Doing a happy dance

As many of you know, one of my favorite hobbies is photography.  I just love it.  It’s my one creative outlet.  I can’t paint or draw, and I’m not very good at decorating–but the one thing I can do–and do fairly well, is photography.

After much whining about having forgotten my SLR on our trip to Trier and my constant complaining about my iPhone and the lack of quality it possesses, I finally went out today and got a camera, albeit, a fairly inexpensive one.

I didn’t want a camera that was by any means meant to replace my Nikon D80–there is no replacing that bad-boy–but I I wanted a camera that was small enough to fit into my purse and take with me where ever I go.  That way, I have no excuses for missing those great photo opportunities.  I know that there are people that carry their DSLRs with them everywhere they go, but it’s not always practical for me to do so.

I ended up getting the Nikon L18.  It was cheap for what it offers, plus it’s a Nikon, a brand that I know and love.  It’s not going to give me the excellent shots that I get from my D80, I do realize that, but no more missed shots for me, either!  Woohoo!

On a different note, Rob got my birthday present for me (well, it’s on order, right at the moment).  I sent him a list of stuff that I would like and one of those was an extremely expensive architecture lens that rotates up/down and left/right.  Well, he liked the idea of getting me a new lens, but not a lens that was going to cost $2,000.  So, then he asked if there was another type of lens that I would be interested in having.  I mentioned the fish eye lens and whadaya know?  I’m getting a new fish eye! 

I’m so excited!  Rob also mentioned to me that needed to start carrying my SLR with me more often and said that it doesn’t need to be upstairs where it gets forgotten.

 

I Am Legend

I watched this movie last night with my husband.  These aren’t the sort of movies that I typically rent from Netflix, but I have to admit I really enjoyed it.  It freaked me out near the end of the movie, though.  I screamed so hard that I jumped back into the couch.  I hurt my tailbone and wrist in the process of all this.  I stood up and felt so dizzy that I thought that I was going to throw up.  I didn’t luckily, but it was really amusing for my husband to watch this whole thing.  There was a loud ringing in my ears and seriously, I could barely stand up.  It was crazy!

So, do you have any Netflix recommendations for me of stuff like this, but won’t freak me out?  My husband was so glad to get a movie that wasn’t a chick-flick or something like this.  He and I seldom agree on movie selections, but we both watch each others movies–it’s called compromise!  Plus, I’ve seen some pretty good movies that I wouldn’t normally watch! 😉

To all you haters!

As I was crocheting, I could feel my blood boiling!  I’ve decided that I’m going to give you the details.

A few days ago, I wrote a blog about how I had purchased a bad bathroom scale.  How I said that it weighed me too heavy.  So, here it is.  I’m still a little embarrassed to be putting these numbers in a blog, but I need to.  I need you to know that I’m not crazy or that I’m imagining or in a state of denial!

When I lived in Hanau, just two months ago, I weighed myself at 155 lbs.  In just that short amount of time, the scale that I had recently purchased said that I weighed a mighty 165!  How does one GAIN 10 pounds in two months?  Okay, yes, it IS possible, but I don’t have any medical problems like hypothyroidism that would explain such a steep increase in weight.  In addition, I’ve been exercising nearly everyday, plus taking my dog for walks that are well over 2 miles (probably closer to three).  I’ve also been cleaning house and hosting dinner parties.  I have not been all that sedentary.  I have been watching what I eat and I only eat the junk for breakfast (yes, I admit it, I enjoy pop tarts or sweet cereal).

I also mentioned that I had my husband step on the scale to see what it said.  It weighed him in at well over 200 pounds.  He doesn’t weigh 200 and he hasn’t since I’ve known him.  Well, today, my husband had a PT test.  Yes, the Army still gives physical fitness tests!  After the two minute push-ups, two minute sit-ups and a 2 mile run, he got weighed.  According to the Army scale my husband was 188.  Now, please explain to me how there was over 15 pound difference in the space of just a couple of days? You don’t LOSE 15 pounds in a couple of days, even if you are fasting (which my husband most certainly is not!)

The only explanation is that the scale is bad.  And there you have it folks…the nitty-gritty and I DO have a bad bathroom scale.  My husband said that it’s probably only off about 10 pounds for me, which still doesn’t make me feel too much better, but at least I know I haven’t GAINED any weight!

Not in the mood

I’m really not in the mood to blog today.  I’ve been crocheting and watching reruns of Desperate Housewives!  I haven’t even done a much needed load of dishes or laundry today.

I’m in a mood today.  It’s alright.  I’ll get to it tomorrow.

Who says you can’t go home?

This is a song that really sings to my heart.  We all know and love Bon Jovi (okay, honestly, I’ve been in love with Jon Bon Jovi since I was in 7th grade!)

