I Hope You Poke Your Eye Out!

Yesterday, I was driving into work feeling like death warmed over.  This was primarily because the hell hole that I call 'work' had me doing it's slave labor all weekend.  I swear I put in more hours over this one flipping weekend than the whole damn week.  But that's okay, it's a paycheck which means I can keep myself home-d, fed-ed, clothed, purse-d and scarf-ed, all good things I suppose.  But man o man getting up this morning was pure and utter torture, more so than other days.  I laid there listening to my alarm scream at me but my body refused to budge.  Seriously I laid there like a bump on a log wondering how in the hell I had managed to kill a whole weekend by working as opposed to frolicking.  You guys know by now that I can be a super bitter person but this morning I woke up down-right angry.

And this anger showed itself in many ways, such as when I got into the shower and threw the shampoo bottle onto the wet shower floor.  And then, to my incredible irritation, it bounced out and onto the bathroom floor and rolled as far away from me as it could.  Then there was the epic battle between me and my hair as I stood glaring at it for a long time wishing it would just be scared into doing itself.  No dice.  So I simply pulled it up into a very "I so don't have time for this crap" hairstyle and got going, which incidental means that I look like a homeless person. 

To say that I was just 'in a bad mood' would be an understatement.  By the time I joined traffic, I had to chant to myself "I shall not kill anyone who pisses me off today" over and over again like a litany in my head.  I actually think I may have murmured the words aloud to be honest.  But regardless at least the normal horrible DC rush hour seemed to be working with me (translate this to my 7 mile trip to work that normally takes me anywhere between 45 minutes to an hour wouldn't take that much, possibly only 40ish minutes).  Yea, commuting here blows but I can't complain since I love this area and wouldn't be anywhere else.  Well that's not entirely true, I mean if someone said move to Jamaica and open up a chicken shack on the beach, I'd do it in a heartbeat. 

So I merged into traffic and sat there still muttering prayers of strength for patience when I look at my rear view mirror and what do I see?  A chick, small and petite, very pretty really, who is holding a cell phone up to one ear yacking away while applying mascara!  =\  If in case you couldn't figure out what was wrong with this picture, let me explain:  NEITHER of her hands were on the blasted steering wheel, not one single solitary digit even.  And she wasn't driving like this for a few measly feet, no she was doing this over plenty of asphalt.  WHAT THE HELL???

Really, Lady?  Really?  You are going to help propagate an already horrible stereotype (one which may I just say is totally and utterly unfair) and prove that it's true after all?  The whole stupid assumption that all women are dangerous, can not drive and will idiotically put on makeup in the car while she's actually driving, is okay with you?  You couldn't have gotten up a few flippin' minutes early and flippin' put your darn idiotic face on before leaving the flippin' house?  Really?  No, instead you wait till you're in ridiculous rush hour traffic before you decide to apply like what seemed to be 10,000 coats of mascara (Does anyone in the world really need that much?  How non-existent are your lashes precisely?  Heck, do you find people yelping and telling you that you have a spider on your eye only to discover that it's caked on mascara?  If they have, then tone back on the stuff okay Doll?  Great, thanks!) onto one stupid eye while navigating a ton of moving metal that could go crashing into anyone at anytime because you were being a vapid unthinking git who felt it necessary to multi-task.  Great...perfect...fan-freain'-tastic. 

Hey, I mean never mind the others around you right?  Their lives and safety isn't nearly as important as your stupid conversation and mascara application, correct?  Forget the fact that may be there are kids in the other cars, or elderly, or hell just simple folks who are trying to get to work in one piece and obeying traffic laws!  Pfft, clearly they (nor the laws) matter in the face of your lack of mascara, right?  Sureeeeeee, I totally get you and your need for a beauty session while driving sans hands on the wheel in manic traffic.  Mhmm.  I, in fact, applaud you...yes.I.do. 
And of course I'm right in front of her just waiting, and I mean waiting for her to rear end my beautiful Stella cause no kidding I was totally prepared to get out of the car, stomp over to her only to rip her little blond air filled head clean off her shoulder with my bare hands so that I could happily present it to the cop that would inevitably show up.  I would also explain with glee what had happened and I'm sure no court in the land would convict me either.  Personally I think my actions would be well justified at the end of the day and I could end up becoming a national hero...just sayin'.

