Beggar's Shot Glass

Quitters Gain Too

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 12:24:00 +0000

I quit!

I quit drinking two weeks ago. When I told Beany she cracked up laughing. Actually, I haven't had a drink in two weeks, but I'm not ruling it out for future imbibing, just not frequent imbibing.

I quit making excuses not to exercise every day. Lord knows I enjoy the beJebus out of it. So much so that I get irritated if I have to stop and, you know, mother my children for a minute. Can't they raise themselves by now? (this was sarcasm, folks)

I quit blogging for you, you dirty little fiends. Some of you only come here for the boobage or the gutter-minded humor I lace (lace? heh heh) my posts with. Okay, okay, I admit it; I enjoy writing this way. I think this way. A lot. My mom gets it, but my mother-in-law either doesn't yet understand what the joke is or is ignoring my crass and inappropriate perspective on things. From now on I forget you exist and I blog as if I'm talking to myself. Oh, this is going to get interesting. I think.

I'm going to quit being silly in a moment and get to the serious stuff I really wanted to post about.

I quit letting the past hurt me. Biggun here. See, the past week or so I've been ruminating obsessively over the two next-biggest friendships of my life (the biggest one still intact... :-D), the two that ended this year with bangs that could be heard in Australia. That's actually true, because one friend lives there. Anyway, this summer I have let the HUGE-O-MONGUS impacts they have left on me take over, and I started to fear things. I started to analyze things WAY too much. I became, in effect, my own worst enemy. Oh.For.Crying.Out.Loud! Enough already! I am quitting the self-inflected bullshit I keep bringing upon myself.

But first...

Recently I came upon some old links and decided to look up the Aussie. Who that person is now resembles very little of the person I met 18 months ago, and I suppose this is an achievement of a goal they were persuing anyway. Congratulations, you made it! I am happy for them, but I know I can never go back. That person existed in thoughts only, and those thoughts and memories are faded. What that person taught me unintentionally is that obsessing over what you want to become pretty much anihilates who you are NOW. Beany has a great post on this on her blog.

The American, well, this one still stings a bit. To start, if the American reads this, there might be some anger, because blogging about these things (although both parties were guilty) can be hurtful. I'm not naming names, ever. I didn't then and I won't now, and I would appreciate it if nobody here formed a negative opinion about this person because of me. Just because I had a problem doesn't mean you have to. But I feel I have to get this off my chest.

During that spat and the flury of heated emails -some so hot they burned- I admitted a shortcoming to that person. I admitted that I didn't think I could be their friend like they needed. I meant that from the very deepest of my heart. I felt like I had failed. I felt like I could not ever live up to the expectations above my head. I felt as if I would be constantly struggling to please and always questioned and never... good enough. So I said, "Go find that friend." (paraphrasing). I was, however, extremely emotional when I wrote the letter, shaking with feelings so raw I could no longer deny them. Then I was accused of being condescending. That is what hurt the most. To admit that I had failed and to be accused of being condescending.

Neither of those friendships can ever be renewed. I'm not giving up hope, I'm flat out denying it. I want to move on.

So there we have it; I'm a quitter. For most of my life I was not keen on giving up on anything. Not on hope, not on friendships, not 'chances'. But now? Now I quit. I can't keep wasting what time and energy I have on things that only bring me pain or that are not good for me. I have so many wonderful positive things in my life that I should be devoting my time and energy on.

I quit staring at that closed door. I quit clinging to the past, to expectations, to thoughts.

I quit being a pansy.

I take that back, I like being a pansy sometimes.

Quitting sometimes gives you back the freedom to live that you exiled yourself from.

The Call of a Child

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 14:46:00 +0000

This is how a child uses passive behavior to lure an adult to their location.

The Girl, from the bathroom, loudly:

"Ewww..." [long pause]

"Groooss!" [another long pause]

"I didn't know I had THAT much of a scab!"

I realize at this point that she is attempting to pique my curiosity enough that I will come find out what the hub-bub is about. Instead, she has effectively pushed me in the opposite direction. Anything that starts with "eww" can't be good, right?

After a minute of my silence, she hobbles out to show me what she was too appalled to look at herself. Gee, thanks! I'll spare you the details, but I'm sure you can figure it out.

Speaking of The Girl, she has physical therapy daily this week and next. Now that the cast is off and she can move about they are working on her mobility, muscle tone, and sensation. She needs to 'retrain' her big toe to move because the muscles are very weak. She is releasing tension in all of her tendons so that the range of motion in her foot improves. We have to rub textures on her foot so the feeling comes back, because it's partially numb in spots. The textures are driving her nuts because they feel strange and weird.

She is also using sneakers and walking without the walker now! The kicker to all of this!? She was originally supposed to be in a cast until sometime next week! She's ahead of the prognosis and I couldn't be happier!!!

Thanks (again) for all the support and love we've received through this.

A Very Dirty Riddle

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 15:59:00 +0000

Just when I'm getting into the swing of things, it pops out.

Sometimes when I want it to pop out quickly, it gets stuck.

When I'm trying to get into tight spaces it flops about uselessly, making it hard to aim it properly.

It is very dirty.

I cuss a lot when I'm using it.

I really know how to work it when I use my hands.

I have to get down on my hands and knees because it's not doing a good enough job, I get mad.

It could suck my nipples if I let it, but I never have and I most certainly never will.

What is it?

It's my vacuum cleaner hose.

Some days I wonder why I bother to use it at all.

ROFL, I posted this to the wrong blog first. I wonder what the people reading my photography blog will think. Sorry mom! (Wait... mom would be laughing right along with me. I have a strange family.)

What are YOU hunting for?

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 15:23:00 +0000

I didn't realize it was missing...*giggle*

Gather a Sense of Sue

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 20:30:00 +0000

*Warning!* This is a long, possible whinge-infested entry. Read at your own risk. I do not make claims at sunshine and rainbows in this post.

I wrote this post yesterday, just so you know. I'm not actually *at* the computer.

