Thursday, February 08, 2007

Euphoria and Things I Shouldn't Talk About

Hi Guys! I'm posting both here and on Blogger. I am EUPHORIC today. First:

Okay, this is not something other folks usually make a fuss over. I mean, let's face it, most of us have indoor plumbing now. But mine has SLOWLY been getting worse and worse and finally I just CALLED THE FRIGGING PLUMBER. And now it WORKS PROPERLY. (Insert Hallelujah Chorus here.)
(Space and time to sing. . . "For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! For the Lord God omni. . .")
Secondly, I did a painting. Just a fun honest-to-God screw around and enjoy myself painting that, if it worked will go on the wall, and if it doesn't will go the way of all things. BUT IT WAS FUN!! I even FINGER PAINTED part of it! I can't tell you how long it has been since I just relaxed and let myself do a painting for the sheer joy of it without angsting over all of the realism and details, and it's a gift and what if it doesn't turn out, and oh CRAP I can't do this any more. (I was never better than a B talent, but there are times when I've fallen to an F- due to lack of practice and TENSION.) But I DID IT! It is entitled "Chocolate Bed Spins" and while it didn't turn out the way I originally envisioned it, I don't even care. Because I had fun--something I've kind of forgotten how to do over the past few years.
Haven't heard from James in about a week. Hope he calls. I think he's probably fine--I know he's been busy. But I LIKE him, and I love him, and I like hearing from him. SO SUE ME--I'M A MOM DAMMIT!!! I do find the irony of this exquisite since I now know EXACTLY how my mother worried about me. Karmic justice at its finest.
Oh, and they've finally got the thyroid meds right. You know how I know this? (1) My hair isn't falling out. (2) I don't feel like a barely animated corpse. (3) My skin isn't so dry its cracking. (4) I'm not swollen, bloated, and looking something like Bhudda without the good disposition. (5) I HAVE A LIBIDO. (6) I'm losing weight.
Holy crap--I have a libido. I haven't had one of those in. . . well, not since the thyroid went totally wonky a LOOOOOOOOONG time ago. This is, of course, a mixed blessing. It is good that I am getting healthier. But there is not, shall we say, a wide selection of available men in the small town in Texas where I currently reside. Also, it is a small enough town that everybody knows EVERYTHING about everyone else and LOVES to talk about it. No, dating here would be a BAD THING.

Well, the dog is fussing. I have to get cleaned up. Have a great day.


Saturday, February 03, 2007

New Blogger/Taxes and Valentine's Day

First, I am now on the new Blogger. We'll see how it goes. I don't much like change when something else has worked reliably for me for years. It's like the new Windows Vista. Maybe it'll be a wonderful thing in a year or two (after any bugs have been worked out) in the meantime I'm a little whiny about a big change.

Taxes -- I believe in them. I pay them. But I HATE HATE HATE getting ready for them. I've been a very bad and disorganized girl, and it is going to cost me a FRIGGING FORTUNE which I HATE HATE HATE, mostly because it's my own blasted fault. Sigh. Still, I'm scheduling a full day (preferably one that is warm with sunshine when the puppy can be outdoors and not distracting me) to get them DONE and off to the accountant. WISH ME LUCK!

Valentine's Day -- I posted an opinion here, tried to copy it over to MySpace and wound up cutting and pasting instead. (Don't ask.) ANYWAY, I'm just bummed at the pressure being put on people acting like they have to spend a fortune and get the PERFECT thing or they will never love or be loved again and they will look like idiots. What ever happened to "It's the thought that counts?" Isn't it just good that they thought enough of you to put out an effort? I mean, it's a cheesy manufactured holiday anyway. SO LET'S GO FOR THE GOUDA AND CHEDDAR! Give me a 6' hot pink Gorilla with a big red bow clutching wilted flowers and a box of (probably melted) off-brand chocolates; or maybe a hand-made card with REAAAAAAAALLLY bad poetry; or maybe an amateur singing telegram ("You really got your best friend to DO that?") with silly lyrics. Or maybe just tell me you love me, and really mean it.