Um, wow...so I just realized something as I re-read paragraph immediately above this and that is that I can really be a pretty violent person when consumed with towering (out)rage.  Actually I always knew this but the deliciously evil thoughts written above even took me aback a little right now, I must confess. 

Anyhow, using an abundance of caution so that I could avoid being thrown into jail due to road rage as well as committing a heinous crime and also because I had to get my butt to work before I found myself unemployed, I changed lanes and got away from the twit as quickly as I could in that horrible mess of a parking lot.  Oh, the initial assumption that it would be a light traffic day was wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Look ladies, I get it, you want to look 'purty' and the applying of makeup necessitates this happening however there is a time and place for everything.  Putting on your 'face' while driving without either hand on the steering wheel is not it and let me just state the obvious here for one second:  IT IS NOT OKAY!  It's one thing to swipe on a quick lip gloss without taking your eyes off the road but this...this total disregard to life and limb (of yours or others around you) is just simply not acceptable. 

Next time either get up 5 minutes earlier or scare a few people between your house and the ladies bathroom (or your office for that matter) but do NOT endanger the rest of us.

Consdier this a community service message if you must, one filled with disgust and anger but take it to heart, and stop being so damn narcissistic!

That is all. 

Mother + Child = Life Time Love Affair...Happy Mommy's Day

As Mother's Day swiftly approaches (in fact a mere few hours away), I confess I am very sad.  This year, my Ammu (Mom) is visiting my cousin in Europe.  Although initially when she booked the tickets and I was told the dates, I hadn't taken note of the fact that she would be gone during the holiday but by the time realization dawned, I knew she couldn't change her plans.  So this year I won't physically be with her which totally sucks but I've also thought of it this way: doesn't matter where in the world she is, she's always with me.

This year, my gift to Ammu will be this blog.  May be it's not much but I know that the best way to express my feelings is through my writing so here it is:

What is my mother to me?  It's actually a very hard question to answer.  She is the person who gave me birth, that's the obvious isn't it?  Yet I could never say that it was in fact just that simple.  My mother to me is everything.  Keeping in mind that my father is no less important to me but since Father's Day isn't for another month, I will take the liberty to only speaking of my darling mommy.

Have you ever looked at someone and thought to yourself:  this is the person I want to become?  I've had a few people through the years who I have wanted to emulate but no one quite like Ammu.  And this isn't a recent  thing.  As a child I recall laying down on my stomach on her bed watching her with rapt attention as she would get ready for some party or event.  My eyes would trace the almost lyrical movement of her hands, I would be in awe the way she would deftly apply the barest of makeup yet transform right before my eyes and when she would so skillfully wind the beautiful 6 yards of sari material about her, I almost held my breath.  When would I grow up to do just these things?

 

But that was but one small thing that goes into the whole picture of what my mom truly is and I'm sure I can write for days and not really be able to give you all the details that make her in essence not just an incredible mother but the unbelievably kind human being, which is in itself the best part of her.

 

And what are those "more parts" exactly? 

 

Her smile, which makes me feel as if all is right with the world. 

Her laughter, which makes the day a bit brighter. 

The way she welcomes people with warm open arms even if they are completed unexpected guests.

The ability to make a person feel as if they are loved and beloved, a skill greatly lacking in most.

A heart that is so big that anyone else pain, becomes her own.

Also a heart so large that other peoples joy will be equally celebrated within her own self.

The tireless sense of humanity to help those who are most in need of it without any regard to herself.

The generosity of spirit and kindness that rules every step she takes.

The core beliefs that she has held close to her and has shaped her for who she is and will always be.

The ultimate conviction that being a 'good' person is enough to fight anything bad.

The amazing ability to smile and welcome even those who are unkind or unwelcome with a simple phrase of "be kind to even your enemy".

The unshakable faith in Allah (swt) and his benevolence.

That family is above all the most important thing in this world and that through good or bad, you stand as one.

That true fact that when she cries, it is not just for herself, me, our family but for the whole world and those tears are real.

That with one word from her I feel as if those hard things I face are a bit easier. 

That even when I don't know that something is going on with me, she has the innate ability to know. 

That when I'm sick, she can cure it with one light touch, one soothing hand, one sweet word.

That she can bring tears to my eyes still when I leave to go home after spending a few days with her.

That she is and will always be one of the most spiritually solid Muslims I know.

That her love for family goes deep and binds.