The reason for this is simple, I need a break. Not from blogging but from the choking mess of life I've created the past few months. I've been noticing a change over me, and so has other people. Thursday, a friend of mine hit a nail on the head when she said she could tell I was unhappy in my marriage. It's not my marriage so much that I have fallen into a heavy state of despondency.

The question was "Why am I unhappy?" I should be able to answer that immediately but the truth is that I have no idea what I'm unhappy about, let alone why.

The next question, "What do I want?"

I honestly don't know, not exactly, that is. I have a vague idea of what it might be, but I confuse easily.

I've reached a point where I am aware that I am dissatisfied, although by all accounts I really should not be because I have a great life. Being aware is a beginning, but the rest comes from figuring out what it is I'm wanting. I'm not even sure it matters that I know what I want. I want to be happy with what I have. That requires taking the time to appreciate it, to enjoy it. I want to saturate my soul with the savory blessings I'm already drenched in.

My kids are healthy and one is rebounding quicker to an injury than originally thought. My finances are not down the shitter this time (knock on wood). My husband, although sometimes an irritating anomaly to me, is really great to have and love. He can be the sweetest hard-shelled cowboy you'll ever know, but he does have faults. I love him dearly. I'll build on that then.

I suppose what it boils down to is that I have a weak sense of self and I'm trying, in vain, to identify 'who I am'. I'm seeking this validation through others, through my talents, my likes and dislikes, my job, my hobbies. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Should I be, instead, focusing on being what I want to be, being happy with myself and my life, and letting the rest of my external components reflect that?

I'm going to be taking some time off from everything. I know I've said that before and never followed through. It is a fault of mine that has hindered progress. But I need this, people. This time I need to stop thinking about how I am leaving people at a stalemate while I wander off in search of Sue. I need to stop feeling responsible for how other people feel. In all honesty, if you were a friend, you wouldn't feel neglected or rejected because I needed some solitude and reflection, right? Wouldn't a friend trust that I will not let the bond die because I need to put priorities first?

It is the one thing holding me back from walking down this path. I am afraid—nearly crippled with this fear—that others will not wait for me; that people will say I didn't care enough to stick around. Can I trust you to believe in me to still be your friend? Can you trust me enough to believe that I will still call you friend?

I am not sure how long this will take. It is not something one can assign a time limit to, nor can one predict how things will turn out in the end. I have a little bit of hope left. It's burning a whole in my pocket, so to speak, and this is what I'm spending it on.

You want to What?!

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 12:01:00 +0000

The Boy: "Does Grandma have her pool ready yet?"

Josh: "I think so."

The Boy: "Good, because I want to put my balls in it!"

In case you're still wondering, he was talking about these little pool balls, about the size of baseballs, that float. They came with a small inflatable pool he got years ago that has since died multiple deaths.

My mother-in-law about split a rib hearing the replay of that conversation, though.

Cast off!

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 00:14:00 +0000

She got her cast off today. The drama ensued.

No, really, she was being very overly dramatic.

I've been called a drama queen, so I suppose you could say it's in the family, right?

Anyway, instead of wearing a boot, she was wrapped in an ace bandage and told to go home and soak it. For the next week she is to have it wrapped in the bandage and she can use a slipper and her walker to put pressure only on her heel. Catch all that?

Compared to what it DID look like that night, it's definitely much better. But she can't stand to look at it herself and freaked out at bath time.

Girls.

If I Did a SueCon

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 16:30:00 +0000

Anybody who's anybody in the blogosphere seems to be doing a convention these days. I've dabbled in it myself.

But what, I ask you, does a 'con' involve? Games, site-seeing, drinking (a given, I presume), and nametags?

What would I have to offer if I did a SueCon? Or a BeggarsCon? BoobCon was taken... google it. Bummer.

I might start by making sure the ladies 'measure up'.

(not my picture)

And give everybody one of these. (link alert) I'd let YOU decide which one you want.

I've even found a poster to lure you. Those aren't mine, by the way.

(not my picture)

Yes, yes, yes, there would be a wet t-shirt contest, as you probably could have guessed.

We would probably also get drunk and do shiver shots. Then we sleep off our hangovers in a swanky hotel before heading back to our respective holes in the 'sphere?

That actually sounds pretty good...

Wordless Wednesday

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 08:15:00 +0000

Auto Repair: What You Might Not Know

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 02:14:00 +0000

I've amended this article because somebody who can't be named gave a rather lengthy and thought-provoking reply. Thus, I decided to also republishing it.

I was reading NukeDad's post one day and it happened, a floodgate of information begging to be spilled. I have to confess. I'm married to an auto tech that works at a local dealership. He has clued me in to the behind the scenes art of auto repair. I don't claim to be an expert, but I'd at least like to share what little I have knowledge of in the subject of auto repair.

► DID YOU KNOW that 95% of the auto techs get paid per job?

Josh is what he called a 'C-Level' tech (entry level), and is paid per hour. I won't say how much exactly, but it's less than $10/hour. He's of the 5% who don't have special training to do 'big jobs'. He can change oil and brakes and tires, align your car, and inspect it, and also do a handful of other menial tasks. But the bigger jobs require better technicians, or even what is called a "Master Technician", a.k.a. ASE Certified. Those guys get paid per job. Their paychecks depend on getting work.

► DID YOU KNOW that pay rates and schedules differ by region based on the cost of living?

For those paid "per job", they are only paid a set amount of time. If the chart says an oil change takes 18 minutes, you get paid for 18 minutes and that's all, even if the oil filter was inexplicably glued to the car and took an hour to extract. OK, so that's an exaggeration, and not all jobs have time limits, but most of them DO.

Of the labor that is charged to the customer, only part of it goes to the tech. Granted, a huge chunk does reach the tech, especially the ones with more skill (you are paying for their expertise, you know). But, they lose money if they go over the time limit. The dealership, however, gains it. They still charge the customer for that time. So, the tech might be paid for only 18 minutes, but you might be charged for that hour.

► DID YOU KNOW that other people get paid with your labor fee? The utility companies that service the station, the service writers (if any), and/or the accountant that keeps track of the sale and profit. Of course they still get a profit, it's not a field high in volunteers.

