I can bare winter only until the holidays are over. Now all that’s left is one bleak and dreary day after another, struggling with the heartless cold, constant darkness (both inner and out) and the occasional hellish snow. I hate the snow.
I have SAD. Seasonal Affective Disorder. Mind you, I have never been officially diagnosed, but honestly it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or a clinical therapist to figure this out.
The holidays are over. And so am I, for now. Until spring and the hope of renewal arrive.
OK, I think I am ready now. I’ve got my new kindle beside me, all loaded up with good reads. I have ten extra pounds of blubber on me, thanks to holiday cookies, cakes and candy canes. Yep, I am ready for my retreat.
Oh, I’ll still be around now and again. Reading. Lurking. And probably writing too.
What a week and it’s only Wednesday! Let me try to quickly fill you in.
{she says in all seriousness, as if she is capable of writing short posts}
1) You know how they say that you can tell when someone is ready to have a nervous breakdown because they do something completely radical to their hair since the hair is the easiest and quickest change a person can make? You know how they say that?
Yoohoo! Over here!
Woman on the edge, that would be me. On Sunday, I had the Japanese Thermal Reconditioning done. I thought about it for all of one day and then just did it. Permanent straight hair. Radical is in understatement.
Let me tell you, the reason unstable people go for the hair first is because it works! I feel like a new person and totally LOVE it. My life just got ten times easier. I now laugh in the face of rain and humidity.
Mind you, no one wants to be around me right now. I am so obnoxious about it. I am constantly swinging my head around as if I’m in this perpetual York Peppermint Paddy commercial. I demand fried rice and spring rolls to go with my new Asian hair. Not to mention the endless handstands I perform just so I can give a dramatic “Ta Da” after every hair falls perfectly back in place.
Yeah. It ain’t pretty. But I promised my tolerant family to just give me this first week, then I’ll shut up. After 43 years of frizz and Rosanna Rosanna Dana hell, I deserve just one week.
We’re having sushi for Thanksgiving.
2) On Monday night, I met the Philly Blogger posse at a local Mexican place (had I known about my big change, I would have insisted on Chinese, but alas). Talk about a good time! The ever wonderful Bossy pulled us all together. I met some new people, like the hysterical Daddyscratches and his lovely wife. I also met the amazing Uppercase Woman who blew me away with all her energy and intelligence. And of course, I got to know some of the regular gang a little better like Ruth of Lemonade & Kidneys, who bravely came out despite strange sounds and clanking from her car (I hope it all goes well). And The Domestic Goddess, who threw cleaning to the wind despite a small army arriving at her house for Thanksgiving (how she does it, we will forever marvel). At the other end of the table were Well Read Hostess and Simply Nutmeg. I can truly kick myself for not getting off my ass and just butting into their fun conversation. (Next time I swear I won’t let them get away so easy) And finally, there was Lora, who came later but immediately sealed the night like icing on the cake.
Can’t wait for the next one!
3) The “My First Philosophy” section is unfortunately on hold right now. I am so confused. I have been trying to find out about the copyright information because I used Microsoft Clip Art in my virtual books, but for the life of me I cannot figure out what is legal.
One license says yes you can do whatever you want, but another one says no you cannot use clip art to illustrate a book. So anyway, the new section will have to wait until I am sure I will not lose my house over this feeble creative endeavor. I will let you know where we stand once I can get a straight answer.
{speaking of straight, did I mention my new hair?}
4) Finally, just when you think things can’t possibly get more exciting, tomorrow will be Thanksgiving. Family, friends, food. I love love love this holiday so much, even if there are so many things that have to get done that I will be running around like a chicken turkey without a head. I still have so much to do, I can barely keep it all straight in my head.
{Straight? Did I just say straight? As in perfectly straight, like my silky hair? I did, didn’t I? Whatayaknow.}
I rarely carry that much cash around with me as I pay for everything with a credit card, debit card or on-line. So a trip to the ATM for around $60 would usually last me a week or longer. That is, until Piper started school.
Talk about being nickeled and dimed to death. It seemed like every time I hit the ATM, an envelope was in her school folder requiring twenty dollars here, ten dollars here, forty dollars there. Lunch money, after care money, trip money, raffle money, pie sale, charity drive…
Friday was the last straw. I went to the ATM for the second time this week and sure enough, the minute I came home with my 60 bucks, there was another stupid envelope asking for $40. Talk about losing it. It was reminiscent of Diane Keaton’s neurotic freak out in Baby Boom.