That she was able to make me believe that mothers and daughters can truly be best friends.

That whatever I should do, I should do it with love and consideration for my fellow human beings.

The imparting of wisdom with generosity.

The ability to make me feel as if I am still her little girl and will always be.

The person who had told me once that my life would be wonderful and would not let me forget that even when I was most hopeless.

The very basic fact that she sacrificed all big and little happiness's in her existence for us.

That she will always be my first greatest love affair.

 

There truly is so much more to say yet actually words do fail, sometimes they are just not enough.

 

Gosh, it's funny how hard this blog is for me to write, not because I don't have anything to write but it's almost like I have too much to say, too much to tell you. She is truly that incredible to me, one of Allah's greatest creations.

 

To all those who have their mothers still around, don't take them for granted because I can bet you if you ask those who no longer have them walking the earth, they would tell you to cherish every moment, to appreciate every second, to embrace every bit of them.  Because of your mother, YOU are here.  Never forget this.

 

For those who no longer have your parents, I pray that you find smiles on this day coming from memories of this days in the past.

 

For all those wonderful mothers out there in the world and who are reading this, you are all Gods gift for without you, there would be no mankind.

 

And finally...

 

My darling Ammu,  Happy mother's day, I love you.

Do Clothes Accurately Reflect Ones State of Mind?

I was sitting and talking to one of my colleagues a few weeks ago in my office, fighting post lunch coma.  We were chatting about all sorts of random things which isn't weird for us.  I'm not sure how one topic bleeds into a totally different one but before we knew it, we were discussing clothing.  Now maybe a few of you male readers are thinking to yourself 'what's new about that, women are always talking about clothes,' but I'm here to inform you that we in fact rarely talk about fashion, at least my friends and myself.  Sure we'll tell each other we look nice or speak of some sale here or there but that's the extent of it.  We are intellectuals darn it. 

I had mentioned to K, my sistah from another mistah, that back when I was working at another smaller law firm, shortly after returning to the east coast, I had given very little thought to my wardrobe.  I hated the place I was employed at so much that dressing up to look pretty just wasn't top most on my list of things to-do.  Actually just not slicing my wrist open topped that list to be perfectly honest.  Yes, that's precisely how much I loathed it.  And that feeling reflected in what I wore completely.  The clothing choice for each new work day was generally elastic pleated pants (*horrific gasp*), shapeless over sized button up shirts that I didn't even bother to tuck in and clunky shoes that even the most typical fashion challenged nerd would reject.  My hair was always up in a ponytail and I barely put on any eyeliner.  I was a mess.

When I finally left that place and got myself a new gig, suddenly I felt like putting an effort into my appearance which meant I also went on a few shopping sprees (P wasn't thrilled about this fact although he was relieved to see me not looking like a bag lady).  I hadn't realized how extremely different I looked until an x-colleague from the prior firm met up with me and was astonished at the transformation.  She couldn't stop going on and on about how different I looked, how fashion forward I could be, how I seemed like a totally different person.  Okay, so I mean I looked bad, but that bad?  Hmmm...yea she was right.  It was just that bad.

Now after years of sort of priding myself in the ability to put colors and patterns together, to be someone who would get a 'hey you look nice today' a few times a week, I've lapsed back into the whole 'I can't be bothered to dress for work' mentality.  Does this tell you much about where I stand in my career?

I didn't even realize what I was doing until a few days after the convo with K regarding my old dressing habits, she said to me, not unkindly at all, that "I know you're unhappy here because you barely dress up anymore and you're always wearing that darn black hoodie".  Ah yes, the infamous black hoodie which was/is my perpetual companion when everything seemed/seems to go wrong.  Call me Linus if you must for my black hoodie was/is the equivalent to his blue blanket.  Anyway that was the moment when it struck me that indeed, at least for me, my clothes do accurately reflect my state of mind.  I had never really put the obvious signs together.  And she was right.  I am unhappy where I am and it reflects in every sense. 

After this I noticed a few things about myself.  Like when I'm in a good mood, I will sing (a lot), I apply a touch more eyeliner with a flourish making it a bit more dramatic, I will cook something that otherwise I wouldn't because of laziness or grumpiness and I will do something to my hair that makes me feel like a shampoo commercial model (well to me if to no one else).  Hell, when I'm in a fantastic mood I've been known to roll down the windows of my car, slid open the sunroof and blast my radio as loud as my eardrums can take it only to totally rock out (have I dated myself by using the term "rock out"?) while singing along at the top of my lungs, no matter what the person in the car next to me thinks!  I'll eve go as far as to smile at strangers...okay not widely but smile for sure.  Everything I feel on the inside will somehow reflect itself outwardly.  Now I see it more and I admit this is fascinating information about myself. 

