is only semantics anyway. I managed to survive 15 minutes on the elliptical. My heart rate was too high at 195, so my mini goal right now is to work up to 20 minutes by Monday, and to get my heart rate down. I'm not sure what is a reasonable time for that one, though, so I will go will by the end of next week. Hmmm. I will have to do some research on that one.

So far the gym costs are $285 per visit. I guess I will have to go more because, well I don't know anyone who gets paid $1200 per hour - much less anyone living in this house!

Really, Louisiana??

I have always heard stories of cities shutting down because of bad weather. Bad weather being relative to the area. I've live in places where schools were shut down because of the threat of snow, and having just moved from South Dakota, I was not impressed.

Obviously, though, they had to take into account the areas ability to clear the roads, and, I hope, the bus drivers' and others' ability to drive in ice and snow, so while South Dakota would have scoffed, it was probably best for Virginia.

Louisiana, however, takes the cake! Today we are in a winter storm warning status. When we woke up this morning there was some sleet, and a little ice on the sidewalks. The road were wet. Brendan was scheduled for his first behind the wheel driving class at 8:00 am. At 7:30 the instructor called to see if we still wanted him to drive today. Since it wasn't too bad. The roads were not icy, and visibility was good we decided to let him go ahead and drive.

While Brendan was in his 2 hour driving class, Michael and I went to breakfast. The couple behind us was talking about how they went to church, but services were canceled due to weather. The waitresses were talking to regulars about staying home if you don't need to go out, and one person mentioned that interstate 220 was closed. No way! We had to have heard that wrong. Maybe there was an accident, and a lane was closed. Surely they had not closed an interstate when the only thing going on so far was sleet that had already changed to rain.

After eating breakfast we made a quick trip to Lowes to pick up some materials for a project I am working on, and then decided to run home for a few minutes before driving back to pick up Brendan. Near Lowes is the entrance to the 220. That is when we saw it. A sign, “Road Closed”. Really, road closed. We just about fell off of our seats. Good thing we had on our seat belts. This road is a 17 to 18 mile bypass around Shreveport. It is pretty much a straight shot—well, a giant curve shot that seems straight because the curve is so wide. It actually seems more dangerous to have that road closed since now you have more stops and traffic on wet roads to get from Haughton to Bossier to Shreveport.

After we picked up Brendan we went to the Dollar Tree to pick up some newspapers. They were supposed to be open, but the key holder wasn't there, yet. Why? Because 220 was closed, and she had to find a way through city streets to work. After we finally got in, the shelves where food goes were almost empty. Really empty.

I understand wanting to be prepared. I understand wanting to stay home in cold, bad weather, but really. It is not that bad. No need to panic people. Can I just say, I am sooo happy to not be working in grocery right now?!

At this rate, I am expecting a school closing announcement for tomorrow by dinner time tonight!

BTW: Brendan, did great. He was worn out after 2 straight hours of driving, and had no desire to drive home, but he felt good about it, and the instructor only gave us a couple things for him to work on between now and his next class.

I'm Not the Only One Who Has Blonde Moments

I have a habit of speaking before thinking things through. I also tend to be a bit on the gullible side.

Case in point: In high school I was on the swim team. My boyfriend was on the track team. One day he was telling me about track meets, and somehow the conversation came around to the people needed to run a meet. He was listing off volunteer positions, and in the middle of the list said, "javelin catchers". I stopped him there, but not for the reason you would think...Not to tell him there was no such thing, but to ask him how that was fair. "But if they catch the javelin, how do they know it wasn't going to go further, and what if one javelin catcher is taller than the other? If one is taller then he can catch the javelin sooner." Yeah, really, I was that gullible.

These type moments happen so often that one time my husband, who is almost a foot taller than me, was standing over my head examining my hair. My very brunette hair. After a few seconds, I stopped talking and asked, "What ARE you doing?!" His answer? "Looking for the blonde roots."

