September 30, 2008

A New World Thanks To The Money Terrorists

I’ve been the Treasurer for my kids’ school… this being my fifth year.

Some of you have been reading me since I was approached to take the job, four years ago. I was taken back by their choice, my being a mathematician/engineer and not a business type… at all. In college I didn’t take one business class.

Not one.

Not economics. Nothing.

Business is boring to me and my interest in it is less than 0. It is not possible for someone to be any less interested in business than I am.

Truly.

And here I was being asked to take on this job for the school. It was supposed to be a two year stint.

I’m on my third term.

I’ve made mistakes and I never realized what a big job it was and has since become.

I now have a loose understanding of accounting, have learned an accounting software package, know the people at the bank on a first name basis, and completely understand the inner workings of all the school’s fundraisers, including the one I always swore I’d never get involved with… the big carnival that is HUGE with three days of light, motion and sound.

You all have read me as I’ve fought going into a catatonic state every year, coming off that sucker. I like peace and quiet. I like to read.

Working a huge carnival complete with carnival workers and big named rides, and HUGE MEGA sound, let alone running a portion of it, was never on my list of things to do before I die. Having Deputy protection including being guarded by an assault rifle last year, realizing gang members were at the event, was also never on my list.

Oh but that’s a whole other story. Not sure I ever blogged that bit… some stuff I try to keep more quiet.

I’ve seen so much in the last four years. I signed up for two more years… I will turn this over at the end of my 3rd term. I obviously have not sucked too badly or they’d not have asked me to stay on.

Obviously I’ve not hated it too much or I would not have continually said yes.

Then again, I could be a masochist… there is that.

In the last four years, the school got blown away by two hurricanes, the home and school ran out of money and I had to ask the Parish priest for a loan, the diocese had some priests embezzling HUGE sums of money, enacting (and rightfully so) an audit every summer that includes my books (scared the crap out of me the first year… because I’m a stupid engineer and not an accountant), the economy peaked and we made record numbers in our carnival, the economy tanked and our other fundraisers disappeared from lack of ability of our parents to support it… leaving us with the carnival alone, and…

… then last night I had the realization that all of our funds may not be insured by the FDIC.

And *I* am the one that it came to. *I* am the one that realized, ‘OH shit…’ and showed up first thing in the morning in our Principal’s office saying, ‘Umm… well… funny thought came to me last night…”

To see his eyebrows shoot up and realize… “whoa”.

And so I spent today at the bank, trying to understand how we were covered and how we were not if they fail (they’re a steady bank with a good rating) and realizing that I need to find another bank for extra funds on those rare occasions that happen right after a fundraiser, before the money is spent down, when our cash on hand will exceed what the FDIC covers.

And now I’m researching banks. For their solidity. Or solvency. Or… their lack of potential to lose it all in the next few months.

And I think to myself, ‘Wow… how far I have come…” for a girl who frickin’ hates business and is bored to tears with it and would rather have a wrench in her hand than a checkbook…

And bail out or not, this whole thing still sucks and I still think they should let everyone fail.

All of ‘em. A pox on all of ‘em, if for nothing else, than for making this mathematician/engineering geek have to learn about business.

The long week continues…

And FYI, if you are a business, you can’t just add beneficiaries or open another account in a bank to increase your insurance. You actually have to open another account… in another bank.

This should make my accounting job interesting…

Posted by Boudicca at 07:39 PM | Comments (12) | TrackBack

September 29, 2008

Greed

No real blogging tonight. I'm just too pissed...

Pissed at everything regarding this Bail Out. Nancy Pelosi and her henchmen, everyone who allowed this to happen, the GREED that I have a gut feeling will be paid off when all the greedy bastards deserve to lose everything, the big banks that kept swallowing the little banks... and more debt.

All of it.

Let them all frickin' fail. The whole lot of them. Let them lose their jobs, their shirts, everything.

I pay my taxes, I live within my income, I don't buy what I can't afford, I don't live on credit, I saved for years to buy this home, I don't buy new cars until I run my old one into the ground, I am a responsible citizen in a family of people who work damn hard and feel like we're all getting screwed.

Pissed actually doesn't even begin to explain the seething anger I feel inside.

So no real posting tonight... as I brace myself to have to go talk to our Principal tomorrow on making sure we've kept our school money safe. The money for CHILDREN, that we raise for our CHILDREN, I need to make sure all accounts are safe... and it pisses me off even more.

I'm in a seriously foul f***ing mood.

May they all f***ing rot.

Maybe a good night's sleep will make it all seem better in the morning...

Posted by Boudicca at 09:45 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

September 28, 2008

Death Wish

Whoa.

The quote “The balls the size of a grapefruit and a brain the size of a pea” comes to mind. (Thank you Stephen Coonts…)

Pass the popcorn. Holy crap. This could be interesting…

*Update- I had to reread it again. Folks, who in the hell steals something from the Russians, tanks and ammo no less, and then says they'll fight to the death?

Really.

Is it bravado and they see no way out, or so do they really and truly think they'll walk away with a cool 20 Mill? If its the later, man, they're smokin' crack. Or something. Holy crap.

Posted by Boudicca at 03:23 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Predictions I Hope Are Incorrect

It’s time for me to put it out there.

Obama is going to win this thing. He is going to win and he is going to win decisively. I can feel it. I can feel it in my bones.

I’m aghast, of course, as we are about to have either the most ineffective President in one of the most important times of our history, or the most damaging President in one of the most important times of our history, and of course, with a Democratic Congress… we will be on the official slippery slope to becoming the largest ‘European Welfare State’ the world has ever known… and without being European.

Cradle to Grave care with scary high taxes and it won’t effect just those ‘rich people’ that make over 250K a year… it will effect everyone.

It is the dawning of a very new and potentially dark age as I see it.

I could be wrong.

But time will tell, will it not?

Now where do I base my facts that we are about to have Obama as the big cheese? On a couple things…

First, yesterday I sat in front of Wal-Mart selling Cub Scout popcorn for two hours, and standing there was a young black man, who was not much darker than I was when I was 16 and worshipping the sun, kind face and very approachable, with the braided long hair, saggy pants, and Bling, lookin’ all cool, talkin’ to the brothers, and getting people to register to vote.

Lest the above paragraph seem racist, it’s not. It’s all fact. You had to be there to see the whole hip hop/rap scene playing out before me.

And the young black man only approached black people to register.

Not one white.

At all.

Now he didn’t look threatening. He had a big smile, he’d wave and smile at the white people, but he didn’t ask one of them to register to vote. Nada.

Every black person? “Excuse me, are you registered to vote?”

His brothers went around the parking lot telling people to go see him, to register.

Nine times out of ten, the folks registered.

So… was it bigoted of him because he assumed every white person was already registered? Was it bigoted of him because he didn’t want to register white people? Was it bigoted of him to assume who all the white people were voting for? Is it bigoted of me to think he is voting for Obama based on what I witnessed?

Who knows? But I saw what I saw… smiling sweetly, selling popcorn, and wondering if he’d ever approach me, “Excuse me, are you registered to vote?”

He did not.

And if he had asked, I’d have said to him, sweetly, with a smile on my face, “I am thank you. And I have voted in every election since I turned 18. Thank you for asking…”

Oh we spoke… we laughed, but never once did he ask me if I was registered to vote.

Which brings me to our next problem.

Second… this could be national, but I know this will happen in Florida. Florida cannot get their voting shit together, in particular S. FL, more pointedly, Palm Beach County where I live.

If PBC can’t get a regular election right (the election of August is still being haggled over), and it was done with all regular voters… people who have voted for scads of years, HOW IN THE HELL will they get it right with an influx of people who have NEVER voted in all their lives?

HOW?

I see disenfranchised voters. No chads… we don’t do Chad here anymore. But I see missing votes, too many votes, miscast votes, you name it… we’ll see it.

The Dems won’t let it die this time. If FL is tight… we’ll see you in the courts, folks. I guaran-damn-tee it. And potentially… we won’t be the only State.

Third… and I find this truly disturbing, people are going out to vote for Obama because he is black. That absolutely blows me away.

I’d never vote for someone just because they are a woman. NEVER. If that were the case, you’d have seen my actively campaigning for Hillary.

I didn’t.

I look at the issues.

Good Lord, voting for someone BECAUSE of their color makes me just as frustrated as people who will vote AGAINST based on color.

It’s the same boat, folks. Neither is looking at the issues… both are looking at skin… and I do not get it. AT all. On any level.

And fourth, the American Public in general, wants a free ride. They don’t want to work anymore.

We’re past a chicken in every pot.

As I said in a previous post, when did owning a home go from being the ‘American Dream’ to an entitlement? I missed that leap.

We’ve moved onto every person is ‘entitled’ to a house, 2 cars, big plasma screen TVs, VCRs, every playstation imaginable, and the list goes on.

Entitlement. That’s what we are in. We’re in the Age of Entitlement and it sickens me.

So Obama is going to take this. The media is in love with him and will give him the slide on anything he does. It doesn’t matter if he’s tied to Fanny May and Freddy Mac, if he constantly changes his mind, or if we find out that he has horns and a tail and eats babies for breakfast… they’ll give him the slide.

I said to Morrigan, ‘You want to wager on this? That’s how sure I am… Obama is going to hand McCain his ass.”

Mo: No, no wager.

Bou: I am SO SURE of this, I’d be willing to tell my readers if Obama loses, I’ll put a picture of myself up wearing a bathing suit… on my blog.

Mo: NO! NO! Don’t do that!

Bou: The shrieking hordes of readers I’d damage…

Mo: I have hope. I want to think we have hope…

Well hope I have.

So… for all of you who truly do not want to see Obama get in, whether you are Republican, Independent or disenfranchised Democrat… I’m dead on serious here… get out there and vote on Election Day. At least when he gets in, and we slide into the European Welfare State we will start to become… you can say you tried.

I view McCain as my Barry Goldwater. How Johnson seriously beat him is beyond me, the crook that he was. In 40 years, I’ll be telling my kids, “I voted for McCain… but we got Obama and look what he did…”

Then again, since I do believe he is so ineffective since he’s never actually MADE anything happen… it could be four years of nothing. But I have my doubts about that.

I truly do.

Posted by Boudicca at 03:22 PM | Comments (14) | TrackBack

September 27, 2008

When the Cat's Away

When my husband is on travel… I devolve into a 9 year old. Or an 11 year old. Pick one.

I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but hells bells, I’ve put so much other goofy crap out here, why not?

I watch no TV, except for 24, which will be debatable this year as each year gets more and more Lame-O, even though I think Kiefer Sutherland is a hotty.

I watch no TV except…

Ok…

Here it is…

When my husband is out of town, I watch my favorite kids’ show with my boys.