I recognize the fact that a lot of you out there are probably already greatly in tune with this phenomena, maybe even wondering how the heck I've been so clueless since this isn't really 'news' but hey, I have to make my own self discoveries at my own pace, right?  We can't all achieve enlightenment exactly at the same moment of time, how boring would that be? 

But seriously, why did it take a random conversation for me to see the obvious?  How many obvious-es am I completely overlooking because I'm too dense or because I haven't had someone else point it out to me?  Goodness gracious what sort of a bubble of denial do I live in?  Would it be even called denial?  Is that the right word?  Maybe I lack the ability to self-realize.  I always thought I was good at that but possibly not.  This is weird in itself since many of my closest friends can attest to the fact that I am very savvy to what they're going through, the things that they ignore, I point out to them and help them find a way if necessary.  I can look at a friends situation, mull it over and come up with a reasonable explanation as to why they are the way they are or why things happened the way it did that makes sense.  Apparently I suck at doing that for myself. 

So, to answer the question in the title of the blog, yes my clothes truly accurately reflect my state of mind.  When I'm happy I care about every article of clothing that I put on and spend much time agonizing over it while when I'm in the 'screw-the-world-and-everyone-in-it" mind set, clothes are the last thing I'm considering, unless it's retail therapy I'm after in which case I'll buy the clothes only to put them in my closet and totally forget. 

Let me ask you though, do you feel as if you do the same (about the clothes thing)?  Have you ever really given it any thought at all or are you generally as tube-light-ish as me, often coming to some great realization ages after the rest of the world?  I can't possibly be alone in the dark, can I?

I can't wait (yes, that's sarcasm) to see what else I 'learn' about me.  I guess one could say that I'm growing, exploring, learning but at the same time jeez, shouldn't some of these things just come in a manual when you're born or may be instantly planted into your subconscious? 

Okay, onwards and upwards I suppose. 

Bump in the Night

I've always given off the aura that I'm far more fearless then I probably am and to some degree this is true. I don't often flinch (my buddy Fo can confirm this since he's tried on countless occasions to make me do so and has failed miserably), I don't scream when bugs land on me (unlike some female friends (and a few male that I know)) and I feel as if facing down what makes me gulp hard is better than letting it defeat me. This characteristic isn't recent though, I guess somehow it's ingrained into the person I am since I was a child. Here's a memory for you (cause we know how much y'all just adore retelling of random stories by random bloggers which have no affiliation or connection to your existence):

One random summer when I was about 15ish or maybe even a bit younger, my dad and brother took a trip to India while my mother and I stayed behind. Ammu would insist that I sleep with her and at first whereas I wasn't cherishing the idea since I can be quite the recluse, as the summer progressed it was nice to chitchat with her till I drifted off to sleep, particularly when she would stroke my hair. I mean is there anything better then a mothers assuring fingers soothingly and lovingly coaxing you into beddie-bye? I would say not.

Anyway, one night we were both in bed, she was reading some Bengali magazine and I was engrossed into a book that I had my nose stuck in for days. The house was still and quiet, dark and peaceful...or so it had been. Now, we had a very small little cozy house, one floor and a basement. It was also old as hell. Old fashion crank windows, creaky floor boards and a lot of character. I so did love that house where I spent a
good chunk of my childhood.

It was due to the oldness and creakiness of the place that in the midst of peaceful silence, we heard something that we shouldn't have heard. Curious? Scared? Is the suspense building? Okay may be not yet...read on. Picture us in my mom’s big queen bed both reading avidly, the only sound was the soft flipping of pages. And all of the sudden there is the faintest of creak coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the living room, faint yes but still audible and unusual. That sound could only be heard if someone was walking through the living room. I wasn't clued into it immediately, neither was Ammu but at one point, the little hairs on my arms stood at edge as the tinkling sound of the china in our china cabinet drew our attentions. My head snapped up as did my mothers. We looked at each other and our eyes grew wide as yet again another now more distinct sound of footfalls could be heard.

