I had a great blog written but decided that it was too personal. After all, once it's on the net, you can't take it back. Frankly, once you commit anything to paper, it can't be taken back. That's why it's so important to write down goals. It seems that committing an action to paper solidifies it. Focuses it, makes it more real.
There are a lot of exciting things coming up in the next few months as long as I focus and do them right.
Well, it turns out that my aunt got first pick (she's the daughter and should go first). She selected the Christmas one that I liked so no issue there (i.e. the cousin will end up with it instead of my sister). So in looking around the house at the dolls, I found a Royal Doulton in the dining room. It's among a bunch of the Florence porcelains so I think it may have been overlooked by one and all. So- Day Dreams is the Royal Doulton doll that has my name on it. I have one sister that lives out of town. My youngest sister and I found one of the Royal Doulton dolls that looks so like her that we selected it for her. I then found out that my DD (who doesn't get a choice) always loved that one, oh well.
Okay I need you to help me make a decision. My Grandmother and Great Grandmother collected Royal Doulton dolls. Last night my father called and told me that I needed to go over to Grandma's and select my doll. Now I know that the one that I like is also a favorite of my younger sister and a cousin. I'm the oldest though so I get first pick.
So, do I pick the one I like and cause a family fight or do I just tell my dad that since the other girls care more about the figurines, to let them pick first and I'll take whatever's left. Maybe I should just let him pick one for me, he knows more about their history.
So, leave me a comment as to what you would do in this situation.
It was that time of year again.... time to dust off the Victoria Secret card and head for that not fun shopping experience. I know it's time because I just paid off the last trip. Besides, they sent me a card for $5 off sale merchandise and a free sample size of Body perfume, who could turn that down? Now you have to understand, bra shopping for me is a traumatic experience. I think it stems back to early childhood when I "bloomed" faster than everyone else. It didn't help that my name had a nice alliteration with "mountains." 4th grade was miserable socially. I've since grown accustomed to being a natural size that many women pay good money to reach. And the surgical side is helping since there are now pretty bras in these sizes where growing up all there was were the "industrial strength" styles. As if anyone over a C cup didn’t' deserve something lacy and frilly. Size isn't the only issue. Shopping with my mother is an experience best avoided. She can't walk into a store and just buy what she came for; it's an all day excursion. And when the department stores have nothing larger than a 36 or 38C; that means specialty shops. How could you spend all day in a specialty bra shop with an 11 year old? I'm still trying to remember all that my mom did but I usually get caught in the traumatic loop of the sales clerk reaching the tape measure under my shirt and then yelling the size out so that everyone in the store could hear it. Give me a moment; I'll be back typing when this cycle has run itself out....
Anyway Betty's Bra Barn was not exactly my favorite place and it wasn't until Victoria's Secret came to town that I even found a bra that fit right and was pretty and provided support. I think that the "pretty" does make a difference. I mean if you're used to wearing the pointy thing out of Psycho, then something with lace really perks you up; even if you're the only person who sees it. You would think that the old ladies at Betty's could have provided the "fit right" and "support" part. After all, they only carried bras, girdles, and support hose. They didn't even have normal panties, just the squeeze here and pad other parts type. But somehow, they always managed to fit me wrong. Maybe it was the way I cringed when they brought over the tape measure. I always ended up with a bra that had the underwire poking my armpit within 2 weeks. But it was easier to live with the pain than go back to the store. But then I met Victoria's Secret.... This haven for shopping not only had people to measure me that didn't look as if they had thawed during the last ice age, they didn't make me take my clothes off when approaching with the tape measure. They didn't shout my measurements out loud to other patrons or employees; they just calmly went and brought over a drawer of different styles. This was new... there were actually choices rather than "Here this is the only thing that comes in your size." accompanied by a look that added, "You little freak." And some of those were lacy, frilly, designed to turn a guy on stuff, and in colors other than white or beige.
