Kmbr's Kantina

... and I quote ...

Mon, 30 Nov 2009 19:50:35 GMT

"And I'm not intending to have this spark conversation with anyone mentioned in it, I just need to get it off my chest so I can sleep..."

And, really, I meant it.

The entire purpose of that was so that I could rant and then finally fall asleep.

Apparently, I should've invested time in adjusting the privacy settings on that post.

What's been going on with me...

Sun, 19 Jul 2009 23:11:47 GMT

Thoracic Outlet Syndrome
a.k.a. Cervical Rib

What is thoracic outlet syndrome?

Your thoracic outlet is a small space just behind and below your collarbone. The blood vessels and nerves that serve your arm are located in this space. Thoracic outlet syndrome (TOS) is the presence of hand and arm symptoms due to pressure against the nerves or blood vessels in the thoracic outlet area.

Thoracic outlet syndrome is a rare condition that occurs when there is compression of vessels and nerves in the area of the clavicle. This can happen when there is an extra cervical rib or because of a tight fibrous band that connects the spinal vertebra to the rib. There may be pain in the neck and shoulders, and numbess in the last 3 fingers and inner forearm.

Thoracic outlet syndrome is usually treated with physical therapy which helps strengthen and straighten out the shoulders.

There are three types of TOS. The type depends on which structure is compressed -- nerve, vein, or artery. Ninety-five percent of cases of TOS are due to compression of the nerves to the arm (called neurogenic TOS). ... Almost all cases of arterial TOS are associated with an extra rib (cervical rib) or an abnormal first rib.

What are the symptoms?

The common symptoms depend on which structure is being compressed. In neurogenic TOS, the symptoms are pain, numbness, tingling, and/or weakness in the arm and hand. Also common is a tired feeling in your arm, which is made worse by working with your arms raised over your head. Neck pain and headaches in the back of your head are also frequent symptoms. Another common occurrence is pain that starts in your shoulder and runs down your arm, as well as pain in your fingertips. Unfortunately, the symptoms of neurogenic TOS can be vague and non-specific. ...

What causes thoracic outlet syndrome?

Neurogenic TOS is most often the result of neck trauma such as a whiplash injury. Slipping and falling on floors or ice, or repetitive stress from working on assembly lines or keyboards are the next most common causes. The symptoms are due to scar tissue formation in neck muscles (called scalene muscles).

How is thoracic outlet syndrome treated?

Neurogenic TOS is initially treated with physical therapy. The basic therapy methods include stretching exercises of your neck, posture correction, learning to avoid specific movements that bring on or aggravate your symptoms, and modifying your work site when appropriate. While some therapists may suggest strengthening exercises, most patients with neurogenic TOS are made worse by strengthening exercises. Treatment with a therapist for a few weeks is usually followed by a home exercise program which you continue on your own for at least several more weeks.

Your physician may also prescribe medications such as muscle relaxants, non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs such as aspirin or ibuprofen, pain relievers, or steroids. In addition, some patients get relief by applying moist heat or massaging the affected area.

When treatment begins in the early stages of neurogenic TOS, most patients improve with the measures listed above. However, if your TOS symptoms do not improve with these measures, and if your symptoms are interfering with sleep, work, recreation, or activities of daily living, your physician may consider more aggressive therapy. Your vascular surgeon may recommend TOS decompression surgery that involves removing certain muscles in your neck, removing your first rib, or a combined operation to remove both muscles and rib.

What can I do to stay healthy?

You can improve your recovery from TOS by practicing good posture, taking frequent breaks from work to stretch, and losing weight if you are overweight. Also, if you are prone to TOS, it is wise to avoid repetitive lifting of heavy objects over your head.

I will be having a second EMG (electromyogram a.k.a. nerve conductivity test) done at the end of July and should be returning to work August 3rd. I have restrictions to not type for more than 2-3 hours at a time, always use an ergonomic setup, and to avoid heavy lifting.

Since this is a structural problem, I will have to try and avoid causing symptoms but it is inevitable that I will have periods of time when I deal with the pain, numbness, tingling, and loss of use from time-to-time. Either my symptoms will stay manageable, or I'll eventually have to have neck surgery.

The neurosurgeon I am currently seeing says that my symptoms are not currently bad enough to warrant surgery and I told him that that was good news since I refuse to undergo neck surgery at 26 (I'm way too young for this shit).

I have a lot on my plate right now between the store, my work situation, my health, and fighting Shane in court and I'm very overwhelmed. I know I haven't spoken to many of you in a while but I am thinking of you. I just haven't had much free time.

Loud Twitter fail.

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 13:36:37 GMT

So I got all excited about Twitter because of Loud Twitter and I realized I could quickly and easily post my txt msgs without having to type them all... and then LT failed. Poop.

I hate twitter. I love my txts. Now what?

Text, texty, texts:

Tue, 09 Jun 2009 18:49:39 GMT

This is the TEST shipment you asked for

13:44 test tweet. tweet tweet. damnit. #

--Kimber
Oy.

Met with SCORE...

Wed, 27 May 2009 16:50:31 GMT

And since I hate saying the same thing 12 times, this is for everybody.

Our idea is solid. Our goals are realistic. We got financial advice. I know where to get my marketing numbers. I have to do the cash flow analysis.

A few ideas that Tom had that I thought were a little bass-ackwards, but made sense. Here are some of his thoughts:
Since we have less overhead than a chain store, sell our products slightly cheaper.
Offer free memberships starting out to enhance good will and encourage people to return.
Survey our customers as to what magazines they read so that we can morph our marketing plan.
Tom also said that choosing a credit line with either Republic, BB&T, or Commonwealth bank would probably be easier and better based on the fact that they're smaller, local banks so not only would the decision be made locally, but we'd be dealing with local people.