ICarly.

Its on Nick.

I know. I’m so ashamed.

Or not. Or I’d not admit it here. But it is what it is.

My eldest boy is spending the night at a buddy’s house, my husband is on travel, and that left me, Bones, and T. I asked them what they wanted for dinner as when my husband is away, that leaves a good host of foods they LOVE for dinner, but he won’t eat.

Breakfast for dinner (waffles, eggs, pancakes, crepes, bacon), Mexican food, Shepherd’s Pie (my rendition, that he will eat when the kids REALLY want it, but he always asks quizzically why we just can’t just have meat loaf, with a side of mashed potatoes, and a side of veggies, instead of it layered in one pot, the separate food thing), or… Cheese Fondue.

Cheese Fondue is not a dinner food, but an appetizer, according to my hunhead.

So.

When he is gone, it’s a dinner and… that was the dinner of choice tonight. It was going to be… cheese fondue with chocolate covered strawberries for dessert and a declared, “Vegetable free zone”, but I OD’d on cheese and we skipped the strawberries.

Essentially we had bread and cheese for dinner.

I have a rule… no TV during dinner. I don’t care if there are no children in the house and its just Hunhead and me. NO TV during dinner.

Eh.

Unless its just a couple kids and me and then suddenly I find us all eating cheese fondue with French bread, using long fondue forks that have been specially picked for each person based on their favorite color, and watching ICarly after ICarly, laughing hysterically.

I feel like I’m 9. Or 11. Pick one…

Posted by Boudicca at 07:56 PM | Comments (11) | TrackBack

Rubber Face

It’s a joke in our family. TGOO has a rubber face. Throughout his life, women have told him he looks like certain people.

In his 30s it was Paul Newman. He also heard from someone Robert Redford. Two men could not look more different, but TGOO has been cast as a look alike for both.

In his late 40s and early 50s, I thought he looked like Johnny Carson. Even Morrigan will say, “Yup, Johnny Carson.”

Now? Well… someone saw a picture of him at a wedding in his seersucker suit and asked who the Sean Connery look alike was.

We love to laugh about that. Laugh, but see the truth.

But mostly, I grew up hearing my Dad looked like Paul Newman. TGOO of the lean build, crazy blue eyes, and angular face.

It’s odd to think that Mr. Newman is gone. He was a household name… and it bothers me. It is really bugging me… and I didn’t even know him.

And really, how funny, to be a man and through life you age from Paul Newman, Johnny Carson to Sean Connery. Life certainly could be tougher than that!

Posted by Boudicca at 07:52 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

September 26, 2008

Random Thoughts: Politics, Hamsters, and Feet

Random thoughts from this week:

(Background I get my feet taped every five days after the ultrasound therapy.)

1) I cannot quit laughing when I have to remove the tape from the bottom of my foot. I’m fine as I pull the tape off the edge, but when I get to the bottom of my foot, it tickles so much, that I have to take a deep breath and yank it off.

How many people do you know that can tickle themselves? I am evidently one of them. It would make me insane to have someone else have to pull off the tape.

2) I’m a mess when the nurse runs the cue tip up and down the bottom of my feet with alcohol because it has to be clean for the tape to adhere. I think I may pass out from trying not to laugh.

3) When soaking your foot in ice water, it truly only sucks for about 3 minutes and then you are comfortably numb. Lamaze breathing helps the first minute… which is truly the suckiest suck of suckdom.

4) I think I smited our hamster. Writersblock put in my dead hamster comments about how I wished it. Holy crap. It may very well have died at that very instant!

5) We shall remain a hamsterless home. I’m done.

6) When I was digging the hole and cursing, I hit something, pulled up the shovel and dirty and saw I’d sliced something in half. It was white. I quietly freaked and thought it was an old dead hamster. It was a tree root. I’m a pinhead.

7) Bones is selling popcorn for Cub Scouts. I hate selling popcorn with Cub Scouts. I thought as soon as my boys moved out of Cubs into Boy, that it would be over. I was wrong. Popcorn selling continues… for both Cub and Boy. Blech.

8) A teacher at my kids’ school scored extra high marks for some even handed fairness she doled out today. I emailed her to thank her, but I need to see her personally and thank her again. You cannot thank someone too much, when they have a job where they get trashed on, and they’ve done something so… right.

9) Is it possible to become addicted to heat ultrasound therapy because I think my eyes are starting to roll into the back of my head at the thought of having the treatment on my foot? I need one of those machines…

10) I can’t watch the debates. Y’all watch them and tell me how it went. If I watch, for certain McCain will crash and burn. If I don’t, he may have a prayer.

11) And lastly… when did owning a home in America go from being the ‘American Dream’ to becoming an entitlement? I missed that leap…

Posted by Boudicca at 08:03 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

September 25, 2008

Thank You

I received a donation two days ago that put me at my personal goal for Team in Training. If you go to my site HERE it shows I am still short, but there are checks that are being processed by LLS and sometimes it takes two weeks to show up on my site. (Credit cards show instantly and checks take awhile to process.)

I’m still writing thank you notes. I have not slacked off…

It is hard for me to convey to all of you how much I appreciate your support. I hope that as I continue to blog about my journey towards this event, that I can make you laugh, and show you what a difference you have made….

… because…

…you all make my heart warm and you keep my faith up. There have been times in the last two weeks that I’ve been angry or down with myself.

I’m realizing there are a lot of ups and downs with training for an endurance event… your body can fail you, your mental state can be off, as you push harder and harder for faster and further, it doesn’t always go as you plan and you learn more about from what you are made.

I think there have been hours that… what has kept me buoyed has been you, my readers, because I do train alone.

I had a marathon runner tell me I needed to learn to reach from within. I can do that, but when I reach from within and I am struggling… I find you all. I find your comments, the funny things you write to me, the insight, and the hope and faith.

There are days that my inner well of personal hope and faith feels… a bit dry, but when I listen long enough, when I feel long enough, I feel the support of all of you…

… and for that I am eternally grateful.

Thank you.

Posted by Boudicca at 09:13 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack

Mini Tank Invasion During the Disney Marathon

There are days I’m thankful that I’m 43 and not… oh… let’s say… 13. Because at 43, you really don’t give a crap how something looks and what people think, if there is a purpose involved, where at 13… you do.

That’s not to say I’m ready to wear the old lady boxy beige/brown leather/vinyl orthotic shoes I’ve written about. But that’s not because of what others think, but pure ego on my part.

I just flat refuse.

So let us recap:
I’m injured.
I’m waffling between getting better and not (my body is waffling… I WANT to get better)
My podiatrist SWEARS it is not my shoes; I don’t believe him.
I spend too much time on the internet researching posterior tibial tendonitis and the other symptoms I’m having.
I have a friend who is a marathon runner and a physical therapist who works with feet and ankles, and…

There.

That’s it.

In the back of my brain, I’ve not believed my podiatrist. Today I met with my friend who is a PT and does a lot of foot and ankle work. An hour later she said, “Not only is it your shoes, but your orthotics don’t do what you need either. If your orthotics had posting, you’d be fine, but it has no posting, and neither do your shoes.” (Posting adds stability in orthotics. My orthotics are rounded in the heel... posting along the inner heal would not allow my foot to cave in... it would be like a wedge, keeping my heal up.)

Essentially my ankles are caving in when I run, and it causes the swelling in that tendon as well as the tendon that runs along the OUTSIDE of my knee. When I told my podiatrist about the outside knee tendon pain (ITB), he said he thought I could have some back problems.

Right.

The internet said they’re all related.

And on the side of my podiatrist, he made me the correct orthotics for my issues. I have plantar faciitis, and the standard of care for those orthotics is no posting. (From what I’ve read…) Unfortunately, I just have more than one issue.

And so I went to a special shoe store today, told them my deal, and he fitted me with… truly… the ugliest pair of shoes I have ever seen in my life.

How ugly, you may ask?

You know a shoe COULD be ugly when he tells you that it has ‘a roll bar’ to keep the motion under control.

How ugly could they be?

You know a shoe COULD be ugly, when you run through the store and the 80-90 year old women, give you the two thumbs up and tell you that those are their favorites. You think I jest.

I do not.

I had a cheering section… me being the youngest person in the store by 40 years.

How ugly could they be?

My shoes are so ugly, that on my feet they look like wide white tanks rolling in for an invasion.

My shoes are so ugly that it is only magnified by the fact that my 5’2” frame is now wearing an EIGHT WIDE.

In white.

And if white makes a woman’s butt look big, so it does the same for feet.

My PT friend who is 5’6” and wears and 7 1/2 said to me, “Wow. It must be kind of tough being your size with well… such large feet.”

I said, “And let us not forget wide and flat. Dr. Seuss wrote books about my feet.”

My shoes are so ugly, that the boys looked at them and Bones said, “Mom. Don’t old ladies where shoes this ugly?”

There was a pregnant pause in the car.

Mr. T said, ‘Nice…’

Bones said, “NO! I didn’t mean YOU were old. I mean. Mom. These are old lady shoes.”

Mr. T said, “You’re not making it better…”

And so I give you my New Balance 1123, WIDE, shoes, shown HERE in what Morrigan said are obviously size 5’s. The smaller the shoe the more acceptable they look… with the exception of those boxy brown/beige vinyl/leather shoes. Those are NEVER acceptable.

And for a better look, click on the sole view and you can see how boxy they really are.

Boxy.

They have a roll bar.

Mr. T said to me, upon pulling one out of the box, “These are HUGE. And WHITE!”

White tanks.

I’m a bit aghast… but if it gets me over the finish line, I’m cool. I just need to get past the finish line, without a rupture.

I’m shaking my head at how my goals have changed. Once it was to complete it in six hours… then I moved it to 5.5 hours as I picked up speed… now my lofty goal is just to complete without a tendon rupture.

I think these tanks should do the trick… and then some.

Posted by Boudicca at 09:10 PM | Comments (12) | TrackBack

September 24, 2008

Better Than The Smell of Napalm In the Morning

Nothing quite beats coming into a home with the essence of baked angel food cake and the fudgy frosting scent wafting through the air, the smell of a chicken pot pie, and… the stench of decomposing hamster.

Yes, I was having guests to my home tonight for dinner, and this is all that ran through my mind.

Some dear friends of ours are missionaries in Africa. They have been gone for three years and have returned for a year stateside, and will return to Africa after the end of this 12 month rejuvenation.

And so in my excitement that they were back visiting, I planned a big home cooked meal, running home from work and school activities to start cooking.

Cake baking in the oven, chicken simmering on the stove in a pot full of broth and spices, I said to Bones, “Go feed your hamster! Change its water! I think its been 3 days…”

Off he went and came back yelling, ‘MOM! MOM! MOM! I think its dead! It smells AWFUL in the cage and she’s not moving!’