Without a doubt, someone was in the house.

She asked me in a very low whisper whether the bedroom door was locked. I had responded, it was, something I did automatically before retiring for the night by habit. She next asked what we should do but my mind going in about 100 different directions while trying to figure out a game plan. What should we do? What should we do? Escape? But how? Hide? But where? Closet? Wouldn’t that be the first place someone would look? Under the bed? That would surely be the second. Could we squeeze out the narrow windows? But the fall could break our necks, or at least our legs. However, what could happen inside would be worse by far. Meanwhile without consultation, she called my aunt who lived down the street. She urgently asked my cousin to come quickly but I knew that before either they (one of my two male cousins) or even the police could arrive, a lot of things could go down. Surprisingly enough I wasn't terrified for myself, I was on 'protect the person who gave birth to me' mode.

Protection, I needed to protect us. I looked around and almost cried in relief.

There on her dressing table was an aerosol bottle of hair spray. It wasn't something she nor I used often but it had yet to be cast away and I murmured a prayer of sincere thanks to Allah (swt) since there was nothing else in the room that could be used as a reasonable weapon. Yes, believe it or not, I didn't think about crying, my first thought was to find a weapon and defend us. Uh huh, that's how I roll(ed).

At this point my mother was in fact freaking out, but silently (thank god) and I was trying my hardest to keep her calm while I snuck up to the door. Thankfully there was carpeting in the master bedroom which meant my footsteps were muffled. Pressing an ear to the door I strained to hear. The footfalls were distinct, no doubt about it. This wasn't our combined imaginations playing games on us, no indeed not. I felt Ammu come to stand behind me, her hands on my hips, her warmth against me, giving me renewed resolve that no matter what, I would have to protect her. I wasn't quite sure how, but I would do it.

Mulling the available options in my head, I suddenly felt my breath go. I don't know what it was, I wasn't sure even what part of my brain had registered it, but I knew that whoever it was, was right outside the door. I glanced back at my mother’s terror filled eyes, didn't think twice as I took one deep breath and suddenly screamed at the top of my lungs, "Whoever the hell is out there, you better get out, We've called the police and they'll be here any second!!!!" My mother gasped loudly as she jumped away from me for she hadn't expected that and definitely didn't expect the rest as I continued to scream, "I also have a gun in here and I'm not afraid to use it so get out before I blow your stupid head away!!" You're probably wondering how I remember this verbatim, if I can in fact but I assure you, that whole incident is burned into my cranium. I'll never forget that moment nor what I had said.

Anyhow, the next thing that happened was that whoever was on the other side of the door suddenly decided to retreat for we heard that pounding running steps of that person booking it through the house. We could not only hear the footfalls but the crazy clanging of the china dishes once again and then a slam in the distance. I'd never ever felt such relief yet my guard was still up. After all who was to say that whoever it was, wasn't still somewhere in the house just waiting? I had seen far too many horror movies to realize this was a possibility. We stayed put, huddled together as my mother was murmuring every sura she could think of while clinging to me. I however had a death grip on the hairspray still.

Eventually my cousins showed up, banging loudly on the front door while also ringing the bell like maniacs. If the intruder was still in the house, then they were stupid as a few seconds later sirens also joined the commotion. Even though Ammu didn't want me to, I shook her free while throwing open the door and barreling out into the hall, hairspray cocked and ready to fire.

Later one of the police dudes told my mother that I was brilliant for thinking of the hairspray and that I was a brave little girl. I guess so although that's not how I looked at it.

Oh well, that was ages ago yet I still remember it so vividly. Hold on though, this isn't the only story I have to tell. The reason I wrote this blog wasn't to just brag about what a fearless badass I am (or rather was) but actually to show that indeed even I jump at things that go bump in the night. Last Tuesday night I was home alone because P had gone on a short business trip out-of-town and therefore would spend an evening alone. This was fine by me. Throughout the history of our marriage P had gone to visit his parents back home in Bdesh for a few weeks every couple of years. When the rest of the family had been worried about me staying alone, I relished the idea of the 'alone' time. I can't recall even once being scared of the solitariness of my home. Again as I said before, I've always believed that if something was going to happen, it was going to happen, I most certainly couldn't/can't fight fate.

