Sorry to drop out of sight yet again, but this time (as opposed to the last time) it had more to do with feeling like I had nothing to say. Maybe I just had blog performance anxiety. I'd think about blogging and then say, "Nahhhh. That's not interesting/funny/erudite enough." And the longer I went without posting, the more I felt that I had to come back with the proverbial "bang" and I couldn't seem to find any "bang-worthy" subject matter. [Stop snickering you one-track-minders!!] So, as a result, this is the post that you're getting. A post about nothing. (Seems like it could have been an episode of Seinfeld, if the blogging had been around in the Seinfeld era.)
And while the not-eaten-by-bears title is true for now, there is a slight possibility that I could be eaten by bears in a week or so when we go to Wyoming, Idaho and Montana for vacation. We're planning on going to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks, rafting on the Snake River and other sundry educational and fun activities. I have to admit that I'm looking forward to days with highs in the upper 70s-low 80s, since here in Texas we've gone from scorching hot to positively hellish. (Can't you almost hear me sweating?!)
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
More Pondering of the Absurd
There are certain times that I realize once again how differently my brain works from normal other people's. The reason that I bring this up now is that I somehow managed to make a mental connection between hurricanes and infertility. I know. I know. Only a weird and twisted mind could bring such two disparate topics together. Let me 'splain, if I can:
I was listening to the news this morning about Hurricane Dolly coming ashore near Brownsville, Texas. Being a category 1 (or possibly a low category 2, depending on how much it managed to strengthen before hitting the coast), it wasn't supposed to do too much damage. It is; however, supposed to bring between 15 to 20 inches of rain to the coastal area. Now I'm sure we can all agree that no place needs 15 to 20 inches in a matter of hours, what with the flooding and all it will bring, so it occurred to me (not for the first time) that it's too bad that we can't find a way to portion all that rain out to places that really need it. So far, so normal in the thinking category, but bear with me for the stretching of the brain cells.
Later, I was reading one of the blogs from my blog roll, Anne Nahm, who has just found out that she's pregant with her second child. Now ol' Anne obviously doesn't suffer from infertility, since all it took was a single interlude with her husband to put her in this delicate condition. And while all signs point to this being a fully desired pregnancy since she's been talking about trying for a some time now, my mind went to the number of times that I (ahem) urinated on one of those dastardly sticks. There were times earlier in my life that I was chanting "no second line, no second line" but mostly I used all my brainpower to will the second line to appear. I would hold the thing up to the window and move the angle trying to divine the slightest hint of a second line and I never managed to get that view. I know there are people out there who don't want the line and get it and those that desperately want it and never see it appear. As with my equity-of-the-rain wish, I want everyone to get the pregnancy test result they want.
See? I told you. Completely weird logic.
I was listening to the news this morning about Hurricane Dolly coming ashore near Brownsville, Texas. Being a category 1 (or possibly a low category 2, depending on how much it managed to strengthen before hitting the coast), it wasn't supposed to do too much damage. It is; however, supposed to bring between 15 to 20 inches of rain to the coastal area. Now I'm sure we can all agree that no place needs 15 to 20 inches in a matter of hours, what with the flooding and all it will bring, so it occurred to me (not for the first time) that it's too bad that we can't find a way to portion all that rain out to places that really need it. So far, so normal in the thinking category, but bear with me for the stretching of the brain cells.
Later, I was reading one of the blogs from my blog roll, Anne Nahm, who has just found out that she's pregant with her second child. Now ol' Anne obviously doesn't suffer from infertility, since all it took was a single interlude with her husband to put her in this delicate condition. And while all signs point to this being a fully desired pregnancy since she's been talking about trying for a some time now, my mind went to the number of times that I (ahem) urinated on one of those dastardly sticks. There were times earlier in my life that I was chanting "no second line, no second line" but mostly I used all my brainpower to will the second line to appear. I would hold the thing up to the window and move the angle trying to divine the slightest hint of a second line and I never managed to get that view. I know there are people out there who don't want the line and get it and those that desperately want it and never see it appear. As with my equity-of-the-rain wish, I want everyone to get the pregnancy test result they want.
See? I told you. Completely weird logic.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Oh, You Remember That Grad School Thing, Right?
Even though it is at a glacial pace, I am working on moving my inertia-bound self on to grad school. I was able to register for my classes this week. Now I just have to get over the sticker shock of the tuition and fees. (Those are due by the 29th. Yikes!)
August 23, 2008 (first day of class) is coming, whether I'm mentally prepared or not. I can almost hear the theme from Jaws in my dreams: dun-nun, dun-nun, dun-nun...dudle dun dun!
