These internets get me in trouble sometimes. You know how humor doesn't always translate through technology? I forget that, probably due to the fact that my inflated self-esteem tells me I'm quite funny. And though I do enjoy a good fart joke, I try to make smart jokes. Like if I ever had the chance to make say, Stephen Colbert, laugh, I would be ecstatic.
But then I forget that some people take some things, like oh, religion, really seriously.
Like literally seriously.
Personally, I think God, Allah, Bhudda, the oak tree in your yard, however you choose to express your faith or non-faith, is cool. That's not the point of this. My point is that any sort of divine creator or spiritual force has a sense of humor. Look around you. It has to have a sense of humor. So by extension, the Bible can be funny.
I might not be making any friends here.
Seriously, though, I'm no expert on the Bible, but I can't take it literally. I think there are lots of great stories and ideas that can point you in the direction of how you want to live. To me, Noah putting two zebras in an ark isn't the point. I don't need to know that's true. That's a story about strength and faith, even when everyone thinks you are crazy.
Since I hold this view, I don't get too caught up in trying to prove or disprove the factuality of the Bible. So an innocent little post of my friend, Raising Cain (RC), ended up making me look silly and defensive. Although I still think I was funny... even if I had to explain the joke...
Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Legally Blond, LB, does know me, and my sense of humor. I should point out that she was very surprised to learn that Charles Dickens did not write Sweeney Todd.
RC
Thursday near Small SoDak town via mobile
So according to the Bible Jesus and Moses fasted for 40 days....
Like · · Share
Innocent Dude I Don't Know It's doable.
Thursday at 6:31pm via mobile · Like
RC Well I have seen people passing that have gone as long as 3 weeks but 40 days!!!
Thursday at 6:34pm via mobile · Like
RC Was a day then equal to a day now?
Thursday at 6:35pm via mobile · Unlike · 1
Innocent Dude I Don't Know I've done 40 days, but typically use juice for a bit of vitamin intake.
Thursday at 6:35pm · Like
RC That'll bring you closer to God in more than one way
Thursday at 6:40pm via mobile · Like
Innocent Dude I Don't Know Indeed, it could!
Thursday at 6:41pm · Like
LB RC, they were in steadfast prayer throughout the entire time. Its about obedience. Showing God they are able to listen if He called them to do such a thing. Yes, the ultimate goal brings your relationship closer to the Lord. The constant prayer is what brings them closer to having a better relationship with Him. He's a relational God and within that growing relationship He will open your own eyes even to what He knows you can do and a chance to see what He can do for you too.
Thursday at 11:07pm · Like
Me Noah also lived to be like 900... The funniest part of this post is that it looks like Bible Jesus and Moses were fasting together. And I'm like, I'm no Biblical scholar, but my home boy Mo was splittin' seas way back in the OT, a hella long time before Jesus hit the scene. And again, how was time measured? And is "Bible Jesus" a way to differentiate from Mexi Jesus?
Friday at 12:27am · Like · 1
LB http://www.biblestudy.org/basicart/why-did-man-live-longer-before-flood-of-noah-than-after-it.html
Why did man live longer BEFORE the Flood?
www.biblestudy.org
Why did man live longer BEFORE the Flood? Are the long lives a MYTH? What factors led to man living more than 500 years?
Friday at 9:20am via mobile · Like · 1
LB (my name)
Friday at 9:20am via mobile · Like · 1
LB (my name again) they didn't fast together. different times. haha. also, check out bibleclocks.org. that might kinda help. Lastly, Jesus was BORN Jewish. I'm glad and thankful for Who and what I believe. If I'm wrong..then I'm wrong. But if I'm right...then I sure wouldn't want to be that person that had the OPPORTUNITY to know and chose otherwise. Anyway,I love you, girls and think abt you often!
Friday at 9:36am · Like
Me I understand the difference between OT and NT. I know that Jesus was Jewish. I know that Jews do not believe in Jesus as the Messiah. I'm aware that the OT is the important part to the Jews and the NT is the important part to the Evangelicals unless they want to hate on gays or women. I know that Moses is probably the most important prophet to the Jews, but he is also important to Christians and Muslims. I am aware that Mexico was not an organized country during the time of which we are speaking. I was just being silly. My comments about "Bible Jesus and Moses" fasting together was just a play on the grammar. I went to church, sunday school, and youth group for years. I was just having a little fun with the post cuz RC and I like to have a little fun.
