Enter with Caution... Tree Huggers Welcome

My life in cars...

Mom's 90's GrandAm... yep, I hit a pole with it.

My punishment for running into the pole. It backfired... I loved my little car!

Our current car... a Lumina from 1492.

But OUR tires are not as pretty as the one's above. See?


Our current van... a Chevy Venture... we still owe $100,000,000 on it! YAY!

My future car... a 1970 Volkswagon Convertible Beetle... in Pink!

My other future car... a red BMW... I may have to cut off my legs, but it will be worth it...

I'm a tree hugger.

I have hit many stationary objects in my driving life. In driving school, I was more interested in impressing my absolutely edible driving instructor than I was learning to actually... drive.

Somehow I made it through the class & then went on to take my driving test... 3 times. I did fabulously on the written exam, but guess what? The written exam doesn't mean a damn thing if you can't actually drive. I hit cones the first two times I attempted the driving course. The 3rd time I hit a cone, but it didn't actually fall over. It just weebled and wobbled without falling down. So the teacher, get this, passed me! Woot Woot!

Every time I failed that test was like a slap in the face. Mom took me to Delaware (the town in Ohio, not the state, although I thought about it) because we heard a nasty rumor that there was an evil instructor in Marion, our town. We drove home the first two times, the non-passing times, and I'd cry and cry... I was NEVER gonna be able to drive. Damn cones! They were way too damn close together! SUCKERS!

You have to know me to understand why me driving is such a fear to so many of my family members & friends... and sometimes even myself. I'm blind... honestly, I'm blind... did you know you can be blind and still be able to see? Basically, if you see really sucky and squint more than you don't to see perfectly normal-sized objects, you are blind... legally. If, like me, you can't see a damn thing at night, and even when you put your glasses on or contacts in, you're still squinting to see the golden arches 1/800th of a mile from McDonald's, you are positively blind.

Every time I go into the BMV to renew my license I get squirmy, sweaty, silly and stupid. Seriously! I take my number from the maddening little number-machine and sit there, in the presence of Marion folk talking about the current drugs they are taking and who their dealers are. It's always a lovely errand to run. When they do finally call my number, normally 6-8 hours later (okay, I'm exaggerating a bit, but it feels like it!), I walk a fake saunter up to the desk, my head held high, full of fake self-confidence & enthusiasm, smile sweetly and put my head up against that little machine... and GUESS! That's right, I can't see any of it, so I guess. I pray my 6th sense will kick in, and I'll recite the correct letters... or numbers... hell, I don't even know if they are numerical or alphabetical... I've never seen them. It's always the same story. The chick or dude looks at me blankly, and as if they don't know what in the hell to do with me, they just stamp me as 'daylight restricted' once again. Almost 14 years of daylight restrictions. Believe it or not, I'm quite okay with that. I realize how lucky I am to be able to drive at all. Although I am blind, I can see... sympathy vote? YEAH BABY! Driver's License? YEAH BABY! I shouldn't but I do! Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah!

So the day I finally got my drivers license, I got home and my mom reluctantly let me drive over to La Rue, a little town about 15 minutes from our house. My little sister went with me. Looking back, I realize my mom must have prayed on her knees the entire time we were gone. I can't even imagine my kids driving. The mere thought of it makes me grip my chair in panic, and I hear that feeling won't ease up as they get older. They're never driving. I just decided that. :) Aw, I feel better.

So anyway, Tara and I were on our way to La Rue, windows rolled down, listening to "California Knows How to Party" by 2PAC. I thought I was extremely cool listening to that song over and over again in Mom's red GrandAm. That car was hot at the time... not hot as in stolen... hot as in HOT! Even though I couldn't see the boys I drove by, I liked to assume they were admiring my car, my music & my skills. I'll never know.

We got to La Rue, I pulled into the parking spot, and BAMALAMA BOOM BOOM, I hit a pole. Yep, head-on, ran right into a pole... first day I had my license. It cracked Mom's license plate cover. Accident number ONE. Luckily, probably because I'm blind, I didn't get grounded, chored to death or stood in a corner. I think I got the sympathy vote on that one. :P

Not long after the GrandAm incident, I came home from school to find a little grey Plymouth Horizon in the driveway. I believe it was a 1987 model... not new, but new to me and I LOVED IT! I had to push on the gas just the right way to get the car to start, and there were tricks to driving it, but to me, that was more special than driving a normal car. No one could just jump in my car & drive it! I was the only master! The master of the Horizon! Yeeeeehawwwwwww!