August 23, 2008 (first day of class) is coming, whether I'm mentally prepared or not. I can almost hear the theme from Jaws in my dreams: dun-nun, dun-nun, dun-nun...dudle dun dun!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
An Open Letter of Apology to My Auntie Donna
Dear Auntie Donna.
I know I have been a bad niece, what with the promises of anecdotes untold and the non-posting and such, but I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. My only real excuse is that I've been absolutely slammed with a huge project at work and after spending eight to nine hours a day at the computer, I can't seem to muster any enthusiasm for sitting down in front of it at home. And until they figure out a way to get the thoughts directly from my brain and into the blog (which would be totally awesome, by the way), the computer is the only way to go.
I suppose the only thing I can do to try and get back in your good graces is to give you a long, satisfying blog entry. So, where were we on the teasers?
Numero Dos: I read Netherland by Joseph O'Neill on the plane. Liked it to possibly loved it. Which I realize is a weird answer and I'll do my best to attempt to explain it. It was one of those books that doesn't translate well to a two or three sentence synopsis but I shall try. It's a book about post-9/11 New York, the immigrant experience, and cricket--not necessarily in that order. I know. It sounds odd and unpalatable, but there's something about O'Neill's main character, Hans van der Broek, that is supremely likeable. Even when he's being a total heel, you can't help but root for him. Recommended.
Numero Tres: Ah yes, how people responded to the news that TLS and I have been married for fourteen years. (Even while I was writing the bullet point in my teaser post, I was having second thoughts about this one.) Being that our anniversary had been earlier in the week, I had many opportunities to tell people how many years I've been married. When it is someone that I've just met, they always have the same expression on their face. It's one that isn't easily described, but it goes something like "disbelief" crossed with "confusion" and I can almost see the wheels turning in their heads. I usually say something like, "I know what your next question is going to be. How old are you? Right?" There is much nodding and then I say thirty-nine and they always express astonishment and say, "I thought you were only about thirty!" I know it is wrong to be vain, but I always get a little bit of a thrill during this shock and awe portion of the conversation. But I don't kid myself, someday my appearance age is going to catch up with my chronological age and then my entire mental house of cards is going to come crashing down. Until then, though, I'm going to eat it up!
Numero Quatro: The Mother of the Bride (M.O.B.), or my Aunt Debbie, is a total crack-up. Here is a transcript of a couple of her fantastic quotes for your reading pleasure.
At the rehearsal dinner, where the restaurant was serving absolutely monster portions...
Me: I am so full, I can hardly stand it!
M.O.B.: Me too. Good thing I put on my elastic waistband pants today!
In the bride's room prior to the ceremony, with much complaining about the discomfort of her shoes...
M.O.B.: I guess if Christ can hang and die on the cross, I can wear these shoes for one afternoon!
Numero Cinco: I tend to be the classic over-packer. I'm not sure if it's an over-active survival instinct, but much like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter, I start packing for a two day trip and am soon acting like I'm leaving on a major polar expedition. As a result of much ribbing from TLS over the years, I start out throwing in everything but the kitchen sink and then start winnowing the pile to a manageable level. Most of the time, this strategy works out just fine, but occasionally I throw back something I should have kept in. This time it was my cell phone charger. About 2:30 a.m. Sunday (during one of the fourteen times I was awake -- I don't sleep well away from home in hotels at all), the cell phone started to do the ominous low battery beeping. Now, I'll be the first person to admit that we can all survive just fine without a cell phone. Heck, I survived the first twenty-five years of my life without one and lived to tell the tale. But when you're trying to coordinate getting multiple people from Point A to Point B and in between, needing to call the airline to confirm that your flight is still on time and what gate/terminal it is leaving from, and making sure that TLS has your arrival information, a phone starts to look much of a necessity than a luxury. I spent a few minutes trying to decide on a course of action and finally decided that I had time upon getting up to run to the neighborhood discount store and buy a new charger. While getting it would be irritating, since I already have two of them at home, it was the only way I knew to solve the problem. Luckily for me, I ran into the Father of the Groom (F.O.G.) in the lobby on my way to the store. I told him my tale of woe and, get this, he had the exact charger I needed for my phone! What are the odds of that, my friends? It was nothing short of a wedding weekend miracle, I tell you.
Numero Seis: During the rehearsal dinner, the table full of bridesmaids asked for a bottle of ketchup for someone's french fries. A bottle was brought and was opened. Apparently, a ketchup pressure bomb had been brewing in there and ketchup flew about fifteen feet in all directions. It was our very own ketchup Vesuvius. My cousin, the bride, remarked that this is what her wedding would eventually be known for and I have to agree.
I'm sure that after a couple of weeks of breathless anticipation, that this wasn't quite up to expectations, but it's better than nothing.