The finances seem more doable now, and we have enough of our own money that this may work out.

Tracy and I have talked about how we want to handle our investors... and I have a few idea I haven't shared with her yet (let me do so now...)
We discussed either offering our investors their money back with a percentage of extra (like paying back a bank with interest, only the payments wouldn't start until we were profitable) or offering our investors a percentage of our profits for as long as we remain open.
What if we offered option A for any amount under $5k and option B for any amount over $5k?

In the mean time, I e-mailed Tony (Realtor) back about the place, mid-July is my goal, and I need to get back into the space and take more exact measurements to make sure that I don't order too many or too few fixtures/slatwall. Oy. This is exciting and scary...

I'm trying to think if there was anything else...

maybe a part II later ...

Expectations...

Fri, 17 Apr 2009 01:56:03 GMT

Like for him to hold open doors, pay for my movie ticket, hold my hand, spoon me, tell me I'm attractive and desirable, show that he wants to spend time with me, be romantic occasionally, open my door...

Like for him to yell at me, ignore me, guilt trip me, tell me how terrible I am, or force me to meet his every embarrassing whim...

Nic often drives when we go somewhere (even if it's in my car), txts me throughout the day just to keep in touch since we don't always get a chance to talk on the phone or see each other, calms me down when I'm upset, and makes me feel like his partner.

Nic sometimes cuddles me close, gives me really sweet backwards compliments, smiles that sweet smile that he normally hides, does the things up in my pros list...

Nic rarely ever does any of the things in my cons list (though he used to do some of them more often, he's really opened up an adjusted to having a true sig fig again.)

I found myself wondering why Nic doesn't do more of the really sweet things more of the time, but I realized that not only doesn't he do the really crappy things, I trust him because he doesn't do the over-the-top things too often, and I appreciate it more when he does them.

I love my boy... I think I'll keeps him.

Plus, when your expectations are reasonable, you're more likely to be plesantly surprised.

Observe and Report

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 06:40:27 GMT

Please Don't Go See This Movie....

Allow me to spare you...
This movie touched on wrong several times. Like when Seth Rogen kills 6 drug-dealing thugs with an asp... and breaks an arm complete with bone popping out. Or when Anna Faris is passed out in bed (complete with vomit on the pillow) while Seth plows into her... and there's that awkward moment where we all think she might be dead and even Seth stops to call out, "Brandi, Brandi!" when she rolls her head over and says, 'Why the fuck are you stopping!?!'

lets not forget the drug montage where they take a break to beat up the pack of teenage skateboarders... including a "drive by" where they chase one down and whap him in the head with a board.

Or maybe the part where he takes out a dozen cops with his MagLite...

None of that will prepare you for the end (though it'll help in the fact that by the time the end gets there, you've either left or become numb).

Full-frontal male nudity... (you just couldn't resist ;oD) for a really uncomfortable amount of time. Like, lesbian love scenes don't get this much screen time. And this was synonymous with some 300lb 60 year old woman being nude, nobody wanted to see this. This guy was overweight and didn't even have a charming face. Plus, he was already established as a pervert. So this dude runs naked, coat open, through the mall with Seth chasing him. And the junk? Imagine 2 rotted and dried up grapefruits hanging off the front of a guy with a horrible mustache and bad toupee... add to that, the guy's penis is doing that weird "turtle" thing where it's not quite sticking out of his body, but keeps trying to peep out...

and then Seth comes around a fucking shoots the guy through his right lung... with realistic gore, blowback, and blood splatter...

Guy's not dead, so Seth drives him in the electric go-cart to the police station... And tells the cops off and that he wins...

I don't ever want anyone else to see this movie. Jesus. we think music and video games are fucking up our children?

I still haven't processed how I feel about it. May it not plague me into my sleep... I've had enough weird dreams during this week of being sick, thank you. Very kindly.

that was fucked up...

yea, I laughed. Some of it was pretty fucked up and genuinely funny... and some parts were more like my brain was saying "laugh or I'm leaving your ass here!"

John enjoyed seeing me describe my experience... and those of you who know me best can only imagine the rant I had for him when I walked through the door... I wrapped it up by saying that I should've asked for my money back. At least half of it. I mean, it was worth the $4 to sit next to the tall male who pretended I didn't exist (I tease only) but certainly not $9.25...

To my dear bunneh, H.M. Murdock Jan 2004 - April 2009

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 05:12:40 GMT

Murdock, Murdy, Murry...

I had my mini rex for a little over 5 years. She had more personality and spunk than any pet I had previously owned. Named after a character from the A-Team, she was my crazy co-pilot through college and on into life.

Always one to play games and tricks, she was always my smart little cuddle bunneh. From "sneaking up" on Lindy to stealing Bridgette's homework (and once eating mine) she was always a joy.

She used to go with me once every few weeks to the nursing home to visit the residents. Murdy was always patient and gentle, but could be a vindictive little ass when she felt she'd been wronged (like the time she chewed my phone charger into 5 pieces and all the headphones she ever casually bit through... her count is officially 6).

When she was 2 years old, she got electrocuted by the fridge in my first apartment. She charred her fur a little, no telling what she did to her insides... but for all of that, she was never sick.

In the last few months, Murdy had started to show her age. In the last few weeks, her eyes had started to water. Just today, her nose was clogged with white goo (snot?)... But she had a good day today... The three wee animals played outside from about 10 till 6 (I'm really bad with time, but I think I have that right) and Murdy sat and cuddled with me for a bit.