I think the thing about this song that is that it makes me feel nostalgic.  He spent 20 years trying to get out of this place–I always wanted to leave Denver, my home…go out and start again. I was a lost soul.  I just wandered around for a while.  I didn’t mean to hijack that rainbow, but I did it anyway and my pot of gold is the life-the dream I’m living now.  Who knew?

And, I have been there, done that (oh the stories I could tell!) and I have the tee shirt to prove it!!

I do go back on occasion and the people I know, the people I grew up with are still all there.  I know them, they know me.  They welcome me back with open arms.  As a matter of fact, there just wasn’t enough time to visit everyone when we were home for Christmas.  It does feel like I’ve never left sometimes!

I have done a lot of traveling and there’s not one line that I would erase!  Even some of the mistakes that I made.  I wouldn’t take them back, if I could.

I spent 20 years trying to get out of this place
I was looking for something I couldn’t replace
I was running away from the only thing I’ve ever known
Like a blind dog without a bone
I was a gypsy lost in the twilight zone
I hijacked a rainbow and crashed into a pot of gold
I been there, done that and I ain’t lookin’ back on the seeds I’ve sown,
Saving dimes, spending too much time on the telephone

Who says you can’t go home

[Chorus]
Who says you can’t go home
There’s only one place they call me one of their own
Just a hometown boy, born a rolling stone, who says you can’t go home
Who says you can’t go back, been all around the world and as a matter of fact
There’s only one place left I want to go, who says you can’t go home
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, its alright

I went as far as I could, I tried to find a new face
There isn’t one of these lines that I would erase
I lived a million miles of memories on that road
With every step I take I know that I’m not alone
You take the home from the boy, but not the boy from his home
These are my streets, the only life I’ve ever known,
who says you can’t go home

[Chorus]

I been there, done that and I ain’t looking back
It’s been a long long road
Feels like I never left, that’s how the story goes

It doesn’t matter where you are, it doesn’t matter where you go
If it’s a million miles aways or just a mile up the road
Take it in, take it with you when you go,
who says you can’t go home

[Chorus]

It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, its alright
Who says you can’t go home [x2]

Attention all NCLM Members

Hi Ladies (and gents).  I recently happened upon a new blogger on wordpress the other day.  She is struggling with IF and treatments.  She started the blog pretty recently, but she is in need of a strong support system.

Please take a minute to go and visit her here.

Thanks and have a great day 🙂

Ticks and other creepy crawlers

About a week or two ago, Rob says to me, “We need to give the animals something to protect them against the ticks.”  It hadn’t even occurred to me that we needed to do that.  He said, “Humid area, no lawn mower, mild winter equals a tick problem.”  Okay, so I say, no worries, I have a couple of applications of Frontline for the cat and dog each.  I retrieve the VERY expensive, can only be bought at the Vet, Frontline, from the cabinet and give an application to Casey.  Rob had to hold him down, as he gets VERY excited when someone touches him!  It’s one thing I love about him, but when I’m trying to train him, give him a bath or apply Frontline to him it’s not so fun.  And Gizmo, well, he was outside at the time and either 1) couldn’t hear me or 2) was ignoring my calls.  I left his Frontline on the coffee table thinking, “If I see it out, it’ll remind me that I need to give this to him.”  Yeah, no such luck because Rob ended up putting it away, thinking that I had ALREADY given him his treatment.  I hadn’t.

So, it’s about 11 pm last night and I trot off to bed to read a few chapters in my book.  I had to come back down because I forgot my phone charger and I called for Gizmo to come in.  He was obedient 🙂  I go back up and lay down.  After a few chapters, I’m feeling a little sleepy, and I go to turn out the light and Gizmo climbs up and starts to snuggle.  So, I lean over and start to pet him, when I realize he’s got an engorged tick in between his eye and ear.  I’m disgusted at this point and I look a little closer to see if it’s red or not.  I can’t tell, but he’s already freaked out, so he jumps down.  I turn out the light and decide that I’ll take care of it in the morning.  So, I laid there for about an hour and decide that I’m going to pick up my iPhone and look up ticks.  Don’t know how long that bugger was there, but everything that I read said that it needs to be removed immediately.  So, I get up, go to the bathroom, turn on every light in the house and Rob wakes up at that exact moment.  “Baby?  Is everything okay?” he shouts from the top of the stairs.  “Gizmo’s got a tick on him.”  Rob goes back to bed. 