But last night was his moment to shine. SHINE, I tell you. This year, thanks to my "Aunt" Becky we bought a remote control to turn on and off the Christmas tree lights. As we were shutting down the lights to go to bed, Michael tells me, "I really like that remote. I wonder if we can get one for other things like lamps." I told him you can hook up anything you plug in. He says, "Cool, you mean we can hook up a remote for the TV?"...Oh, yes he did! I was like, "What did you just say?" Then he tried to play it off. "Oh, nothing." Uh Huh...Too late now. I heard you.

Finally! I'm not the only one with the ditzy, did I just really say that moments.

How I Know God has a Sense of Humor

We always hear about God having a sense of humor. I mean have you seen a turkey...or an ostrich...a baboon? But I have proof that is a bit closer to home. Me and my husband. Only an innate sense of humor would have ever put us together. We could not be more opposite. I am convinced that when people get bored up in heaven God says, “Wait! Look! Look right down there. In Louisiana. No not there-- right next to Texas.” And then He flips on the movie projector of our life.

First of all, all you have to do is look at us, and you will get your first clue. I am short, very short, and on top of that I have short legs even for my height. Michael is tall. Almost a foot taller than me, and he has long legs. Like runner's legs. Not me. I have walk really slow legs. When we walk together, if he is walking at normal speed I have to just about jog to keep up. That came in very handy when I was working retail, since I often had to hustle, and I was already in practice.

Next, look at our work space. Michael is a pile-er. He has stacks of what I am convinced is trash EVERYWHERE, and it is all askew. Folders, papers, post-its. They cover every square inch of his desk. My desk? Clear. If I have several things to do, they are in one stack with the most pressing at the top of the pile. That way I can work my way down. Need a pen? I can show you right where it is, but I won't need to because you will be able to see it all on your own. My bulletin board? It consists of only clear tacks with 3x5 cards placed straight down and across—evenly spaced. Oh, that 3x5 card is messed up? Don't put it back. I will rewrite a new one. In the same color ink as the others.

Closets? His: just hang the clothes on the pole. As long as they are not on the floor—we're good. Mine: Pants on one rod, separated by type and color. Shirts? Organized by color according to the spectrum of the rainbow, within each color the shirts are then separated by sleeve length.

Housecleaning? Me? I start at the top and work my way down to the floor and out of the room. I get corners, behind objects: I lift the cook top to get underneath. Him: (looking at stove) “That comes up?!”

Vehicles? Mine: Don't leave anything in it. Other than a bag of recyclable bags in the back. His? Need a place to sit? “Just toss all those papers in the backseat. I'll get them when I sell the car.”

You get the idea. This makes for some interesting “conversations” at our house, especially if someone is coming over.

I spent the first 10 years of our marriage going behind him to apologize. “No really, he didn't mean that the way it sounded.” I mean, the man has NO tact. None. On top of that I seem to be super aware of other people's perceptions, so I am always trying to fix things. I finally just gave up because, well, did I mention he has long legs? He can cover a lot more ground than I can, and it's just tiring.

But, in spite of all these differences (I could go on, but the internet is only so big), I love him, and he loves me—even though my pickiness drives him up a wall. That's ok, though, that's why he has a job. God must have a sense of humor because if He didn't He would have never put us together, and he certainly wouldn't have known how much of a sense of humor to give us, so that we could put up with each other without involving bloodletting in some shape or form.

When Your Internal Clock is Off...WAY Off

In the beginning of July I hurt my back. I hurt it bad enough that for the next 2 to 3 days I lived on painkillers, muscle relaxers, ice packs and heating pads. Ever since then I have had trouble sleeping. Before this happened I was coming off of an early morning work schedule. I had to be at work at 6 am, so even though I had stopped working a couple of months prior to our move, I was still up and around by 7 am. After living on painkillers for several days, painkillers that completely knocked me out, I was going to bed late, and waking up later.

Since then I have tried forcing myself to go to sleep earlier. Result: me tossing and turning until 4 am. Did you know that if you hold your hand up to the light of your alarm clock your nails look like you have a blue french manicure? Neither did I. I do now.

I tried just laying down a couple of hours before I wanted to fall asleep and reading myself to sleep: Result: an out of control book budget. I can read for hours. I can read fast. Reading for hours just results in more books read, not earlier sleep.