Up to my elbows in slicing potatoes, I said to Mr. T, ‘Please go check on your brother.’

I mean, I’d JUST heard the hamster two or three nights ago. Bones exaggerates. Surely if the hamster was dead he was making up the stench smell because… that’s how Bones is.

Drama King.

Mr. T came back, gagging with Bones, and said, “OH NO! Not only does it stink, but there are flies!”

Good… GAWD… NO.

I had guests coming and I have decomposing hamster in the rec room?

Gritting my teeth, I finished the potatoes, checked on the chicken, popped the oven open to look at the cake, and walked into the rec room to see said stinky hamster.

Sure enough, there it lay, in the middle of the cage, obviously dead, and there were two flies… and there was most definitely the stench of beginning rot.

Into my bedroom I walked, not finding a shoe box, but finding a paper shopping bag instead, and back to the cage, with dust bin in hand, I held my breath as I dumped the fuzzy body into the new designer body bag.

I grabbed a shovel on the way out the door and started digging a hole in what is our hamster cemetery, the entire time cursing under my breath that “I don’t have f***ing time for this” and “If I dig this hole and hit the remains of another dead damn hamster, I am going to be PISSED.”

The universe was shining brightly as I didn’t hit an old burial site. The boys came bouncing out irritated that I’d buried the hamster because they’d wanted to do it. I allowed them to cover the hole and pat the dirt… say a few prayers and whatever they needed to do… while I went to get rid of the remnants of the inside of the cage.

After taking out the trash and eliminating any evidence of 'death in our home', scrubbing my hands raw, I finished cooking dinner hoping to high heavens that my guests didn’t arrive, to have my girlfriend pull me aside and say quietly, “Bou, it smells like something died in your house…”

Because of course, my answer would have had to have been, “Hmmm...Funny you should say that…”

Luckily… all smell was eradicated except for that of a good dinner and dessert.

Thankfully.

Sometimes I look at my life and say, “Seriously, you can’t make this shit up.”

Posted by Boudicca at 09:20 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

September 23, 2008

Savings by the KWH

I have to put this out there. I’m beside myself and I’m not sure who to share this with and y’all probably think I’m half insane anyway, so what the hell.

I’m kind of a freak about my electric bill. I have a family of five and my husband and I live in a very nice sized home on an acre of land. I spend most of my waking hours, when the kids are home, being the ‘light police’.

I burn more calories turning off lights than I do training. I feel certain.

In August we started having air handler issues.

Now some of you may be familiar with air conditioning and how it works, but three years ago I had to replace our compressor and I upped our SEER to the highest at the time with cost efficiency, which was 14. My A/C guy told me in August when we had to replace the air handler that I would see an improvement in energy efficiency when my air handler SEER matched my compressor.

BS? I don’t know. But I needed a new air handler so it was irrelevant.

As our tech left, having completed his installation, he told me he highly recommended I get a new thermostat… one that was digital. He explained why, it all made sense, but deep down I was thinking, “I just spent a ton of money, now I’m going to shell out more for a digital thermostat?”

But something else kept saying, “He is making sense…” It was just taking too long for our thermostat to register the 78 degrees at which we keep our home set.

I replaced it.

And I’ve been waiting to see what kind of difference was made in our electric bill.

Today was the day of reckoning and holy crap.

Folks.

I don’t know whether it was the air handler, the thermostat, or both, but it was a $90 difference comparing Septembers.

I’ve run through the math. This September was 3 days shorter than last September, so I did a KWH ratio to see how many we were burning per day here in the House of Bou, and then added those 3 days of KWH usage.

And we saved $90 in our peak season. Our bill was $320, which I’m telling you, is NOT bad, to live in S. FL, from 11 August to 10 September, with five people, A/C, laundry, dishes, computers, lights…

Next week we get a solar hot water heater installed. I should be saving an additional $50-$75 per month. My Return on Investment is four years. I’m playing a game… “How Low Can I Go?”

Mmm… without going dark.

I’m just absolutely beside myself. So… think about the digital thermostat. I think that was a BIG part of it. Within two months it will have paid for itself. And I feel certain it was a BIG part of it because my house does feel warmer. I think my A/C was running longer before it detected the 78 degrees with my old thermostat.

Like I said… I don’t know whether it was the new air handler or the thermostat… but I did NOT expect that kind of savings. I think its worth the cheaper investment of a good digital. Really.

I’ll keep you posted on the hot water situation. I’m REALLY excited about that one!

(Sidenote: If you have been thinking about solar hot water, the 30% Federal tax credit ends on 31 December. Congress has not voted to extend it yet. If you live in FL, the State gives an additional $500 rebate.)

Posted by Boudicca at 09:10 PM | Comments (14) | TrackBack

September 22, 2008

I'd Beat Him With My Arm

I found this over at Songstress7's... I had to do it. Good Grief.

I could survive for 1 minute, 13 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor

Posted by Boudicca at 08:23 PM | Comments (17) | TrackBack

Half Truths and Big Energy

Evidently Bones’ teacher (a man) asked him if his Dad was a runner.

Said Bones, ‘No, but my Mom is’. (Whatever. I’m not really. I interval train.)

Said his teacher, ‘Does she run in the morning?’

Said Bones, “Yeah. She gets up at 4:45.” (Whatever. I do that ONCE a week, and suddenly he tells people I do that every day. I train in the evening.)

Said his teacher, “Really? I think she should take you every morning before you go to school. You have a lot of energy…”

Heh.

This reminds me of a couple things. The first was a grandmother I met when Bones was in pre-school. She used to be a first grade teacher. She used to tell the parents, “If you believe only 50% of what you hear happened in school, I’ll believe only 50% of what I hear happens at home…”

That pretty much nailed that conversation. Bones got about 50% right.

And ADHD kids are a hoot. They are big energy. Bones is not a big boy. He will be our ‘tall’ boy, topping out at 5’8”, but he is still the smallest kid in his class.

The smallest boy with the most energy. His teacher… who has been teaching for over 30 years… is even amazed.

Posted by Boudicca at 08:06 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

Running to IHOP

First a bit of a side note… I love my Team in Training Coach. Let me tell you… TNT has got it going on.

I have been emailing her with my issues and she has been such a positive force. I called her today and she suffers from Achilles Tendonitis. I have improved so much, I am following directions, my doctor said that today I could do some light walking and maybe a bit of running today, but I’m feeling gun shy.

My coach said to me, I love her for this, “Bou, you are not one we worry about. You are a strong runner and a strong walker, and we have no qualms about your timing or your endurance. YOU can take a week or a week and a half off and its not going to mess you up. Take the time. Take a couple more days. Don’t bike… just rest. It will make the difference.”

My podiatrist is not a marathon runner. I know he knows his stuff, but he’s not a runner at all. My coach… she knows my athletic ability, she knows my drive, and she knows what its like to do a marathon as she’s done three, and it was just a HUGE peace of mind hearing her say, “Take the time off. Rest…”

And so I am.

OK. Now to this weekend.

I started thinking about all the bloggers with whom I have eaten at IHOP.

Is that odd or what?

I have eaten breakfast at IHOP with Tammi (twice), T1G, Oddy, Elisson, Eric, VW, and now, Writersblock and Sherlock.

It seems some sort of blogger thing for me to do… out of town with a blogger? Eat at IHOP.

And I know I’m not a big person, but trust me, I can put away the food. When it comes to breakfast, I can eat what the big people eat. I may not eat again until the next day (not joking)… but I can eat with the big people, calorie for calorie.

This is the third time I’ve met Writersblock and I’m just so comfortable with her. There is something about her that makes me laugh. I can feel it bubbling inside me when I’m with her. She’s extraordinarily sweet, humble, and just… funny.

I mean, she has a hedge hog and she named her Pinelope. I’m sorry, but I’d never have thought of that and I think it’s a riot. (Get it… PINelope? Heh.)

She picked me up at the hotel at 5:50 (Gah!) and off we went. She asked me where I’d want to eat breakfast, and now I wish I remembered what she said, but it was something like… her waiting for me to answer and then my hearing a *cough* IHOP *cough*.

I know my reply was, “You know… I think we should go to IHOP.” Heh.

And so we trained, or rather she trained, and I walked Verrrry slowwwwly, doing a 20 minute mile (not joking), and then sat with my feet up until her team was finished. We made our way to IHOP where her husband Sherlock met up with us. (Pictures at his link are of their time with Palin at The Villages.)

I told her I could put away the food. It is a comment I hear often when I go to breakfast with people, “Whoa, she can eat a lot…”

What I forgot to tell her is how fast I can eat.

Is this a Mom thing? Eat quickly before someone needs you… you get to eat hot food then?

I can nearly inhale my food. Wait. I’ve done that.

I have heard over and over that it’s not healthy, but I’m just a very fast eater.

After having downed two scrambled eggs with cheese, hash browns, eaten some bacon and polishing off two big chocolate chip pancakes, while making sure to scrape my plate for any residual chocolate, and drinking two glasses of water, I was content.

I looked up, and Writersblock looked at my plate, laughed, and said, “You just inhaled your food…”

I realized… holy crap, it’s OK to actually SLOW DOWN and eat. You’d think I was afraid that someone was going to steal my meal! In actuality, I think I am waiting for a baby to cry in the middle of it, leaving me with cold food.

Oh they are having a crepe special… she said they were very very good!

Posted by Boudicca at 07:56 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

September 21, 2008

Looking Into The Future

I was away for a conference this weekend and ended up wanting to do nothing more than sleep.

Holy crap.

I didn’t know that drowsiness is a side effect of Celebrex, but it absolutely must be because I all I wanted to do was nap. Didn’t matter what I did… I spent the entire time thinking, “I could be sleeping in that big comfy bed right now…”

The conference went well. I’m in a group with a lot of older women. I have decided that:

1) I do not want to shrink. I’m 5’2”. Does this mean I will be 4’ tall one day? NO!

2) I really don’t want to wear old lady shoes, but I see them in my future. Can the Baby Boomers do something to make them stylish please? I know I say I’m not the fashionista, but I really have a tough time with those nasty beige/brown squarish lace up, vinyl/leather shoes. Someone. Please. Do something. I figure I’ll be in them in 10 years. That’s 10 years for someone to get their proverbial shit together and come up with a stylish shoe for those with bad feet.

3) I have not embraced the fact I could be bald one day.

Good Lord. I’m going to be a 4’ tall bald women with ugly shoes?

Is that my future?

Holy crap.

Posted by Boudicca at 09:33 PM | Comments (13) | TrackBack

September 19, 2008

The Ankle Is Attached to the Tibial Tendon

The appointment could have gone better. It could have been worse, but it could have been better.