Most service centers, as can be reasonably assumed, will charge a markup of 10-40% on parts. Yet another thing to research on the invoice. If you suspect you paid a 100% markup, complain. I've never once encountered a 100% markup, but Anonymous claims that is what his ex-employers charged. You people aren't seriously stupid enough to pay TWICE as much for one part, are you? Didn't think so.

► DID YOU KNOW that you can buy your own repair parts and take them to the tech to install? Bet you didn't. Bet you thought you had to buy the parts they sold, huh? Nope. Josh tells me that on many occasions he's installed brakes, bed liners, etc. that people brought WITH them to the dealership. Markup problem solved.

To Anonymous of the comments,

We bought a used engine for a 2000 Subaru Legacy L Wagon. This is what 'shopping around' gave us, a great deal. The selling cost: $1200 Total cost: $1500 (because Josh's employer bought it for us from the private seller). I have the invoice to prove this, if you'd like to see it.

My husband made less than $25,000 last year. It is a thankless job. Sometimes things go wrong. Think of your job, you make a mistake. In his field, mistakes can cost somebody a life. It's serious, so of course, people get upset. But if things go fine and your car runs great afterwards, he doesn't get a 'thank you' from the customer. By the time something goes wrong and needs repair, the customer is already unhappy. So once they get it fixed, they're just 'so happy' to get it back they forget the sweat that went into fixing it.

☺ TIP: Do your tech a favor and thank him. If you don't know or can't find out who fixed it, leave it with the service desk and tell them to forward the message. Trust me, you will only enhance your relationship with your tech/dealership.

☺ TIP: Also try to ask for the same guy each time. Remember getting your VCR for the first time. Or, if you're younger, a new Digital Camera? You have to learn how it all works, right? What if you had it for an hour, and then it was taken away from you? Um, the point I'm trying to make is that the more often one tech sees your car, the better he/she will remember the unique nuances of it and will be able to fix it more efficiently. Understand?

Oftentimes he comes home sore from lifting parts that weigh twice his weight, or looking up into the belly of a car for hours on end fixing something. If the car is on a lift, he's standing and craning his neck to fix it. Sometimes the cars are messy and filthy and stinky. He sees cars that get no love and need a ton of work that the owner can't or won't pay for. And he sees cars that have been babied and loved and treated kindly.

► DID YOU KNOW that your car is an investment? Cars aren't toys. They aren't 'rights'. They are investments and privileges. You will mostly like save tons of repair work if you keep on top of tuneups, etc., and treat your car as if it really was going to last you ten or more years. Don't jack-rabbit the gas pedal on a green light. Don't drive fast in town (you'll wear out your brakes faster). Don't run out of gas. It ruins the car. Don't miss oil changes. If you get a scratch or rust spot, fix it. Sure, you'll lose money on the value of the car, but you'll save yourself in repairs in the long run.

☺ Bonus: Selling or Trade value is higher in better condition cars.

Car repair isn't an exact science either. What I mean is, you can't rely on customers coming in regularly. You can't predict who's going to need what other than tune ups, rotations, and changes. So of course, Josh is 'encouraged' to sell you things you might not need right away. In my opinion, if you can afford it, buy them. Why? Because, as Josh says, most of the time the parts might not need replaced right then but will need it 'soon'. As in a few months from now soon. But it's not always necessary, as shown here why. Let the record show that Josh doesn't try to sell this service for exactly the reason I linked to. Just be alert of what they are telling you.

► DID YOU KNOW that old parts are sometimes good for a core charge? Most dealerships will refund this when they keep your old part.

☺ TIP: Don't wait for the brakes to fail before you decide to have them replaced. Don't wait until the nick in your windshield has turned into a crack a foot long. Nicks can be fixed, but cracks mean replacing the entire windshield. If it's something you don't need to keep the car running, like NukeDad decided with his air conditioning (a sound decision, I might add), then let it go.

Don't be afraid to ask for a second opinion from a separate shop or a different tech. Or even ask what level your tech is. Ask if they have an inspection license, because this requires training, so in the least they DO know what they are doing. Some people just aren't very good at repair, no matter what level they are at. Don't be afraid to have a different tech look at the work the first guy did. Why? Josh appreciates it when a second set of eyes can see something he missed. Like I said, lives are often at risk here. You want to care more about that than about the tech's feelings. But if you do get a second opinion and something is found, tell the first one. They don't learn unless they know. And you might get an offer for a partial or full refund. might.

I thought mechanics were sleazes looking to swindle you (especially women) out of money to fill their pockets. What I now know is that they are in a field where a small minority has tarnished the entire subject of auto repair. It's nothing that a little bit of homework can't fix. I hope this article has been helpful to those who, like me, have wandered through the process with a dim awareness of what's really going on behind the scenes.

☺ One last tip: In big dealerships, miscommunication can happen. You might very well have asked for a check of something that didn't happen. As Josh explains, sometimes when there are two service writers and six customers, wires get crossed, job orders confused, and requests lost. If you were charged for something you didn't receive, say something about it. If you asked for something you didn't get, say something about it. Also, a technician is not going to check something that is not on the work order, even if it is obviously in need of attention. Don't assume that a technician will look over the entire car every visit. Their job is to follow a work order, and if a problem isn't listed, they will assume you do not want it fixed at such time. It never hurts to review your reciept before you leave the premises and ask for help understanding your invoice.

Bitchy Sue - A Rant

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 02:13:00 +0000

I used to have a description of me on my profile that said I was 95% nice and 5% don't-fuck-with-me.

Yesterday, somebody fucked with me.

We were at my mother-in-law's home. Brother-in-law and his wife, uncle, Josh, and I were outside talking and I was keeping my eye on The Boy and his cousin as they played. Suddenly The Boy ran off towards the corner of the yard, right towards the electric fence (they have 30 head of cattle enclosed by a single wire juiced up with zap power). I hesitated, because I wasn't sure if he would be near enough to worry, then I got up and started walking briskly towards him, calling out to him.

Brother-in-law's wife followed, then passed me, walking faster. She is a daycare teacher for kids his age.