I was downstairs getting the Frontline and a pair of tweezers.  Gizmo followed me and while I was breaking out the applicator, he decided that he was hungry.  I grabbed him and forcefully applied the Frontline but I’m not sure if it was a superficial application or not.  I’m thinking, “Okay, I’ve put the medicine on him, that tick will fall right out in a couple of hours.”  So, I lay in bed, not sleeping and I’m still reading about ticks on my phone.  Gizmo comes back to bed and the tick is still there.  I rush BACK downstairs to grab the tweezers and something to put it in.  From what I was reading, putting them in alcohol will kill them instantly, so I fill a small bowl with some wine that was opened.  I rushed back upstairs and Gizmo was not so agreeable with me taking the tick off of his head.  I held him in a funky way, I’m actually surprised that he didn’t bite me or something.  I heard a tiny pop as I was pulling out the engorged tick and placed it in the wine.  He wasn’t wiggling or anything when I got it out.  I’m not sure if I got the head out or not.  I can only assume that I did, because I saw what looked like a little tiny head and 6 legs. 

I head back to bed and Gizmo joins me and I’m petting him, whispering that he was such a good cat and that I was only doing it for his own good, when I think I feel another tick.  I run back down stairs to get the tweezers again and I’m trying to locate the tick and Gizmo is NOT happy this time and won’t allow me to touch him.  He walks over to Rob and lays between his legs, hoping that I will not disturb Rob.  I get up, walk over to the other side of the bed and I’m trying to find this tick.  I never did find it.  Gizmo got pretty upset with me and growled fairly loudly and ran off.  He didn’t come back to bed, to my knowledge.

I’m laying there, thinking, I need to get some sleep, but I can’t sleep because I’m thinking that there might be other ticks in the bed and I’m kicking around, my skin is crawling and everything seems to be itching.  So, I get up AGAIN and strip and search to see if I have any ticks on me.  I was out in the grass helping Rob cut it with a scythe earlier in the day.  I notice that there’s a little red spot under my breast and I’m freaking out.  Did I have a tick on me and I didn’t even notice?  What is this red bump?  I won’t post a picture of it, but it is a little freaky, especially since I had been reading about ticks for like 3 hours last night.  Come to think of it, I have been feeling quite nauseous that evening (probably from the LARGE mint chocolate ice cream shake that I had eaten hours before) and my muscles have been really achy esp in my back (probably from the scything that I had done earlier in the day)!  Oh my goodness, do I have “Tickborne Encephalitis“?

As I’m fully aware of every square inch of my skin at the moment, I was NOT going to be getting any sleep!  After running scenarios in my head for an hour or so, I finally drifted off, only to be woken up less than an hour later by Rob to tell me that he’s not going to be coming home until late this evening.  I barely open my eyes and give him a kiss goodbye and I dozed back to sleep.

The mistake

Yesterday, while Rob and I were out shopping, I decided that we needed to get a bathroom scale since the one we had in Hanau pooped out on us.  I wasn’t too eager to replace it, as I don’t want to be reminded of how FAT I am.

Well, I weighed myself today!  Not good.  According to the scale, I’m at about the same weight I was when Rob deployed in Jan of 2006.  Then, for accuracy, I made Rob weigh himself and there’s just NO WAY he weighs what it says he weighs.  He’s LOST weight since he’s had this job!  He thinks it’s about 15 pounds off.  It must be.  I’ve been exercising regularly, been watching what I eat and everything.  My clothes even seem to be fitting better.  I just don’t understand it!  Maybe he’s right and the scale is off…but then that means that we just wasted $13.00 on a bathroom scale.  For shame.

I mean, I can’t very well take it back and complain that it’s not right…”Um yes, I would like to return this bathroom scale.”  “Yes ma’am.  Do you have your reciept?  Is there something wrong with the scale?”  “Well, yes, actually, I used it and it said I weighed too much.  It’s WRONG!”  They would LAUGH at me and say that DENIAL isn’t a river in Egypt behind my back or something!  Honestly, there are lots of other things I could have spent $13.00 on! Pthbbbbbbbbb!

 

EDIT———–

FYI:  The scale is an analog (dial) scale and we have hardwood and tile floors throughout the house.  There is no carpet–unless you consider doormats carpeting–it’s strictly for the comfort of my dog and cat who like to lay there–not for the actual purpose of cleaning off one’s feet when returning from outdoors like normal people!  If we had bought the more expensive scale (digital) like I wanted, I would have a much less funny story to tell!  😉

Where I come from…

Today starts a new theme for NaBloPoMo.  It’s “Home” for the month of June.  So, I thought I’d start this theme like so…

Now, you have to PROMISE to keep this under your hat because I’m not really supposed to be talking about this.  Do you promise?  Cross your heart and hope to die?  Stick a needle in your eye?

No, seriously, you HAVE to promise that you’ll NEVER tell another living soul about this.  I could be in SERIOUS trouble if you do…you wouldn’t want anything to happen to me, WOULD YOU?  Come on, we’re pals, right?  I know we are…you’re here visiting aren’t you?  I don’t know what the US Gov’t would do…afterall, I am MARRIED to a military man.  He could lose his SECURITY CLEARANCE.  You wouldn’t want that, WOULD YOU?  Well, alright then, since you PROMISED!