I have Tibial Tendonitis. I didn't even know there was a Tibial Tendon.

If you look it up, none of it sounds so good, so just skip it and let me tell you, that it could be a long road, but I will recover from this.

One way or another.

It was the normal dance... with a slight variation. I'm on Celebrex now instead of Advil, but we did ultrasound and I will be icing and elevating at night.

I go back Monday. He was pretty... concerned. When I told him that I'm going to complete this marathon, one way or another, he understood, perhaps it was resignation, but was also... concerned.

Its not my shoes. He said he doesn't know how I got it, although my Mom and I were talking and she came up with my training surface. I train in the road which is not flat, but at a very slight slope... which day in and day out may not be so bad, but now I've upped my training to over 25 hours a week and increased my speed and a combination of all of it... was more than I could take.

Add to that the flat footed plantar fascia problems I have and I think I couldn't win.

So I'm changing where I train to something flatter (think sidewalks and fitness trails) and trying to heal this. This injury is going to be my Marathon Achilles. I'm going to have to nurse it all the way through, I feel certain.

Once you realize what the suck is, it is easier to embrace.

I'm embracing the suck.

With his permission, I will do some very light walking with the Orlando Team in Training tomorrow. The minute it starts to ache in the least, I am to stop.

All running is forbidden.

I think the quote was, "This is NOT something you can run through. The minute you feel ANYTHING, you STOP."

And I'm taking it seriously enough because... there is always a concern of rupture, and there is that threat of cortisone lingering on Monday and the fact I have a marathon looming, is enough for me to say yes to cortisone if I have to... as much as I don't want to.

So thank you for all the thoughts. People have completed marathons with far worse injuries. I consider this a stumbling block... but no journey is ever smooth.

If our lives journeys were always smooth, we'd never learn anything, would we?

Off to pack for Orlando. Its my 50 minute talk that I have down to 20 minutes and a basket of chocolate to hand out. I figured if I can keep them spooled up on sugar for just 15 minutes, it'll be cake.

Besides, chocolate is the balm for a woman's soul.

And if its not... I brought mints.

Ciao.

*Side note- As of 12 January... I'll become a swimmer. Good Grief. TGOO has been preaching this... "SWIM!! SWIM!" and I got the religion. 12 Jan... I swim.

Posted by Boudicca at 02:33 PM | Comments (23) | TrackBack

September 18, 2008

Injured Reserved

I’m injured and I’m pissed.

I can’t run and I can’t fitness walk.

I have an appointment with my podiatrist tomorrow. I need to get to the bottom of this… it is either my shoes or somehow my plantar fascia is acting up… causing both ankles to swell, but the foot more so.

One of my Mom friends saw my ankle and said, ‘You look like you have the ankles of a pregnant woman!” I replied, “I said that to my husband!”

I did. I walked in the other day and said, “My ankles haven’t looked this big since I was pregnant with Mr. T. Luckily… that’s the only thing that looks pregnant.”

A buddy of mine, a runner, said he was glad it happened now and not in December. It gives me time to figure out what in the hell is going on and then learn how to manage it.

The swelling and pain are down significantly as I do the ice, elevation, advil routine I have come to know so well.

I suspect tomorrow he’ll say, “We need to do ultrasound therapy, ice 3 times a night for 20 minutes per session, 20 off, 20 on, so many milligrams of Advil, so many times a day, let’s wrap the feet and let me see you next week.”

Then he’ll say something about if it doesn’t get better how we’ll do cortisone shots and that’s when we go toe to toe and I tell him no frickin’ way and make up my mind if its not improving, that I just won’t go back.

Very simple.

He and I obviously have a dance.

And he’ll check my orthotics and we’ll talk about my shoes, which I am taking with me to the appointment, and we’ll go from there.

I’m living in a pair of Birks right now.

Honestly, I’m not a very good patient. I’m rather obstinate and I want to know the WHYs of EVERYTHING and if I don’t like the answer, I do my own thing. I like this guy though, or I’d not be going back.

I consider this whole thing just a blip. I WILL get to the bottom of it and I WILL get past it. I’ve been training on my bike the last two days to keep my cardio up. I suspect I’ll be doing the same thing tomorrow as well.

I told my boss, “I have had too many people donate. I believe in this cause too much. I WILL make it over that damn finish line, if I have to do it on my daggum hands.”

His reply? “Of that… I have no doubt.” And he grinned.


Posted by Boudicca at 09:13 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

Gilchrist and Jamestown Roanoke County

Being the weather wonk that I am in the summer and early fall, I spend a lot of time on the various weather sites as well as reading a guy named Dr. Jeff Masters. He's got the 'wunderblog'.

That's where I got the link to the before and after pix of Ike along the hardest hit areas of TX.

Yesterdays' post was on a little town called Gilchrist, TX. It is absolutely a fascinating read and should be required reading for anyone who wants to try to ride out a 'cane in a mandatory evac area.

You see... Gilchrist ain't there no more.

Of 1000 buildings, five made it through. Perhaps my saying, 'made it through' is overstating. Five had structure left. There is this little blue house that remains alone amidst... well... amidst nothing. It may as well be on the moon as there is no debris left.

Gilchrist is literally... gone. Washed away. Wiped clean.

In the comment section of the blog, someone had a zoom in of the little blue house. From more of an arial view it appears as one of those odd tornado scenarios. The "Look, one house is perfectly fine while the home right next door is absolute rubble" scenario.

But with the one picture someone posted in the comments (page 9, item 424), you get more of a 'look see' and realize, it is a shell. Why that shell remained standing is amazing. But... there's nothing in that house.

Read Dr. Jeff's blog and you'll see what I've been saying here to my co-workers... they won't find survivors in debris. There is 1) no debris and 2) the waters were too strong and folks couldn't fight it.

Both lend itself to the completely awful, but the reality, that folks got washed away.

Gilchrist is gone and so are its inhabitants that refused to evac. It's like a modern day Jamestown Roanoke County, except... well there are no structures left, but the people have *Poof* disappeared. The other big difference is... we know what caused it. (If my memory served me right, the disappearance of the colonists was a mystery. Perhaps it has been solved?)

So we had big discussion over this at work and I was saying, "Do you think they went door to door and catalogued who said they weren't leaving?" Upon reading the blog, I think the answer is NO. So nobody really knows how many people are missing. Families outside of TX are frantic, but nobody can give answers because... nobody knows.

There has been much debate about 'making' people leave. I am of two minds, but mostly feel like its part of Darwin's Theory. If they want to take their chances and die, so be it. (This is outside of the folks who were handicapped or felt too poor to leave. I'm aghast at those situations and it can make me physically sick to dwell upon.)

But this was the other discussion that came up at work... people who don't evac and have children. As much as I can be the 'no nanny state' citizen, I have issues with people who put their children in harm's way.

At what point does government step in?

I think thats something that needs to be addressed. 'If you want to stay, fine, but we're taking your children', seems rather logical. We'd not allow parents to offer their children up for sacrifice, would we?

We would never allow a parent to play chicken on the interstate going 90 MPH with all occupants not wearing seatbelts, in particular if those occupants were children. We file charges against parents who get in wrecks and their unrestrained children...die.

At some point a line must be drawn, and in my mind, telling people with children that their children are going, but they can choose to stay put, and 'by the way, who gets your children when you get wiped away?' seems not too harsh. I think we'd be amazed at how many families, with the threat of being pulled apart, would rethink their, 'We're ISLAND people! We're the survivors! We don't run!' mentality.

I don't know how many children stayed. But that thought too... makes me rather sick.

Posted by Boudicca at 06:34 AM | Comments (11) | TrackBack

September 16, 2008

The Wrath of Mother Nature

If you have not been HERE to see the before and afters... you must go.

I posted before it hit, that it was the misery I dreaded. People don't get it. They don't understand how nothing works... the fabric of society as we know it is torn.

As I posted years ago... the flooding is nasty chemical and sewage laden water, with a swirl of snakes and fire ants.

The misery is incomprehensible.

And how much do you want to bet they are allowed to rebuild on a barrier island?


Posted by Boudicca at 09:04 PM | Comments (12) | TrackBack

Blogger Week

This is blogger week for me!

I had lunch with Tammi yesterday. To all of you who know her, she looks FANTASTIC. Her hair is a great length, she has a healthy glow and she looks relaxed.

Now maybe she isn’t relaxed, but she seemed centered.

We had a GREAT lunch. I love laughing with her.

On Saturday, if all holds up with my left ankle (I have unexplained edema, but no pain), I will be training with Writersblock in Orlando! I have a trip and she’s training with the Team in Training group there… so I’ll be meeting up with her.

I hope this old lady can keep up with her!

Posted by Boudicca at 07:44 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

Jousting for Jesus

Bones won’t be an Altar Server. He’s too small.

Oh he wanted it. He wanted it badly.

But, he went through the two hour class and realized that its too much responsibility, the big stick with the cross is too heavy, the Bible is too heavy, and he can’t do the incense.

He really is disappointed as he wanted front row seats at all the Baptisms.

He told his Dad, “I can carry the big stick with the cross, if I carry it like this…” and he proceeded to tuck it under his arm as if he were jousting.

Can you imagine? That’s just BEGGING for someone to get speared. Holy crap.

So Altar Serving is not on the radar until he gets a bit bigger.

Posted by Boudicca at 07:38 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack

September 15, 2008

Can I Vote Absentee From A Neighboring County? Please?

Just so you know... those of you who live outside of Palm Beach County, our last elections on Aug 26, were an absolute frickin' disaster. (Today's Post article is HERE.)

I'm not even sure where I'd begin.

Quickly, during the voting audit, they found they were missing 3000 votes. It has been a crazy madhouse as they've tried to find said missing votes.

(The biggest issue was a race for Judge that is within something like 20 votes. Scary close... this has now ended up in our court system. Sound familiar?)

Because of the requirement of a paper trail, we no longer have the electronic voting machines that were brought in after the 2000 Elections fiasco. This election, we went back to paper... again. Its one of those optical scanner types where you fill in the arrow.

This was the trial.

It has been a disaster.

And our big elections are coming up and all of us in Palm Beach County are very very nervous as to how this will play out. It needs to be landslide one way or another. If its close... let's just say I can't go there mentally.

Posted by Boudicca at 08:39 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

Getting Faster and Hungrier

I’ve done the math… too many times to count. I can’t believe it.

I’m doing 13.5 minute miles.

Four weeks ago I was doing 15.5 minute miles.

If I can continue 13.5 for 26.2, I will finish in less than 6 hours!

(Please keep in mind, I cannot run 26.2 miles… this body will not let me and I have no desire to have knee replacements. I am fitness walking and running… intervals.)