We heard a zap and a loud, piercing scream, and The Boy came flying out of the trees both hands to his back and screaming for me. I wanted to run to him, but sister-in-law was RIGHT IN THE WAY (grr). She ran towards him yelling, "Oh, come here!"

Bitch, back off, this is MY son.

"Mooommmyyy!" He ran, and made a wide turn to avoid getting picked up by sister-in-law.

"I'm right here!" I hollered and was finally able to get to him and pick him up. I was, pardon the horrible pun, shocked at what happened. And we're still not entirely sure either. The Boy said something punched him in the back (the fence must have touched him there), but not HOW it got to that point.

After calming down a little he ran into the house and Josh and I went up to the fence to see if he could have backed into it by accident. The Boy had run over there to watch Papa on the hay mower, but we couldn't figure out what happened. As we walked back, I let the bitch out of me. Loud enough for her and Mother-in-law to hear, I complained, and protested about "It's not her child." and "I was RIGHT HERE". I was NOT impressed. I could have gotten to him sooner if she hadn't been in the way, and said as much. All Josh could say was, "She's so used to watching other people's kids that she probably forget where she was."

"Yeah, well I am right here and I don't need a fucking babysitter."

I know they heard me. I didn't care. Mama got pissed. When The Girl was hurt I had called my ex-sister-in-law to relay the message to Sperm Donor (who hasn't called her once in ten days to see how she's doing, by the way). We ended up having to share the ER room with two ex-sisters-in-law and my niece. It was hard to stay focused.

Maybe I was too harsh. Maybe I was out of line. Maybe, just maybe, brother-in-law's wife should have backed off and let his MOTHER handle the situation.

I'm not angry anymore (although I'm sure I sound it). I overheard her and mother-in-law talking about what I said, and my only concern is that I hope I didn't upset mother-in-law by making waves at her home. But still...

Ugh.

I was thisclose to doing something I wouldn't have regretted. But I didn't. Because I'm 95% nice.

And The Boy is fine. It is not enough power to seriously injure a human, just a little jolt. Bites like a sunnofabitch though.

Accents to Animals

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Sat, 05 Jul 2008 20:08:00 +0000

I've seen this meme making rounds; most recently on Penelope's, Christine's, and Karl's blogs. Because I'm still recovering (haha) from a wild week and awesome holiday (that lasted into today), I present to you the A to Z meme.

Accent: Mixed. Take the Pittsburgh accent and add a dash Canadian, a slice of New York, and a nibble of midwest, and there you have it. My accent. Strange, eh?

Breakfast or no breakfast: I prefer to have water first, or something to drink. Once that's settled, say a half hour, I will eat something solid.

Chore I don’t care for: You'd think a cleaner would love all chores, right? WRONG. I hate dishes. I hate loading the dishwasher, and unloading it, and I just hate scrubbing pots and pans. Blecht.

Dog or Cat: Dogs are mostly cute but can be smelly attention whores. I prefer felines.

Essential Electronics: Dishwasher, Washing Machine, Dryer, Vacuum. I really CAN live without my little gadgets. Wait, no, I NEED my Sudoku thingy at night. I play a game every night to beat my score--best time is 4 1/2 minutes for a level four (hardest).

Favorite Cologne:
On me? Fire & Ice, Shania, or Tempt
On men? Hugo for Men *instantapantypuddle*

Gold or Silver: Depends on the outfit and/or mood. I like them both!

Handbag I carry most often: Walmart Special that actually looks so gawdy it's cute in it's own weird way (like me). Decorated with a hanging silver kitty and Alaska Pin Beany sent me. *snuggle*

Insomnia: I work third shift... what do you think?

Job Title: Cleaner. Someday I will be a photog, but not ready yet. I think I still have time.

Kids: 2
The Girl: 10 in August
The Boy: Just turned five.

Living Arrangements: The usual for 'regular' families.

Most Admirable Trait: I hate gossip, I stay away from it as much as I can.

Naughtiest Childhood Behaviour: I climbed through a window trying to break into my parents' garage to get my car battery back and got hurt by the glass (sound familiar?). Fifteen stitches, no car for a year, and grounded for six months. Didn't stop me from getting pregnant. Oh, wait, THAT would be the naughtiest. I had sex... a lot... and got pregnant at 17. hahaha! Oops.

Overnight hospital stays: None that I can think of. I went to the ER a few times for stitches and a finger splint, though.

Phobias: Losing my children, husband, best friend, or boobs. Seriously. I'm also creeped out the usual: Bugs, snakes, heights, ghosts, creepy perverts who don't know boundaries and try to flash you their secret pink lace thong just to see your horrified look of disgust and shock...

[awkward pause]

Alrighty then, let's continue.

Quote: Buddha: "Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without. "

Reason to smile: Just one? I have ~~nice~~ ~~awesome~~ fabulous boobs.

Siblings: My sister is 32 and my polar opposite. We are polite, but not close. My brother is 30 (*snort*) and we are close.

Time I wake up: 6:30-ish Give or take a half hour.

Unusual Talent or Skill: I can wiggle my nose like a bunny rabbit.

Vegetable I Refuse to Eat: Canned Asparagus. Too limp and soggy. I prefer it steaming and firm. heh heh heh

Worst Habit: Self-deprecation, but I'm working on it.

X-rays: Why the hell would you want to know this? It's not like it's special or unique. Yeah, I've had them. Woo-hoo-la-dee-dah.

Yummy Stuff: I like well-prepared fine cuisine, desserts that dance on your tongue, wines that make your cheeks twinge, beer so thick and dark you can almost chew it, spices that add flavor--not temperature--to a dish, and ethnic foods that feed your soul as well as your body. A good meal should make you feel completely nourished, inside and out.

Zoo Animal I Like Most: Koalas. They just sort of keep to themselves.

Feeling Disconnected

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 15:39:00 +0000

Not only has my beloved bestee been away (I have too, it's an awkward vacation from her... erg), but then I jumped on the speeding bandwagon that is Huckdoll's Hood for the Disconnect Hour. It's the cyber version of Earth Hour, yo.