There have been several driving incidents over the years involving me and various cars. Over the past few years, I have hit more mailboxes than I care to admit. Oh, hell, I don't mind admitting it... I have hit an average of 10-15 mailboxes, some in succession. It's not that I don't drive with caution... I truly do... I use more caution than the average driver due to my lack of vision. I do, however, focus on not going left to center, which in turn makes me hit mailboxes. You see, it's really not my fault. If the lanes were wider, I'd be fine. The town of Prospect is a dangerous place... small lanes. They aren't even really lanes... they're tiny little tightropes, just begging for you to mess up and hit something.

That brings me to my next story, or confession if you prefer...

A few years ago, pre-babies and in my skinny-mini days, I led Weight Watchers meetings. That's right... I was a leader! Scary thought, eh? Anyway, one Monday night after our weekly meeting, I decided to pull left out of the Southland Mall (which is a beautiful mall by the way, if you ever decide to take a field trip to Marion :P). It was dark. There was snow... and no lines whatsoever on the road. Everything was snow-covered. I turned anyway, and got into what I thought was the turn lane. I looked behind my right shoulder to see if there were any cars coming, and while I was looking back to my right, I was veering to my left. I ran head-on into a mini van. I immediately felt terrible. The driver got out of the van... a chick around 30. She had a few kids in the van, and I soon found out she had no insurance and no driver's license. She was busted, and it was all my fault. It was very cold that night, and when the deputy got to the scene, he asked me to sit in his car. When he called in my driver's license, the dispatcher read off my information, and then added "DAYLIGHT RESTRICTED ONLY" in a stern tone. BUSTED! The cop didn't even know what to do with me. He said he didn't know what to charge me with, if anything. He told me he'd be at my house the next evening at 7pm. UGH! 24 hours to dwell on what was going to happen to me. I just knew I was gonna go to jail, get beat up cause the Marion hookers and druggies would think I was stuck-up and prissy, then be put on house arrest for the rest of my days on Earth... I scared myself half to death... then the cop got there.

Mr. Nice Cop didn't charge me, although after further investigation, he explained to me that my driving after dark is just like someone driving without a drivers license at all. The crime I committed was one step below a felony... the highest misdemeanor possible. I was a criminal! Fortunately I wasn't convicted. And I rarely drive after dark now. :P Just sometimes...

So, the freshest incident in my mind occurred this past Sunday. My husband was doing a little job at my boss's new house. Hubby & boss's hubby went to get a part at Sears, and I decided to take the kids to get pizza. Backing out of the long driveway was a challenge for me, as long driveways always are. I veered off the path twice and had to pull forward and re-group. After my second re-group, I started to back up. My backup assist started beeping really fast, and then WHAM BAM BADALADA BOOM BAH, I ran smack-dab into a tree. I'm a tree hugger. The kids thought this was incredibly funny, and begged me to do it again. . I was too anxious to get out of there! I was afraid my boss could hear the crash from the house. I didn't even care about the van... after all, it has a missing side mirror due to a prior mailbox jumping out at me and several scratches from my friends & I running into other cars, etc. Yeah, that's right, I tend to hang out with other crashers... and they're not even blind! :P

I did feel that I should call hubby after tree-hugging, so I did. The worst part of this whole situation? The guys had been talking about the possibility of me hitting that tree even before I hit the tree. Nice of them to tell me. :P Joel assured my boss's hubby that I had backup assist so I should be fine. See, normally backup assist starts beeping slowly, and the closer you get to the car, tree, person, curb, monkey, barn-yard animal etc, the faster it beeps. It failed me Sunday. SUCKER!