I have essentially cut 2 minutes per mile off in… four weeks. I’m very very happy.

I walked in from training on Saturday morning at 8:30AM. My husband, who normally sleeps until 9 on Saturdays (he gets up at 5:30 every other morning), was watching TV. The following conversation ensued to the best of my recollection:

Me: You’re up already. It’s Saturday!

Hunhead: I wanted to see how those idiots on Galveston Island faired.

Me: Death watch?

Hunhead: No clue, could be. I had to see though…

Me: Damn, I’m hungry. I’m eating Pizza and watermelon…

Hunhead, looking at the clock: Hell, you’ve been up since 4AM. This is like Noon to you!

*When training with a ball cap on, one must wash it as frequently as one washes their clothes. I need more caps.

Case in point, I was getting ready for a Wednesday team training, grabbed my sunglasses and cap and made my way to the car. I threw my cap on and a couple minutes later thought, “Oh good God. What is that awful stench?!”

I was driving down the road, grabbing my shirt and smelling it, grabbing my bra strap and smelling it thinking, “For… the… Love… of… God, what in the HELL is that awful smell?!”

My clothes smelled like the unscented Tide I use. I thought perhaps the detergent hadn’t worked.

And then I realized… holy crap, it’s my hat! I’d not washed my hat in a week! I felt awful for the folks who had to train with me. I kept hoping they wouldn’t get down wind…. I could scarcely stand being around *me*.

(I have to wear a hat… it keeps the sweat out of my eyes.)

Posted by Boudicca at 08:26 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

September 14, 2008

When Commando Might be Best

I’m going to talk about Panty Lines and Mannequins in the Mall.

First, mannequins.

Who decides what the mannequins wear?

I was walking through Macy’s today, to try to find a pair of dress pants for Mr. T, when I had to pass through the cosmetics department. There in the middle stood a blonde mannequin wearing… black silk panties, a white button down dress shirt, black 4 inch heels and carrying a black purse.

Who dresses like that? Ever. I mean, it could be a whole ‘come hither look’ for games at home, but she was carrying a purse. An evening bag at that.

Right.

What were they advertising?

Besides Sex...

I was at a loss…

Next, panty lines.

Let me be the first to say, I don’t care if I have panty lines as long as I’m not wearing an evening gown. If I’m wearing an evening gown, I’m wearing Spanx anyway, so there is no panty line issue.

But day in and day out, I could not care less. We all wear underwear, so I really don’t care if you can see the line. I’ve got far bigger issues in my life than wondering if someone can see where my panties meet my thighs.

Now I know many women have issues with that, and that’s cool. We all pick our fashion battles. Many of them wear thong underwear to fight the panty line battle. I personally can’t wear them. I know women who SWEAR by them, but maybe it’s the shape of my backside or my hips or something, but I don’t think they’re very comfortable.

So this is to you thong wearers… who do it to fight panty line.

Depending on what you wear, you still have one.

If you are wearing clingy cotton, instead of the line along the base of your bottom, you have a triangle just below your waist, disappearing into the crack of your bottom.

I watched a woman walk into the mall today wearing a cotton dress. I could see the triangle of her thong. The dress clung to it. Her backside, the cotton dress just brushed over, but that thong underwear triangle stuck to her dress like velcro.

Now maybe this does not bother most, but personally? It shows too much ‘ass anatomy’ to me. To be very blunt, you know where a woman’s crack starts if she wears a thong and is wearing clingy cotton.

The classic is when I can see it through their pants. I want to stop them and say, “Girlfriend, what was the point? Why don’t we just PAINT the triangle on your backside? We can all see where your panties are disappearing into your bottom.”

Oh and white is the worst. That would be white cotton dresses or white pants. They are the biggest triangle revealers. BIG.

A few weeks ago I saw a girl, dressed to the nines, 4 inch heels, white cotton dress, she turned and walked away and the only thing I could see was… “The Panty Triangle”. It was SCREAMING at anyone who was behind her.

I know, it’s all personal preference. But I just prefer that if you’re going to see where my underwear ends, that you see it at the top of my thighs and not disappearing into the crack of my backside.

But that’s… just me.

As for the mannequins, stop the madness already.

Please. Like our children aren’t subjected to enough overt sexuality. I was a bit horrified walking through cosmetics with my 11 year old son. I wasn't in lingerie.

Stop the madness.

Posted by Boudicca at 09:12 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

September 13, 2008

Looking At The World, Counting Bathrooms

It was a great training today. I need to work on speed more and will as I find a faster partner to train with. I’m trying to find the right person and it makes it challenging. We trained for 2 hours today. (I’m interval training… not running this entire thing.)

We meet downtown West Palm Beach and then walk down to the Intracoastal Waterway, and follow the road along the waterway, over a couple bridges there and back, and at one hour, we turn around and make our way back.

As of now, I’m working on a negative split. I make the return 8 minutes faster than when I go out for the first hour.

And so this is the story of my challenges… we all have them.

First let me say, I am going to be so prepared for this race. I kid you not, I essentially did 1/3 of it today and it felt GREAT. It really did. And I’ve only been training for four weeks, so I just feel very very confident that not only can I do this, complete this marathon, but I’m not going to die in the process.

There has been doubt.

About that dying part…

In my mind.

Anyway.

I have IBS. This has been my biggest fear. I really really watch what I eat the night before; trying to stay away from foods I have a difficult time digesting.

There are no bathrooms on our routes.

None.

We start and end near the West Palm Beach library (on Clematis for those of you from the area) and there is a bathroom there. But other than that… there is none.

Last night we had Chinese food for dinner. I made sure to stay away from foods that were too fatty or have given me trouble in the past, sticking with a light stir fry and an egg drop soup. I stayed away from ice cream, anything fried, and anything too spicy.

What I did not think about was… that there is such a high sodium content. I retained water all night and so when in the morning, even though I went to the bathroom, my body wasn’t finished retaining all that fluid.

Flash forward to 35 minutes before the end of my training… , as in I’d been training for about an hour and 20 minutes, and… I suddenly had to pee… and every time I’d run it would be worse. I was walking at a good clip and when it came time for my run interval, I’d not do it. I was crampy and I was nervous I’d not be able to hold it.

And this is where the math brain comes in; that I swear is a disease.

It is an affliction.

I had some song rattling through my head when I passed a group of apartments and the first thought was, “Oh… every one of those people have a bathroom… and can freely use it… and I can’t.”

I passed a church and thought, “Wow, I wonder if they’re open and if they’d let me use their bathroom. I wonder if I knocked on the door and said, “Hey! I’m training for a marathon to find a cure for Leukemia & Lymphoma, Team in Training, and I’m dying here. Can I use your bathroom?” I stink. They’d not want to let me in. There are joggers all over. They probably don’t like their bathrooms to be used as pit stops for random exercise freaks…”

I let the tune go through my head and I came to a high rise. As I walked past it I thought, no kidding, “Hmm. That is four flats per floor. There are 10 stories in the building. There are 40 bathrooms in that building I cannot use…”

And hence it became… my new mental torturous game of frickin’ COUNTING how many bathrooms were within my vicinity that I could not use.

“That’s a deep building. Ten apartments deep, 2 sides, that’s 20, with five floors… that’s 100 bathroom I can’t use…”

“Damn. I wish I knew someone who lived in those apartments. Look at all of them. Not one person do I know. I could use their bathroom… Good Lord, that’s 80 bathrooms I can’t use. I wonder if anyone on my TNT team knows someone who lives in those for next time. We could all file in, purple jerseys and all, and pee in their bathroom.”

The.Entire.Way.Back.

I was counting and obsessing over bathrooms I could not use.

Oh don’t get me wrong. I kept looking at places I could drop my drawers. I was on what we call Flagler Drive which is one step down from Palm Beach. You don’t squat on Flagler Drive. Its blue blood high brow wonderfully beautiful manicured public and private property on the Intracoastal Waterway.

When I returned to my finish, I immediately went into the library bathroom where I learned another lesson. Even if I could have squatted… I’d have vastly humiliated myself because I couldn’t get my pants back up on my hips.

I wear running shorts with wicking action, which means they draw the moisture from my body. They have those little built in underwear, and then the shell. I went to pull them back up and the built in part was stuck halfway up my backside while the shell rode up to my hips.

It was like trying to pull up a wet bathing suit… but worse as I had two different pieces fighting against each other.

They fit, but a larger size would not be a bad thing…you know… for these emergencies.

So, that was today’s experience.

Meanwhile, my girlfriend, Lola, who is doing this with me, except she is running, finished about the same time I did. (The runners train shorter time but same distance… we all end at the same time.) She is so frickin’ funny. I swear to you, this is about what she said to me…

“I’m checking off all the major hurdles. I’ve run in the rain. I’ve run in pain. Today I ran having to use the bathroom so bad, I hurt. I wondered that if I did a controlled release, if everyone would just think it was sweat running down my leg.”

Holy crap. I could not quit laughing. I was counting bathrooms that I could not use and she was trying to figure out how to pee without anyone knowing.

It’s a hurdle we’ve crossed… good Lord, I need to find someone who lives in one of those apartments or talk to the Pastor I train with and see if he knows any of the Pastors in those churches. Maybe they can give me a free pass to use their bathrooms…

Posted by Boudicca at 07:54 PM | Comments (13) | TrackBack

Yet Another Reason I Know I Picked the Correct Career

Or a different title, yet still appropriate: If I were the Governor...

... all those people who were told repeatedly to evacuate, but did not, all those people who heard about 'certain death' and to write their SS numbers on their body for ID, who did not heed the warnings, could call all they wanted, screaming for help to be rescued and...

... they would die.

I'd answer and say, "Oh, I'm so sorry. We have people to tend to that actually tried to help themselves. When we're finished, if we have time, and if it doesn't put any of my men and women in peril, then we'll come help. Good luck! *click*"

Frickin' pinheads.

Some people need the lesson of personal responsibility the hard way. I'd have no problems administering it.

AT ALL.

Oh and while I'm ranting, this is an addition to the original post, if my men and women did have to save their sorry asses, I'd send them a frickin' bill and I would be on their sorry asses for the rest of their lives to pay up.

We save your life because of your vast stupidity, you owe us... forever. My state would OWN YOU.

Pisses me off...

*Update* On a lighter note... KNine, who resides in Austin, is offering shelter to people who meet certain criteria. Heh.

Oh and I got a Txt from Momotrips and they are fine. She had to take one of her boys to the ER last night, right before all hell broke loose, as they thought he had appendicitis. He is fine. They are home, no damage, no power.