Friday at 10:13am · Like
Me Nothing personal, girl, just don't want you to think I'm uninformed. We just believe differently! Hope you are well, LB!
Friday at 10:14am · Like
Me My comments were, not was... subject-verb agreement. Slap my wrist.
Friday at 10:15am · Like
LB Oh Gotchya! Yea everything is goin really well. We should catch up sometime..much love..
Friday at 10:28am via mobile · Unlike · 1
Funny, right? Or maybe I am just a big, bully jerkface? Now I just want to go to YouTube and watch Sweeney Todd clips. That Patti LuPone is something else. But there must be a moral to this story... did we learn anything?
I am certain there were no Incans named Jesus.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Blame Game...
If you type "adam" into your Google search, your first four choices are:
adam levine
adam lanza
adam sandler
adam lambert
Nearly everyone would know which titles match with which Adam--musician, comedian, television personality, movie star, murderer. I actually thought Lanza would be first on the list, considering the amount of media coverage surrounding the story and the Frontline that just aired. Levine being at the top of the list reminded me that middle school girls are still incredibly self-involved. But the second Adam, Adam Lanza, is the one I am thinking of today.
I'm not condoning his behaviors or making excuses. This was a horrible, tragic event. I don't know what can come from it. Other than the initial reaction of counting your blessings, it seems to have started a gun debate that, like almost everything political, has no right or wrong answers, and seemingly turns both sides into a bunch of cowards because everyone's made themselves so strident they've forgotten the concept of compromise can exist.
But it isn't the Facebook arguments or the memes that bother me the most, it's the need to assign blame. Blame the parents! Blame the sensory processing disorder! Blame the Asperger's! Blame the video games! Blame the schools for not getting him for help! Blame the shrinks! Blame the divorce! Blame! Blame! Blame! Well, the need to assign blame must be a by-product of our lawsuit happy society! Blame the lawyers! He wanted to top the death toll of that Norwegian guy who killed 77 people! Blame the media! Why are you reading about him? He's the bad guy! It's your fault!
Blame is an odd beast. It allows us to deflect our part in the humanity of others, to judge instead of attempt understand. We never have to consider our part in something when we shove the blame off on something else. The Newtown case is just a big, fat, glaring example of something we do everyday. Assigning responsibility for faults, no matter how large or minute, or judging and categorizing people are more the American pastime than baseball. This allows us to feel superior over others, but it really just makes us pawns in a game.
I'm trying to achieve a higher level of thinking when it comes to others, instead of blaming and judgment, I'm making an effort to experience the perceived fault as my own. Like it or not, many times the words or actions of others that we allow to affect us most negatively actually trip something about ourselves on which we need to work. Like I spoke about last time, this is all part of my journey of understanding.
And yes, I have blamed the dogs for farts. I'm a work in progress.
adam levine
adam lanza
adam sandler
adam lambert
Nearly everyone would know which titles match with which Adam--musician, comedian, television personality, movie star, murderer. I actually thought Lanza would be first on the list, considering the amount of media coverage surrounding the story and the Frontline that just aired. Levine being at the top of the list reminded me that middle school girls are still incredibly self-involved. But the second Adam, Adam Lanza, is the one I am thinking of today.
I'm not condoning his behaviors or making excuses. This was a horrible, tragic event. I don't know what can come from it. Other than the initial reaction of counting your blessings, it seems to have started a gun debate that, like almost everything political, has no right or wrong answers, and seemingly turns both sides into a bunch of cowards because everyone's made themselves so strident they've forgotten the concept of compromise can exist.
But it isn't the Facebook arguments or the memes that bother me the most, it's the need to assign blame. Blame the parents! Blame the sensory processing disorder! Blame the Asperger's! Blame the video games! Blame the schools for not getting him for help! Blame the shrinks! Blame the divorce! Blame! Blame! Blame! Well, the need to assign blame must be a by-product of our lawsuit happy society! Blame the lawyers! He wanted to top the death toll of that Norwegian guy who killed 77 people! Blame the media! Why are you reading about him? He's the bad guy! It's your fault!
Blame is an odd beast. It allows us to deflect our part in the humanity of others, to judge instead of attempt understand. We never have to consider our part in something when we shove the blame off on something else. The Newtown case is just a big, fat, glaring example of something we do everyday. Assigning responsibility for faults, no matter how large or minute, or judging and categorizing people are more the American pastime than baseball. This allows us to feel superior over others, but it really just makes us pawns in a game.