I was the one who found her... she was still warm, but her lips and tongue were blue (I'm guessing her heart gave out).

She's now in a box which, ironically, I had gotten from Interface during a short term in Jan '04... rather fitting. She's secured on the enclosed porch awaiting a dignified burial/disposal (a.k.a. not the dumpster... burial or cremation, I have to call the vet tomorrow).

She was just over 5, and the life expectancy for mini rexes is 6-8 years, but she lived a good life and her little body just seemed to be done.

I'm dealing with a lot of anguish over not taking her to the vet, but I'm reminding myself that Murdy was intact and also that if she had been ill, either Yoshi or Butters would have gotten sick. Murdy continued to eat and didn't seem sad or in pain... just tired.

However, now Butters is depressed and I'm not sure how to tell Teagan.

April Fool's!

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 14:07:01 GMT

Yes, boys and girls, Marvin Gaye was actually shot by his father back in 1984.

This is the holiday I love to hate. I have a hard enough time figuring out what other people will find funny and people ultimately always treated me the same... although more concentrated.

eh, whatever.

My favorite interpretation has always been the French version... I can understand placing fish on people for some reason, and why that is funny. It almost seemed like a harmless "Kick Me" sign-type joke.

And, hey, you've got a fish on your back!!

hoorah!!

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 20:15:39 GMT

I just finished moving over all of my MySpace blogs... w00t!

...

now I've got about 3 blogspots and a few others hiding about... oy.

and I need to update my tags... lots of work still to do... this has been a productive weekend on the computer.

Firstly...

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 16:56:09 GMT

I've put together a Nic playlist...

1) "First Time" by Lifehouse

2) "Footprints" by BnL
(you knew there had to be a BnL song on there)

3) "Worth Fighting For" by Nine Days

4) "Near to You" by A Fine Frenzy

5) "Be Still my Heart" by Postal Service

6) "Dela" by Johnny Clegg

7) "Just the Way You Are" by Billy Joel

8) "Faithfully" by Journey

9) "When You Say Nothing at All" by Ronan Keating
(yes, Amanda, I know you suggested the Allison Kraus version... but I like the older version and Nic doesn't like country and the Allison version sounds a little country. Sorry.)

10) "Life is a Highway" by Rascal Flats
(Made better that it was used in Cars...)

11) "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz
(I have a feeling this is going to be the next overplayed song on the radio... but I really like it.)

Enter the Stupid...

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 15:47:50 GMT

this is why webMD is so much better than iVillage...

Dating Advice: marketed as being the sane (read as 'not desperate') and non-crazy way to flirt without coming on too strongly...

Wear high-heeled shoes: Women worry about the size of their bums, but bums that stick out are consistently judged as sexier than little bums that don't. High heels, on average, make your bottom protrude by 25 percent more (emphasis on the word "protrude," as opposed to "makes your bum look bigger"). If you really want to make him sit up and pay attention, team the heels with a pair of tight-ish jeans and put your hand in the back pocket. ... riiigghht ... Look, you either have an ass or you don't, and once your naked and horizontal... they'll figure out the truth. If a guy is picking you based on your ass... probably not the bet for a long-term thing... unless that's not your goal...

Dangle a shoe: Shoes say a lot about your sexual mood. Sometimes you'll slip our foot in and out of a shoe (no prizes for guessing what you're secretly thinking when you're doing that one). Or you'll dangle it on the tip of our toes (keeping him dangling at the same time). ... once again ... do you CONSCIOUSLY need to make a guy think about fucking you every time he sees you?? I mean, if he's interested, he's thinking it no matter what you're doing.

Go for the one-two punch: Want to really see him sweat? Cross your legs while holding eye contact and turn toward him. Next, let your high-heeled shoe drop until it's dangling from your toe. Then begin to slowly and seductively move your foot up and down in a thrusting (get the picture?) motion. Note, this only works with high, sexy heels. The effect is dampened somewhat if you attempt it with sneakers or sensible flatties. (Sorry, but I didn't promise comfort along with flirtability!) ... once again, if his attraction to you is compromised by you being in comfortable footwear, I think priorities are off. Honestly.

Teach with touch: Once he's talking to you, stroke your collarbone absentmindedly with the ring finger of the opposite hand. Maintain eye contact with him as you're doing it, and let your hand rest there when you've finished. (If stroking doesn't feel natural, just leave your hand there. Splay your fingers and lift your hand so just the tips of your fingers touch.) ... doing something that is unnatural to your normal body positions will probably just look awkward ... if you must do something like this, please rehearse it prior to attempting it.

Turn up the heat: Now throw your head back slightly. (It will look the most natural if you wait until the next time you laugh.) Move your hand to the base of your throat. Now ever so slowly, let your fingers slide down your throat toward your breasts. Stop just where your cleavage starts and let your fingers rest there. Keep them there as long as he talks but when you talk, remove your hand. Can you think of a better incentive for him to keep talking to you? ... because you want him to take you seriously ...

Think dirty: Conjure up a naughty scenario where the two of you are having sex. Keep it running through your heard, then glance at him while slowly stroking your bottom lip with your index finger. If you can pull it off, lower your head slightly as you're looking at him. Why? It lets him know that you're thinking something very naughty and makes him wonder what on Earth is going through your head. To really seal the deal, say something like, "Sorry, what were you saying? I got a bit lost there." It's particularly effective if he was saying something he thought you'd be mega-interested in (like the fact that he owns a private jet). NOTE: It's crucial with this one that you maintain eye contact, or it sends the opposite signal that you drifted off because you were bored. I'm now going to add that this was 'marketed' as being NOT over the top and crazy... but the sane way to flirt...