Here goes: My biological father isn’t the man who raised me.  As a matter of fact, my father isn’t even really from here.  My mother told me once about her experience, but she shuttered as she told me.  She was crying.  I tried to console her, but I couldn’t do it.  “It’s alright Mom, you can tell me.”

As it turned out, my mother was abducted by aliens in 1974. 

They were doing experiments on her…

…they wanted to see if an alien baby could survive on planet earth.  

While my mother wasn’t entirely sure, she gave the alien permission to perform such experiments.  Days later, after impregnation, she was returned. 

She wasn’t even entirely sure it the whole thing was real…it was almost like a dream, she said.  She told me that’s where my biological great-uncle was.  He was buried there, anyway.

In 1975, I was born in a small town called “Roswell”. 

She had a normal pregnancy, and delivery was a b!tch, but my family always knew that there was something a little off with me.  No one could quite place it.  After 13 months, scared of what might happen.   Mom said she was so scared that I would be taken away from her.  So, she strongly encouraged the man whom I call Dad to take to move the family away from that place.  They moved me to Denver, far away from the place of my birth. 

 

I grew up there and lived a not so normal life.  I wasn’t really allowed to have friends because she was afraid that I might start to look like my father, but I went to public school.  On occasion, the kids teased me because I looked and acted so different from everyone else.  I begged my parents to move me away–to somewhere else.  Somewhere where I was “normal”; somewhere I could fit in.  They wouldn’t, and that is where they remain to this day.

As for me, well, let’s just say that I visit my home planet from time to time.  I get along famously with my biological father and I do like my father’s wife.  I have quite the family there.

And that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

 

The American Dream

I was reading a post from someone a little while ago (and I’ve lost the link now, but if I find it again, I’ll link the post!)  She was talking about the American Dream.  In college, I had a whole history class devoted to the notion of the American Dream.

Dr. A was so great at what he did.  He was a fantastic professor.  I was in my senior year, my last semester of college.  I had already completed my Senior Thesis class the semester prior, in which I wrote about immigration in the United States–not an easy topic to be sure.  So, I thought I would take a 1000 level course with a professor that taught my Methods of Teaching History class.  He was tough, got me to think in new and creative ways about presenting the lessons of history.  My mind had never been so twisted in my life.  So naturally, I thought that he wouldn’t be too tough in a 1000 level course (read: I thought I was going to be taking an easy course)–not like he was in my 4000 level Methods class.  Boy, was I ever mistaken.  That history class was (and will remain) THE TOUGHEST college class that I’ve ever taken.

He was the only professor that taught current American History.  Most history classes start with Colonial history and it abruptly ends with WWII.  History stops for most people there.  I mean, we KNOW about Vietnam and the 70s and 80s…but too many teachers think that it’s too close in our American Memory and the wounds are too fresh to teach it.  It’s rather a shame, too, it’s interesting history!

So anyway, I decided that I wanted to have a definition of the American Dream.  I mean, I understand it–probably too well and I was kind of curious if the definition had changed much since I was in college (in what 8 years?)  It hasn’t.

I remember the first day of the class when Dr. A said, “Define the American Dream.”  He wrote on the white board (or was it chalk, I can’t recall)  And 44 students did not know what to expect.  So, I raised my hand.  I said, “A white picket fence, a dog a husband and a few kids running around playing in the precious Denver water”

That was *actually* not the correct answer, can you believe it?  I figured that most Americans WANT that (well, maybe not EXACTLY that, but something similar).  Dr. A started talking about the poor people in the US and how actually they were getting poorer and poorer, while the top 5% were getting richer…by means of places meant to steal from the poor and line the pockets of the rich: eg, Rent-a-Centers and Payday loan stores.  I could actually write a whole term paper on this thought, but I really don’t want to write someone’s paper today.

In the 1950s, the standard of living was set fourth by the types of items that you had in your home. (citation needed) Such lists included a refrigerator, washing machine and other various appliances.  Today, we look at whether someone has a computer and access to the Internet as a measure of some sort of wealth.  There is a technical way of determining wealth and the standard of living, but I’m not going to post that here.  That really isn’t the point of this.

I asked Rob on the way to the Class 6 what his American Dream was and he said that I was asking him to recite a 20 page essay to me.

My American dream is this: Husband (got it) master’s degree, own a home (I don’t need a white picket fence, but I do NEED a fence!)in a major metropolitan city (but near my husband’s family–I could totally agree with Cincinnati!), get a high powered journalism job, have at least one child (but I’d like 2 or 3), a cat and a dog (got it). 

What is your American Dream?