I'm trying to achieve a higher level of thinking when it comes to others, instead of blaming and judgment, I'm making an effort to experience the perceived fault as my own. Like it or not, many times the words or actions of others that we allow to affect us most negatively actually trip something about ourselves on which we need to work. Like I spoke about last time, this is all part of my journey of understanding.
And yes, I have blamed the dogs for farts. I'm a work in progress.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
When considering all the destruction in the world, there is none more tragic than the self-imposed. - Me
It is 3:30 in the morning and I am feeling guilty. I am warm, safe, and have a bitch on each hip. I had a good day at work. I made a pink and purple Barbie guitar cake for my buddy's daughter. I have a loving family and many friends who care for me. I have more blessings in this moment than I can share. But I am haunted.
I must talk of my blessings because that's the only way to really understand my story. I am a have. I have never had to go without. While I have been through some incredibly difficult times, I know that a big reason I no longer live as a victim is due to the support and stability of the circle around me. It's easy to act like I did it on my own, but that would just be an act. My longing to be authentic was greater than my act.
There is a streak of independence and individualism running through me. Some of it is innate and some has mellowed over the years.
My guilt?
My lack of understanding.
It's so conflicting, really. I believe wholeheartedly that we need to use positive thinking and visualization to create opportunities in our lives. I believe we get back what we put out. It's been said thousands of ways over the history of humanity, so it's not surprising that this concept is at belief status for me. And I have seen it work in my life--my Anne Frank quality. The ability to see the positive in a shitty situation. So I just assumed that anyone could put this to practice in his/her life.
My assumption failed because I forget that not everyone is blessed with a healthy mind. Maybe I am just getting to the age where The long-term mental health issues are really starring to ravage some of my friends. And I can instantly think of three friends with whom their mental health issues are also coupled with substance abuse issues. Thankfully, some of them are getting the help they need right now.
I remember the night I woke up in my bathtub, covered in puke and wishing I had choked on the vomit and died. I hadn't thought about that moment in a while. I was so sad and scared. But I like have said many times, any negative emotion is rooted in hurt. I was just a big pile of hurt, acting out self-destructively because I knew no other way. I asked the ceiling for some type of help and a wave of calm passed through me and said to just go to bed. When I woke a few hours later, I knew something had to change.
Several tries later, something started to stick. Maybe mostly because I wanted it to and my stubborn ass didn't want to be a slave to anything anymore.
It's a humbling process. It's a work in progress. And that's okay. A few years ago, I asked the Universe to teach me patience. I still regret that one sometimes, but I also feel like it's starting to stick.
My next lesson is to ask for understanding. And I think my three friends were the messengers sent to plant that request. I'm learning that recognizing and stopping self-destruction is far more difficult for someone who struggles with a mental illness. Acknowledging this is helping ease my mind.
It's late. I have stopped making sense and Alli wants to cuddle.
It is 3:30 in the morning and I am feeling guilty. I am warm, safe, and have a bitch on each hip. I had a good day at work. I made a pink and purple Barbie guitar cake for my buddy's daughter. I have a loving family and many friends who care for me. I have more blessings in this moment than I can share. But I am haunted.
I must talk of my blessings because that's the only way to really understand my story. I am a have. I have never had to go without. While I have been through some incredibly difficult times, I know that a big reason I no longer live as a victim is due to the support and stability of the circle around me. It's easy to act like I did it on my own, but that would just be an act. My longing to be authentic was greater than my act.
There is a streak of independence and individualism running through me. Some of it is innate and some has mellowed over the years.
My guilt?
My lack of understanding.
It's so conflicting, really. I believe wholeheartedly that we need to use positive thinking and visualization to create opportunities in our lives. I believe we get back what we put out. It's been said thousands of ways over the history of humanity, so it's not surprising that this concept is at belief status for me. And I have seen it work in my life--my Anne Frank quality. The ability to see the positive in a shitty situation. So I just assumed that anyone could put this to practice in his/her life.
My assumption failed because I forget that not everyone is blessed with a healthy mind. Maybe I am just getting to the age where The long-term mental health issues are really starring to ravage some of my friends. And I can instantly think of three friends with whom their mental health issues are also coupled with substance abuse issues. Thankfully, some of them are getting the help they need right now.