Take it down a notch: Or 7... Does this is all sound a bit contrived and girly for you? Then do any one of them in a more subtle way, working on his subconscious. The trick is to experiment with volume control and adapt them to suit you. (Practice in front of the mirror to get an idea of what the techniques look like.) Can't bring yourself to stroke your bottom lip? Look at his mouth while he's talking instead. Also watch his reaction: If he's clearly enjoying himself, feel free to up the ante and be more overt with the techniques. If he's shy or you're not sure, keep them simple and play them down a little. I'm just glad they advised you to practice this shit first... even if it was at the very end.

And now: How to know if he's flirting with you...

Forget about what he's saying, and focus entirely on his body language: If possible, let him rattle on while you have a good look at what's going on. What clues is he giving? Is he standing close? Looking at you a lot? Does he seem to be focused entirely on you, or looking around as though he's just passing time? Because everyone loves to be ignored and treated like they're just a giant penis for you to fantasize about... and every woman wants a man like that!! owow!! Honestly people, there's a happy medium here...

Check your own body language: Are you giving off the right signals to the guy you're interested in? Are you facing him with your body square? Are you sending the right eye-contact signals? Standing close? Leaning forward with your upper body? Dangling your breasticles right over his testicles so all he sees you as is a receptacle for his penis in whatever fashion he desires... you dirty, dirty whore, you... and all for him to use then lose... SCORE!!

Look at his body language and apply "the rule of four": To be pretty certain someone fancies you, he must show a minimum of four positive body language signals (directed at you obviously, as opposed to the gorgeous blonde standing beside or behind you). These are winners as well and why I despise dating.

Deliberately change your position and see if he follows you: It's the mirroring thing again: If we're keen on someone, we try to stay on the same level as them. So if you change your position, he should follow by imitating whatever new posture you've adopted. This one too.. please note on slide 5 that if they got any closer, they'd be fucking.

Ahhh... in closing... Don't be a moron. And if you want to date someone and they're wanting to be a moron, you're just going to have to either wait for them to stop being a moron, or you find someone who isn't a moron.

Cold and Empty

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 00:41:01 GMT

What do I have to do
To try to make you see
that this is who I am
And it's all that I can be

I wont let you go
I wont let you down
I wont give you up

don’t you give up on me now
What do I have to do
To try to make you see
That this is who I am
And it's all that I can be

I left therapy feeling completely empty and void. Like white space. How the fuck did I get here. When did everything go so wrong. At what point did life turn into something miserable and small. I hate what my life is. I hate being in this place. This is never what I wanted for myself. But everywhere I turn, my mistakes are staring me in the face.

I am a coward.

I am chickenshit.

I didn't have the balls to leave the nest and go to a college that I really wanted to go to. I'm so afraid to not fit in. I'm so afraid of risks... and now I'm hanging off the ledge, wondering what will happen if I let go and wanting to find out. I was too afraid to be alone. I let my first love rape me and didn't do anything about it. I let myself be abused for years... and by the time I stood up and stopped it, I had to run away to free myself.

I am a self-destructive person by nature; never met a good thing I didn't want to tear down. There's only so much destruction you can bring on yourself. I'm so tired of this. I don't know what is right. No matter what you do, you can't make everyone happy. All I want to do is be the best me I can be.

Life feels too big right now. There is so much going on. So much going wrong. So much I don't want to lose. So much I can't walk (or run) from. I remember the queasy feeling I'd get in the pit of my stomach when I'd interview someone I knew in high school for their PSI.

Having a badge doesn't really make me feel bigger or better... it makes me feel humble. What kept me from ending up like them? What put me in this place of being held to a higher standard... holding myself to a higher standard. Who the fuck am I kidding... I'm nothing but white trash. What's the point in trying to better yourself, better your life, when you can't do it anyway.

I'm fighting at work just so that I can enjoy life and work at the same time... Ebone' says that I should just sit down, shut up, and be thankful that I have a job... What's the point? Might as well jump off a building to feel the wind in my hair if I'm just going to lie down and let my soul die.

Being strong, being brave, fighting for what you think is right... it's very exhausting. It's very lonely.

Being still and hearing yourself... there's a responsibility there. I have a calling in my soul. I wish I knew what it really was. I wish I was brave enough to break this box and be what I need me to be. There is a place for me. I just haven't found it yet. But at this point, there are things I'm not willing to give up.

It seems the more we talk
The less I have to say
Let’s put our differences aside
I wanted to make you proud

But I just got in your way
I found a place where I can hide
Now everything is changing
But I still feel the same

We’re running out of time
What do I have to do
To try to make you see
That this is who I am
And its all that I can be

I tried to find myself
Looking inside your eyes
You were all that I was meant to be
There must be something else

Behind all the lies
That you have lead me to believe
Now everyone is saying
That I should find a way
To leave it all behind

What do I have to do
To try to make you see
That this is who I am
And its all that I can be

Parenting Quandry

Sat, 21 Mar 2009 15:03:50 GMT

So I have a problem. My exhusband's girlfriend is a regular pot user (I'm pretty sure he's using too but he says he's not) and I am a Probation Officer.

I don't want my daughter around pot or pot users, but my ex had instilled the idea that there was no usage when she was around.