One would think that after discovering a place that was so much nicer than Betty's that I would no longer be afraid of bra shopping. After all there were so many other things, like lingerie that was designed for women with real bodies. But no, it seems that whenever the thought of going to get a bra crosses my mind, I'm immediately 11 or 12 years old listening to Grandma Moses yell, "Edna, you got a 38DD over there?" to be followed by my mother scolding me, "Oh my, you're up another cup size, you're bigger than I am now and I'm still nursing." Yep, my fragile, teenage, self image really needed that. Nope, mention bra shopping and I just freeze up, find every excuse to avoid the mall, I'll even volunteer for carpool or skip lunches. The other day though, it all came to a peak (if you'll pardon the pun). I was down to one bra that hadn't worn out, and the strap broke. I put in a quilt basting pin and went to work, besides I had a gift card for a free bottle of perfume so that's the real reason I was going to Victoria's Secret. I can go perfume shopping, and if they just happen to be having a bra sale at the same time, well maybe I won't freeze up this time when the teeny bopper with the tape measure approaches me.
I did really well this year, I have 3 new bras and no one else in the store knows my size and they're pretty; although they were out of the leopard print.
Well, today was working on getting back to normal. I had tons of work at the office and everyone is expecting me to cancel the vacation days that I have scheduled. NOT!!! I need some vacation, if only because my kids are going to be out of school and DH needs some help at the remodel project. Besides, I have 80 hours to burn up before the end of the year and I have new people to train and we're coming up on all the renewal reports that need to be done. Not to mention some of the "special projects" the Texas office needs me to correct before the end of the year.
It's been a difficult week. I've seen a lot of how different I am from my siblings. I'm over a decade older than my sisters. My brothers didn't hang with Mama. I ran there whenever I was frustrated at home. I also used to mow the lawn (1/2 acre). The memories that I have of her are of a middle aged woman who did a lot with her friends, drank diet drinks, and walked in the park while I rode my bike. We had loaded the bike into the Gold Fury III. My siblings don't even remember her owning that car. I remember my grandfather taking me down to the old C.W. Silver computer room. I played with the punch cards while he worked. I remember him driving the Mustang that is now in my driveway. My brothers and sisters remember the Ford Bronco that he drove. I was away at college when he had that car. Of course, when he drove the Mustang it was Ice Blue and had some rust. Now, it's Red and rust free (thank you Arizona body with no engine). My dad and his siblings allowed all those over the age of 16 to fill out request cards today. This means that my DD (the oldest Great Grandchild) got to make a request. She requested all of the small white porcelain birds that are scattered decoratively around the house. It seems that she had broken several when quite small and received a very stern lecture about handling other peoples things. I never would have thought of that. I got the two stitching projects that Grandma and I worked on together. We have matching needlework canvases. She finished the piano player, I haven't even started. I have my heart canvas made up into a pillow. I just noticed some dropped stitches in her canvas. But I'm going to leave it as is. All I'm going to add is her initials, and get it finished just like I did mine. Since one of the granddaughters returns to UAE on Thursday we went through the jewelry tonight. As far as anyone remembers only three pieces were promised to anyone. My sister was promised the necklace she wore at her wedding, my aunt was promised the ring that belonged to my great grandfather, and I got "The Heirloom." I wore my great grandmother's Austrian crystal necklace on my wedding day. It was so wonderful tonight to bring it home and pull out a history book of the Salt Lake Temple and show my boys a picture of their Great Great grandmother wearing that same necklace. I think that was the best part. Being able to share with them the story of where it came from and what an incredible lady Nana was. I'm looking forward to writing down some stories of the incredible lady that Mama was too.
There has been much talk lately of parents who over plan for their kids.As a true slacker mom, I don’t plan a lot for my kids, but I support them when they want to do their own thing whether I agree with it or not.
At 25 I was young and stupid and I had a three year old who had her own docent nametag at the Museum of Natural History. Grandma wanted her in dance class but she thought that was dumb. She wanted to be a paleontologist or a pet shop owner. She did take gymnastics but only because we thought it would help her co-ordination, she's still kind of klutzy. I was working full time as an insurance auditor and my husband was in school and a volunteer at the Museum. He would take DD with him to class and the Museum. She was a pet of the curator. There was one day that the curator walked into DH’s tour and announced that he needed his TA and took DD from her spot next to DH. After he finished the tour, DH went to the curator's office. DD was lecturing the grad students on how to separate teeth fossils from toenails. The curator told DH that the students had been over thinking the problem, and needed a little humility.