Posted by Boudicca at 10:00 AM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

September 12, 2008

Rattling in my Head

Random Thoughts…

*If I were in the US Coast Guard, and there was some pinhead that decided to wait out the storm, and then at the last minute changed their mind and got called to be rescued (I saw this on a news site), I’d be very nasty to them. People who suffer low IQ typically receive a lot of patience from me. It’s not their fault. People who are chronically stupid and require my assistance that could put me in peril, or who were repeatedly warned and ignored it… actually deserve to die and I’d not be very nice.

I might even be tempted to never call them by their names, even if given them. I might be tempted to say, “OK, pinheads, oh I mean Susan and Bill, listen up.”

Or I’d have very loud conversations with my co-workers about idiots requiring my assistance… that the idiots could hear.

Obviously I made a good career choice…

*When watching this SNL skit of Obama vs. Hillary, it becomes readily apparent that…

… Sarah Palin doesn’t have a frickin’ prayer. It is difficult to watch her fight the good fight. I’m sick of the sexism. It depresses me, but perhaps, it is my baggage as well as I’m contending with some sexism issues at work that make me want to quit.

But I won’t. I’ll keep fighting…

(You don't have to watch the entire skit to get the point. Hat tip to my Mom.)

*You will not lose weight while training for a marathon, if you eat a slice of ice cream cake every night before bed.

*I have worked out my entire adult life, and never have I been as achy as I have since I started training for this marathon and I don’t remember sleeping this well in… forever. I wonder if part of it is the fact when I normally worked out, it was in the gym or a dojo. Training for a marathon is all outside, which adds different elements, such as… frickin’ blazing heat and humidity.

As much as I’m not a morning person, I’m looking forward to tomorrow morning’s 6AM training.

*I think Galveston is about to get wiped off the map. It makes me sad…

And I remain in awe of Hurricane Ike. I cannot get past the pictures I’ve seen of its magnitude. I am… left speechless with Mother Nature… and truly the beauty and the vicious uncompromising danger she can create at once.

*I just heard 40% of those folks on Galveston Island have chosen to stay. I think I'm... Stunned? Appalled? Shaking my head? I'm not sure. Speechless...

Posted by Boudicca at 07:59 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

Aftermath

From the Galveston Weather Service:

All neighborhoods... and possibly entire coastal communities... will be inundated during high tide. Persons not heeding evacuation orders in single family one or two story homes will face certain death. Many residences of average construction directly on the coast will be destroyed. Widespread and devastating personal property damage is likely elsewhere. Vehicles left behind will likely be swept away. Numerous roads will be swamped... some may be washed away by the water. Entire flood prone coastal communities will be cutoff. Water levels may exceed 9 feet for more than a mile inland. Coastal residents in multi-story facilities risk being cutoff. Conditions will be worsened by battering waves. Such waves will exacerbate property damage... with massive destruction of homes... including those of block construction. Damage from beach erosion could take years to repair.

It is not the hurricane hitting itself for which I worry. People will evacuate. Overall, the area hit will make it through the actual... hit.

Areas will be destroyed and rebuilding will take years.

It is all a given.

But the anxiety I feel is truly the aftermath, that absolute misery that follows. People realizing their homes are gone. Evacuees coming home to... nothing. Those hunkered down in high or inland areas with no power, no running water, in some cases no sewage system.

Sometimes sewage systems overflow and so NOBODY is allowed to use their system at home. Sewage backs into the streets. People's homes smell.

Boil water alerts... yet you don't have power.

Water is always warm. After the ice melts, there are no cold drinks... something so trivial can become such a big deal.

Homes are sweltering during the day and sleep does not come at night for it is still Summer in the tropics.

Hot and humid, no power, and much misery.

THAT is what worries me for people. The average person will make it through with their lives and the lives of their families intact.

But the days and weeks following... can be physically and mentally torturous.

Doubt me? Look into Baton Rouge. Those folks are STILL without power... and its been awhile since they took their hit.

It is the misery that follows... that bothers me most.

Posted by Boudicca at 07:38 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

September 11, 2008

Remembering... For Generations To Come

We were at Boy Scouts tonight when they had one of the Scouts talk about 9/11.

He started with it in generalities when the Scout Master stopped him and said, "These boys right here were four when it happened. You need to speak in more detail."

Our kids know so much... we talk about it still frequently. But he was right... there are kids coming up now, that were not born.

I will always Remember... I will never forget. But we need to make sure... we keep it in the minds of those being born today.

For us to forget... means we have not learned... and history will repeat itself.

I remember, and every year I wonder if I'll finally tell the story on line. Its not the time yet and it may never be. Its really not my story to tell.

But every year I remember. And I make sure my boys do. And I will make sure... my grandchildren have my memory of 9/11 to carry with them... so they don't forget either.

Posted by Boudicca at 09:10 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack

September 10, 2008

Houston, We Have a Problem

If you stumble upon my humble blog, and you live in Texas, I don't care if you live on the coast or not, you need to prepare.

Hurricane Ike is big. The storm tracking folks aren't so good at knowing at what speed it will hit, but from what I'm seeing, it is going to go INLAND as a Cat 2. It may hit as a Cat 4, but it will go way inland as a full blown nasty hurricane.

I'm talking Austin.

If you live in San Antonio, Austin, College Station, Waco, even something crazy like Dallas, and all the places in between, you need to be taking this seriously and you need to be preparing to lose power for a long time.

I cannot stress this enough. The coastal folks must leave and I'm glad to hear that some of my readers are planning to bug out and that Jerry will be gone in the morning, but this is a strong and deadly hurricane and a hurricane does not hit and then BOOM, dissipate.

NO.

It hits and keeps hitting and hitting and hitting until slowly it dries out... and that can take frickin' DAYS and days and days. A long damn time.

And there is going to be so much devastation that they will not get your power up quickly enough. There will be power folks waiting in the wings, but they cannot come in until it is safe. You'll have power folks from as far away as Washington State and Maine.... they will come and they will help, but they must wait until they can get to you... and getting to you is a problem on many levels.

EVERYONE that is on the East side of TX needs to prepare for being out of power.

Get ready. This has the potential to be seriously ugly.

Get ready.

**Update... there should be a post below this with a list**

Posted by Boudicca at 09:50 PM | Comments (16) | TrackBack

Hurricane List

Per Teresa’s thoughts… here is a list of things to think of getting in preparation.

You need to prepare even if you are not coastal. The winds are nasty in hurricanes and long reaching… you WILL lose power if you are in Cat 1 winds. What hits as a Cat 3 or 4, takes a long time to dwindle down to a Cat 1 or Tropical Storm. Keep that in mind…

For my list with discussion, go HERE.

Gas for your car, keep it at ¾ tank
Cash- small bills ($1 and $5)
Plug in phone
Car charger for your cell
5 gallons of water per person in your home
Pet supplies, if you own a pet
Baby supplies, if you have a baby
Do all your laundry
Food for 7 to 10 days
Make a list for breakfast/lunch/dinner and what you will and will not eat. Plan.
Do something with your eggs… bake with them or boil them.
Portable radio and/or TV**
Batteries for portables.
Lighting, flashlights, lanterns.
Batteries for lighting.
Gas for grill.
Grill.
Paper towels
Paper plates/bowls
Plastic ware
Aluminum foil
Aluminum pie plates
Napkins
Toilet paper
Anti bacterial soap for your hands
Wipes for your counters
Cooler- BIG
Ice- make in advance if you can
Battery powered personal fans
Coffee
Your favorite drinks.
Plan for your food in your freezer, how and when you will eat it.

THINK CAMPING. THINK CAMPING WITH NO RUNNING WATER.

*Update and added*
Garbage bags
Alcohol if you need it/want it (they don't sell after a hit)
Bleach
Fill bathtubs with water (used for flushing and bathing if no water)
Bathtubs of water need to have a cap of bleach added... read the bottle
Move all outside equipment INSIDE (patio furniture, garbage cans etc.)
Remove all debris from around your home... think potential projectile.
Protect your important documents... know where they are. (Insurance papers etc.)

If you evacuate, take your important papers with you! (Medical docs, insurance papers, wills, etc.)

**Per Teresa's comment: Portable TVs will NOT work as of next year, unless they are digital. GET A RADIO!

Posted by Boudicca at 09:03 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

September 09, 2008

Hurricane Ike and Texas

To any readers from Texas who have never been through a hurricane.

No matter where you live on the coast, even 100 miles inland, I would do the following:

Go ahead and get gas tomorrow and not let it get below ¾ of a tank.

Get some items that you’ll know you’ll use anyway. It doesn’t hurt to buy water and items that will be in big demand.

Look through my list HERE on how to prepare. (Look in the comments as well as there are good comments.) It doesn’t hurt to start… now.

The hurricane predictions are just that. They have NO CLUE where it will go. They can scream Brownsville all they want, and it could just as easily hit Houston. They can scream Galveston and it will hit Brownsville.

Just do yourself a favor and pick up some supplies and get started… like I said, stuff you think you’ll use. Paper plates, and plastic ware, aluminum foil, water, cash… don’t do these things at the last minute.

Do them now. Get a head start. And as we know more... get more stuff, spend more money. (If you have the cash, just do it all now. Get it over with... I'm fully prepared already knowing full well, its an investment as well as eventually it will ALL get used.)

I promise you… you will NOT regret it.

And if you live near the water, a canal, a bay, anything… think about when you are going to evac and where you are going to go. Maybe get some extra gas now… Pensacola Bay, folks never considered a hazard, rose up and took entire homes, leaving nothing, not even the slab, during Hurricane Ivan. There was a 10 – 15 foot storm surge. If you live on any water… do not take the chance.

Start planning now when you can leave and how you will get there.

Get ready folks… we’re all watching. If you stumble across this… please start now.

Posted by Boudicca at 08:10 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

Apologies to Across the Pond

To my reader from Great Britain, I owe my sincerest apologies. I wrote in a post about sending a letter to England.

NO.

I had only glanced at the address and when writing my thank you letters for my Team in Training marathon, I realized she lives in Northern Ireland.

Huge apology.

It is an error on my part… that I’ll try to explain, and to all of you who live across the pond, I apologize.

For some reason, when I was a kid, whenever anyone said, Great Britain, it meant England to me. It was synonymous and its not. Absolutely, they are not the same.

And where my problem lies is the whole ‘introducing yourself by your continent’ thing. In the United States would never say, “I’m from North America”. Yet, I met a man about 12 years ago, who, when I asked from where he came, he said, “Europe.” I blinked and said, “What part?” He said quietly, “Germany.”

I got in the car and said to my husband, ‘Hi, I’m Bou, I’m from North America”.

It’s just not done here.

So for the many years hearing people refer to the continent, instead of the country, in my mind it all becomes the same when phrasing and that has GOT TO BE offensive to those who live there, but that’s how it has happened.