I remember the night I woke up in my bathtub, covered in puke and wishing I had choked on the vomit and died. I hadn't thought about that moment in a while. I was so sad and scared. But I like have said many times, any negative emotion is rooted in hurt. I was just a big pile of hurt, acting out self-destructively because I knew no other way. I asked the ceiling for some type of help and a wave of calm passed through me and said to just go to bed. When I woke a few hours later, I knew something had to change.
Several tries later, something started to stick. Maybe mostly because I wanted it to and my stubborn ass didn't want to be a slave to anything anymore.
It's a humbling process. It's a work in progress. And that's okay. A few years ago, I asked the Universe to teach me patience. I still regret that one sometimes, but I also feel like it's starting to stick.
My next lesson is to ask for understanding. And I think my three friends were the messengers sent to plant that request. I'm learning that recognizing and stopping self-destruction is far more difficult for someone who struggles with a mental illness. Acknowledging this is helping ease my mind.
It's late. I have stopped making sense and Alli wants to cuddle.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Homo Says What...
I ran in one of those really fun small town road races last weekend. I grew up in a small town and spent a lot of time wanting to be anywhere else. That was probably just a symptom of youth since the city in which I currently live isn't huge, but that's beyond the point. The point here was the race. It was a hoot. There was even a chili feed at the golf course afterwards.
I hadn't even heard about this race until a couple of weeks ago, when my friend, Formerly Known by Three Initials (FKTI), was in for lunch and mentioned she was running it with my friend, Currently Known by Three Initials (CKTI). Both of these ladies are serious runners. They talk about things like speed work. I admire that, really, I do. I think I should learn to be more like them, so I would get better times. But if I'm being honest with myself, I must admit that I have way more fun with the bitches, dodging geese and carrying bags of dog shit.
So anyway, I was intrigued enough by the thought of the Initial Girls and road race in February to sign up. The day I signed up was one of those weirdo gloriously warm days in which the sun shines and ice melts. Then the Alberta Clippers moved through and we went into a sub-zero deep freeze the week of the race. Schools were called off due to wind chill temps over -30 and below.
I was scarrrred.
I knew I would show up and suffer through it no matter what. I also know that wool socks and tights only do so much.
Thankfully, it was 16 degrees when I pulled into town the morning of the race and the wind wasn't too bad at all. I pounded a Red Bull on my way down and was jamming out to some Otis Redding, so I drove a bit faster than I should have and had plenty of time to spare before the race. This also gave me plenty of time to observe one of my favorite aspects of small town life, the Less Than A Degree of Separation aspect. Everybody knows everybody knows everybody. It's a comforting thing, really. Lots of hi and how are you-types of greetings. Talk about the last basketball game. It's pretty superficial. Nothing controversial, after all, this was a fundraiser for the school's booster club.
It was a four mile race, so we loaded up onto school buses to be driven out of town--no quitting if you gotta run back to town. So the Initial Girls and I piled on to the first bus. People were scattered all over, with an open seat here and there. We just went straight to the back of the bus and I plopped down in the single seat by the emergency door while they sat kitty corner from me.
Suddenly, a pack of dudes in matching red t-shirts were marching down the isle towards us. The stance and attire of the group screamed of a frat stereotype, but I try to be open-minded. I try.
They get to the back of the bus and the nice guy in the seat across from me scooted towards the window and said, "You can sit here, man."
He replied, "I'm WAY too homophobic for that," with a machine gun laugh.
"I'm not, so if any ladies wanna sit on my lap, get here," was out of my mouth, loudly, before I even realized what I said.
Sometimes, I'm okay with my lack of censor.
I hadn't even heard about this race until a couple of weeks ago, when my friend, Formerly Known by Three Initials (FKTI), was in for lunch and mentioned she was running it with my friend, Currently Known by Three Initials (CKTI). Both of these ladies are serious runners. They talk about things like speed work. I admire that, really, I do. I think I should learn to be more like them, so I would get better times. But if I'm being honest with myself, I must admit that I have way more fun with the bitches, dodging geese and carrying bags of dog shit.
So anyway, I was intrigued enough by the thought of the Initial Girls and road race in February to sign up. The day I signed up was one of those weirdo gloriously warm days in which the sun shines and ice melts. Then the Alberta Clippers moved through and we went into a sub-zero deep freeze the week of the race. Schools were called off due to wind chill temps over -30 and below.
I was scarrrred.