Hugs and kisses,
Inertia Girl
I know I have been a bad niece, what with the promises of anecdotes untold and the non-posting and such, but I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. My only real excuse is that I've been absolutely slammed with a huge project at work and after spending eight to nine hours a day at the computer, I can't seem to muster any enthusiasm for sitting down in front of it at home. And until they figure out a way to get the thoughts directly from my brain and into the blog (which would be totally awesome, by the way), the computer is the only way to go.
I suppose the only thing I can do to try and get back in your good graces is to give you a long, satisfying blog entry. So, where were we on the teasers?
Numero Dos: I read Netherland by Joseph O'Neill on the plane. Liked it to possibly loved it. Which I realize is a weird answer and I'll do my best to attempt to explain it. It was one of those books that doesn't translate well to a two or three sentence synopsis but I shall try. It's a book about post-9/11 New York, the immigrant experience, and cricket--not necessarily in that order. I know. It sounds odd and unpalatable, but there's something about O'Neill's main character, Hans van der Broek, that is supremely likeable. Even when he's being a total heel, you can't help but root for him. Recommended.
Numero Tres: Ah yes, how people responded to the news that TLS and I have been married for fourteen years. (Even while I was writing the bullet point in my teaser post, I was having second thoughts about this one.) Being that our anniversary had been earlier in the week, I had many opportunities to tell people how many years I've been married. When it is someone that I've just met, they always have the same expression on their face. It's one that isn't easily described, but it goes something like "disbelief" crossed with "confusion" and I can almost see the wheels turning in their heads. I usually say something like, "I know what your next question is going to be. How old are you? Right?" There is much nodding and then I say thirty-nine and they always express astonishment and say, "I thought you were only about thirty!" I know it is wrong to be vain, but I always get a little bit of a thrill during this shock and awe portion of the conversation. But I don't kid myself, someday my appearance age is going to catch up with my chronological age and then my entire mental house of cards is going to come crashing down. Until then, though, I'm going to eat it up!
Numero Quatro: The Mother of the Bride (M.O.B.), or my Aunt Debbie, is a total crack-up. Here is a transcript of a couple of her fantastic quotes for your reading pleasure.
At the rehearsal dinner, where the restaurant was serving absolutely monster portions...
Me: I am so full, I can hardly stand it!
M.O.B.: Me too. Good thing I put on my elastic waistband pants today!
In the bride's room prior to the ceremony, with much complaining about the discomfort of her shoes...
M.O.B.: I guess if Christ can hang and die on the cross, I can wear these shoes for one afternoon!
Numero Cinco: I tend to be the classic over-packer. I'm not sure if it's an over-active survival instinct, but much like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter, I start packing for a two day trip and am soon acting like I'm leaving on a major polar expedition. As a result of much ribbing from TLS over the years, I start out throwing in everything but the kitchen sink and then start winnowing the pile to a manageable level. Most of the time, this strategy works out just fine, but occasionally I throw back something I should have kept in. This time it was my cell phone charger. About 2:30 a.m. Sunday (during one of the fourteen times I was awake -- I don't sleep well away from home in hotels at all), the cell phone started to do the ominous low battery beeping. Now, I'll be the first person to admit that we can all survive just fine without a cell phone. Heck, I survived the first twenty-five years of my life without one and lived to tell the tale. But when you're trying to coordinate getting multiple people from Point A to Point B and in between, needing to call the airline to confirm that your flight is still on time and what gate/terminal it is leaving from, and making sure that TLS has your arrival information, a phone starts to look much of a necessity than a luxury. I spent a few minutes trying to decide on a course of action and finally decided that I had time upon getting up to run to the neighborhood discount store and buy a new charger. While getting it would be irritating, since I already have two of them at home, it was the only way I knew to solve the problem. Luckily for me, I ran into the Father of the Groom (F.O.G.) in the lobby on my way to the store. I told him my tale of woe and, get this, he had the exact charger I needed for my phone! What are the odds of that, my friends? It was nothing short of a wedding weekend miracle, I tell you.
Numero Seis: During the rehearsal dinner, the table full of bridesmaids asked for a bottle of ketchup for someone's french fries. A bottle was brought and was opened. Apparently, a ketchup pressure bomb had been brewing in there and ketchup flew about fifteen feet in all directions. It was our very own ketchup Vesuvius. My cousin, the bride, remarked that this is what her wedding would eventually be known for and I have to agree.
I'm sure that after a couple of weeks of breathless anticipation, that this wasn't quite up to expectations, but it's better than nothing.
