beerwithastraw.com

Was it a good day?  Was it a bad day?   I have no idea…. you tell me.

First…

I woke up too early and was very grouchy.  I wanted to be in Athens, TX for a 10:AM fiber arts day I had been looking forward to for months, and I had planned on a 2 hour travel time.

And then…

I discovered that Athens, TX is more like 3ish hours away.  Or maybe a touch more.  I was late.

But…

It was a beautiful, gorgeous, cool morning, and all of the colors were beautiful.  Traffic was easy, and I thoroughly enjoyed the thinking time.

And then…

10 minutes after I arrived at the activity, a crown came off of my molar, followed by fairly excruciating pain.  I was in the building for less than 20 minutes before I was back in my truck on my way home, trying to figure out how to find a Saturday dentist ANYWHERE.

But…

Becca came to the rescue, trying to help me find numbers for anybody who might be able to help me.

And then…

All 1-800-find-an-emergency-dentist personnel proved to be incompetent.

But…

My own dentist came to my rescue and his hygenist *begged* me to come meet her at the office

And then…

I drove another 3 hours in the rain with an aching tooth and it hurt to talk or sing.
But…

She fixed my crown speedily and cheerfully despite the fact that she doesn’t work on Saturdays, and even offered me narcotics and didn’t want a penny because, apparently, 3 year old crowns are under warranty.

And then…
I went to get Pho.  Because tooth trouble?  Perfect excuse for pho.  (and anyway, by that point it was 4 PM and I was starving).

But…

The pho sucked.

And then…

I arrived at home about 2 minutes before the bottom fell out of the sky to discover that my postman had left me a HUGE letter from the Secretary of State stamped “DO NOT BEND” which contained my suitable-for-framing Notary Certificate from the governor’s office, which would not have been dry had my tooth not broken.

And then…

I had a frame that was the right size!

And then…

My sweetie came home!

And then…

He provided adequate pity while still leaving me alone as required by my foul mood

Because…

I was getting a migraine.

The End.

This week has been a bit trying for me. It seems like everywhere I turn, there are molehills that need to be dealt with. Molehills are a bother, for sure, but the method of handling that I have less and less tolerance for lately is the one that involves piling more and more stuff on top of them, essentially turning them into mountains for no reason.

I don’t want to get all “for example”, because, well, I don’t. I just wish that some of the grownups I consider amongst the ranks of my friends (or at least, amongst the ranks of people I don’t despise) would execute a little use of the old ‘common sense’. It’d probably save me a headache or two, and a few hundred rollover minutes in the process.

So, there’s all that, and then there’s dealing with my own mountains- like the mountains of projects I want to complete, and the mountains of dishes that seem to reappear every night, and the mountains of laundry… None of them too daunting on their own, but when they’re ALL there, ALL the time… they seem pretty scary. I understand why there’s all the jokes about your average SCA member having a filthy house, trust me. I just refuse to be one of them… but I see the allure. It’s no lie that we ’slip’ sometimes, and now is one of those times, but the only real result is that I’m disappointed in myself about letting my standards slip slightly while still wanting to go play with yarn. And fabric. And paint. And the outdoor projects, and…. well, you know. I think I need a housewife.

What’s a girl to do? Well, I’m going to rock out to my lovely sexy Ozzy Osbourne station on Pandora, even though the shine is starting to tarnish a bit with the link Sabine oh so lovingly shared with me this morning. I’m going buy cat litter on my lunch break. I’m going to go out this evening for a bit of social time with girls, and then I’m going to go home, do the dishes, swap out the laundry, and play with yarn.

Can’t move the mountains, can only chew at them in manageable bites. Maybe eventually they’ll seem smaller and less daunting.

A coworker came into my office yesterday and was surprised by what I was listening to.  Granted, my preferred XM Station, Lucy, was a bit angry at the moment, and I can see how Rob Zombie may not be everyone’s idea of appropriate workplace music.  Anyhow- he made a suggestion that I immediately took him up on, and right now I find myself blissfully working and thinking “Lucy Who?”

I may be the last one on this bus (it happens with fads), but pandora.com?  Rocking my socks.  So far today, I’ve had the Emmylou Harris station, the Stroke 9 station, the Trout Fishing station, and, just to see what they’d play, the Cowboy Mouth station (which, not surprisingly, played a lot of Cowboy Mouth).