I've been pulled over various times. I've only had one speeding ticket, which a haggy female trooper on St. Rt. 23 gave me one time on my way to work in Columbus. She was out to get me. I wasn't going THAT fast... 15 over is nothin'! Joel has told me of crazies going over 100mph in a 55 zone. My speed seems quite normal compared to that. Jeez! ;)

One time I got pulled over coming home from Marysville. I was following the flow of traffic on Rt. 4, going nearly 70mph in a 55mph zone. A deputy passed our long line of cars coming from the opposite direction. I slowed down a bit, saw him pass and then inadvertently sped up again. He flipped on me, pulled me over and let the long line of speed offenders in front of me speed along their merry way. I pulled off onto a side road, as to save myself from the pure embarrassment of it all. As soon as I parked, pretty lights sparkling behind me, who do I see? My dad. Yep, Dad pulled right up to the stop sign I was sitting beside. Oh the horror! I cried and cried! The cop asked me what was wrong, as I had been acting perfectly normal, and then suddenly lashed out in convulsions and full-on crazy-woman-ness. He let me go.

This year on Easter I, once again, was going 70mph in a 55 zone. Joel was home sick with bronchitis, and I had never been pulled over since he became a cop, so I wasn't sure if the cop-wife-magic would really work for me or not. Aiden sat in the back yelling that he didn't like the policeman. I was horrified. The cop asked me for my license, title & proof of insurance. I had my license, but none of the paperwork he asked for was to be found. I spit out "man, my husband is a cop... you'd think we'd be better organized"... he let me go. :P

So, although I've had many bouts with cops, polls, cars & bark, and the vehicles I've driven have the torture marks to prove it, I'm still alive, believe it or not.

I'm thinking of getting a driver... any volunteers?

Water, Coffee Creamer, Baby Carrot, Parmesan, Chocolate Sundae Anyone?

I'm used to my heathens. Like all kids, my children throw tantrums (yeah, don't tell me yours don't), smile wickedly when one of the other children gets in trouble... and their favorite thing to do? Play with things that are off-limits.

When they were little, the babies would open a gift (well, actually, we would open it for them, because they were born with ADD), and play with the box and/or eat the wrapping paper. No! They didn't swallow it. Sheesh! Give me some credit here.. I just let them gnaw on it a little. But they have always been more amused with household objects and packaging than an actual toy. That's just how they are. Give them a cardboard box, and some bubble wrap, and they're occupied for hours on end!

So, today is the last day of my 9-day hiatus from work. I laid the kids down for their nap earlier, and rather than tweeting, facebooking or emailing, I decided just to take a nap. The house is pretty much clean, I had chatted the hell outta my facebook and twitter friends, consciously decided to not do the work I brought home 9 days ago, and allowed myself to just veg. Aww... the couch...

I fell asleep quickly and woke up, what seemed like minutes later (it was actually 2.5 hours later) to Aiden yelling at me. I wasn't comprehending what he was saying. I'm normally a light sleeper, so those damn children must have tip-toed and whispered to do the damage I was about to see..

I heard Aiden yell at Joel. See, Aiden calls Joel, well.. Joel. He doesn't call him Daddy anymore. We think it's funny so we don't correct him (yeah, feel free to comment on our parenting skills. I can take ya. ;) Anyway, I heard him yell, "Joel, you can sleep longer if you want to, but Logan made a HUGE MESS!", and then I heard a door slam. Aiden was furious! I started laughing. He sounded like a miniature version of his mother & father combined.

So, I finally comprehended the twins telling me that Logan had made a "huge mess". I stumbled out to the play room/sun porch and about died! Then I started laughing like a full-on lunatic! ALL, and I mean ALL of the condiments (and many other refrigerated items) were sitting there. On the backboard of the basketball hoop, which they had placed on the floor, was a whipped up concoction of baby carrots, 10-12 bottles worth of water (we had NO water left in the fridge at all), hazelnut creamer (that kinda pissed me off, cause that's my favorite), Parmesan cheese and chocolate sundae syrup. See picture above.

Surrounding this lovely brew were emptied water bottles, ketchup, pickles and other various items which are off-limits, unless we are actually, well.. eating.

We decided the best punishment for such a sickening mess would be to make the children clean it up! The carrots were extremely slimy and gross, so this punishment did wonders! One by one, they carried carrots into the house. Aiden grabbed a jar of spaghetti sauce at one point, looked at me desperately and said, "Mommy, can you carry this? It's way too heavy for my little boy hands"... I laughed hysterically. He didn't find this funny at all. Someone had the strength to traipse out to the porch with the spaghetti sauce, so that person could obviously carry it back to it's home. He walked to the fridge like he was carrying a big box of horse dung, not a little sauce jar.