Huck's inviting us to tell her what we did with our hour as long as it's G-rated. I would have done something of the triple x variety last night about that time, but I had to work and we had already, um, traded massages earlier that afternoon. No, really, we traded massages. You don't believe me? Well, you shouldn't, but anyway.

OooohhhhhKaaayyy, let me seeee.

Well, between 9 and 10pm I was in the cooler at work prying the moldy floor boards from the floor with a butterknife and saturating the floor with Grim Gone floor cleaner to release years of uck and ick and sticky gook. And, thankfully, none of that sticky gook was of the triple x variety. In my line of work I have, unfortunately, managed to find myself cleaning up somebody else's wet spot. Gross, eh?

Is that considered cheating on the disconnect hour?

Okay, well, when I got home, I didn't turn on the computer, as per usual. Instead, I read the last of my new book, Odd Hours, which I finished at 3:45am, after which I crashed into bed. As far as Dean Koontz and Odd go, I was disappointed. Not as many dead people as I like and the entire active plot took place in less than one day. BUT, I did enjoy the story, even when I nearly vomited on page 201 because something I thought would NEVER happened did. I had to stop reading it right then to regain my composure. It is rare that a book would move me to experience raw instincts as if I was right alongside the star. But it happened, for the fourth time, with Odd Thomas last night.

I'm not going to give many more spoilers on that, but that I still recommend it. As I recommend weekly treatments of the disconnect. And daily, or at least every-other-daily treatments of the triple x variety.

Ta-Ta on Tuesday

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 17:38:00 +0000

Today, I'm following Huckdoll's lead and shutting off the computer for one hour.

Tuesday, July 1 @ 9pm

Step Away From The Computer (TV, Blackberry, Cellphone) Hour

Better than that, I'm shutting it off for the ENTIRE NIGHT. I guess it helps that I have to work tonight, and there's this little thing called a cast on my daughter's foot that kinda steals my attention away, and OH, I almost forgot, ODD THOMAS IS BACK!!! (He's my favorite fictional character.)

Anybody who knows me knows I am an HUGE Dean Koontz fan. My Koontz library grows by the month. It started with Life Expectancy and I was hooked. Last month I expanded my library by reading about Christopher Snow and his Mystery Train. Imagine, for a second, how I reacted to reading that Odd Thomas in Odd Hours was not only wearing a shirt emblazened with "MYSTERY TRAIN" but one with "WYVERN". You didn't imagine it, did you? You... SUCK.

Here, I'll make it easy for you. I gasped, read it again, squealed, wiggled, and then I turned to Josh sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "See this?!" I shrieked, jabbing a stubby little finger at page 4 repeatedly. "It's Mystery Traaaiinnn! From Seize the Night!" [excited squeal] Josh, of course, looked unfettered by the news, but replied, "Stephen King does that with his stories too, takes pieces from one series and plunks them down into others." (Mystery Train was first mentioned in Fear Nothing, but took on an, ahem, life of it's own in Seize the Night.)

He did not succeed in squishing my enthusiasm. I am now halfway through the book, and I am purely confident I will not return to the land of blogs until it is all over, say, sometime on Thursday.

But tonight, tonight I am jumping on the Huckdoll Bandwagon and staying off the internets. My mother would be so proud!

Boobs Have Talent

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 23:59:00 +0000

There are a variety of ways one can use their breasts in a useful manner.

I happen to use mine to get free beer chips, catch food, seduce my husband, check my speed while running (or, alternatively, check the wear on my bra), comfort me, boost my confidence, nurse my children when they were babies, and, you know, other things. But I never thought to use my boobs this way.

Have you ever opened a bottle of beer with your girls?

She did:

And she appears to:

But THIS woman CRUSHES cans with her tit. Looks painful. Not just to have boobs that large, but to crush cans with them? Tits, man!

Don't tell me boobs can't be useful. Eh-eh... SSHHH! I don't want to hear it!

One more funny video... It's about RESPECT, guys. Don't look at the breasts (unless they are mine, I don't mind).

Ouch!

Marriage Will Change You

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 21:33:00 +0000

Marriage, as some of us know, will change you. These are some of the things I never heard, said, or expected (or gave) an honest response to before marriage:

"Did you fart?" (or answering yes when asked)

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"Does this make my butt look big?" (no longer rhetorical, I really DO expect Josh to be honest here)

"You might not want to go in there for a few minutes." (fans nose)

"Are my boobs sagging? They're sagging, aren't they? Oh...mygod, they've totally disappeared into my armpits!!" (this doesn't happen anymore since I built up the pecs underneath them, by the way.)

"Oh come ON! Whoflickedaboogeronthewall?!"

"Somebody didn't put the [item left out] back where it belongs!" (I'm usually the complainer AND the guilty party for this one.

"I haven't shaved since last Tuesday. [pause while getting 'the look'] What?! It's not like anybody's looking anyway!"

"How did that get here?" (can be applied to a number of things, really, use your imagination if you must.)

Do you have any to add?

On His Own

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 17:40:00 +0000

I completely forgot a HUGE tidbit of positive news from last weekend (is it really THURSDAY already?).

The Boy stayed with family while Josh and I were at the hospital. Guess what he decided to do, all on his own, while we were not looking? He rode a bike without training wheels for the first time! And he's been doing it all week long too.

I know she's getting better because yesterday we had a HUGE fight. Me and her. Mother and crippled daughter. It started with a bowl of spaghettios. Seriously. I'm not going to go into the specifics but I can say that I learned a lot about myself as well as about her. Today, while sitting on the couch talking to my mom, she lifted her casted leg into the air, straight up! What a sight that was to see. I KNOW she's feeling better.

The only challenges we have left for the next 2 1/2 weeks are stairs and showers. We tried a bath, that was most difficult. A shower might be easier if I can figure out how to waterproof this cast.

More thank yous for the support so far, and to Beany for sending along a get well gift to her! I'm going to get back to regular blogging eventually.

Can I Ramble On Some More?

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 15:00:00 +0000

Forgive me now if I don't comment on your blogs or write often. I am still feeling a bit detached, as if I've aged months and not days. I feel blessed as all gets out that her injury was relatively minor considering how much worse she could have been hurt. I also appreciate all you've done, all of the comments, emails, prayers, and positive thoughts!