Back to Tuesday, I was sitting in the living room with the TV turned off stalking friends on Facebook when I heard something peculiar. My house is modest in size but does have a basement and I admit I don't venture down into it unless absolutely necessary. Mind you, it's a perfectly lovely basement, fully completed, furnished, very livable and comfy but hey, it's a basement right? I mean hello those horror movies have also taught me that the bad guys and monsters come up from the basement! That night was also super windy and the more intellectual part of my brain said that the sounds of the night was playing a role in freaking me out but the other emotional 'I'm after all human and holy hell is someone inside the house?' side took over as I quickly gathered all my crap and zoomed up the stairs to my bedroom. You would think I would have made a beeline out the house right, something that any reasonable person would do, right?  Nope, not me, that wasn't even an option.

Literally zipping up the stairs, I slammed the door of my bedroom behind me, punched the alarm on button and locked the door.

I guess my instincts are well in tuned with the 'fight or flight' concept, hmm? Yup, I am a badass (sometimes a bit creep-ed out but badass nonetheless).

**Update**  A good friend of mine posed a few questions regarding this blog and I realized it actually left the reader just slightly underinformed to some important details. 

The intruder from the first story in fact stole nothing.  Not even our brand new VCR (shush, stop laughing) or our state-of-the-art sound system with a slick record player (really, stop laughing) or the Atari console that sat in the middle of the floor of the family room (go on, get yourself off the floor).  Heck not even a candlestick was stolen.  The police couldn't figure out the motive since nothing was missing.  The entry point into the house had been one of those crank windows which had been carelessly left slightly ajar.  Not a single thing had been broken either. 

In the second story, my friend asked me if it had indeed been the wind.  The answer is yes (thank God!) and I'm so not complaining.

Lil Sicky Me : (

Well folks, it's been a few days since I posted something and I'm getting a bit worried.  I don't want my little readership to dwindle away.  You know how much I love this blog and j'adore those of you who stop by!  But I do have a legit excuse as to why I've been slacking. 

You're truly has been sick. 

Okay, not like sick in the head or anything (although some could debate that fact) but more like the 'coughing, sneezing, body aches, temperature, feeling all around crappy' sorta one.  Actually this one is weird.  I'm not coughing, nor sneezing, I do have slight body aches but the temperature is always with me.  I don't get what the hell is going on, it's low-grade at best and annoying as hell.  

Saturday night we had (another) big family party (again), this time to celebrate my uncle and nieces birthdays.  I got all gussied up in a new sari (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sari) and floated (because honestly people shouldn't do anything other than float in a sari) to my aunts house in B'more (seriously, I'm always there, or at least it seems so *sigh*) while clutching a absolutely fantastic purple purse and cute lil strappy heels.  As expected the family ooh'ed and aah'ed over my appearance and god knows I was appreciative over the acknowledgement. 

But by 9pm, I was sitting next to my SIL and she sorta gave me this funny look as I was slumped on the sofa trying hard to maintain a smile.  She said that my eyes were 'too bright'.  I'm never sure I know what that means but I trusted her since my insides felt hot-ish.  I turned to her and said 'um...something's wrong.'  I honestly had to resist the urge to pass out but that would have so stolen the thunder from the birthday folks.  Instead I 'manned' up and spent the better part of the next two hours or so trying to focus on the convo at hand, which was no easy feat.  

Normally when I go to home to visit the fam, my bro, me, P and any one of my various amounts of cousins will go to the nearby 7-11 and chill out having coffee and gossiping.  This has been our routine for nearly 10 years now and it's the one part of going home that I do honestly look forward to (other than spending time with my parentals and eating yummy homemade food prepared by the loving hands of my mommy).  I think it's rather an unspoken agreement that no matter how late it is, we'll try to squeeze in this ritual but that night as I finally glared P into getting his butt off the sofa from the post-pig-out session everyone had indulged in less than an hour before, so we could head home, my mind was pretty much telling me 'you even think about it and you'll regret it'.  My bro even looked slightly perplexed when I told him we were going straight home.  With an 'okay, drive safe and take care' we were so outta there.

I honestly hoped that I wasn't really legit sick, that maybe it was the effects of so many people crammed into the house but nope, got home and yes indeedy the fever was making the most in my body nearly throwing a party as for the last two days I've been able to keep 0 in my stomach and resorted to working from home yesterday.  As a side bar, I read a study about how people worked less when they were 'telecommuting' but frankly I disagree with this.  Most likely because I don't have kids at home to distract me, I can seem to get more done.  Hell I put in 12 hours of work on a 'sick day' then I would have had I been in the office physically.