Aiden's comments left me startled. I was so amused, it was impossible for me to keep a straight face. Joel did the disciplinarian thing. He laughed in between, but unlike me, he was very careful not to let the kids see his amusement. I don't have that kind of control. And I certainly wasn't leaving! This was free entertainment!

Aiden screamed at Logan, "this is SO terrible. I'm SO disappointed!".. HA! As if he hadn't had a thing to do with it! So, we finally concurred that all three children played a part in this very organized, hilarious condiment scheme.

I couldn't help but spring some tears, and maybe a bit of pee, when Joel opened the window on the porch, and just threw the whole damn backboard outside... after the kids had cleaned it up. Joel doesn't get rattled very often, so this whole scene was extremely funny. The kids looked shocked. I know what they were thinking... "why did we just clean that up if JOEL was just gonna throw it outside?"... hehehehehehehehehe!

I asked Aiden why they did it... "cause it was fun Mommy"... and did you have fun cleaning it up? "Yes Mommy, I did"... wicked laughs! I couldn't take it! Joel says, "so, since you enjoyed making the mess and the cleaning up, will you enjoy the spanking you all are going to get?" Aiden: "No, but I won't cry"... Joel: "Oh yeah?" Aiden: "Yeah, cause you won't spank my butt, you can just smack my hand JOEL, Ok?" I couldn't hold it together at all.

Aiden looked over at me finally and said, "Mommy, I guess you're gonna have to go to the store and get some more of that cream for your coffee and water. I guess we can't eat tonight." Please remember, Abbi & Aiden are 4.5... they are twins... they are GOING to get into trouble. You know that saying, "what one doesn't think of, the other one will?" Well, it's amazingly true people! Logan, who is 2.5 is the tag-along. And the blamee. He doesn't talk much, so if the twins do something and they know it isn't right, Logan did it. They're learning... that we are a very smart Mommy & JOEL... not Daddy. Hehehehe!

Abbi sat on the couch pursing her lips, wanting a kiss. I laughed. Logan sat there holding his little tiny ass. I laughed. Aiden told JOEL he was sorry... I laughed. The kids were spanked. I didn't laugh, but I did as soon as they were done crying.

It was a fabulously entertaining evening here! No treats though. That broke their hearts more than the spankings. Aiden apologized several times tonight. He was very worried about the lack of water in the house. Little does he know we have faucets. He was also concerned about my morning coffee. I'm concerned too.

Tonight was, by far, the worst and the funniest event of my kiddos' lives. I'm glad it happened. I needed a laugh.

Kissin' the Curb

I really don't remember ever blogging when I'm pissed off. I thought this could bring a new perspective to my oh-so-sweet image! HA! As I've mentioned in previous posts, I smile sweetly at people, say hello to everyone who crosses my angelic path, and think only good of others. Tonight this is not the case. I'm just irked. Mad, pissed, angry, evil... whatever ya wanna call it. I'm just AHHH! It's definitely NOT the night to mess with the Kelly. I may scream in your face or start laughing uncontrollably. You just never know when circumstances like these arise.

I'll start at the beginning...

I was visiting my best friend Sunday night. I took a trip down to the gas station to grab some Subway. We've both agreed in the past that deli meat sandwiches are not at all fun, nor a treat, but it was that or Taco Bell. The choice made itself.

So anyway, I get to the gas station & I'm feeling a bit woozy. This isn't too different from my usual state, so I don't think a lot of it. I stepped out of my car and immediately twisted my ankle. I then fell over a curb, fell onto my knees and then onto my nose. I had my glasses on, so the middle section decided to cut into my face. It was fabulous. And to top it all off, I then fell onto my forehead. Priceless!

To rewind this scene, I'm sure I would laugh hysterically, along with the rest of my friends & acquaintances, who all assume I had been drinking when this incident occurred. Just so you are all aware, I was not inebriated. I was, however, drinking grape sugar-free Kool-Aid, which I hear causes green bowl movements. How interesting! I'll get back to ya on that one!

So after falling in slow motion, I then sat on the pavement, unable to get up. A guy walked out of the gas station, looked at me, didn't say a word and got into his car. I smiled at him. How nice that he stopped to make sure I was okay. Asshole!