I tried forcing myself to get up super early, so I would be tired at a normal bedtime. Result: falling asleep for 3 hours in the middle of the afternoon. There is only so much the human body can do on 2 hours of sleep when there is no adrenaline involved, and apparently all this human body can do is stare uncomprehendingly at the television, or, I don't know, the WALL, until the will to stay awake loses to the force that is “The Sandman”.

I even tried over the counter sleeping pills. Do you know what those things are??? Benedryl. Do you know what Benedryl does to me? It knocks; me out, just like the painkillers. The problem? The painkillers and the sleeping pills knock me out for waaaay too long. Then when I am finally able to move the lead weights that are my arms and legs, I am groggy. Super groggy. That results in absolutely nothing getting done.

So, I am back to just kind of hoping I will miraculously start to get tired at a normal, reasonable hour. That results in days like today.

Get up very late.

Feel guilty for getting up late even though I slept for a very normal 8 hours—almost to the minute.

Have a general feeling of lethargy all day long while trying to convince myself to get some chores done.

Start becoming clear minded at about 9 pm.

Between 11 pm and 12:30 am:
Complete 2 loads of laundry, including ironing.
Vacuum carpets
Sweep and mop kitchen, entry way and bathrooms
Clean master bathroom
Hang pictures
Write blog post
Screw down door organizer in pantry
Feel really, really awake!! REALLY awake!
Give up on ever sleeping again.

Around 3 am decide to read in bed by the light of my cell phone.

4-4:30 am Finally fall asleep.

Start all over again.

I am really starting to wonder if God is trying to tell me that my next job will be the night shift!

Cymbalta: Or How My Husband Gets to Remain Sane Without Locking Me Up and Throwing Away the Key

And he doesn't even have to take it. That's how it works in our family. I *suffer* from second hand sleep apnea. (My own term for being the partner of someone who has sleep apnea.) He reaps the benefits of a wife on Cymbalta. I don't really see how that is quite fair. Suffer/reaps the benefits. Do you see the issue here? That's okay, though, because I have learned in the last week that if my husband dies before me I am moving to Australia to find the man of my dreams--literally. The man who invented the sleep apnea machine.

Of course, the drawback to being able to have dreams is the Cymbalta. I have some crazy, stressed out dreams. The latest included me, on a team trying to make a beautiful two dimensional wedding dress cookie out of sugar cookie dough.

The problem with these dreams is this: In the beginning of the dream I am "all that!". I can make the most beautiful pastry you have ever seen! Then the mechanics start-somehow I make dough. Then somehow I roll out this dough into a perfect rectangle. Then I realize my teammates aren't helping me. Now, I am mad! Why is no one helping me?! This is supposed to be a team effort! Wait! What are they doing? Oh no, they are performing CPR. I must help, but the judge is here telling me to hurry up I am running out of time. So, I do what all rational people would do and continue to roll out teeny tiny layers to put on my wedding dress cookie.

It's about this time that I "remember" that I have no idea how to decorate cakes, cookies, or pastries of any sort. Not only that, but I am not artistic, at all! I am not able to make whatever it is in my mind come out of my fingers. This is not good! Then I look over and one of the judges has decided to "help me" with my cookie by drawing the outline of some Picasso-esque face with black piping gel all over my cookie. WHY?! I don't know, but she totally ruined my chance of winning a car.

Now everyone wins a car, but me. :( Then I notice the car my friend chooses has a big black dent and scrape along the side like it was his by a burning softball. I try desperately to get her to choose another car, but the cars are all like that now. They weren't a minute ago. HEY! These contest organizers are trying to cheat us out of our brand new cars!

Now. Don't you feel rested? Me neither. I wake up trying to figure out how to make the cookie. Oh, and the person receiving the CPR? Don't know. Never bothered to even check up on the guy because in my dreams I am compassionate like that.