“That’s just it! I’ve been nickeled and dimed by this school for the last time! I just went to the ATM and now I’m out of cash. AGAIN. I… I… I… I can’t take this. Another. Forty. Dollars! UGHHHHHHHHHH!
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After the dust settled, my husband made the wise suggestion that I take a larger chunk of money out next time and then just keep it stashed away in the cabinet (like my mom used to do in 1977). Wow. Why didn’t I think of that? (Probably because I am completely unorganized?). So I made a mental note to withdraw more cash the next time.
Well, that night I had one of those anxiety dreams. You know the ones I am talking about? Where nothing goes right and it is just stress, stress, stress at every bizarre corner? Yeah, one of those. In this dream I went to my usual bank but it was closed, so I went to a different ATM and it was out of order, then another ATM but it stole my card because I kept punching my PIN in wrong. Frantically, I took a bus across town to the last bank that was open and got there just in time. Total anxiety.
Then I went through this entire charade of explaining to them how the ATM stole my debit card and, of course I couldn’t find my ID… total anxiety bullshit. Finally they agreed to give me my money.
I told the teller, “Please, Please. Give me enough cash to get me through at least one month without going to the ATM over and over again.” And she did. She stuffed $300 in one of those long white envelopes and I left. But when I finally get back home and open the envelope, I discovered the teller had given me three $20 bills and a $240 bill (apparently in my la la land of anxiety nightmare, they actually make bills of $240 denomination).
“Oh no! What is this huge bill? I’ll have to break this huge bill. I only have $60 to use before I have to break this huge bill! I…I…I… can’t do it again. I… I… can’t… Another. Trip. To. The. Bank! UGHHHHHHHHHH!”
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Not deterred by my nightmare, yesterday I went to the ATM and withdrew $120 - my new petty cash stash (I checked and they were all twenty dollar bills). So today, as I am getting ready for church, I pull out my weekly church envelopes. Since it is a new month, the envelopes for today, Nov. 1, are right on the top. I take the first two and notice yet another Nov. 1 envelope and then another one and another one.
I say to my husband, “Oh no! They misprinted the envelopes! All the envelopes for this month say Nov. 1 on them.” But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! There was no misprint. Turns out there are SEVEN envelopes for this week. He tells me that is impossible. So, I started reading them off to him:
“This one is for My Weekly offering, this one is My All Soul’s Day offering, this one is My Renovation offering, My Parish Improvement offering, My Seminary offering, My Beloved Departed offering. I…I…I… can’t. I can’t…I can’t possibly fill them all… Another. Seven. Envelopes! UGHHHHHHHHH”
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Just picture your beloved Momish in this clip instead of Diane Keaton and you’ve just witnessed my petty cash breakdown!
Yesterday at work I got a helpdesk ticket from one of our employees having an issue with his Blackberry. Because he had a different model, I needed to check my phone. “Hold on,” I told him. “Let me get mine…”
Only, when I got back to my office, I couldn’t find my phone. But I have this bottomless pit of a handbag, so I called my cell to make sure it wasn’t just buried in there. {crickets}
OK, so I must have left the damn thing home on the charger or something. Minor worry, but nothing to panic about.
When I got home, no phone. The charging station was empty.
Holy shit, where the hell is my phone? My husband asked me when I last saw it. Well, I know I had it Monday, because I updated my Facebook status while waiting in the doctor’s office. Did I have it on Tuesday? YES! I called T for our playdate. Wednesday? When was the last time I used the stupid thing?
Starting to panic (company paid phone and all), I gave it another call. {ring, ring} I heard it, but faintly. So I go searching for it. Calling it again and again each time I get the voice mail.
Finally, I found it in our hall closet. On Tuesday, I had a play date after work and took my backpack instead of my handbag, then forgot to transfer it back. Schwew!
“HA!” I told my husband. “No one can say I’m slave to technology!” In this day and age when everyone practically lives by their cell phones, I just went two whole days without even KNOWING mine was missing!
Then I checked and saw I had five missed calls. Oh No. I hope it wasn’t work or my boss or my mom or anything serious. But nooooooooooooo, turns out all the calls were from me while trying to find the damn thing!
Talk about your bursted bubbles. Not being a slave to technology is one thing, but being completely unpopular and unimportant is quite another. Two whole days??
What if I was lying dead in some ditch somewhere? Huh? Huh? Then you’d be sorry!
Wednesday, January 6, 2010 at 01:59PM 