Sunday afternoon, after we brought her home, she spiked a fever. We waited, even though the discharge papers said to take her back if she did. We waited for my mom, a retired LPN, to show up and assess the situation. This is because neither the ER nor Dr. G.'s office had a way to reach somebody to ask the question dripping from our tongues, "How high is too high?".

My mom and my mother-in-law both showed up, with food. We had a large supper, but I couldn't eat. I was detached; hanging onto her burning skin and plunging that thermometer into her mouth every five minutes. Mother-in-law suggested the activity of coming home excited her. Mom gave her a cool pack wrapped in a towel under her back, and I slapped a lukewarm washcloth on her forehead ("Ouch, mom, that's COLD!!!"). She was lucid and bossy, but hot.

Then, within a half hour, it broke and it hasn't come back. I had my sneakers on and the keys on my beltloop the entire time anyway. When it dropped to normal, I hung up the keys and slipped out of my sneaks and finally got something to eat. I didn't realize I had made myself so weak over the weekend. I got a total of four hours of sleep and maybe... MAYBE... two meals worth of food over the weekend. It's not that I didn't try to eat. I did. But every time I did I would start to worry and my stomach would lurch and... I couldn't eat.

Saturday afternoon was one of the meals. Josh and I were kicked out of her room by my mom so we went to the cafeteria to eat. Being there with Josh, feeling secure and knowing she was safe upstairs, I was able to eat something. I had a small order of french fries. Best fries I've ever had, oddly enough. It was also that afternoon that I got my four hours of sleep. I leaned on Josh so much. We leaned on each other.

Yesterday I watched with wonder and awe as Lauren decided to use the walker MORE. I reminded her that Dr. G. wants her to walk on the foot, just not without help. The walker was to help her learn to walk again, not to keep her from moving altogether. I also had to remind her that just because she's not feeling well it doesn't mean she can be rude and mouthy to the people around her. Manners get her further than her walker will.

She is doing much better now though. So much better. It's such a relief. She sat outside on the porch for a short while and read some books. She sat next to the window (the broken bits removed completely). Yes. The window she cartwheeled into on Friday. It sends shivers up my spine to see this. It was bittersweet.

That's my Granddad's walker too. He passed away when Lauren was four months old, but Nana still had it in her garage. Lauren thinks it's 'neat' that she is using her Great-Granddad's walker. I think it's neat that she's up and about.

She's Home Safe

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 18:11:00 +0000

What a weekend. Thanks to Beany for keeping me connected to the outside world via a gadzillion texts!!!!! If I had twitter set up on my phone I would have done that, but I haven't bothered to set it up yet.

Anyway, here's the rub. She's home now, just got home a little while ago. She has a walking heel on her cast, but is still supposed to limit mobility and keep her foot elevated. She has to be in the cast for only three weeks now (cause for celebration!). Dr. G. said not to get her cast wet or he will be very very very mad, and I believe him. He's an awesome guy, but... I just believe that he'd be mad, and let's leave it at that.

Things I have learned this weekend:

1. She has a low tolerance for any kind of pain, something hard to watch.

2. Josh is an AWESOME Daddy. He was the only one who could calm her down, and he did so by leaning in real close and holding both her hands in his and talking softly to her about happy things while the hardest, most painful parts too place. He nearly lost it a few times, but held it together for her sake. I've never seen the man so close to tears the entire eight years I've known him. That's love RIGHT THERE.

3. This one is a doozy, sit down this rant will take a few minutes.

Her sperm donor is a big fat jerk, and unfortunately Lauren knows this first hand now. He would not leave work early (although under FMLA he had every right to), came in the middle of her surgery and the first thing out of his mouth, I shit you not, was, "I bet she won't do that again." Really? Asshole. I just gave him a look. Knowing her, she will probably be just as accident prone as before, but not around windows. Still. My first thoughts were, "Is she OK? Is she in any pain? How can I help her?" THEN he complained that Dr. G. met us after the surgery (exhausted and ready to head home himself) in his street clothes that he came in wearing, which were dirty (obviously he had been enjoying his Friday before getting called in for Lauren). THEN, when I asked Lauren which parent she wanted to stay with her the first night, he was all too quick to shake his head no before she could answer (thankfully she was choosing Josh and not him), and to add that he had to work the next day. This is his child, for fuck's sake. Compassion? Is it in there?

Yesterday he brought his other kids to visit with her. Visit. Not stay, not stand vigil by her side or hold her hand, not ask her if there is anything she needs, not to bring her flowers or a balloon or even a fucking card... just to stand there and visit and offer her the obligatory make-himself-look-good-as-a-parent hug and kiss goodbye. He's lucky I wasn't there at the time. My mom was with her so Josh and I could get some sleep, because you just can't sleep in a hospital when your child is next to you recovering from pain and surgery, yannow?

Today? He hasn't called her. He didn't have to work until the afternoon. No call, no visit, NOTHING. She's hurt, but she knows Josh is her Daddy.

4. Have you ever heard that keeping a regular routine will help you if you face upset? It doesn't, not when you're the mom and you're at work third shift knowing your 'baby' is in the hospital sleeping off her Tylenol with Codiene. Josh was with her while I was at work, but I was not focussing on my job at all. I left early this morning after getting all the 'basics' done, but I am not elligible for FMLA because I work less than 20 hours a week, and I cannot afford to lose money right now.

5. I have NO IDEA what CHIP covers, if we are facing exhorbant copays or not. I need to find out, but I'm petrified we will be looking down our noses at two or three grand worth of bills. BUT, BUT.

6. I don't really give a fuck.

7. Because my precious child is home and safe and getting better. That's all that matters, no?

Thanks for ALL of the lovely support and comments and texts and emails and stuff you've done for me. Do me a favor and head over to Beany's blog especially to give her big hugs. She is a super-fantabulous best friend who kept me sane through all of this.

BIG HUGS EVERYBODY!!!