Thursday night, when he picked up our child from my mom's house, she was baked and he looked a little baked and he smelled like pot. (Just to add, my dad knew this because he used to smoke pot.) The g/f's car smelled like pot. The running theory is that they smoked on the way up.

He moved to Knoxville when I kicked him out and I was still living in Berea, KY... I have since moved back to L'ville.

Can I justify having visitation changed so that she can no longer go to the g/f's house?

Justifications
* I really don't want her around drugs/users
* What she is doing is illegal
* What if the narcotics division should raid their house while my daughter is there (this wouldn't look very good, especially since I'm an officer)
* What if they're still smoking while our daughter is there?

Problems
* He lives with his g/f and if our daughter can't go there, when will he see her?
* Actually, I don't really care if he sees our child or not since the only time he's seemed to care is when he lived with his g/f... He's always late to get her, he used to not change her diaper when watching her, he didn't feed her enough when she was little... He moved to L'ville "to get to see her more often" but I had to force him to get her in the evenings during the time he didn't have a job... When he went back to Knoxville, he was supposed to take our daughter for a few hours before he left, but instead he left w/o calling me and I found out he had left from his landlord...

There's really a lot more too this, but the way I see it is that his relationship with her is his responsibility... But it's my job to keep her safe if he won't and I don't think it's safe for her to be around drugs.

Thoughts? Please!

And damnit... if I could tweet right now...

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 14:02:37 GMT

I'd comment that I feel like a special ed teacher...
yea, I need the names of your family members. Which is why I've asked for them. TWICE.

And why are we arguing about this??

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 13:36:32 GMT

The Weisskopf Child Evaluation Center (who has 1 psychologist who have given 1 adult asperger's diagnosis and that's pretty much my best bet here in Kentucky) has referred me to the UofL psych center (which is where I currently go for therapy) when it was the STAR program (UofL's Systematic Treatment of Autism and Related disorders program) who told me I needed to go through Weisskopf. What makes it even more challenging is that I had to have a referral... and my Doctor wouldn't put down my symptoms...

If I have problems with migraines she'd send me to a neurologist
If I'm having problems dealing with my peers or concentrating then I need to take responsibility for my actions
If I can't recognize faces there's not anything they can do to help me
If I get frustrated I need to practice some meditation techniques
...
I think the only things that made it to the form were sensory overload (because I begged her to put that on there), trouble concentrating (because that the ADD symptom), and one other that I can't remember right now...

So now I've got to call the lady from Weisskopf and try to defend my referral so that I can be seen. I don't really need help coping (already going to therapy, thank you) but I need a nifty little piece of paper that declares, She has Asperger's, thanks for playing! so I can give it to my boss so that he can back me up with my schedule and help me cope at work.

I hate the hoops. I don't want to play anymore... but I want to keep my car and live independently so I guess I've got to jump some hoops... might as well be these.

Oy. I really want my mood to read: deflated. (OMG! If I've already picked my fox, I can put in an alternative mood and it'll keep the fox!!! That's +4 to today...)

Current Mood: deflated.

*Update* 12:04 pm
The lady from Weisskopf called me back and gave me the number of 2 other people to try... I called one and I've got an appointment with her on Monday!! (it's just an intake to submit the insurance stuff... but that's something!)

We talked on the phone for probably 40 minutes and she said there'd likely be months of testing, but that we'd take it at my pace.

Oy... I'm not sure if I should be happy or perturbed...

Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock

Thu, 05 Feb 2009 22:07:52 GMT

Well, whatdya know... a Rock Paper Scissors that Josh stood a chance at... see, I knew him so well, I could predict exactly what he'd throw and think fast enough to throw the item that would beat it. Click the image (from the T-Shirt offered over at Think Geek) to see the full instructions.

Summertime and Travel

Thu, 05 Feb 2009 21:40:31 GMT

School was out for the summer. My vacation was to be spent working for my mother's small restaurant which had only a few stools. I liked working there because I liked people and, being only a counter to sit at, the customers talked and were friendly.

One afternoon, two young men came in; they were selling magazines. Gosh, they painted a pretty picture of travel and the wonderful time they had and the sights they saw during their travel. Later that evening, they brought in their boss and his wife; they wanted to hire me.

I explained that I couldn't go as I had one term left to go in school, beginning in September.

"That's alright, you could go for the summer."

When I asked my mother if I could go, she was no keen on the subject. I reminded her that every member of the family had been out of the state except for me and this was my chance. I added, "Mama, would you at least talk to the couple in charge?"

"If you insist."

After the talk with Mr. and Mrs. Neal, Mother told me she did not want me to go; however, i was almost eighteen and old enough to make up my own mind. She said that if I decided to go, I had to promise I'd come back and finish my one term in high school. I promised.

Later, when she saw me packing, she told me, "Margie, if this doesn't work out, remember you have a home to come back to, anytime."

Mrs. Gray's Last Act

Thu, 05 Feb 2009 00:10:29 GMT

It was Junior assembly day. All the Juniors met in the Auditorium.

Our homeroom teacher announced that if we would rather study, we could come back to our homeroom and not go to the Auditorium.

My last class before the assembly was English with Miss Clark. English and History were my worst subjects; I always had to take my finals in both. Art, Foreign Languages, and anythign mathematical, I was always exempt from the finals.

In History, if the teacher harped longer than usual on any topic, I made a note in a small notebook for that purpose and studied it just before finals, these were her test questions. In English it was harder, so on occasion, I'd stop after class for a quick question to ask the instructor, to make her think I was interested.

Not remember assembly, I picked this day. This made me late, so Miss Clark wrote me a late slip.