You may wonder how I am feeling now.  In one word: crap.  I don't know why I came to work today.  My eyes are blurry and the constant spiked temperature has embraced me but good so there is no escaping its clutches.  I think going home is the only remedy although I'm loathed to go out into this drizzle-y nasty weather.  Oh, oh, yes and thanks to this weather I believe I am sick in fact.  I mean with these up's and down's in weather patterns, one can't blame a body for finally succumbing.  Heck I know far too many people who are even now doing pretty much the same as I am, cursing fate and all illnesses in general.   

Anyhow, so there's my explanation.  I'm still trying hard to keep up with this blogging thing but boy o boy is it hard when all you want to do is sleep.  You know I gotta love y'all to be still typing now when the letters swim-eth before my eyes-eth!   : )

I promise more shall be posted later. 

**Here's another original drawing.  Um...in case you were wondering, that's a water bottle on the head, not a beret since I don’t tend to wear berets anyhow and that thing on the nose?  A nosering...heh.  Also if you couldn't figure it out, that's a thermometer sticking out of the mouth.  I said I could try to draw, not that I was good at it =\ 

 

Random Convos: "Honk!"

This was Staff Appreciation Week and like other companies, my firm is also "appreciating" us.  On Wednesday we were treated to cupcakes, on Thursday a pretty yummy breakfast consisting of an omelet station, fresh fruits and flaky croissants, and then today was pizza for lunch.  Hey, appreciate me as much as you like if it means free food.

Me, K and R (my girls at work) promptly all tromped down to the conference room at precisely 12:30pm to grab some food and sat with other colleagues at a conference table while enjoying hot Papa Johns.  It was pleasant enough but we craved sun, particularly K, so after finishing up pretty quickly we made a beeline for the great outdoors.  We ended up sunbathing (yes, because after all I so need to get tanned...not) while soaking up Vitamin D at the Navy Memorial which is but blocks away from the office, turning our faces up to the rays of the big ol' yellow globe up in the sky.  And as usual we chattered on about nothing in particular, our topics never staying stagnant, never un-amusing either.

But amongst all our conversations to date, today's was probably the oddest.  Somehow we got onto the topics of geese...you know...the waddling big overgrown birds that hiss and spit and will aggressively chase you down to peck at you even if your shadow so much as crosses their paths?  Yea, look at it  (scary, right?) ----> 

These things are a damn menace to society if you ask me and I'd be happy to see each and every single one of them roasted on a spit somewhere.  I thought though that this was just my POV but apparently I am in good company for both K and R also seemed equally passionate about their dislike for this particular breed of fowl. 

(Since I don't usually tape record the random conversations I have with folks as I'm having them, the below is as close to accurate as I can make it but the sentiments are just about right.) 

K:  In the neighborhood that I live in, they're everywhere.  The other day a bunch of cars waited while a line of geese crossed the street.  There was a male goose that sort of stood in the middle as it watched all the others crossing, keeping them safe I guess.  As if no one would dare to run it over!  *says she in equal parts of astonishment and outrage*  I mean, they're GEESE!  Why can't they FLY across the street?  You know they do this on purpose just to be annoying!

R:  Like it's thinking 'no, you do NOT want me on your tires!'  *she says with a 'don't you even think about it' look on her face*

Me:  Yea, it'll turn around, give you a look over its shoulder and go "HONK!"...which means "you WILL wait...WHAT?!?!"  *imagine me giving an example of it in an uber ghetto style*

We all proceeded to fall over laughing as we continued to make obnoxious honking sounds, vowing that from now on, we would honk at each other at every given opportunity that presented itself.  Considering how rife with humanity the immediate space about us was, I can't imagine how many people weren't wondering what the hell was wrong with the 3 of us.  Oh so many things really...so many blessed, wonderful, awesome things. 

Since this afternoon, we also have now decided that a flock of geese guarding your house would be far more dangerous than any watch-dog.  No one, and we believe absolutely NO ONE will dare come within even a mile of your domicile if they believe that some crazed psychotic overgrown feathered menace was pacing the premises.  R did ask though in sort of pondering retrospect, "wouldn't they just fly away?"  I suggested little leashes on their scrawny necks while K said in pure exasperation, "no, cause they don't fly, they only do that during the winters when they go South, otherwise they stay put!"  We all nodded and hooted in response.

