Melodyann tagged me! I’m IT!
3 Things I haven’t let go…
- Self-flagellation. I am my own worst critic. Always have been; and barring a miracle, always will be. I have the remarkable ability to mentally beat on myself about anything, anyone, anytime. Parenting, project progress, housework, career, spiritual life, friendship, mental issues, ; you name it (or don’t, because I’m just that good at it) and I can whip out the criticism and wrap it around me like a cape faster than a speeding bullet. It’s like a superpower, really. Sometimes Hunky is the cape; sometimes he’s the kryptonite.
- My dream of having a barn. Growing up on a farm and doing chores, I don’t know how many times I said to myself, my barn will be different than this barn. Mom’s barn was messy. She would go to the Shipsi auction and get a box of stuff for one price. She’d pull out the one thing she bought the box for, then throw the box of leftover stuff in the corner “just in case”. Just in case what? Just in case you ever buy a 1964 Farmall Tractor and it just needs one piston to run? Just in case you have a burgundy porcelain ceramic insulator emergency and only one will do? Anyway. It was just a given. Not if I have a barn; when I have a barn. I was going to grow up, get my barn, get married, and have babies. It just hasn’t happened necessarily in that order. And inside that barn I’ll have a couple horses to trail ride, a few chickens to make me some double-yolked brown eggs, a goat to waddle around and be cute, and a pig who I shall name “Freezer-Bound”.
- My belief in God, and the notion that people are good until they prove otherwise. The good people theory has only bit me in the butt a few times in my life, and for now I’m hangin’ onto it.
Sometimes blog reading is like watching a soap.
*Urgent Narrator voice*
Foggy City Mommy got some radiation from one of the corpses she was working on at the morgue… will she make it?! (Seriously, though, when I read the entry her friend posted that she was in ICU, literally, tears came to my eyes, and I yelled out loud, “NOOOooooooooo!”)
*shot of frantic doctors yelling ‘Clear!’ and using the paddles*
Tune in tomorrow! Tomorrow?! Are you friggin’ kiddin’ me?!?! I can’t wait until tomorrow to find out if she’s ok!!!
Then Melodyann scared the snot out of me and fell off the planet. All day Thursday I fretted, then finally had to email her, and Friday found her bouncing back a little. Hang in there, woman.
Heather is explaining troubles with her kids’ school and the jerkwads that teach there, and I use the term teach loosely here. Seems they’re more worried about labeling children than teaching them. Only she’s breaking it up into chapters when I want to read all night long under the blankets with a flashlight until the happy ending. I like me some happy endings.
Thanks, Mrs. M… HunkyDory was SUCKED IN. They should post a “Warning: Can Be Highly Addictive” on the home page.
I started it at 7.15 and got up to level 40. Around 7.30 I asked Hunky a word. He answered that one and then just stayed and we worked together. At 7.45 I asked him, “Does this quiz have an end?” He seemed to think so, so we kept going. At 8.05, my friend arrived to pick me up to go help her with her homework, so I told H, “Just leave this up and we’ll finish when I get back.”
I walked back in the house at 9.45 and we started again. I posited that perhaps the test quits after a certain number of rice are earned (see, I used one of my new words! *chuckles*). Hunky is better at the weird nouns and I’m better at the words you can break down into root words, and we’re about equal on the rest. We said “Just One More Word” about a gazillion 27 times, and well after 5100 grains of rice, at 12.30am, I ‘called uncle’ and stumbled bleary-eyed to bed. We stayed pretty much level 43ish, but got as high as level 47 a few times. H is back on there today. I just checked and he’s got 7220 grains of rice. But I got too close and he snarled and snapped at me, then growled real low with his teeth barred. I’m a little worried. I may have to invest in a shock collar.
I took a bunch of pictures yesterday, but wasn’t thrilled with the results. The colors are about done, so for me, fall is over and I’m going to pout and hibernate until spring comes. I might come out for Thanksgiving and Black Friday shopping, and possibly Christmas and maybe New Year’s Eve. But the rest of it, fugeddabowdit. I’m on strike, protesting the injustice that is Iowa weather. When I’m not sleeping, that is. You can try to wake me on St. Patrick’s Day, but the green beer isn’t worth it. I’ll hit the snooze until the first robin comes back from vacation.
Rip it, roll it, but don’t smoke it. Don’t do drugs, kids, mmmkaaay?