So, I get the crazy dreams, but Michael gets the wife who does not sit in the car stressing over the fact that he is driving in the left lane and we have to turn right in just 3 miles. Hello! Don't you see we need to turn? And there are other cars! In the right lane! If we wait we may never get over! And you know what happens if we don't get over! No, we don't turn around. How are we going to turn around when the world has just ended?! We really need to get over now! After all we are turning in just 2.5 miles. Do you see my finger tapping against the door frame? It means you are not doing it the way *I* would!! And that is just wrong!

He loved driving with me.

Michael also gets the wife who gets dressed, puts on make up, drives 20 minutes to a restaurant, and will, get this, get out of the car! Even when there are more than like 3 other cars in the parking lot. I no longer get somewhere and just freeze in my seat like if I go in there something terrible is going to happen. We may not know it, but believe me it will happen.

I am surprised he never starved.

The most surprising effect has been that I even went to the gym. By myself. 5 times a week. For several months before we moved. That is a miracle unto itself! Now that was a gym I was somewhat familiar with. Now, I just need to find one here.

Hmmm. Come to think of it this was good for him. I wonder why he doesn't have cut abs?

Oh, AND, I can actually relax! Some. I don't feel the need to be doing *something* from the time I get up, until the time I go to bed. This is big! Just ask Michael. I mean do you know how hard it is to watch a football game when someone has decided they must dust the entertainment stand right now. Like really right now or the dust might form a coalition and take us all out. Or the carpet must be vacuumed. Also right now! I mean, if the NFL would just call me before they set up their playing schedule maybe we could work something out. But no, they don't care that some grass just fell off of someone's shoe.

Of course, now he wishes I would stand in front of the television and clean. Have you seen the Cowboys play this year?

So, thanks to Cymbalta I get crazy dreams, and Michael loses crazy wife. Too cool!

By the way, I was actually put on Cymbalta in order to help control the Fibromyalgia pain. It is only been discovered that I actually, certifiably have anxiety issues because of how much I have changed since being put on the Cymbalta. I thought this was normal, but in a way I feel like my world is opening up. And I have learned 2 things you don't want to hear from your doctor. 1. When describing your reaction to being in the "wrong lane of traffic: "No, that's not "normal". Not in my world." and 2. When awaiting blood test results: "You are one sick pup!"

I Smell Dead People

Ok, I don't really smell dead people, but I smell everything else. This causes some tension in our house since most of the time I am the only one that can smell the horrendous odor that is emanating from...well, somewhere. We have many conversations that go something like this:

Me: Do you smell that?

Michael: Smell what?

Me: (Crinkling nose) That smell. It stinks!

Michael: There is no smell.

Me: Yes there is! It's coming from...over there...somewhere.

Michael: You mean that field of cows we drove by? Three days ago?

Me: Yes! Yes! That's it! Where's the candle? We need to light the candle! We need to light the candle and put it close to my nose! Hurry! Please, I can't handle the smell anymore!!

Michael: (Getting a candle and shaking his head) Do you mind telling me when, exactly, in the 20+ years we've been married you crossed over the line into certifiably insane? It was so gradual I'm not sure when it happened.

Me: (sticks tongue out and pouts while breathing in candle air)



It's very annoying this super power of smell. My poor husband can only eat fish at a restaurant, out of town, after I die. That is really sad because the man loves fish...and shellfish...and cabbage. You know, all the stinky stuff. I can smell it for days. I think it hangs around in my nose just trying to make me ill. You would think that the fish would love me since I don't want anyone around me to eat them, but apparently they want to be eaten because they insist on torturing me with their smell. I just want to say, "I wanted to save you! Why don't you go torture HIM?!"

I also have to be very careful when I am cooking to not smell the raw meat. If I smell the raw meat, then I can't eat the cooked meat. One can only survive on Golden Grahams and Frosted Mini
Wheats for so long.

On the other hand, my wonderful sense of smell could come in very handy. It's a good thing our son doesn't smoke because who wants their mother marching through the school with her head looking like an expanding red balloon, and her body shaking uncontrollably while screaming (Yes, I mean screaming, not yelling. Yelling isn't forceful enough.) "WHAT were you thinking?!"