Seriously though, these sorts of random conversations totally make your day and are fodder for fun blogs (if you ask me). 

Honk, Honk folks, consider this a warning to the wise...stay away from them geese and TGIF!

Another Weather Blog =\

There is simply no better way of saying this:  The weather is screwed. 

And it's terrible that I have so many blasted posts on the weather, I mean how boring is that right?  It's literally up there in the same category of boring as when one finds themselves talking about the weather as a conversation filler.  You know, like when you're sitting with someone and all of the sudden silence descends and your mind goes blank, you shift uncomfortably, maybe cough, surreptitiously check your phone and then go "So!  This weather aye?  How crazy is it?"   This is about the same.  I wouldn't be surprised if one of you isn't looking at this post even now and saying to yourself 'Really?  Seriously?  You have nothing better to write about?'  My answer to you is: no.  I actually don't.  Not that I can't think up about 100 other more worthwhile topics but for the moment I'm just pissy about this weather.

Oh come ON!  I wrote not too long ago about how happy I was to see the sun and yada yada and blah blah blah and I swear to god I jinxed my own darn self.  Because for whatever reason the sun has decided to move away from the earth.  Uh...hello?  What the heck?  Away?  NO!  You're supposed to come closer...CLOSER!  Oh the injustice.  Who did this?  I mean who!?!? *looks around* 

Err...I mean okay let's break it down...here in the beautiful mid-east coast area (of the USA)...we have a cold spell that's killing our vegetation.  To the north of us, the cold is even worse with records amount of low temps.  To the south of us we have tornado's and flooding which are literally washing or blowing away lives.  Somewhere in the middle part of this vast land the poor folks are being dumped with snow and all the way to the west they're trying to copy our fall.  Let's not even talk about the earthquakes, the tsunami's, avalanches and pouring rains all over the globe...I shall not even go there.

I recently wrote a status message on FB bemoaning the coldness and a friend of mine was complaining about how her lil trees was unnecessarily being harmed.  This is so not fair.  I mean, what the heck did those lil things do to anyone huh?  And she is also the reason I decided to do a bit more complaining about the weather (no matter how boring and tiresome and redundant I'm sounding).  At least I know others share my sentiments. 

Okay, it is now two days since I started this blog and I will say (with a great deal of reservation) that my nemesis (yes the weather is now going to be referred to in this way) has started to behave somewhat.  Last night I went out with an old friend and we had a chance to sit outside and enjoy the soft breezes and do some people watching.  I even got away with tromping around outdoors without a winter coat (although admittedly I had a suit jacket and a thin cotton scarf tied around my neck).  This is improvement I believe however due to my normal 'glass is half empty' mentality and also because every blasted time I've written about how beautiful and gorgeous and sublime and blah blah blah it is outside, I've immedately been smacked upside the head by Mother Nature and have been told to 'STFU, don't count your chickens before them embriyos become...," (you get it right) I'm still very leery.  Today I had to still wear a light jacket to work but at least earmuffs, gloves and heavy wool scarves were left at home, mind you not stowed away, just left at home.  They sit at the foot of my bed waiting in anticipation and I believe a bit smug and gleeful that they have reigned for so long as the predominant articles of clothing that I can not walk out of the house sans.  Very irritating I must say.

BTW, is there some sort of dance, chant, prayer, burning of something that will help speed up the weather recovery?  Anyone have any ideas?  I'm thinking about some sort of summer solstice voodoo ritual where I dance around a fire like Betty White from the movie The Proposal.  That is about one of the best scenes ever.  Check it out: 

Anyhow if you see an improvement, you may immediately contact me and thank me because it will be due to my chanting and shaking of bootay that the general atmosphere has vastly improved all around this wonderful earth of ours. 

One last community service message:  Keep our planet clean!  Go hug yourself a tree and enjoy a few flowers here and there.  Hop into a car with one of your buddies and think twice before throwing plastic hither and yon.  Remember, these bizarre weather patterns aren't cropping up because Mother Nature is tired of doing her job.  We gotta take responsibility. 

Recycle, replenish, revive our world : )

Note:  Still due to fear of copyright infringement I hesitate in uploading pics that were not taken or created by me which is why you see these silly lil drawings.  These are originals :D