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Can we just jump to January please? - 2014-11-14
A (don't kick the) Bucket List - 2014-10-28
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11:34 a.m. - 2011-04-21
Jellybeans ahoy.

See? How could I be so down on myself when I have such terrific friends? Such smart loving people wouldn't waste time and energy shouting down a well to nowhere. I shall look into those suggested books and authors, sounds promising. I do very much want out of my mess. Tired of it, you know? Definitely NOT against therapy, I know how helpful it can be. I just haven't been lucky in finding someone who's a good fit. Wrong vibes mostly, and a whole lot of trite. Hard to come away with any new insight if I'm biting the insides of my cheeks in an effort not to bust out laughing and say, "Yo, girlfriend! You get your degree watching Oprah? Yeah, those Chicken Soup for the Soul books really rock, don't they?" Or worse, because I am such a Ms Fix-It the whole thing goes sideways. I swear, stone truth, my last therapist started asking me for advice about her marriage. "Yes, he is plonking your nanny. That'll be $50. And can we get back to my stuff now, Dr Dipshit?"

Today I am literally getting into the wind and taking off for places unknown. Well sort of. It is crazy windy and I haven't decided yet whether I feel like going all the way over to Malltown to do the Easter basket shopping. Or if I'll just throw whatever looks interesting into the cart while I'm at Shoprite. MIL gave me her Price Plus card and the receipt showing she'd racked up enough points for the free ham/turkey. I have too so I'll get one today and the other tomorrow. Throw them both in the big freezer downstairs and pull one out for the next big deal meal. Probably Mother's Day. Yeah, I know. But Mick has decreed we're never going to SIL's country club for the Mother's Day brunch ever again, so I get to cook on Mother's Day. MIL will do the brunch and hang out with SIL until whenever and then mosey over here to visit with her other kid (and me and Wolf). Eating out on Mother's Day is a nightmare unless you go to a pre-arranged thing like the country club dealie and it is physically and psychologically impossible for me to have a houseful of people and not feed them. Besides we'd have to eat anyhow even if it was just us. Seems like the fair thing would be to toss it back on Mick who having decided I'm forbidden to go to brunch should provide vittles instead, but we all know his one 'dish' is chicken salad. "Happy Mother's Day! Here's a chicken salad sandwich. If you get hungry later I'll make you another one." Whee.

Grumble.

Feh. Along with being in a bad head place I have several patches of poison ivy, a wretched backache and am fighting off a UTI. Hoping I caught it early enough that the semi-homeopathic route I'm taking will fix it. Tons of water, tons of cranberry juice (ugh), and phenazopyridine hydrochloride. The last is making my pee an amazing shade of orange.

Dyed urine is festive enough for me and I'm skipping doing the eggs. Pretty pointless exercise anyhow, I hide plastic ones. If for some reason a plastic egg is overlooked for a few weeks it's no biggie. The same cannot be said for a real one. Wolf finds hunting the plastic ones more rewarding too. I fill them with jelly beans and chocolates and coins and one egg always has a $5 or $10 inside. Let's see- candy and money versus a lump of hard boiled chicken embryo. Tough choice, eh?

Time for me to take my itches, aches and lousy attitude off to the shower. Somewhere out there there's a couple lonely tubs of ricotta cheese, a free turkey and some rabbit shaped candy waiting to come home with me.


Toodles, ~LA

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