It’s free.  As far as I can tell, it’s not giving me tracking cookies or other nastiness.  It’s web-based.  The only thing I can find wrong with it is that I can’t take it with me in my car, and I can’t listen at home.  I’ll live.  Pandora can just be my office affair.

Just don’t tell Ipod.  He wouldn’t understand.

Remember this post?

It no longer applies.  The LSU testing center just called me and informed me that they’d re-evaluated their grading procedures and decided that I’d passed.  I’ll have to wait a few weeks to get my paperwork dealt with, but I get to be a full-fledged, “commission expires with life”, legal in every parish of the state, Notary Public.

Fucking WHOOT!

I lied. But first- congratulations! Nobody answered the poll incorrectly (and of course, the only incorrect answer was C).

Now for the rest of the update, I’m going to hide it behind a cut, because I’m nice. My subject today is of a girly nature, and involves discussion of bodily functions, boiling chickens, springs, and cramps. Venture forth at your own risk.

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test…test…test…

This is Sabine testing Sarah’s blog because she thinks that she broke it…

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In the event any LSU fans happen to make it over this way:

Beth’s family has been given a 2008 BCS championship football signed by Les Miles, and are raffling it off at $20/ticket.  Proceeds will go directly to the Beth Watts Bridges Music Scholarship Fund.

You can read about the football and scholarship here if you like, or go watch this news article for more information, some lovely pictures, and an interview with Beth’s awesome brother Craig.  Both have ticket purchasing information.

I’m really trying not to fall off the blogging bus, but honestly, I have an excuse this week!  A pretty good excuse… which brings me around to today’s poll:

If you walk into a coworker’s office at the lunch hour (after returning to the office with your own lunch) and she is sitting at her desk with her back to the door reading a book and eating her lunch, what’s your reaction?
Do you:
a)  Go away.
b) Ask whatever important question you have, and then go away.
c) Sit your butt down in the ‘guest chair’, pull out your sammich, and start discussing favorite authors in a one sided conversation, not realizing that your coworker is struggling to end her paragraph without getting distracted by your reeking sub (extra jalapenos and onions) and not-so-witty banter?

Discuss.

I had an ingrown toenail last week. Now, it wasn’t all nasty and red and infected and gross (like what you will find if you’re dumb enough to google “ingrown toenail” looking for an appropriate image for your blog entry and almost lose your breakfast as a result); it was just rather ouchie and making it difficult for me to wear shoes. In my infinite wisdom, I decided to do some bathroom surgery- but couldn’t quite do what needed to be done with two hands. So I recruited James to help, and a pair of pliers later we were wondering exactly why it is I didn’t go to the doctor- but we got the job done (BTW, 5 days later my foot is fine, doesn’t hurt, didn’t get infected. I won the stupid lottery this time, but don’t try that at home and all that jazz).

ANYhow- on to the actual subject- Sabine declared, upon hearing the story, that nothing else was sacred and we may as well start leaving the bathroom door open.

….. Oh, HELL no.

For all that I love telling people way more than they could ever possibly want to know about me, that’s a line that shan’t be crossed. Once the sacred barrier of the bathroom door has been breached, there’s no going back. She regaled me with tales of people who had let that door stay open and then found that they were called in THERE every morning to kiss their spouse goodbye. But then there’s that one woman I heard about… the one whose husband often called her in to “look at this one!” She’s divorced now. All because of the violation of the latrine. Sometimes, you just need to preserve some iota of mystery.

Apparently, though, Sabine and the women she keeps company with see it differently than I do, and unfortunately, sometimes they have a clue. So, here’s what I need to know from you: Does one little home surgery on a foot really mean the end to all privacy is imminent?

Give a girl a clue if that’s the case.  I’m pretty sure I’ll need to do some heavy drinking to resign myself to the truth if it is.

I was not at all surprised to find out this morning that I did not pass the Notary exam  I expected to flunk by a landslide considering the amount of time I did not spend cramming.  I didn’t flunk by a landslide.
More specifically, I failed by .02%.  Drink that number in, will you?  Point Oh Two Percent.
The good news to that, though, is that I did pass two sections, and don’t have to re-take them again as long as I pass the 3rd section in my next two attempts.  And of course, they only offer the test twice a year, so I don’t even get to try until December.  I’m just hoping that this doesn’t turn out like the ACTs did, when my score actually went down the second time.