Then again, if he ever wanted to get rid of me, and send me to prison, all he would have to do is call the police, and tell them I assaulted him with my big head that just blew up and shot pieces of brain and shards of skull at him. I mean, who would the judge believe? 1. Soft-spoken, matter-of-fact, calm young man with an actual hair cut, or 2. Crazy, out of control, screaming woman who they suspect might be auditioning for the token psycho on the "Housewives of Crazyville"? Not that I would care because my brain already blew up, so there!

Don'cha Hate it When...

You get an idea in your head, run to the store to get what you need, and then when you get home realize you don't really have everything you need?!

This would probably happen a lot less if I would stick to one idea at a time, but one idea usually gives birth to another, and then another. I tell you ideas are like rabbits. You start with 1 or 2 and end up with enough to feed an army.

Like today. I went shopping with 2 ideas in mind. 1. I want to refinish the old, wooden accordion style sewing box I scored at Goodwill yesterday for only 4 bucks, and 2. I wanted to try to find a way to hide the border that is in my dining room. Not that the border isn't fabulous...or at least I'm sure it was when it was new...in the 80's!!

But I ended up looking for more ideas: 1. Paint for the sewing box. 2. "Something" for the border. 3.End tables for my living room. 4. Something to contain the keys, notes, and pocket debris that is growing on my bookshelf like mold. and 5. My continuing search for something to use as a game table in my living room.

I ended up with 1. Paint for the sewing box. 2. A big, fat nothing on the border. 3.Nothing I was willing to spend the money on for end tables. 4. More ideas for what to do with the moldy debris on my bookshelf. (Which reminds me, I want to repaint that too.) 5. 3 possibilities for the game table, so, of course, that meant nothing on the game table.

So after 2 hours of shopping and 5 different ideas boiling in my brain, I have a can of Kilz and some spray paint for the sewing box. I'm very happy that I can get started on one of my projects.

We get home, Michael starts the grill for dinner, and I......pull 2 silvery metal "art" pieces off of my wall and prime them. Not the sewing box, but things that were already on my wall. Then after dinner I go to paint them with acrylic paint. I'm not sure exactly what color I want to go with, but I choose one and start to paint discover I. HAVE. NO. PAINTBRUSHES! Not even one. Now I have to wait until tomorrow after Brendan's PT appointment to paint.

In the infamous words of Stephanie Tanner, "HOW RUUUUDE". (Said with major ATTITUDE!)

Now, I will just have to study.

Spring is in the Air

Today is absolutely beautiful. It is perfect for the first day of Spring. As I was driving to Lowes to help Michael pick out some much needed things for our new home via long distance phone shopping, everywhere around me were signs of the season.

Trees overloaded with pink flowers. People walking along walking trails--alone, with a friend, with a dog. I saw a collie, 2 shelties, a golden retriever, a lhasa apso being carried by his owner, and 4 or 5 various other dogs all out enjoying the weather with their owners. I saw dads biking with their children. Long empty parks were filled with children and backyard trampolines were being stretched to their limits with bouncing children. People were driving with their convertible tops down and cruising on their motorcycles.

Lowes was filled with people buying flowers for their yard and searching for the perfect backyard grill. The carts in the grocery store were filled with hamburgers, steaks, hot dogs and charcoal. People around here have Spring Fever, and today is the treatment.

Michael's Gone Syndrome Part 3 Final Update--I HOPE

Michael is due back in the states in just 2 short days, and let me tell you it can't come soon enough. Since my last update just about everything that can go wrong-has!

1. We found out that Brendan will have to have a bone graft in his hand. We are only waiting to find out if it will come from his wrist or his hip. We are hoping for wrist since that will mean the damage isn't as bad as it could be.

1a. Because of said surgery Brendan will not be able to get his fire fighting certification. He will still get his college credits, but he will have to basically start over to get certified because the doctor has put the cabash on any and all physical activity involving his wrist, and he put a cast up to his elbow to ensure his compliance. Well, maybe it was to stablize the wrist, and to keep it from getting any further damage, but the result is he has to comply with doctor's orders.

2. Something is wrong with my van. My guess? EGR valve, so I have to get that fixed. Cost??? Don't know doesn't really matter because it has to be fixed.