I passed Mrs. Gray's room to get books to take to homeroom to study; it was too late for the assembly. She was standing outside her classroom talking, I assumed, to a parent. LEaving homeroom, I went again to my lcoker to get my book for the next class, with Miss Haas.

When I reached her room, no one was there yet, so I walked on to meet friends that would be coming from the assembly.

Mrs. Gray had walked from the third floor to the first, in hopes of stopping me. "Just one moment, I have a question I'd like answered."

"Yes, what is it?"

"Where were you going the first time I saw you, and the second time, and where are you going now? Where's that late slip I saw you with? aha, you can't answer me, can you?"

By this time, we were surrounded by students on their way to their classes, who had stopped to see what was going on.

When she told me I couldn't answer, I told her she hadn't given me an opportunity to answer.

She then ranted on, "It would only take one word, one word, just one word, what's the matter, cant 'you say one word?"

"If I could, I'd have to get it in edgewise in your monologue."

"Well, who wrote that slip?"

"Miss Clark."

"Are you sure?"

"How could I be mistaken? I saw her write it."

"Well now, let's just go to her room to see if that's right. Do you mind?"

"Of course not, I understand perfectly; if a person's a thief, the believe all others are thieves also. The same goes for liars, they think that all people are liars; that's the only reason I can think of for you to say I'm lying." I turned and started for Miss Clark's room. It happened to be her idle hour, no class.

She asked what the trouble was. Mrs. Gray asked if she wrote the slip for me. Miss Clark confirmed that she did.

Mrs. Gray bellowed, "She didn't go to Junior Assembly. She was just running around the halls."

I had no argument with Miss Clark, in fact I rather liked her, so I explained about the announcement that morning in homeroom and my reasons for going to my locker twice.

Mrs. Gray started yelling, "She walked right by Miss Haas' room and the door was wide open, she didn't even start to go in." Turning to me, "Why didn't you go into that room?"

In a quiet voice, I answered, "If you much know, I'll tell you. I have five minutes to get to class, the same as all the other students; I've been led to believe that I can use that five minutes as I please as long as I'm not disorderly and don't cause any disturbances in the hall. Therefore it is none of yours, or any of you tinytype's business why I didn't go into that room."

By this time, Miss Clark was clucking, she was elderly and I thought she might be having apoplexy or something worse. While she clucked, Mrs. Gray was saying, as she backed toward the exit, "It's not the first time; she talks this way often, no respect at all -- not the first time!"

Finally, dear, elderly Miss Clark (and I did like her) got her breath and, all in one sentence, said, "Marjorie, don't you realize that you're not supposed to talk to anyone older than yourself in such a manner."

By this time, I was pretty upset because Mrs. Gray and myself had upset Miss Clark; so I turned and said, not unkindly, "Miss Clark, I'm sorry but you much understand that it takes more than age to demand my respect.

"I don't go near Mrs. Gray, she hunts me out. I have my locker near her room and if I pass by, she comes looking for me. After three years, it's rather trying."

She didn't answer, so I left without a late slip to my next class and to my friend, Mrs. Ennis.

Miss Clark had already called her and told her what I said about respect and what she could recall of what I said to Mrs. Gray.

Mrs. Ennis answered, regarding the remark about respect by saying, "Isn't that wonderful, that a child Margie's age would realize that it did take more than just age."

While I was talking to Mrs. Ennis, her phone rang. When she heard the voice on teh other end, she nodded and silently mouthed, "Mrs. Gray." I heard only one side of the conversation.

"Really? ... She did? ... What did she say? ... Bad enough to expel her? ... Could you tell me at least something of what she said? ... Oh, you say she was impudent? ... That doesn't tell me much. ... Oh, she was VERY impudent. ... You want to know if I'm going to expel her. I couldn't tell you right now; I'd have to hear both sides of the story before I could decide. ... Oh, of course I'll let you know. Call me next week; I'll know by then."

The room was full of study hall students; and, as she hung up the phone, i had to drop a pencil on the floor so I could lean over and laugh as I picked it up.

I'll Get You Expelled or Die Trying

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 23:46:39 GMT

After the book episode with Mrs. Gray, she tried hard; I had many small run-ins with her. I also believe she got some other teachers to torment me, even the dressing- & towel-room monitor for the gym.

I'll not mention them all, but I'll tell a couple briefly and give the last argument in more detail

One time, as i was standing at my locker, signing my name to each page of a book report; she came up and grabbed the papers from me, asking, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing wrong."

"I'm not so sure about that." She started to crush the papers.

"Wait, don't do that!"

"I'll do what I like."

"Then I'll warn you that every wrinkle or crease you put in that book report, I will match it; only you will be wearing my creases."

She stopped, looked at the papers, handed them back, and left. To this day, I don't know what she thought they were, certainly not a book report; probably a love letter that she could disclose and get me into trouble with.

Another time, I saw her headed toward me; I was near the drinking fountain, so I just bent over and took a drink.

She came up and actually said, "I've got the goods on you this time." I continued to drink. She took hold of my arm and shoulder, both hands, mind you.

Well, I stood up in a hurry. "Don't you ever, I mean ever, touch me again!"

"And what would you do if I did?"

"Try, and I promise you'll find out. And you will remember it for a long, long time." I walked away.

See Me 8th Hour

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 23:22:37 GMT

Next day, when the bell rang, dismissing study hall; I again went to Mrs. Gray's desk. She, again, sneered, "What do you want?"

"If you're though reading my book, I'd like it back."

"I want to see you about that book, in my class, eighth hour."

