Random Thoughts for a Thursday

Yesterday was our Saturday. Neal got to go play Army while I was cook/maid/furniture mover/FRG leader/jewelry designer extraordinaire all weekend. We totally missed out on the average person's Saturday/Sunday rest and relaxation. So, yesterday we laid in bed until noon drinking coffee and watching Dexter (which I love and that scares me a little). And hey, he's a veteran and I'm a veteran's wife/daughter/granddaughter (not all to the same person for those of you who just had that thought)...so it's kind of like my day, too. The list of things to accomplish yesterday included: replacing all of the hinges in the house as we make the transition from 1991 brass to 2009 brushed nickel, laying mulch in the front garden, trying a sample color of Tuscan clay on the kitchen walls, and building a website for Daisy & Elm, LLC that neither crashes nor blocks non-Microsoft visitors. Of that list, the only thing we got accomplished was watching Dexter...yes, oh wise one...that was not on the list. I try not to psychologically flog myself for enjoying these days...for walking past the clean clothes stacked on the floor and leaning over the sink full of dishes with little regard to what actually needs to be done about it. Our house is generally clean, smells more like fresh linen and less like cat litter, and there is usually food in the fridge, so if I lay in bed until noon one day, who's to notice? Except that I don't get the daily things done...like blogging and showering. So, here are some random thoughts that I've stored up for just such an occasion:

1. Something long-awaited arrived in the mail this week. No, it was not the winter White House Black Market catalog, nor was it a check from Publisher's Clearinghouse...this was...my massage therapy license!! Almost exactly 1 year and 8 months after I applied for it. And approximately 5 months after I began my sabbatical from massage therapy. That means, I started and ended (temporarily) a career before the official documentation ever got here. That has to be a new personal best. Now, to re-assure all of the rule-followers who read this, I did have a license number and have had since before I started practicing professionally because, I too, am an avid rule-follower. But I didn't have the pretty piece of paper with Kentucky's seal to back it up. And even though I harassed the holy living hell out of the gentleman at the KY Board of Licensure, he failed to ever follow through with my request. I understand a backlog...but seriously. And state workers wonder how they got the reputation that they now have. It's a mystery...

2. Apparently, when sung, Queen of Hearts sounds AMAZINGLY like Queen of Farts. Yes, I'm 10...but if that didn't at least make you smile a little, then you've lost all childlike quality and that makes Peter Pan sad.

3. Come to find out, after reading an article in the New York Times, I share my birthday with the Ft. Hood shooter. While people will not forever link September 8th with a murderer (as people do with my unfortunate friend whose birthday falls on 9/11), it still bothers me. It's a good thing I don't believe in astrology and numbers and all of that...oh wait...I do get pretty Hooah, Hooah about being a Virgo. Yeah, strike that. I'm bothered.

4. What I learned last weekend about moving a hoarder:

• Wear clothes that you are willing to donate to Goodwill when it's all over
• Use gloves that you don't mind to trash when it's all over
• People will voluntarily live in the most absolute filth without a second thought. This will make you go home and clean your house like Monk just moved in.
• I thought I had a deep-seeded disgust for men who repeatedly call me "sweetie", "hun", and "darlin". As it turns out, if they are willing to move awkward and unwieldy furniture so that I don't have to, I am infinitely tolerant.
• Conversely, I have ever-lessening tolerance for men who cannot lift anything due to a bad back, knees, elbow..whatever..and choose to instead stand in the path, chain-smoke cigarettes and make inappropriate comments about how big my arms are (yes, they're big. Thanks for pointing out my struggle against The Curse of Fitted Sleeves.)
  

5. And to come full-circle on the whole rule-following thing...I supervised a care package assembly this week. The public was invited in to make donations and then help assemble the baggies that go in the boxes. For the sake of organization, the baggie stations are generally divided up into snacks, drink mix, personal care, and then gifts (i.e. CD's, DVD's, books, etc). My job was to direct people on how much of each item should go into the baggies and then make sure they followed directions and the baggies got sealed. What shocks me is how many people do not listen. Although I'm sure it was annoying (and perhaps even cheeky) to the ones who did listen and follow directions, I had to check every bag because there were many who thought they knew best. So, to the general public I must say: This organization has been around awhile and they have done their fair share of care packages. The founder has this down to an art and it is her 60-hour/week job...to make sure that each soldier gets the best box possible. Please don't question her. It only makes you look like an ass. And if you can't listen and follow simple directions, then perhaps they should never have let you out of the padded room.

Now I'm off to finish preparing for tomorrow night's festivities: The Brain Injury Association of Kentucky's Brain Ball. I have created an all-Swarovski crystal necklace and earrings set, which I will sell right off of my body if someone is interested. Check or cash and it can be yours.