Hugs and kisses,
Inertia Girl
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Oh Mighty Fortune Cookie, Give Us Your Wisdom - Part 5
From my Pei Wei fortune cookie at lunch:
Keep your feet on the ground even through friends flatter you.Oh, fortune cookie, how could you know that people were complimentary during my family wedding experience? Truly you are mighty and wise.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Ohhhh, You Thought I Meant LAST Friday.
Yes, yes, I know. I have been very neglectful of the blog of late. I suppose I could give you the full dog-ate-my-homework story, but it's probably best just to say that I have been busy with work (including a full-on, three hanky meltdown one day last week), garden maintenance (I didn't tell you all about our summer gardening? Shame on me.), and sundry things around the house.
Completely random thought:
Does anyone else obsess over new music? You know--listening to it over, and over, and over, and over? ... No one? Really? Well, alrighty then. I just downloaded the song Save Your Best by Steve Reynolds on iTunes and I just played it four times in a row. (Obsess much, Inertia Girl? You betcha!)
So where was I? Oh, my tease from last week. I'd love to give you stories for each of the bullet points, but it is currently 10:00 p.m. CDT and tomorrow is a work day and I'm plumb tuckered from a long day, which (probably only interestingly to me) included an eye doctor's visit where I got to see pictures of my retinas. Love, love, love all things medical so this was right up my alley. Everything looked great (I appreciate your concern)--my maculas were maculating in beautiful pink maculation with veins and arteries in all the right places. Perfecto!
I think all I'm up for this evening is my promised TLS story, so here goes:
I'm not sure if I ever old you that TLS plays four indoor soccer games a week--two games on Tuesday nights and two on Friday nights. Crazy you say? Well, probably a little bit, but as his doctor likes to point out TLS is the only forty-plus year old patient of his that doesn't need to lose any weight or reduce his cholesterol count. And, as a plus for me, it keeps him fit, trim and handsome. (Rawr!) When I left town on the 20th, TLS had both of his scheduled Friday night games. The first game went just fine but during the second one, someone ran into him when he was running full speed. He lost his balance and fell over, catching himself by putting out his right hand. A loud pop ensued and the hand began to swell. He iced it over the weekend and nursed it along. When I got home I started calling it his Incredible Hulk Hand, since it was about twice its normal size and faintly green from the bruising. It was tres, tres sexy, I can tell you right now. He ended up calling his aforementioned doctor and getting in to see him Monday morning. Dr. G. didn't see any fractures on x-ray, but got him in to see a hand specialist on Tuesday morning. Ten x-rays later, TLS was pronounced with three fractures, two to bones in the middle of his hand and one to the radius bone in his arm and was fitted with a fetching royal blue cast. I go out of town and apparently his body decides to rebel. Ah...true love!
Completely random thought:
Does anyone else obsess over new music? You know--listening to it over, and over, and over, and over? ... No one? Really? Well, alrighty then. I just downloaded the song Save Your Best by Steve Reynolds on iTunes and I just played it four times in a row. (Obsess much, Inertia Girl? You betcha!)
So where was I? Oh, my tease from last week. I'd love to give you stories for each of the bullet points, but it is currently 10:00 p.m. CDT and tomorrow is a work day and I'm plumb tuckered from a long day, which (probably only interestingly to me) included an eye doctor's visit where I got to see pictures of my retinas. Love, love, love all things medical so this was right up my alley. Everything looked great (I appreciate your concern)--my maculas were maculating in beautiful pink maculation with veins and arteries in all the right places. Perfecto!
I think all I'm up for this evening is my promised TLS story, so here goes:
I'm not sure if I ever old you that TLS plays four indoor soccer games a week--two games on Tuesday nights and two on Friday nights. Crazy you say? Well, probably a little bit, but as his doctor likes to point out TLS is the only forty-plus year old patient of his that doesn't need to lose any weight or reduce his cholesterol count. And, as a plus for me, it keeps him fit, trim and handsome. (Rawr!) When I left town on the 20th, TLS had both of his scheduled Friday night games. The first game went just fine but during the second one, someone ran into him when he was running full speed. He lost his balance and fell over, catching himself by putting out his right hand. A loud pop ensued and the hand began to swell. He iced it over the weekend and nursed it along. When I got home I started calling it his Incredible Hulk Hand, since it was about twice its normal size and faintly green from the bruising. It was tres, tres sexy, I can tell you right now. He ended up calling his aforementioned doctor and getting in to see him Monday morning. Dr. G. didn't see any fractures on x-ray, but got him in to see a hand specialist on Tuesday morning. Ten x-rays later, TLS was pronounced with three fractures, two to bones in the middle of his hand and one to the radius bone in his arm and was fitted with a fetching royal blue cast. I go out of town and apparently his body decides to rebel. Ah...true love!
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