"Fine, I'll be there." Eighth hour was after the school day was over. When I arrived, two students were washing the blackboard. She told them to come back later to finish.

When we were along in the room, she locked the door, which I couldn't understand; it did run though my mind that she might try to beat me.

walking to the rear of the room, she sat in one of the students' desk seats and told me to sit down. To face her, I would have to sit across the aisle sideways in a seat or sit on the desk in front of her with my feet on the seat. I chose the latter, with the thought running through my mind, 'If she lets me get away with it, I'm in charge.' Had the situation been reversed, I'd have said, "Sit in a seat as a young lady should, not on the desk."

Her first question was, "Well, what do you think about it?"

"If you mean the book, I think it's alright."

"You think it's alright to read?"

"It was written to be read," I told her rather angrily.

"That's another thing I'd like to discuss; every time I look at you or shake my head for you not to talk, you just look at me -- well, I don't know, it's sort of like you'd like to eat me up."

"Like to eat you up? My, what kind of look could that be? I asked.

"I don't know if there's a word to express it."

"Well, would you call it a dirty look?"

"If dirty ever explained anything, it explains that look of yours."

"Well, that's settled then. Was there something else?"

"Yes, you say this book was written to be read. Is it alright with you if I let Miss Winsom (the dean of girls) or Mrs. Ennis read it?"

"Yes."

"I'll just turn it over to them, then."

I was halfway to the door, when she called, "Come back here!"

I returned and she asked, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, I had not dismissed you."

I bowed slightly, "My mistake, I thought you had when you told me you were turning the matter over to higher-ups." I knew this would get her. One could see that she would lie to be 'King of the Roost' or should I say, 'Queen.'

She all but bridled, asking, "Do you know what trouble you'll be in if I do turn this over to Miss Winsom?"

"No, but I'm willing to find out."

"So, you're really wiling for me to turn this over to her?"

"Yes, except I don't see the point of taking up their time on something so unimportant."

"Well, you're taking up my time."

"Sorry, that is reversed, you're taking up my time; you asked me here."

"Regardless, you think their time is more important than mine."

"I can only go by appearances. Whenever I see them, they seem to be doing something useful and when I look at you, you're reading a magazine or newspaper."

She excused me then; not in words, but by a motion of her arms towards the door. On the way to my locker to get my jacket and hat (we wore hats back then), I met Mrs. Ennis in the hall. She smiled that sweet smile and asked, "What's keeping you in school so late?"

"After I told her, her laugh rang down the hall.

"What's the joke?" I asked.

"Margie, I shouldn't really tell you this, I just can't resist doing so. Mrs. Gray asked Miss Winsom if she had ever read the book; the answer surprised her, I guess. Miss Winsom said, 'No, I didn't read it, I saw the movie and highly recommend it to all high school students as well as their teachers.' She then asked me if I had seen the movie or read the book. I told her no, but said that if she had the book, I'd like to borrow it. I have the book now, she put in on my desk and flounced out."

My laugh rang down the hall this time as I said, "She almost promised me that I'd be tarred and feathered and expelled from school if she showed you the book and told who she had gotten it from."

This was the first time I'd known that she'd gotten it from a student.

The Road to Ruin

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 22:13:49 GMT

The girl whose locker was next to mine, her name escapes me just now, was a colored girl who worked for the town's newspaper.

I'd like to insert something here that has no relation whatsoever with this story. We called negroes 'colored'; why they wanted to change it to 'black' I will never understand. 'Black' is blah, but 'colored folks' fit so well because the race is so very colorful; full of fun, good humor, comedy, and hearty laughter, as well as good sense (at least in my generation, this was true).

No, to continue with my story:

The girl had a pamphlet-like book called 'The Road to Ruin' about high school students and some of their wild and wicked ways (by today's standards, they would be considered mild). The book had been made into a movie. This movie had played in our town not too long before, but I had not had a chance to see it.

Alice (I'll call her that for now) offered to lend it to me to read. Thanking her, I took it to study hall to read.

This term, I had an English teacher for study hall by the name of Mrs. Gray. Her desk sat on a platform so that she might have a bird's-eye view of all the students. The book was open inside my notebook and I was enjoying the reading, when suddenly I heard her chair (or bones) creak. (I never knew which, perhaps both).

I turned some pages in the notebook to cover the pamphlet. She stopped at my desk and slammed my notebook closed. She then took it and placed it in the crook of her arm, asking, "May I look through this book?"

"Doesn't look like I have a choice; but if you're offering me one, I'll say no."

"Young lady, I'll have you know, I will look through any book that's brought into my study hall, if I wish."

"Then why ask permission? Go ahead and look."

She turned, trotting back to her perch. She sat and began to read; she'd read for a bit, then glare at me. Of course, I'd glare right back.

The bell rang to go to the next class. I went to her desk. Still glaring, she sneered, "What do you want?"

"My notebook."

"You're not getting it."

"I apologize for asking; I just didn't know that a notebook needed in next class could be held up by another teacher. If I'm asked, I'll tell them you have it."

"Oh, you can have the notebook, but I'm keeping the other book."

"Fine with me."

She came off her platform to hand me the book and followed me from the room, asking who owned the book.

"I can't tell you that."

"If you tell me, I'll see it goes easier for you."

"My dear teacher, that's not the way it works. It really means that you'll have two people you can get into trouble."

We were on the fourth floor and when I reached the front stairs, I turned to her saying, "Mrs. Gray, I'm going to the first floor; I can't stop you from following me, however I believe it's only fair to tell you that you will not know anymore about this than you do right now."

