Here There and Everywhere

Wow, I didn't realize how long it had been since I posted last! Whoops.

In my defense, I have been non-stop busy. Doing what you may ask?

House hunting.

Yup. We've spent nearly every weekend for the last two months searching for the right house. We found A LOT of wrong houses...but I'm excited because I think finally, we found THE one. We put in an offer this morning which was accepted by the sellers this afternoon buuuuuuuuut, it's a short sale which means we have to wait for final approval on the bid from their lender. So keep your fingers crossed.

Getting ready to head to the mountains tomorrow so I promise to write again soon. Have lots to say. In the mean time, let me leave you with this:

If you work with hot peppers...no matter how thoroughly you wash your hands after...you MUST resist the urge to scratch any itch below the equator. TRUST me.

The Fluff War

There is a fluff war going on in my house and I’m not sure if I’m winning.

I took a look at the old decrepit scale the husband always complains about and decided that we needed a new one of the digital, easy to read variety. I would be putting you on if I said that I wasn’t a little apprehensive about what number was going to appear…I knew the old one had been lying to me, I just didn’t know how deceitful it had been. I thought surely it couldn’t be more than a mere 3 or 4 pound difference…..yeah, right. What if I tell you that my shiny, new scale has informed me that my weight was underestimated by a whopping TEN pounds!

T-E-N!!!

Well shit.

It’s at moments like this when you’ve got to stop and ask yourself if the truth was really worth it. Is honestly really the best policy?

In the long run I suppose it is. You can’t get where you’re going unless you know where you’re coming from.

But...geez louise.

Fluffy

I don’t think I can avoid the truth any longer.

I wanted to deny it but my too tight pants threatened me with a public split of monstrous proportions if I didn’t come clean. So here are the cold, hard facts.

I have gotten fluffy.

Geez. There…I said it!

I wish realizations of truth such as this were gifted by removal of said wobbly bits but alas, my wobbly bits are still…wobbly.

Sigh.

Nothing to be done now but to get on with it.

Pass me the sneakers and watch the fluff go poof.

Fake It Til You Make It

I’ll go ahead and state the obvious.

It’s been a long time since I last wrote. There are a lot of reasons, chief among them was that my heart just hasn’t been in it. This is literally the first time I’ve picked up my lap top in over a month. Then the damn thing wouldn’t start up. I think it was holding a grudge…angry at feeling neglected.

Not that I blame it. I haven’t blogged, I haven’t written any movie reviews…nothing. It’s as if all interest in writing has been sucked out of me…which you should know is, for lack of a better term…really weird. But in my defense, I’ve not had anything interesting at all to write about. My life as of late has been one big HO HUM and who wants to read about that? But at your urging, I promise to buckle down and give it the old college try.

What’s the phrase?

Fake it ‘til you make it.

Well honey, I can fake it all day long. Pass me the tuna sandwich please, I’ll have what she’s having.

Pear Shaped

Every day the husband asks me if I'm going to write and every day I give him the same answer.

I don't know.

I just haven't felt like myself lately. To be honest, it kinda feels like being stuck in a bowl of jello. Everything's a little wobbly and nothing feels right.

I worry that it will never feel right.

People keep telling me that it gets easier and over time it hurts just a little bit less but I want to make someone put it in writing....give me a date...something to work towards. I want to know WHEN the hurt will go away.

You know, I'm fairly certain that when my Dad died, my heart died with him. But then I think...if I don't have a heart anymore...then how come I hurt so much?

One of life's great mysteries I guess.

Sigh. This is why I haven't written. I don't want to be known as the person responsible for depressing the whole Blogdom. Sorry guys.

Stranger Danger

I think I must have one of those faces. The kind that says, “I’m open to being approached by oddballs, weirdos and lunatics. Send me your worst.”

Of course leave it to the Universal Powers That Be to make this the one time they actually decide listen. Typical.

I’m fairly certain that you could drop someone who…(well let’s just say they may not be the brightest light on the tree) into a crowded sea of people and they would inevitably suction cup themselves to me.

It’s the face. I’m telling you.

My insides shriek, “Stranger danger!”

My face says, “Welcome.”

It’s a pretty poor combination, I must admit.

Last week I stopped by the store for some girlie things and as I made my way to the front of the line I was greeted with a smile and a “How are you this morning?”

“Fine thank you.”

As I dug in my purse for my debit card, the cashier says, “Girl…you can’t tell me you fine. I see what you’re buying.” With a knowing look she nods towards my girlie things. “There ain’t nothin about you today that‘s fine…believe you me. I can tell already, you gonna have one of them days.”

I glanced uncomfortably at the line of people behind me and thought to myself, well if my face is going to let me down, maybe I need to at least start practicing the angry eyes. That could be promising….

Shrinking Conspiracy

I think my clothes have shrunk.

Being that it‘s been colder than a well digger‘s butt lately, I finally got around to hauling my winter clothes from the depths of the closet and spent the whole morning getting everything washed and sorted when a curious thing happened.

Nothing fit.

Hmm...the Shrink Fairy must have visited my closet. That or that sneaky little washer has been shrinking my clothes again. It happens from time to time. I think it has some sort of vendetta against me. A missing sock here, a shirt shrunk there…I’m onto it now.

It’s just a shame that my entire wardrobe had to fall victim to wicked fairies and a washing machine with a grudge. I mean, obviously it’s just a stroke of rotten luck…it’s not like I put on a few pounds or anything. That would just be silly.

Although….I haven’t exactly weighed myself in awhile. But that’s mostly because scales are vile, evil devices. I had the misfortune to run across one at a doctor’s office that actually talked.

In FRONT of people!

Completely unaware that I was about to visit hell, I stepped onto the scale and promptly fell off with a start when it began shouting my weight to everyone within earshot. Yeah….I don’t go there anymore.

At any rate, it’s too cold to walk around naked so I guess a shopping trip is in order. Maybe I’ll even pick up a scale while I’m at it. I hear the fairies are scared of scales…