rubber balls and liquor

I have been sitting on a couple awards until I had something important to say.  I've been sitting on this blog until I had something important to say.  Or interesting.  Or anything.

Sometimes I go through these dryspells.  It's not that I don't have anything going on in my life, it's actually the opposite.  It's just that I'm not too sure how to get it all down in words so I don't even try.  I'm still smack in the middle of not knowing how to express myself, but I've found that the only way to get out is by sitting down and typing.

The good thing is that everything I'm going through doesn't suck.
Just so you know.
In case you were worried.

I'm apologizing up front for what may be less than entertaining, but maybe you'll get some good reads out of the sites I'll link to below.

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Ann at Anniegirl1138 passed along the Woody Guthrie Award Presented to a Thinking Blogger:

There's a Woody Guthrie quote that I like to think that I try to live by, a little bit.
“I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you. I could hire out to the other side, the big money side, and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think you've not any sense at all.”

That's nice, isn't it?  It makes me feel better about getting paid $4 an hour at the job and writing for free, at least.



Here in the Wide and Wonderful World of Social Services we have inspirational stuff plastered all over the place.  One of the quotes on several of the (what I've coined) "hanginthere,baby" posters is a Woody Guthrie lyric, although it is often underneath pictures painted by Jacob Lawrence or Ellis Wilson or maybe a portrait of Sojourner Truth or Fredrick Douglas, all which I find wildly hilarious because I guess more people in this industry will buy something if it is written under a picture of someone who packs more of a punch in the communities we are serving than under some lilywhite Depression-era hillbilly.  Marketing is genius.  Anyway.  The quote is:

"Wherever little children are hungry and cry,
Wherever people ain't free.
Wherever men are fightin' for their rights,
That's where I'm a-gonna be, Ma.
That's where I'm a-gonna be."

I like that rally cry.
Don't worry if I'm not home by five, I'm just making sure someone else has a home to go to.

Ann wrote on her blog that she saves my blog for last, in order to read and digest.  That's exactly what I do with her blog.  It warrants more than a brief peruse.  It makes me think, speculate, feel.  There isn't always a whole lot of that in a day.

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Janie at Dreamchaser1998 is giving me the Honest Scrap, which I'm pretty happy about because I love listing ten things about myself.  I'm almost positive I could start an entire blog based upon ten things about myself and I would probably be able to post at least twice a day for a year because I'm always changing up stuff inside my brain.  The first post I read over at Janie's site was a little something about her choice not to have children.  It's amazing and brave and well written.  I love amazing and brave and well written.

 

Enough about Janie, back to me:

1.  Naturalborn redheads can either be the most beautiful or the most revolting creatures to walk upon the earth.  There is no middle ground.  I've cut contact with the latter type.  I just can't live near the horror.  I just can't stop staring, and that's rude.

That said, I have a box of red hair dye sitting and waiting for me at the top of my steps.

2.  I spent Tuesday's lunchhour with an old workbuddy who just got a social work job in Texas.  He said it was pretty much just like getting a social work job in 1978.

Enough said.

3.  I like Halloween costumes that are assembled from stuff rather than bought in a bag.  Jake's Underdog costume is all ready and waiting for the big day.  He hasn't seen it yet, but I'm sure he is going to totally flip.

4.  My job commute becomes difficult once school is back in session.  Nothing says relaxing like an entire train full of adolescents.

5.  Thin thighs are inferior to smooth thighs, in my opinion.

6.  My favorite Kardashian is Khloe, but we can't be together because of my aversion to words that should start with C but instead begin with K.  Spell check really wants her name to be Chloe Carpathian.  

Now that's a girl I can work with.

Spell check also suggests Phloem Balderdash.

And Khyber Guardianship.

Those names aren't so sexy sounding.

Maybe if the Khyber started upping it's Guardianship, I'd start drinking there again.  Am I right Philly Party People?  Khloe?

7.  I recently unburdened an "opinion" on a family member and it was hard but felt good and I think the relationship may be better for it.  Now I want to do it again to someone else, but I'm assuming that dumping pieces of your mind on your loved ones is like smoking crack.  The first time is the best time and all the other times are fruitless efforts to feel the way you did when you started.

8.  Final Biopsy 3 of 4 went swimmingly, but my doctor suggested that while I'm still healthy (I'm 5'7"), that I might lose 10 pounds.  She is the same one who told me to gain 10 right after I had Jake.  I gained 20.  Given an inch, I'll always take a mile.  115 to 125 to 135 and now trying to get back to 125.  It could be age, it could be diet, it could be hormones, it could be the fact that I'm not riddled with cancer anymore and my body isn't fighting itself these days.  She said that if I can't drop the ten in six months, she'll be concerned.  Of course there is more to this, but I'll spare you the details.

9.  Also, I think I'm going through menopause.  Two ladydoctors have agreed that it might be starting.  Wonderful.  I'm 33 years old.  And now I get to deal with that.

Sometimes I want to buy a t-shirt that says

I AM NOT MY VAGINA

and on the back it will say

MY VAGINA IS NOT ME

and wear it every day under my clothes.  There are lots of days that go by that make me effing feel like one big huge giant problematic snatch.

10.  You know how I would never ever in a million years tell you to spend your dollars on anything less than fabulous?  MAC Zoom Fast Black Lash mascara is SO worth packing a lunch tomorrow so you can spend your milk money on your eyes.  I'm a diehard Maybelline fan, but this stuff blows that crap out of the water.  I told the guy I bought it from that if he can make my eyes look half as good as his, he had himself a sale.  He did.

I am very pretty right now.

One of the things I'm a little bit sad about being potentially cancer free?  No excuse for outlandish eye makeup and ridiculous wigs.

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Last but not least, Lana at Mother Hides the Pearls gave me something in French.  Everything is better/classier/sexier in French.  Lana and I are email besties to the extreme.  It's sick.  Every email is like a sleepover.  'Don't spill that nailpolish on the rug or my mom will kill me here are cucumber slices for your puffy eyes" kind of stuff.  You'd totally puke.  Merci, Lana. Poodles and berets and hairy armpits and long cigarettes and frog's legs and snails and cheese and wine and arrogance and tongue kisses to you.

 

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I'll be back soon with a real post, I promise.