Madison Southern '01

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 03:12:07 GMT

1. Did you date someone from your school?
Nope. From the rival high school... (psst... go pirates!)

2. Did you marry someone from your high school?
Nope. Probably shouldn't have married anyone from my college either.

3. Did you car pool to school?
Nope. Drove.

4. What kind of car did you have?
poo-poo brown 1993 Subaru Loyale sedan. Picked it out myself, loved it to death. Put roundels on it too. It was my first SOPWTH.

5. What kind of car do you have now?
Sapphire Blue 2007 Nissan Versa SL Hatch with charcoal interior, moon roof, satellite radio, audio package, convenience package, roundels and a propeller!

6. It is Friday night...where are you?
aforementioned boyfriend's football game, house, or my house doing interwebs.

7. It was Friday night...where were you then?
oh... okay, see above. On a Friday nigh now, I'm usually at home watching a movie.

8. What kind of job did you have in high school?
None. My mom paid me to work on my academics and be in clubs.

9. What kind of job do you do now?
Probation and Parole Investigator.

10. Were you considered a flirt?

"What is this strange word, "flirt"?

... Yeah, still haven't quite grasped the concept of "flirting". Don't know how to do it, and almost never recognize it when others are doing it. I strongly suspect I've been flirted with without knowing it." -- Nik

... yea...

11. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
Not in high school... but in elementary school, middle school, and college... does that count?

12. Were you a nerd?
Ha! Am! Calculus all the way, baby!!

13. Did you get suspended or expelled?
... I never even got sent to the principal's office.

14. Can you sing the fight song?
On on Eastern High, for you it is do or die... crap. Wrong school.

15. Who was/were your favorite teacher(s)?
Ms. Mullins, Miss. Minor, and Mrs. Huff.

16. Where did you sit during lunch?
Senior year Carole and I would speed-eat and then spend the rest of the hour studying.

17. When did you graduate?
2001

18. What was your school mascot?
The Eagles (ditto... for both my high schools)

19. If you could go back and do it again, would you?
If I did I'd finally punch the jerk who always threw saltines at my bum. Who cares, the consequences would be worth it.

20. Did you have fun at Prom?
Kindof...

21. Do you still talk to the person you went to Prom with?
I'm messaged him... but he's married and it's a little awkward.

22. Are you planning on going to your next reunion?
Not really. I don't care to see those people again.

23. Do you still talk to people from school?
No.

24. What are/were your school's colors?
Orange/Blue ... made dressing up for school spirit day a little hard on the eyes.

And She Said No

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 02:40:03 GMT

Not wanting to take advantage of Mrs. Ennis' good nature, I turned down many chances of cutting school with friends. However, there came a time when a special movie was showing and I could only see it in the afternoon, as I had babysitting jobs every night that week.

There were seven girls and all agreed to meet at Ethel's house, halfway between school and the theater. I told them if I wasn't there by 1:30 to go ahead without me.

I found Mrs. Ennis in the teachers' cafeteria. I waited for her by my locker, which she had to pass. As she neared me, I said, "Mrs. Ennis?"

"Yes, Margie?"

"I'd like to be excused from school this afternoon. My only two classes are Gym and English, and our teacher is absent for the English teachers' convention. All we are going to do is read for our book reports."

"What do you want to do when you leave here?"

"Go to a movie."

"Alone?"

"No."

"Tell m e who you are going with, and I'll let you go."

"Mrs. Ennis, I guess you don't know me very well; of course I won't tell, but I will say this, none are from your homeroom."

"Margie, you stay and go to your regular classes; I thin that's best."

She turned and started up the stairs just opposite my locker. About the third step up, I called, "Mrs. Ennis?"

Turning, she asked, "Yes, Margie?"

"I just wanted to say I'll stay in school today; however, the next time, I'll cut and suffer the consequences."

"You really want to go?"

"Of course."

"Alright, you may go, even though I don't want you to."

"Yes, I know, but I'm going anyway. Thanks."

Conversation with my daughter...

Mon, 02 Feb 2009 16:30:56 GMT

So Saturday night (into Sunday morning) Teagan came into my room saying she had a monster on her bed and it was eating her. She was frightened (and I was honestly too asleep/out of it to process) so she slept with me. Meaning, I grunted and she climbed up on her own. Moving on. Last night I made her sleep with Stitch because he would protect her from monsters. This morning she was talking about her monster. She was talking about how she tried to pick up the monster, but he was eating her and he went back home to see his mommy (who, I learned, has pink hair) so he could keep growing.

This monster looked like a "bumpy creature". He was "kind of like white-thing, grey. He was just a little big grey because the monster was just a little kind of creature and just a child. 'Cause his mommy is happy and he's happy now because he's at his mom's house. He's happy at his house. 'Cause his bicycle is kind of like green or something, just like your leaves on there's garbage. (meaning my trash can in the bathroom) And the handle's kind of like red. I don't have a bicycle out at my garden. There was a scooter out there last night, like a stick on. You know what a stick bicycle is? It looks like a stick and it's kind of hard but then you just do it. 'Cause when daddy and I went to Chuck-E-Cheese and I kept saying "I'm too little, I'm too little." 'Cause when you're too little it's too had.

"'Cause the monster was at home and he had a cat at his house too. It's kind of like white (referring to the cat). And he has two cats. His other cat is kind of like purple."

Maybe if we all pitch in, we can make the monster seem like a neat friend and not a scary thing. This has been "conversations with Teagan" for this morning XoD

She informed me on the way to work/daycare that the monster has 5 cats.