I knew I would show up and suffer through it no matter what. I also know that wool socks and tights only do so much.
Thankfully, it was 16 degrees when I pulled into town the morning of the race and the wind wasn't too bad at all. I pounded a Red Bull on my way down and was jamming out to some Otis Redding, so I drove a bit faster than I should have and had plenty of time to spare before the race. This also gave me plenty of time to observe one of my favorite aspects of small town life, the Less Than A Degree of Separation aspect. Everybody knows everybody knows everybody. It's a comforting thing, really. Lots of hi and how are you-types of greetings. Talk about the last basketball game. It's pretty superficial. Nothing controversial, after all, this was a fundraiser for the school's booster club.
It was a four mile race, so we loaded up onto school buses to be driven out of town--no quitting if you gotta run back to town. So the Initial Girls and I piled on to the first bus. People were scattered all over, with an open seat here and there. We just went straight to the back of the bus and I plopped down in the single seat by the emergency door while they sat kitty corner from me.
Suddenly, a pack of dudes in matching red t-shirts were marching down the isle towards us. The stance and attire of the group screamed of a frat stereotype, but I try to be open-minded. I try.
They get to the back of the bus and the nice guy in the seat across from me scooted towards the window and said, "You can sit here, man."
He replied, "I'm WAY too homophobic for that," with a machine gun laugh.
"I'm not, so if any ladies wanna sit on my lap, get here," was out of my mouth, loudly, before I even realized what I said.
Sometimes, I'm okay with my lack of censor.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
More Spark and Less Snark...
People are always leaving random reading materials behind at work. A stray newspaper here and there is always a good find for me. And then there’s all the little free advertising rags that get glanced at and tossed with a frequency that makes the forests weep. The other day I came across a devotional book of sorts. I shouldn’t really call it a book. It was more of a mass-produced magazine that a church must be able to order and then add their information in the front. It wasn’t anything super glossy. It wasn’t full of pictures. Since I’m the type of person who reads everything from toothpaste packaging to magazines, I had to take a look. The very first thing I landed on was intriguing, to say the least.
It was a commentary on love.
The basis was First Corinthians 13:7, from a translation called “The New Living Translation,” which said, “Love believes all things. Hopes all things. Endures all things.”
The cynic may say that sounds like a chump or a doormat. The romantic might grab the lofty wings of those words and pledge his eternally to his beloved.
I’m one of those people who believe that love is something you define personally. Love isn’t just the romantic-type of love that you think of initially. I’m sure cards and flowers can be fun from time to time, but any sort of gift or trinket is really pretty superficial if there isn’t any action behind it.
I love myself in the sense that I want to take care of my body and mind so that I am healthy and enjoy life. And the bitches taught me that I am capable of loving another creature more than I love myself. When I thought I was going to have to re-home one of them, my heart literally ached.
We’ve all felt that ache of heartbreak. Not the “We lost the big game” kind, but the “I gave him my heart and he crushed my soul” type, usually with a first love or in many cases with one that was never right to begin with or was immature. We’ve all heard the adage, “True love doesn’t have a happy ending because true love has no ending at all.”
Sure, we could get hung up on the idea that a true love is a one-on-one human connection. And maybe it is for some. But let’s push past that concept and look at true love as a manifestation of who you are. We need to enter every day with a genuine, real, and honest love for everyone with whom we come into contact, especially the ones who irritate us. Every living creature you meet, human or otherwise, gives you a chance to express love.
I’m going for more spark and less snark.
It was a commentary on love.
The basis was First Corinthians 13:7, from a translation called “The New Living Translation,” which said, “Love believes all things. Hopes all things. Endures all things.”
The cynic may say that sounds like a chump or a doormat. The romantic might grab the lofty wings of those words and pledge his eternally to his beloved.
I’m one of those people who believe that love is something you define personally. Love isn’t just the romantic-type of love that you think of initially. I’m sure cards and flowers can be fun from time to time, but any sort of gift or trinket is really pretty superficial if there isn’t any action behind it.
I love myself in the sense that I want to take care of my body and mind so that I am healthy and enjoy life. And the bitches taught me that I am capable of loving another creature more than I love myself. When I thought I was going to have to re-home one of them, my heart literally ached.
We’ve all felt that ache of heartbreak. Not the “We lost the big game” kind, but the “I gave him my heart and he crushed my soul” type, usually with a first love or in many cases with one that was never right to begin with or was immature. We’ve all heard the adage, “True love doesn’t have a happy ending because true love has no ending at all.”