I’m sure that there are those who would say that we should have put her in daycare instead of inflicting college courses on her at such a young age.Grandma did watch her 3 days a week, she only went to school on 2 days and the only class DH had that day was child development and paleontology.DD was perfect and attentive in both of those classes.She got to be the example in child development a couple times (she was quite proud of that).DH had cleared it with the professors before ever bringing her to class.The paleontology teacher got such a kick out of her that he listed her on the role as an audit and she even had her own test for midterms. (DH didn’t bring her to the midterms and the professor was disappointed.He gave DD her test the next class day.) Her test consisted of fossil pictures, matching the names to the pictures, and matching bones, teeth, and toenails to the right dinosaur.
If I had wanted a princess, I would have had to suppress this incredibly bright personality who also had a fantastic imagination.I found it easier (thus totally slacker) to let her be herself and hang out with her dad, the dinosaurs, and the fossils at the university.Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m helping finish a scrapbook on peace through guaranteed destruction, my oldest son is planning on taking over the world.
I've been discharged from care before my truck. The doctor says that I'm done and the truck still hasn't been aligned or had the bed put back on yet. DH went down and took pictures for me, but not on the digital.
Quote of the Day History is the version of past events that people have decided to agree upon. Napoleon Bonaparte
It will be interesting to see how the next generation views things like the presidencies of Kennedy, Nixon, Raegan, and Clinton. Will the version portrayed by the press of the time be the winner or will it go to people like Kitty Kelley or some real scholar who takes the time to fight through the freedom of information act and all the "common knowledge that we don't discuss" and thus don't record. Will we remember all the foibles and forget the virtues or remember the virtues and forget the foibles.
Just something to think about. By the way, I'm not sure how accurate the other test linked at the bottom is since Oprah doesn't believe that I'm an adrenaline junkie. I'm an adrenaline junkie but I do know how to relax.
I swear, I'm the only person in this office who knows how to push reset on a printer when it's acting up. Of course, everyone comes in at once to my office when they can't get their stuff printed immediately. And no matter how many times I tell them that the little laser printers can't handle huge files they still try. Then they get pissed off because the printer freezes up. It's all I can do to stop biting their heads off. I just smile and say it's a PICNIC problem. I'm just dreading the day they figure out that PICNIC stands for Problem In Chair Not In Computer.
Yes, it's time to evaluate the anxiety attack again. I have about 3 rows left on the quilt shown on my homepage, so of course I'm cleaning the house and playing on the computer instead of making knots. I'm working on the last stitching piece in my rotation. The other two slots are quilt piecing. So, have I stitched in my stitching room at all in the last 2 weeks? Of course not. I will admit to working on Stretch quite a bit though :lol: I have done a fair amount of reading over the past few weeks though. I've been through most of my reading stack in fact.
I'm going to force myself tonight to finish up the quilt top, either that or I'll go to the gym. :D:
The weekend started on Friday when I took a day off work. It was supposed to be a stitching day but instead it turned out to be running to the doctor's office and taking care of stuff that was related to the idiot who rear-ended my truck on Thursday. He did enough damage to the rear axle that it was undrivable. His insurance still hasn't done an estimate but they are paying for my rental car. Speaking of the rental car, the insurance wanted me to change from Enterprise to a local no name rental agency but they weren't going to have the agency bill direct, it was a pay first and reimburse situation. So I figure as long as I'm paying the authorized $21.99 who cares where I rent. Enterprise was ticked enough at them asking me to switch that they're giving me a Yukon at the $21.99 rate (which is really nice). Saturday was relaxing with a detoxifying body wrap and a prescribed massage, but my neck and shoulder still hurt. Not enough that I couldn't work on Stretch though. I got most of the wings and tail completed. Sunday I cooked a pot roast and had served DH, DD and myself (the boys were at grandma's). I left the remaining roast on the counter and the beagle proved he wasn't so dumb by moving the kitchen chairs so that he could get onto the counter and he ate the rest of a 3 pound roast.
Yes, he's still alive.
And the sad thing is, that despite the loss of a full weeks worth of lunches, I find the whole thing rather hilarious. See, DH has been saying for years that Mr. Darwin is not as smart as all the other dogs that we've owned. He can't catch food that is thrown to him. Sit is the only command he ever mastered. I just find it somewhat fitting that he demonstrated how he's been eating off the counter. I just wonder how long he's been doing it at night without getting caught. It seems that he's smart enough to move the chairs back to the table after he gets off the counter.