Not Here

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 01:29:00 +0000

I'm not going to be online for sure this weekend.

This evening, around 5pm, my daughter did a cartwheel on the porch and her foot went through the living room window. She lacerated three tendons and one vein on her right foot, and she's in a lot of pain (or not anymore because of a medicinal cocktail of feel-good things). She had surgery tonight to repair them, but she is in a plaster cast for 8 weeks, on crutches for four weeks. I think I've got this all correct. I promised her I would be back shortly, so I can't write up a long post for y'all. Just a little explanation why I'm not going to be around much. She is in the hospital until Sunday morning.

Just something you take for granted, health, that is. I'm so glad it wasn't worse. I'm still shook up though.

Go hug your kids real tight now.

Spam Email

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 10:00:00 +0000

What would you do if you discovered multiple spam emails from... yourself?

I'm getting fucking pissed off.

Several people are putting my email in the 'return path' of their spam emails. The spams are designed to appear to come from MSN as part of an email subscription, a site I am not affiliated with with my GMAIL account. There is one blog I read that requires live.com membership to leave comments, so I do have a hotmail account, but my gmail address is not associated with it.

About this mailing:
You are receiving this e-mail because you subscribed to MSN Featured Offers. Microsoft respects your privacy. If you do not wish to receive this MSN Featured Offers e-mail, please click the "Unsubscribe" link below. This will not unsubscribe you from e-mail communications from third-party advertisers that may appear in MSN Feature Offers. This shall not constitute an offer by MSN. MSN shall not be responsible or liable for the advertisers' content nor any of the goods or service advertised. Prices and item availability subject to change without notice.

©2008 Microsoft | Unsubscribe | More Newsletters | Privacy

Furthermore, since when does MSN send out subscription emails? Isn't that from, what? last century? Do the spammers honestly think people are going to believe this crap? I thought MSN was now live.com? Adding to this, the email was an advertisement for pharmaceuticals. Yeah. Real believable.

Anyway, the emails aren't literally coming out of my gmail account. Nobody's hacked my email. They are just putting my username in place of their's when they fill in the return path, so it appears to have come from me. Of course, a quick check of the headers will reveal the 'real' return path email, and in which case, I like to hit 'reply', fill in the real email, as well as abuse@gmail.com.

If I didn't have so many things tied into this one account I might just close it altogether, but along with having several sites (including blogger) attached to it, I'm just too lazy to go through all the motions.

One thing really confuzzles me... don't the spammers realize that the 'send' and 'from' email addresses are the same? And that I'm, oh, I don't know, smart enough to call their bluff? They really think I'm going to click ANY link when I can clearly see the email is fraud?

This sucks.

*This post was posted using Blogger's scheduling feature. I really am not at the computer, I just love you enough to give you something to read while I am chasing fairies with Little Ozzie and Captain Underpants.

Jilted

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 10:00:00 +0000

Jilted is a word that has been lingering in my vocabulary since the beginning of the month. While I hardly ever feel jilted, it has made a dashing entrance into my life at a time when I feel least likely to welcome it.

I felt jilted when...

... the last episode of Battlestar Galactica to air this year yeilded no #5 of the final five and no real answers, although it DID give up a radioactive Earth. Yay.
... a half bottle of "Stelvin Cap" wine did not render me drunk as per usual. Damn 6% and tolerance levels!!!
... the fifth bag of Orville Redenbacher's Ultimate Butter Popcorn collapsed and half the kernels remained intact. (a rip off?)
... my burnt marshmallow appeared mysteriously solid on the inside instead of gooey whilst concocting a sugaring confection bliss known as a smore.
... a "friendship" I had wrapped up many hopes inside of disintegrated before my eyes. I'll shut up about that when I'm over it. Yougottaproblemwithat?!
... three weeks (almost four) of diet and exercise got me 1/2 size smaller, not a whole size, but I suppose I'm fully to blame for being utterly lazy. It is the nature of a Susan, you know.

To say I have been happy this month would be a misconception. Although I have been happy at times, overwhelmingly I have felt jilted.

What is your word of the month?

*This post was posted using Blogger's scheduling feature. I really am not at the computer, I just love you enough to give you something to read while I am chasing fairies with Little Ozzie and Captain Underpants.

Bust-ed

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 20:40:00 +0000

Vacation, so far, has been a bust. Not quite literally either.

For starters, I decided to play to my hearts content.. only to discover two days of constant rain, and the temps have dropped into the 50's F (that's low teens for you Celsius people). Add to that my dreary mood that I was attempting to lift with summertime specialities, and I've made quite a lump of myself on the couch being a tad depressed.

That is, until I decided to DO something about it rather than licking my wounds and nursing self pity. Drats! Nothing funny on TV. I don't know about you, but I don't find Mad TV very amusing. Nothing was 'funny enough' to help me out, and this is one of my old standbys. So I tried chocolate, but that doesn't help matters any because I have no appetite. Not even for chocolate or wine. What's wrong with me?

Hrm. I wandered out to the kitchen this afternoon to make supper and got lost in the Maillard reaction of the chicken breasts. Not only did I think of Speedy with the chicken, and boobs with, well, it's chicken BREAST (hee-hee), but I remembered how much I really LOVE to cook fine and delicious meals. OMG... *drool*

Many things make me drool, but for some reason this was the trick, my Bears of Berlin, as Dave put it once on his blog. A few years ago Warren did something called a "Bear Affair", which is what I was reminded of when I read his post.

Oh, and I a quick search of google garnered this beauty of a link. It's about normal breasts. An excerpt:

"But, in reality female breasts come in all kinds of sizes and shapes. These breast pictures are here to let you see normal breasts - big, small, sagging, asymmetrical; big areolas or nipples."

**WARNING: These are normal, not perfect. Just don't head into it with any-ahem-expectations.

I know you're going to click the link after that; I just know it! I see a pair just.like.mine too! I won't tell you which pair either. Na-na-na-na-naaaa-naaa.

It's the least I can do at the moment.

If Anybody Asks...

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 03:36:00 +0000

... I was out smashin' mailboxes last night with your cousin' Bob.