Sure, we could get hung up on the idea that a true love is a one-on-one human connection. And maybe it is for some. But let’s push past that concept and look at true love as a manifestation of who you are. We need to enter every day with a genuine, real, and honest love for everyone with whom we come into contact, especially the ones who irritate us. Every living creature you meet, human or otherwise, gives you a chance to express love.
I’m going for more spark and less snark.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
I swear I've been writing things...
I've just been working. A lot. Holidays. And pissed cuz I can't be out running with the bitches. The treadmill gets me by, but the sub-freezing temps and ice patches make me long for a warmer climate. So I've been obsessed with remodeling the kitchen. Man Friend probably regrets the suggestion, since I'm always online and taking pics of things at Lowes now. Anyhoo... this is the inspiration. To months of work and dollars to be spent.
Modern Country Style: Anne Turner's Cottage Living Kitchen Before & Afte...: Hey there, sugarplum, I hope you're feeling fine and dandy. But if you're not, if the cold wintry greyness is getting you down, then I ha...
Modern Country Style: Anne Turner's Cottage Living Kitchen Before & Afte...: Hey there, sugarplum, I hope you're feeling fine and dandy. But if you're not, if the cold wintry greyness is getting you down, then I ha...
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
A List is Just a List...
Once in a great while, I decide to really clean the house. Not that the place is ever ready for a reality show or anything; the dishes are done and the laundry is maintained. You would never have to be afraid to use the bathroom here, okay? I just wouldn’t earn the Good Housekeeping seal of approval…
However, the past few days have been incredibly productive. Man Friend and I spent time rearranging furniture and art, you know, really setting the place up. He’s good at that stuff, he says things like, “You have the square footage, you just aren’t fully utilizing it.” Swoon. Don’t get me started about when he talks about load bearing walls.
The fantastic part is that the living room feels a lot bigger now, as well as more functional. Plus, this gorgeous entertainment center that he built, AKA “The Big Unit,” is now the hub of the area. Alli is taking her time getting used to the new configuration and Joey could care less as long as she can sleep on the couch.
I have to be honest, though. The most fun of this whole escapade was finding a bunch of notepads with weird lists I made. I love lists. I have legal pads, notepads, and sticky notes stashed everywhere. I make grocery lists, lists for my days off, lists of errands, you get the drift. If I have an important baking project or holiday dinner to prep for, I make the list in the order in which I will go through the store. I have contemplated drawing maps. If I don’t write it down, it probably won’t happen. NOTE: Let the sun rise in the morning.
Much time in my life has been spent writing lists, checking off lists, and throwing away completed lists. I love the sense of accomplishment of a completed list. Thankfully, an uncompleted list doesn’t drive me crazy. I just add what’s left to the next list…
One of the lists I found really made me giggle as it was a list of ideas for blogs:
•Dumb hippies who try too hard
•You should have to maintain a certain GPA to get gov’t loans/aid
•Bread—how dependent we’ve become
•My closet love of Nicki Minaj and Hanson.
•Why do the teabaggers claim Ayn Rand?
•Professional athletes are prostitutes
•People who think Alli is a pitbull
I know Alli guest blogged on the last topic. That was a bitch to dictate.
Another list I found was super weird, but the fact that I made said list speaks to my love of lists… anyone who lives in my area will remember there was tons of flooding a few summers ago. In my city, it was mostly limited to basement flooding, but we had a few huge rains and lots of people living near rivers lost everything.
I was fortunate enough to not have to deal with those type of issues, but we did have a neighborhood issue with the sanitary sewer system. A line broke, everything was overstressed and we were asked to not flush our toilets, run our showers, or add any water to the sanitary system during “the crisis.” On the plus side, I learned that I am not afraid to shit in a bag and that I can get completely ready with a small bottle of water, a tin bowl, and a wash cloth. Call me Half Pint.
But the point here was that along with the call to not stress the sewer, I was also in the zone where the mayor said there could be sewer backups in the basements. That meant sorting through things in the basement and deciding what needed to come upstairs just in case Poop River picked my house.
Again, I got lucky. Poop River stayed north. The big sort in the basement got me thinking and I decided that I needed to do a big pitch. I challenged myself that I would get 100 items out of the house before I could bring anything into the house, not even a gallon of milk. A regular person might have just trusted that they would ditch 100 items or maybe do a slash count. You already know what I did, with a coded system of Gave Away = ga, Goodwill = gw, Sell = s, Recycle = r, or Trash = t.