3. Windshield of Michael's car was hit by a flying rock. Normally this would result in a chip that could be repaired, but following the rules of "Michael's Gone Syndrome" the rock hit, and the windshield immediately had a crack over a foot long.

4. The Exceptional Family Member office here neglected to tell us they decided I have enough health issues of the right type to warrent enrollment in the program. No big deal, right? WRONG! Along with not telling us I was enrolled they also did not tell us that meant in order for me to move to Barkdale with my family I have to be approved by the gaining hospital. This means another physical, just 2 weeks after my last physical, and a dental appointment.

Again, no big deal excecpt for the fact that they need all of this paperwork, a meeting with the medical board, and they have to send it to Barksdale who has 14 business days to respond. Ok, I couldn't even get a dentist appointment for almost a month, and that was after begging. They were going to make me wait 2 months. When I went to turn in the dental paperwork no one was even in the office early on a Thursday afternoon, and no one would be back until Monday. This was just 9 days ago. The paperwork didn't even get sent to Barksdale until Monday or Tuesday. Michael will be home in 2 days, and I still am not authorized to travel. This is the Air Force's idea of expediting the paperwork. Good thing they are trying to hurry or I might not be able to move until Christmas--of 2012.

5. Finally, the most stress inducing situation of all, the Air Force has decided to change high year tenure. Which in a nutshell means instead of retiring in 3 years, which was the plan we were following, Michael will be retiring in 1 year, unless he makes Senior. Then we will be back to the 3 year plan. I never realized how short one year was until trying to condense 3 years of finanical and student and career planning into 1 year. I just don't think it can be done. Don't they know I am an exceptional family member? I can't handle any more stress. I mean, you would think they would take that into consideration considering it was their idea and all.

Ok, that's it. Now Michael is due home in 2 days, will be home for 3 weeks, and then he is off to Barksdale. Brendan and I are to follow in June when school lets out. Can this please, please, please be it? I am going to try really, really hard to keep out of trouble for just a little while longer. I mean, it has to end somewhere, right?

Praying for peace,

Ella

Loan Me Your Pillow?

I am now in the process of collecting pillows. I need them in order to ensure that I live until Michael gets home from Korea. In fact, go ahead and send your down comforters while you’re at it, so B can live until Michael gets home.

B has had an ongoing issue with his knee that he managed to hurt while playing football. No, that’s not right. He was wrestling, No, kayaking. No, get this, he was walking. Where is this treacherous landscape you might ask? After all you wouldn’t want to find yourself in the same predicament of knee braces, Percocet and MRI’s. Don’t worry you need special access known as a key to my house. The boy was walking in the living room- the clean living room with nothing, AT ALL, on the floor. Now, just 3 days shy of it being a month since this all started, we are waiting for the MRI appointment next week. It’s a good thing he’s not in gymnastics anymore because he is getting a bit clumsy in his old age.

As for me, it’s just been one of those days. I woke up late. Not real late, but I am a schedule type of person, and everything was being done at the wrong time. Then work was busy before we had any cashiers, so I was cashier while I was supposed to be making a deposit, and then I came across a traveler’s check that the customer made out to himself instead of our store, so that is a $100 short. These are all things that happen when I have a slightly bad day at work, not too bad, but then I try to eat lunch, and my credit card is declined. This wouldn’t be too bad except that in an effort to carry as little as possible with me to work I have my credit card, an id and some change with me. I spend the next 20 minutes on the phone with my bank learning that someone has gotten hold of my credit card number. Apparently, while Michael was sleeping in Korea and I was working on making sure the store didn’t lose money, someone was trying to make sure WE did lose money by racking up charges online. Since they were all for $39.99 this put up a red flag for the bank, and they put a hold on the card. Now, we are waiting for a new card. Not so bad for me. I’m here. Not so great for Michael he won’t get his new card for a while.

This is on the heels of spending the last 5 days trying to get my toilet fixed. So, I’m collecting pillows. I need something to put around me and B, for when the roof falls on my head because at the rate we’re going, it’s going to be soon!