Then a lady ran to me and asked if I needed some napkins. I felt my face, and when I looked at my hand, I freaked out just a little more. I was bleeding! A lot! Sure lady... bring me some napkins. I stared at her blankly. What I thought had come out of my mouth hadn't. But she went to get my napkins anyway.

When she got back, she asked if I needed help up. I explained to her that getting up at that point wasn't gonna happen. I think she thought I was crazy. She was right :0) Hehe.. okay, so a little smile just emerged from my irritability. Dam it.

So, after I was holding some napkins, I put the contents of my purse back together, grabbed my evil glasses (I will soon be a full-time contact wearing diva) and stood up. Oh woozies.. it woulda felt good if it didn't feel oh, so bad!

I got in my car. A man ran up to me and asked me if I was okay to drive. "Probably not, but I'm gonna" I said. I then drove back to the nursing home. I called my mom, who works there, to ask her if there was any way to get to my friend's room without walking by the nurses station. No such luck. I had an older resident compliment my purse (thanks, by the way, lady!) on my way to my friend's room. Of course, there were several people sitting at the nurses station, and although I was trying to cover my oozing face, they noticed. LOL. Damn giggles.

Nurse Jennifer took care of me. She asked me if I knew my name, where I was and what day it was. I felt so proud! I knew them all! I was secretly hoping for a sticker, but once again, no such luck.

So, to make a longer story a bit shorter, I went back to my friend's room, my husband & kids picked me up (I wasn't sure if I should drive, because although I wasn't drunk, I'm pretty darn sure I couldn't pass any cop tests.. you know, walk & turn, HGN, etc. I'm not even sure I could do those things on my best non-drunk day), and we came home. My mother, husband and best friend informed me I should go to the hospital. I refused. That's right. I refused treatment.

So I've had a killer headache for 2 days now. I know I should've went to the hospital, but it was Sunday night, and the thought of sitting at the Marion General ER just didn't sit well with me. I'd take my chances. If I went to the hospital, I'm sure they would've just told me I was dehydrated or I had an upper respiratory infection, and sent me on my way... I said a nice prayer just in case I didn't make it through the night. (Stifling more giggles as we speak.)

Well, I made it.. and still today (Tuesday) I have had a terrible headache all day. So I went to the doctor today, and they informed me they want to scan my cat. How fun! I've never had a cat scan before. I figure it's a couple minutes of quiet, right?! Who cares about the claustrophobia. I get peace! Bring on the machines!

Tonight when I got home, I explained to my babies that I needed quiet time. Mommy's head was pounding. Daddy had been up over 24 hours, and neither one of us had much energy. The kids decided to scream at me louder than usual (or maybe it just felt that way since I feel like my head is full of lead pipes) and Joel decided to play Rock Band. I tried to catch up on my Young & the Restless in the bedroom, but do you think that worked? Heck no! The kids follow me everywhere. I know I sound like a fantastic Mom right now. I love my kids dearly, and I don't know what I'd do without them (okay, so I do... I'd vacation... for a long, long time), but sheesh! Give me a break!

Well, Abbi now has to poop, Aiden is throwing an economy-size package of baby wipes around the living room and Logan is jumping on Aiden. I have to go. Please pray for me... and forgive my cursing. It's a bad habit... but I enjoy it.

Kisses to all. Hope you all are just swell.

Kelly ;)

Toxic TV

I am easily amused. I love most anything, as I've mentioned in previous posts. The mere sight of Denis Leary makes me a silly, giggling basket case.. similar to a school girl with an erotic fascination for her much older teacher.

I won't bore you with a list of the 100,507 other things that make me swoon, sing and sweat... but I will share with you that one of my favorite pastimes is watching TV. I understand that some very influential people do not have televisions in their homes. I think that's odd, but I'm not one to judge, so I just assume they either can't hear or see, they are afraid they may reenact the scenes on CSI or The Girls Next Door, or they simply enjoy meditating at home for hours, praying for their deep-seeded anger over not having a television to go far, far away.



I don't watch TV for hours on end. I have my favorite shows, I record them and enjoy watching them and fast-forwarding through the commercials. If I happen to see a commercial with Denis Leary on it, I rewind (imagine that!), but otherwise, I don't like to waste time on them. I am thankful for the invention of the DVR.