I won’t bore you with the whole list:
1-7. Underwear for doggie periods (ga)
8. Diapers for dogs (ga)
30-39. Pairs of socks (gw/t)
56. Top Hat calendar (t) (You know which one.)
84. Peppers from flowers (t)
85. Callus remover (t)
95-100. Various projectors and film shit that sat in the garage for years
101-105. Expired condiments from fridge (t: food waste/r: containers)
147. Pom poms (gw) (I had pom poms?)
148. Earmuffs (gw)
149. Cast iron skillet (gw) (Weaponry?)
I have never felt so completely weird and so completely normal simultaneously. I guess that just means I like me.
However, the past few days have been incredibly productive. Man Friend and I spent time rearranging furniture and art, you know, really setting the place up. He’s good at that stuff, he says things like, “You have the square footage, you just aren’t fully utilizing it.” Swoon. Don’t get me started about when he talks about load bearing walls.
The fantastic part is that the living room feels a lot bigger now, as well as more functional. Plus, this gorgeous entertainment center that he built, AKA “The Big Unit,” is now the hub of the area. Alli is taking her time getting used to the new configuration and Joey could care less as long as she can sleep on the couch.
I have to be honest, though. The most fun of this whole escapade was finding a bunch of notepads with weird lists I made. I love lists. I have legal pads, notepads, and sticky notes stashed everywhere. I make grocery lists, lists for my days off, lists of errands, you get the drift. If I have an important baking project or holiday dinner to prep for, I make the list in the order in which I will go through the store. I have contemplated drawing maps. If I don’t write it down, it probably won’t happen. NOTE: Let the sun rise in the morning.
Much time in my life has been spent writing lists, checking off lists, and throwing away completed lists. I love the sense of accomplishment of a completed list. Thankfully, an uncompleted list doesn’t drive me crazy. I just add what’s left to the next list…
One of the lists I found really made me giggle as it was a list of ideas for blogs:
•Dumb hippies who try too hard
•You should have to maintain a certain GPA to get gov’t loans/aid
•Bread—how dependent we’ve become
•My closet love of Nicki Minaj and Hanson.
•Why do the teabaggers claim Ayn Rand?
•Professional athletes are prostitutes
•People who think Alli is a pitbull
I know Alli guest blogged on the last topic. That was a bitch to dictate.
Another list I found was super weird, but the fact that I made said list speaks to my love of lists… anyone who lives in my area will remember there was tons of flooding a few summers ago. In my city, it was mostly limited to basement flooding, but we had a few huge rains and lots of people living near rivers lost everything.
I was fortunate enough to not have to deal with those type of issues, but we did have a neighborhood issue with the sanitary sewer system. A line broke, everything was overstressed and we were asked to not flush our toilets, run our showers, or add any water to the sanitary system during “the crisis.” On the plus side, I learned that I am not afraid to shit in a bag and that I can get completely ready with a small bottle of water, a tin bowl, and a wash cloth. Call me Half Pint.
But the point here was that along with the call to not stress the sewer, I was also in the zone where the mayor said there could be sewer backups in the basements. That meant sorting through things in the basement and deciding what needed to come upstairs just in case Poop River picked my house.
Again, I got lucky. Poop River stayed north. The big sort in the basement got me thinking and I decided that I needed to do a big pitch. I challenged myself that I would get 100 items out of the house before I could bring anything into the house, not even a gallon of milk. A regular person might have just trusted that they would ditch 100 items or maybe do a slash count. You already know what I did, with a coded system of Gave Away = ga, Goodwill = gw, Sell = s, Recycle = r, or Trash = t.
I won’t bore you with the whole list:
1-7. Underwear for doggie periods (ga)
8. Diapers for dogs (ga)
30-39. Pairs of socks (gw/t)
56. Top Hat calendar (t) (You know which one.)
84. Peppers from flowers (t)
85. Callus remover (t)
95-100. Various projectors and film shit that sat in the garage for years
101-105. Expired condiments from fridge (t: food waste/r: containers)
147. Pom poms (gw) (I had pom poms?)
148. Earmuffs (gw)
149. Cast iron skillet (gw) (Weaponry?)
I have never felt so completely weird and so completely normal simultaneously. I guess that just means I like me.
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