I pride myself in not being so geographically ignorant. Looks like I kind of blew that out of the water!

And no, she never ever said a word. I caught it. She has class... and I offer my apologies.

Posted by Boudicca at 08:01 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

September 08, 2008

First Class Ticket to Heaven

Sax lessons start tomorrow. Band Directors have a special place in heaven folks. I’m serious.

There are three little boys who signed up for saxophone. Each boy is one of three or four boys in a family. All boy families. Every brass player in the senior band, has a little brother, that signed up to play sax.

All of us boy Moms have big noise… and it’s just been escalated. And all of us are laughing.

Really. What else are you going to do?

But as for our Band Director… almost every kid who signed up for first year band is… a boy. He has a boy Band. He needs an infinite amount of patience.

Infinite.

Posted by Boudicca at 08:26 PM | Comments (4)

The Roof, The Roof, The Roof is on Fire

We were at dinner last night discussing this whole ‘Bones as an Altar Server’ gig.

Me, to my husband: Does this involve fire?

Hunhead: Uh, no.

Me: You’re sure. There is no candle carrying?

Hunhead: No. No fire.

Me: Good. That is good. I can see the Cathedral going up in flames or at least the priest’s vestments catching fire. What about that big stick with the cross?

Hunhead: I don’t think so…

Bones: It’s too heavy for me!

Hunhead: Yeah, it’s not him.

Me: Good. I can see him knocking a few heads or accidentally piercing someone…What about the Bible? Does he carry the Bible?

Bones: No, the adults carry the Bible.

Me: So… then. Exactly WHAT do you carry? What do you do?

Bones: I think I carry water. I just carry… stuff. And I get a front row seat to the Baptisms.

Morrigan asked him today whether this ‘front row seat at the Baptisms’ was really that great and he said, “Yeah! I never get to see!”

He’s been a little worried, however, and almost begged out. We were speaking today while sitting in the radiologist’s office waiting for Ringo’s X-ray. It’s the perfect time to catch up on ‘life’.

Bones: I don’t think I’m doing the Altar Server thing. I mean, I go through two hours of training on Saturday and then we get a pizza party, but then what? I get nothing. That’s it.

Me: I think it looks like fun. You get to sit up front and… people watch. You can catch people falling asleep, see the things all the little kids are doing that you’d never know, watch some guy in the back row pick his nose when he thinks nobody is looking.

Bones: Yeah, but… there is too much pressure! There is a lot of pressure in my life!

Me: *blink*

Bones: Look at me! There is pressure!

Me: What… in… the… world… could be causing your life to have so much ‘pressure’?

Bones: I can’t fidget up there! I have to sit still! I don’t think I can sit still that long! And it’s a long time! There is pressure!

Holy crap, I thought I’d spit I wanted to laugh to hard. “Pressure”.

We talked about it a lot. I explained it wasn’t every Sunday, that there were enough kids, he’d probably only have to do it once a month. I told him if it really was too difficult, he didn’t have to do it, but he needed to try it. I reminded him of his excitement of having a front seat for Baptisms. He loves babies and is excited about that. I told him if he’s really good, he could even get called to do Weddings.

He grinned.

I laughed in horror at the thought of some unsuspecting Bride and Groom getting my son at their wedding.

He truly looks sweet and angelic.

He does.

Cracks me up… he is sweet, and he means well, he does, but the kid is wired for sound.

24/7

Heh.

Pressure In Life.jpg
The Pressured Life of a Future Altar Server

Posted by Boudicca at 08:20 PM | Comments (9)

September 07, 2008

All God's Children

As if the world, my life, and all around me does not produce enough blog fodder…

… Bones has signed up to be an Altar Server at the Cathedral.

Holy crap. I can’t quit laughing inside. I’ve decided, I’ll be attending a few Masses this year. It’ll be worth it, just to watch Bones.

There could be some good stories out of this. Good Grief.

Posted by Boudicca at 09:04 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

Ice... Not Just for Drinks

Yesterday was my 1 hour and 45 minute training. I went into it with trepidation and ended realizing I could have probably gone on for another hour.

Stopping at 1 hour and 45 minutes was good. My body needed to stop; I just didn’t realize it until I got home. By mid afternoon I wanted to take an ice bath. The only thing that kept me from it was not the thought of the cold, or even wondering where I’d get all the daggum ice, but the thought of my body sitting on ice.

I don’t like my body so much. I wouldn’t change anything, don’t get me wrong, it has served me well, but I’m 43 years old, I’ve had three kids, I shun the sun, and so my body looks like a crumpled up old white paper bag… at 5’2”, I had BIG babies for my size Big. Bones was 8 ½ pounds, and that means my stomach was pulled and stretched every which way. My navel is a mess and I look like someone drew a road map on the saggy wrinkled stomach flesh.

So.

The thought of my sitting on ice, naked, made me think of something beached in Antartica.

Not happening. I couldn’t do the visual…

Anyway, yesterday’s training was truly fabulous, but it wiped me out, pretty much for the rest of the day. We trained from 6AM until 8AM (including stretching) and the rest of the day, was a low energy, grappling to stay awake, mess.

I think it was a caloric issue. I didn’t eat within 30 minutes like I was supposed to, and I think that brings on low energy levels.

Also, I was just sore. I walked verrrrry slowly all day. I looked like TGOO. My Mom used to say to him when I was a teenager, “You walk like an old man!”

Yeah, well, I walk like an old man on Saturdays… very slowly, slightly bent as my hips are tight, and gently.

By this morning I was fine, other than my Achilles are tight as piano wire. Stretching is my friend.

Posted by Boudicca at 09:02 PM | Comments (3)

September 06, 2008

Zoot and Bert Live Here...

Its not loud enough in this house. There isn’t enough motion, noise, and chaos.

It is obvious I feel this way because… I signed Bones up for Band.

Good Lord.

I now have in this home, a trombone, a bass guitar, and… a sax. That’s the ONLY instrument he wanted to play. He hasn’t had his first lesson, so he was really upset that when he got his instrument he couldn’t just put it together and play.

As good fortune would have it, my best friend from HS, PFB who comments here, mother of Mr. Smoochy Pants, was a sax player, and sometimes we'd swap instruments. So I put it together for him, showed him how to hold it, got the neck strap squared away and sent him on his way.

He now carries it through the house randomly, ‘bleating’. You can be at the table minding your own business, reading the paper and out of the blue you’ll hear a ‘HOOONK!”

There really is no… hiding from this boy with the sax. He’s not come into the bathroom yet to honk at me, but don’t put it past him. He’s the type of kid that would walk into the bathroom while I was showering and say, ‘Mom, I can’t play G. How do I hold my fingers?’ as if I’d stop what I’m doing, dry off my hands, open the stall door and show him.

It’s not happened yet. Trust me, I will share it with you when it does.

What is it with my boys wanting to play all these low instruments?

Meanwhile, my eldest boy is growing crazy. Umm… that would be in height and possibly psychologically.

All his friends are growing.

On Thursday, I stopped by to pick him up and I saw his buddy, Nick. I’d not seen Nick in a year. Nick’s a sweet boy, ADHD, bounces off the wall smiling and… he exhausts me, but he is a really good kid with a warm heart.

He saw me and he said, “Mrs. L! I never realized you were so…”

I raised an eyebrow in his direction and said, “yes?”

He grinned, put his hand out to my head and said, “… short.”

Nice. The big Mom I always was, is now shorter than most of the kids. I told him not to let my small stature fool him. I wanted to add, “I can still kick your ass…” but I refrained.

Heh.

So tonight at dinner, I kept staring at Ringo. He got up to get something from the fridge when finally I said, “Ringo. Stop.”

He stood there.

Me: Did you do something to your eyebrows?

Ringo: No.

Me:

Ringo: yes.

Me: What did you do? Did you shave them?

Ringo: I cut them with scissors.

I wanted to scream at him, “What are we, frickin’ TWO?!”

Good Lord.

Me: Why. When?

Ringo: A few hours ago.

Me: WHY? You are supposed to have eyebrows. You’re turning into a man!

Ringo: They were too … much.

Granted, I did notice that his eyebrows were getting bushy. His entire body is changing! His upper lip has thin dark fuzz. His neck and shoulders are more defined. His face is starting to lose some of the childishness as the testosterone is starting to kick in.

I looked at his eyebrows. His right eyebrow is no longer the same length as the left. He didn’t trim them all over; he took them down to the skin at the center. Any hint of unibrow is now gone, except he didn’t shorten them uniformly.

And he has 5:00 shadow between his eyebrows.

Me: Next time you don’t like your eyebrows, come talk to me. I’ll fix them.

Ringo: You? Why.

Me: Because… I’m a woman and although I get harassed by your Aunt Mo that I don’t pluck enough, I do fix my eyebrows. Sometimes. And I will get them straight. Right now you have one eyebrow shorter than the other. Good Lord. And scissors aren’t going to do it son. Come talk to me.

So two year olds take scissors to their hair and 13 year olds take them to their eyebrows. If he at least lets me do it, I’ll keep them more ‘manly’ looking as well as symmetric.

I need a nap... BTW, anyone catch the obscure reference in the title?


Posted by Boudicca at 08:02 PM | Comments (8)

September 05, 2008

Funny, In a Ghastly Way

My bro, TN, sent me this video.

My opinion in the Extended Entry.

GOOD LORD.

Do you mean to tell me, that NOT ONE PERSON, who knew that Ortega was asking her to advertise for tacos, did not think to themselves, "Oh, perhaps not a good idea... having our little girl advertise Tacos."

Not one?

Nobody?

And the line about popping her taco?

Are you frrrreeaking kidding me?! Holy crap.

Posted by Boudicca at 08:27 PM | Comments (3)

Life in Florida

So it appears we are OK with “We don’t like Ike”. It might be going into the Gulf. That doesn't make me happy either. My folks live on the Gulf Coast.

I’m prepared either way. We have batteries, food, water, supplies… all I need to do is catch up on laundry. We’re gassed up and ready to hunker down if needed.

My father in law decided he absolutely was NOT under any circumstances going to my sister in law’s in Jersey.

It appears his girlfriend is back in the picture and well… its not blog fodder. I need to leave that alone and I will.

Meanwhile, my husband, being the mischievous type, has quietly taken my boys aside individually and said, “Well, it appears that Pop has to stay with us for the hurricane. He’s going to stay in your room and sleep in your bed.”

I heard this at dinner and started to laugh. I said, “So was there any empathy at all? Did any of them say, “OH OK…” and give up their room willingly?”

My husband replied, “No. None. Ringo was the quietest, but that’s because he is so withdrawn, but his was the loudest quick outburst.”