We don't deprive our kids of the evil, mind-altering cartoons either. They have actually learned a lot from the dreaded television. We do all of the other stuff, too.. we play outside, read, play games, blah blah blah... but they love their Noggin and Scooby Doo, and I'm quite alright with that. Sure, Abbi has said damn-it (which was disappointingly hilarious), but I figure when preschool starts this Fall, the twins will hear a lot worse... probably from the non-Tv-watching kids whose parents scream ass and shit and damn constantly, due to their pent up non-Tv-watching frustration. Assholes. ;)

I will now tell you about some of my favorite shows and why I love them so:

1) Rescue Me -Main reason I watch this show: Denis Leary, the occasional appearance of his cute little butt, fireman in uniform, cryptic humor, lots of cursing, lust, a hot show I can watch with my hot hubby.

2) Grey's Anatomy -Main reason i watch this show: Hot doctors, namely Mark Sloan, hospital sex, good acting, more lust... occasional love thrown in.

3) The Young & the Restless -Main reason I watch this show: Watched it since I was 4. Nick Newman is freaking hot! He & Sharon are hot together, it's always there, it never goes away. ;)... I do miss Ryan.

4) American Idol -Main reason I watch this show: The auditions are priceless, and I can't get enough of terrible singers who think they are incredibly talented, the transformation from week 1 to the finale, hot guys that can sing, a show I can watch with hubby (although he makes fun of it), Adam Lambert.

5) Desperate Housewives -Main reason I watch this show: Gabby's clothes, more cryptic humor, the fact that the last show sucked, but the next one just might be better, Marcia Cross's hair.

6) Jon & Kate Plus 8 -Main reason I watch this show: Kate is evil, I feel bad for Jon, I love that they make my life look easy, I feel blessed when I watch this insane show, the fact that we may get some gossip on Kate's evilness towards Jon, and the cheating accusations, pure craziness!

I could go on & on, but I'll close for now. For those of you who enjoy your television shows, I bow to you. For those who don't have TV's... enjoy your chair yoga (if you allow chairs in your home) and your bird watching. The rest of us use binoculars for other things.

Quote of the Day: (if you watch Grey's Anatomy, you'll understand this. If you are TV-less, you won't have any idea who this Meredith Grey person is, or what in the hell this quote means. Maybe you'll understand tomorrow's quote :)

Meredith Grey: You don't know this yet, but life isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s not supposed to be this hard.

PS: For all of the people who now think I'm evil, this was posted all in good fun. No hate mail please... well, it's okay if you send hate mail... I can take it! I might report you on TV... you'll never see it! Hahahahaha!

Abbi Thorpe: Fashionista/Princess

All About Abbi...

Read Story Below

& visit

http://www.childrensplace.com/

The "Priss" Picture. See details below...

Abbi with her twin brother Aiden

Abbi in her favorite purple hat & her pretty sundress

Ready for a birthday night out on the town

(Abbi shares her birthday with her brothers Aiden (her twin) and Logan, 2)

Abbi attended a princess party... the highlight of her life so far :0)

Abbi must sleep and lounge in style

This picture sums up our Abbi... pretty, confident and royal!

Abbi loves to have her nails painted. I have promised her a pedicure this summer

So I must write this little story about our little princess. This post is not only to impress the judges at Children's Place (http://www.childrensplace.com/) so I may win a $200 gift certificate (although it's a definite perk), but also to showcase Miss Abbigail, our 4-year old fashionista!

Abbi was referred to as a priss yesterday. It bothered me a little at first, but then I realized it wasn't criticism... Abbi truly is a bit of a priss... a darling priss. I prefer to call her our diva.

Miss Abbi prefers to be in 'costume' at all times. She was a fairy princess for Halloween 2008. She has actually been a fairy princess ever since... the wings are showcased often in our house.

Abbi must be called a different princess name each day. Occasionally she enjoys 'just being Abbi', but normally asks to be called Cinderella, Snow White or Ariel. She has many fashion accessories, including high heels and several crowns, and part of my morning ritual includes dusting Abbi with blush and eye shadow before leaving for work. We sit on the bed together and get 'made-up' each day. It's my Abbi time.

My best friend Anne and I recently treated Abbi to a girls' day out. We enjoyed dinner together and a round of manicures. The next day I asked Abbi if she would like to go to the beauty shop to have her hair cut. She was quite sure of herself when she said "no, I do not need my hair cut. It's perfect."