Got it?

hehehehehehe

I'm going to take a few days off of blogging. Summer vaca is hard to adjust too and I'm going to work on strengthening my parenting skills (and also working on squeaking in some bona fide alone time in the morning). So instead of firing up the comp, I'm going to take a walk in the morning before everybody's awake.

Instead of obsessively checking emails, I'm going to be obsessively checking on my rule-breaking kids.

Instead of sitting down in front of this beast every spare minute I get, I'm going to do something productive, like pick up a toy, do a load of dishes, or fold some laundry. Or sunbath. Or play outside with my kids so long that we lose track of time.

Dammit, it's summer, I wanna play too!!!

If you need to get ahold of me and it's an emergency, contact Beany. She's got my number, she can call anytime. If it's not an emergency, and it can wait, then I'll see you in a few days, huh? Happy Weekdays everybody

T'is I, The Sue

noreply@blogger.com (Sue) — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 20:00:00 +0000

Maybe it's time to give you a little background on me. Lord knows what the people I find through my Google Alerts think to come back to find boobs but no Sue.

Hello, my name is Sue. *extends hands* We can be on a first name basis. I've been married since 2002, so if you insist on being proper, Ms. Sue or Mrs. Sue is appropriate. I also have two children who are five years apart. The Girl is the oldest; The Boy just turned five. I rarely mention them on the blog here because I don't consider this a 'mommy blog'. I'm not knocking parenting blogs, they are fantastic. I just don't feel comfy sharing my own experiences on a daily basis and that's about it. That and I worry about sharing 'too much' and I'd rather not risk there being a 'fine line'.

I grew up in a small 'city' called War ren, P A. War ren is quaint, old fashioned, and starving for growth and modernization. Aside from the younger ones' tomfoolery, there isn't a high crime rate. It's nestled in the very tip of the Alleg heny Mountain Range, flanked by the Alleg heny Natio nal Fo rest, and neighbor to several natural attractions.

But enough about that, who I am now isn't necessarily a product of my raising. I was raised Christian and migrated through religions before I found something I call 'independent'. I do have strong opinions of religion, though I don't follow any one of them. I will go through the motions of Christianity for family gatherings, etc., but I struggle to adhere to their doctrine of beliefs. This said, I do not welcome debate on the subject at all. If you are truly interested in knowing what is in my head, ask me candidly and do so with an open mind, or you risk getting a mouthful from me for inciting an argument (ironically). Let's just say my chosen path most closely resembles Zen Buddhism.

Now that I've brought up religion, I should also lay clear my views on politics. According to this site, I am liberal. I do not label myself, however. In fact, I am considering leaving the Republican party and I'm opposed to transferring to the Dems. Neither party suits or serves me well. Politics, in general, is not my cuppa tea. I leave them alone, and they leave me alone. I help the county and the state decide who will represent me, but I never trust that they can have everybody's interests at heart. You can't please all the people all the time. I don't pity the politician, however, because they chose their path knowing this. This is all I wish to share on the subject, and again, no debate.

In the past four years I have taken up an interest in photography. I am taking my time with it, making sure I know what I am doing, enjoying it and honing my skills. I would say I'm passionate, but the term is so cliché and overused these days that I'm having trouble thinking it without gritting my teeth. I don't live and breath photography. However, what blogging is to some people, photography is to me. I go through life seeing 'shots'. Opportunities crop up out of nowhere. I once forgot my camera in the car while touring a rain forest in Australia, and I was pitched into the throes of an anxiety attack because I felt naked and detached. I wanted to enjoy the natural surroundings I found, but without a camera I felt somewhat asphyxiated.

I have a blog because I like to share, not because I write well. I don't write well, I just write. How well it is depends on who's reading it and how critical they are. I have lost my inhibitions behind the veil of the internet and I tend to be more of an extrovert in cyberspace. In real life, however, I have difficulty interracting with people and tend to suffer from foot-in-mouth disease. It gets me into trouble. I also st-st-stutter, swear, fidget, and forget what I'm saying midsentence. Thus, I have become highly introverted in public and it's actually a BIG deal if I break my own boundaries to reach out to people. For these challenges alone I have also suffered from anxiety and, at times, clinical depression.

I've always been a socially awkward individual. Recently I started employing 'connection' techniques thanks to encouragement from Steve Harper's Ripple Effect. It does work! However, being as emotionally sensitive as I am to rejection and failure, I find it especially challenging to maintain these connections once I've started them. Perseverance will pay off eventually, I believe.

My line of work caters to my ability to thrive independent of 'teamwork'. I do enjoy working on a team and having my contributions valued by the team. I work better knowing I 'belong' to the group. However, I tend to work more efficiently when I'm left to my own devices. I am a cleaner, and I work alone most nights. I work at my own pace, in my own fashion, and I have proven my reputation of being a good, hard worker time and again. I do relish the idea that my work is serving others in a small way, and it makes all the more worthwhile to be able to contribute to my employment without the fanfare of being 'noticed'. I'm one of those people that will give to my hearts content... anonymously. I don't want anybody to know what I offer, and for the most part it remains that way. There's a term for it, but for the life of me I can't think of it now.

I can be one of the best friends you ever had. I am punky, spunky, charismatic, and engaging. I have compassion for others' feelings to the point of wrapping myself in guilt over it (a habit I'm currently working on). I try not to trust too soon, but it happens. I tend to naively believe the best in people until they prove me otherwise, and I will treat you accordingly. I'm also pretty easy-going for the most part, but I can't deny that when things get under my skin I will react different to them depending on the nature of the problem.

Oh, and I can be a cold-hearted, lying, fucking bitch too. Or that's what I'm told. Yes, I have a temper. Some issues are hot spots for me, others not so much. Hit a hot spot and back the fuck off, because I'm a little spitfire when I really do get righteously angry. I know I just talked about anger being a waste of time, but there ARE instances when I will not agree with my own philosophy.

If you fuck with

* my kids.
* my husband.
* anybody else I cherish.

or

* my job...

Watch out!

All else I can pretty much back off from conflict whenever possible.

And that about sums up the Sue. Any questions?