Ringo jumped in, “Yeah, you know what I said? I said, “NO. I’ll never get that pee smell out of my room and then Mom will yell at me because I’ll have soaked my room with AXE to get rid of it!” That’s what I said!”

Heh. I hate AXE. I do hate his nasty urine smell more, the smell of unclean body as he doesn’t bathe and stale urine, but AXE does come in 2nd.

Posted by Boudicca at 07:59 PM | Comments (4)

September 04, 2008

HB, TGOO!

Today is TGOO's Birthday!

Wahhh hooo!

Today is his 68th year.

I called my sister in law today, one of my husband's sisters, and we were hashing out some things about my father in law. I said to her, "My eldest boy is irritated that Pop is not evacuating. My children do not want him here..."

My niece and nephews, her children, have only him left as a grandparent. The rest of their grandparents are long gone. Her reply to me was, "At least your children still have grandparents." That was meant as a slam to her father, but it was also as a compliment to my folks.

My folks are WONDERFUL grandparents.

I blog on what the boys do when we visit my folks' home, but this is one of their favorite things. TGOO plans some sort of project for them in his workshop, and then he teaches them safety and light wood working. He works with them individually, helping them create.

This year's project was birdhouses for Flam's birthday.

Bones TGOO Shop.jpg

Boys TGOO shop.jpg

Mr T shop.jpg

Mr T TGOO shop.jpg

Ringo TGOO Shop.jpg

This is what my boys do with my father. They learn to work with their hands.

And they love it.

Happy Birthday, TGOO. We love you so...

Posted by Boudicca at 09:44 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack

Yikes! Ike!

So.

Well.

I live in S. Florida and although the Weather Channel is pretty much only talking about Hanna, we in the southern part of Florida are a bit more concerned with Ike. Yikes!

I did a lot of my hurricane shopping tonight. I picked up the water and some canned food. Tomorrow we do a battery assessment and I get cash.

This is what I’m seeing as of 5PM.

Ike.JPG

Cat 3’s are dangerous folks. I’m not happy. I’d not be happy if it was a Cat 1, so you can imagine the exponential unhappiness at the thought we could get tagged with a Cat 3.

We’ll know more tomorrow morning, evidently. What Hanna does directly affects what Yikes! Ike! will do.

I had my husband call his father to try to get him to leave the state Saturday. He has no reason to stay, he has family in New Jersey, he needs to leave and he needs to leave before everyone in Florida decides to go.

He is refusing.

I am pissed.

Because he’s going to expect us to take care of him. He’s going to show up at my home with no food, no water, no preparation, just an overnight bag. He’ll expect us to wait on him hand and foot and he’ll get grouchy and nasty when we don’t let him go into the fridge whenever he wants. You have to keep the fridge shut as much as possible when the power is out… for days.

Tomorrow we lay down the law that… that will not occur. He’ll be on his own. Watch for him on TV after the strike screaming for FEMA. Or… telling everyone what a bunch of good for nothings his children are.

Can you tell I’m done?


Posted by Boudicca at 09:22 PM | Comments (9)

September 03, 2008

Post Palin Speech

Quote from my husband:

Wow. McCain's biggest problem in this election may be topping her!

Hell Yes!

Posted by Boudicca at 10:15 PM | Comments (13) | TrackBack

Heart felt... Thoughts

I guess if I’m going to mail thank you notes… stamps would be helpful.

Some days I’m such a pinhead.

This is going to sound kind of girly I think. This is not me. I’m not sure where this comes from at times, but suddenly I had this urge to have to have the perfect stamp. If I had to buy them anyway, I wanted it to be THE RIGHT stamp for thank you’s.

Good Grief.

And I walked up to the USPS desk and looked at all the stamps, having great trepidation that nothing would be what I was looking for, but I'd know it when I’d see it… when I saw one called “All Heart” and it had the picture of someone running, carrying a big heart.

And it just felt right. I feel like I’ll be doing this, with everyone’s heart on my shoulders… as we fight for this cure.

It just… felt… right.

Posted by Boudicca at 09:34 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

Question To My Readers

I wasn't alive during JFK's term, but maybe some of you were.

Can you tell me if they ever asked if JFK had enough time being President to be a good father?

I was alive for Jimmy Carter. I don't remember the questioning of good parenting vs. time issues due to his job.

Neither do I remember that of Mr. Clinton... who was receiving sexual favors from a certain aide... all of which was publicized... around his daughter.

Interesting...

Posted by Boudicca at 09:29 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

Bus Driver, Bus Driver, Please Open the Door

The following conversation occurred in the asexual mom-mobile today, to the best of my recollection:

Mr. T, age 11: Mom, I figured out what the rear view mirrors are for. Its so when a cop is chasing you, you can figure out how far you have until you lose him.

Me: *blink* There should NEVER be a time when a cop is chasing you. Ever.

Ringo: BWahahahahahaha.

I may not allow my boys to learn how to drive... They can all just take the bus…

Posted by Boudicca at 09:26 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

September 02, 2008

H, I, J, K... STOP!

OK. I’m done. Stop the boat. I want off.

Holy crap. Hanna, Ike, Josephine and something else going on out there.

Pandemonium is set to set in… oh tomorrow. I got gas tonight to not have to deal tomorrow. Right now Hanna is supposed to take it North and it could happen.

It could.

But as I’ve said before, they’re nothing but a bunch of frickin’ soothsayers. Nobody REALLY knows.

So I’m checking batteries, getting small bills, taking an assessment of my freezer and getting ready.

Dammit.

Meanwhile at work, one of the bookends was GLUED to wunderground. We’re not supposed to log onto the weather sites as it bogs down our internet.

He lived on it today.

No kidding, this was an actual conversation:

1:10 PM, Joe: OH my God! It moved! Its coming West.

Me: What?

Joe: It is. It’s coming West. It moved.

Me: Dude, its 1:10. They last updated it at 11:00. It hasn’t moved and you’re 50 minutes early.

Joe: Really?

Me: yes. You’re seeing things now... its not real... you're hallucinating.

The guys were all standing up in their cubicles watching us and laughing.

Me: Step away from the screen Joe. I think you want us to get hit. Good Lord…

He’s so daggum funny, but really he is just being an exaggerated version of what most of us are doing right now…

… being Weather Wonks.

‘Tis the season…

**Update, well damn it sure does suck to live in Cuba (for many reasons) or Haiti (for uncountable reasons). They're going to get frickin' HAMMERED by Ike, I bet.**

Posted by Boudicca at 09:29 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

Memories... Fond? Not So Much

It was late 1983, early 1984 and TGOO drove a red Chevette. I taught myself how to drive a stick on that car. I used to tell people, ‘My Dad drives a ‘vette’”.

I used to also tell people my Dad ‘drove a boat’ for a living. He was a navigator on an aircraft carrier.

I remember the first time I said that, I was talking to some girl in high school and she very pointedly told me her Daddy was a banker. I smiled sweetly, told her my Dad drove a boat, then turned and walked away as I rolled my eyes.

Anyway, TGOO was running heavily at the time. I believe he was training for the Marine Corps Marathon, so it was the late summer of 1983. I’d just graduated from high school, was working at a local steak house as a waitress, and it was Florida… therefore… hotter than three hells.

After TGOO would come back from his run, he’d take his sweat band off his head and hang it on the side view mirror of his ‘vette to let it dry off.

Well one afternoon I needed to run an errand and said sweat band was on the mirror and not about to drive with it hanging there, I took it off and threw it in the back seat.

I never thought about it again.

Florida. Hot. Sweaty sweatband in the backseat of a small car. A car that only sat outside in the hot sun… not even in the carport as the carport had the two nicer cars under it. (The Chevette was his beater car to drive to work.)

A few days later he came inside and said, ‘Who in the hell put my sweat band in my car?!”

I said, ‘Oh! That would be me!”

He said, “Good God! It smells like a goat locker in my car!”

So. Déjà vu. My husband is saintly right now, because with all this training, that is what our bathroom smells like. Every day I come in from my training, my clothes are wringing wet, and I lay them out to dry so they don’t mildew in our hamper, and our bathroom has started to reek.

I don’t do laundry every day, folks. I usually do our laundry once a week.

This old saying of ‘women don’t sweat, they glisten’ does not apply to this woman. I frickin’ SWEAT. A LOT. And it’s nasty and … and… I need to find a new place for my dirty clothes before my husband starts to burn them.

I'm doing laundry more frequently now and starting to store my dirty clothes in the laundry room.

Posted by Boudicca at 09:16 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

September 01, 2008

The Three R's: Responsible, Resourceful and... Rabbitness

My eldest boy spent the night at a friend’s house last night. This afternoon they went to some movie. Something about Disasters. They said it was awful.

The mother was in another movie when the boys decided the movie was truly so bad they were leaving. So they walked out and called my husband to let some adult know where they were.

Major points for responsiblity.

As good fortune would have it, my husband was in fact in the area. They told him they wanted to walk around and told him exactly where they would be.

Two 13 year old boys. Hadn’t had lunch. (Who doesn't feed boys before taking them out somewhere? Who? Let's not go there with me...)

They decided to go to… Whole Foods. They walked around Whole Foods and ate lunch by eating Free Samples.

Major points for resourcefulness.

I was at first a bit aghast. I could picture the managers of Whole Foods chasing them out with cleavers! Akin to what I’d picture happening in a Charles Dicken’s novel except in… 2008. Hungry children taking free samples from Whole Foods.

I’m not sure why its make me kind of laugh so much, but it has.

I said to him, “So… umm… did anyone notice you were eating your lunch with free samples at Whole Foods?”

He said, “Oh no. We would walk the store and then go to the samples, and get a little bit of salad and a little bit of this and that… and then we’d walk around some more and come back and take a bit more salad…”

I guess if they were seen, the people working Whole Foods were more startled that a couple boys were hanging out at the free sample of salads.

Major points for eating healthy as well.

Hey, if you’re going to eat by free samples, ‘tis better to do so at Whole Foods!

Our next conversation will be… about not leaving home without money. One step at a time… its all one step at a time.

And while I’m talking about my teenager… I know, y’all will think this is stupid, but… he has grown again and I’m kind of stressed about it.

Not stressed as in wanting to poke my eye out with a pencil stressed, but… well, Mommishly stressed.

I’ve always been the 2nd tallest person in this house. Give it 12 months… I’ll be #3.

He came into the kitchen the other morning and leaned his forehead into my lips so I could kiss him good morning. He just… leaned in.

I didn’t bend down.

He didn’t have to get on his tip toes.

He just leaned in.

I give it 6 months and next time he leans in I’ll be kissing his nose.

In four years I’m going to be the shortest person in this home.

Luckily… my sparkling personality more than makes up for my lack of stature. Heh.


Posted by Boudicca at 09:04 PM | Comments (9)