Abbi wears princess gowns to bed, and loves to spin around for her daddy to show off her beautiful ensembles. I am thankful for my little fashion princess! In a house full of boys, us girls must stick together...

and liberty & makeup for all...

Where Do You Rank? (And Do You Really Care?)

Our hours are 'cut' at work right now. I often start to complain, and then stop myself and walk away mid-sentence, trying not to succumb to the downward spiral that is workplace drama. I enjoy drama. I enjoy hearing about it from a distance. I DO NOT enjoy being a part of it.

I realize that I am blessed to have a job. Masses of people are being laid off and let go by their employers, and in my humble opinion, it's due to asinine decision-making. I pray our new president will help us out of this horrific mess. He sure seems to want to bring change and betterment for our country. The transformations that need to take place will take years to perfect. How did we become a nation of chaos, anyway? How did it get so bad?

So, jumping to a completely unrelated topic, yesterday morning, I was sitting at my desk. My head was ready to explode from workplace overload when my boss came in with a pretty, sparkling gadget. She said, "this is for the activity room." I looked at it for a minute, and said, "thank you!" I wasn't sure what it was for, but I was sure I could find a use for it. I then went on to tell her how very pretty it was. She looked at me blankly. Did I sense a slight hint of amusement in her eyes? Um... maybe.

Please understand... my desk looks like it ran into the BettyBoop section of a drug store in 1930 (thanks to my best buddy Anne). Along with old Betty is a boa, many pretty, fluffy pens, pictures in delightful frames and enough adorable post-its and other notepads to furnish every employee, resident and guest to walk in our building, for a year.

So, circling back, I continue to look at my boss holding this shiny, red gizmo. She said, "Kelly, the activity room is on fire. We are having a fire drill." Although I wasn't "street smart" enough to realize what was going on, I'm sure you are, so I won't go on to explain what the pretty, sparkling gadget was my boss was holding onto. In my crazy, fake-fire manic-state, I walked out of the activity room, completely lost. I felt as if my place of work for a year and three months now was a foreign city. Fire alarm. I had seen that someplace. Where did it go?

I finally found it, and managed to make it make a noise. It sounded pretty loud. I apologized to one of the nurses, who continued to do her work, as if nothing was happening. Hello people! There could be a fire!!! Run! Get everyone out!!! Move it!!! No, I wasn't saying these blurbs aloud, I was thinking them... but I was just about to start shouting when our housekeeping supervisor came up to me, looked at me like I was clinically insane, and said, "Kelly, WHAT are you doing?" I snapped back, "we are having a fire alarm! I set off the fire alarm!" "No you didn't!" she replied, and she closed the plastic cover. The noise stopped, and everyone went along their merry way. This pissed me off. How dare everyone just act like everything was peachy keen when there could be a burning bush or desk, or something worse in the activity room? It took me a couple of minutes to convince our housekeeping supervisor that we were, indeed having a fire alarm. At that point, she illustrated the proper way to set off a fire alarm, and I had waking nightmares of this story being twisted into a hundred and twenty different versions by noon.

Thankfully one of my coworkers also had no idea how to properly set off a fire alarm, so I enjoyed her company in my embarrassment all day. Apparently the plastic cover I had pulled up is just a warning device. If someone pulls that open, it will sound in the immediate area, and will not alert the local fire department. I'm sure I learned all of this in orientation, but that's been quite a while ago, and I have simply forgotten. Plus, in this extreme case of an extremely frightening fake fire, it is quite easy to lose your damn mind! Now I know (again) how to work a fire alarm, and I'm not likely to forget (again) any time soon.

So my best work friend had a bad afternoon yesterday, and I was trying to cheer her up. The entire building had been talking about me throughout the day, and it finally hit me...

How awesome is it that we are newsworthy? People care about the things we do, the things we do not know how to do, the people we associate with and the way we look. If we have a bad day and look terrible... who cares? We're surely being analyzed. And if we make a fool of ourselves now and again, and the entire building finds out about it... that's great! We were in the 'in club' that day!

I don't particularly care if I'm part of any group or club, or if people care what I'm up to or who I spend my hours with. I do feel a pang of satisfaction when I think about it as described above, though. No one should ever feel obsessive or paranoid about what people are saying about them. They should be thankful that people are saying anything at all!