One From Column A and Two From Column B

ImageI recently read a book; a psychological thriller I later learned.  While it was well written, I didn’t like it.  I didn’t like it at all.  Why?  Because it was about the horrible mind games people can play with each other.  I like psychological thrillers, mind you.  I really enjoyed all the Girl With Dragon Tattoo, etc.; and they were pretty rough books.

But this particular book made me so sad because it dealt with a married couple who simply could do nothing but hurt each other in new and vicious ways.

You see…I love the stuffin’ outta Devoted Spouse.  Here’s just one reason:  He labels our Chinese take-out boxes with our initials so when I want to finish what I ordered, I don’t have to waste time opening all the boxes.

So, in a way, reading the terrible book was good for me because it reminded me how loved I am!  sigh…


It’s That Little Stick on the Side of Your Steering Wheel

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I’ve been a bit under the weather the past few weeks and I’ve had plenty of down time to think.  My thinking often gets me into trouble.

We have some local elections on the horizon and I’ve noticed the roadways are simply peppered with signs proclaiming who should be elected and which levy to vote for or against.  I think having signs on every corner a month before elections is too much.  Looks like litter.  Two things particularly peeve me:  1) the same signs are placed far too close together.  How many times must I see “vote for so-and-so” in a block-long area?  2) There is an ordinance stating the signs must be taken down within a certain amount of time after the election.  There’s always a few stragglers who still have signs dotting the landscape a month or so following their loss.  Makes me crazy.

It finally happened.  I ordered an e-book from for my Kindle that I had previously ordered, read, and archived.  Fortunately, keeps track of e-book purchases for my Kindle and they kindly informed me I had that particular book.  Silly me.  Obviously the book didn’t make a big impression the first time around, but still caught my interest once again.  I’m not sure what that says about me or the books I read.

I’ve had my new Subaru now for 7 months and I still haven’t figured out how to get the satellite radio to work.  The big problem is I can’t find my satellite radio account number.  Without the account number, I can’t get the code I need.    I’ve had an XM account since they first started and it shows up on a credit card every month…but there is no account number attached.  Heaven only knows where that paperwork is stored.  Ack.

Is it just me or does the new and revised Two and a Half Men completely suck?

Finally, in my musings this cropped up:  turn signals.  Why don’t people use them?  Why do they use them incorrectly?  Devoted Spouse and I were out for breakfast and saw this repeatedly:  driver gets into turn lane, drives up to line then engages turn signal.  By that time, we all know he’s turning; he’s in the flipping turn lane.  Seems to me one should put their turn signal on before getting into the turn lane.  It is, after all, a signal of one’s intention to turn.   Then there is the driver who has a turn signal on and never turns.  I almost got plowed by one of those drivers the other day because I stupidly believed he was going to turn.  Or, how about the drivers who put a right turn signal on and then turn left?  Or vice versa?  Sheesh.

That’s it…putting on my turn signal and I’m outta here…sigh.

Nice Try, But I’ll Pass

pic courtesy

I got this email the other day:

Dear Linda,
Thank you for subscribing to Kellogg’s Our Best To You™ –
your exclusive source for money saving offers, inspiring recipe ideas, tips for healthy eating, new products and fun promotions.

Soon you’ll be receiving our full e-newsletter. In the meantime, we hope you’ll enjoy the special offers available at

Now that was a very nice email…trouble is I never subscribed and I’m not the least bit interested in receiving their e-newsletter, full or otherwise.

This type of email has been happening a lot lately.  Either someone is having a tremendous amount of fun at my expense (since I have to now go back to the email and unsubscribe from it.)  Or manufacturers are taking some tremendous liberties with my email address.  I guess that shouldn’t surprise me – between telemarketers, strange people at my door, and  unsolicited emails, I’m constantly being hounded for one thing or another.

The ones that kill me are the kids at the door.  How can you say no to some kid who’s trying to get a new band uniform?  I hate turning down that $10.00 bar of chocolate candy, or the $15 flat of marigolds.  I went so far as to put up a No Soliciting sign on our window next to the front door – d’ya think that stopped anybody?  Of course not.  I think it actually brought out the crazies.  I got magazine subscription people, Jehovah’s Witnesses (when they show up I can’t help myself, I start humming Jimi Hendrix All Along the Watchtower),  handymen who just happen to be in the  neighborhood, and the ever-present offer of “We’re choosing only TWO homes in this area to showcase our new windows and YOURS could be one of them if you act now!!!”  I did act…I shut the door and walked away.

At least I haven’t had any visits lately from politicians.  Coz we know they’re all a bunch of wieners…sigh…

I Just Didn’t Pick Up on This

Driving home from Target I was behind a monstrous shiny black pickup truck.  He was going about 25 in a 40 mile zone.  I had plenty of time to check out his truck.  It was a Cadillac Escalade pickup.  A luxury pickup truck.  If that don’t beat all.


It’s too pretty for haulin’ lumber.  You sure as shoot can’t load up the back with a 1/2 ton of manure.  I doubt you’d want the dogs riding in the back scratching the bed with their nails.  It has no gun rack.  What’s the purpose?

I’m not knocking anybody having a Cadillac, mind you.  In fact, one of my neighbors tools around in a big old white Escalade (gettin’ gallons to the mile vs miles to the gallon) but that’s his choice.  And it’s an SUV, not a pickup.  I didn’t even know Cadillac made pickups.

Again, I’m back to my original question….why? 

I finally passed him and took a good long look at the whole shebang and it was mighty fancy.  But I wouldn’t want to get caught driving that truck in someplace like Oklahoma or Texas or even here in parts of Ohio where they take their pickups pretty seriously.  Designer pickup – what a waste of material and ridiculous show of wealth.  Unless he’s living in it…that would change everything…but I didn’t see a Dish antenna anywhere and there were no empty pot pie pans flyin’ outta the bed either. 

I don’t get it…sigh…

It’s a Forest Gump Thang…

Was it Forest who quoted “mama says: stupid is as stupid does”?  Coz that was my day Thursday.  Stupid with a capital S.  If it wasn’t for the fact I was laughing so hard all day, I’d probably be curled up on the floor in the fetal position sucking my thumb.

I started stupid early; I woke up that way.  Then I spilled my coffee. Burned my hand.  Stupid.  While in work-mode, I noticed I  jotted down a meeting on my work calendar; actually, a mini-training.  Couldn’t locate back-up information, no email, no other notes or notices.  No clue where this originated and a sneaking suspicion it’s incorrect.  I had to email my boss  to ask her about it.  Great impression that made.  On-the-job-Stupid. 

Fixed Crock Pot chicken soup — felt the need for some soul food.  Had to make a Target run to pick up Devoted Spouse’s medicine.  When I came home guess what I found?  Un-huh…chicken soup alllllll over the counter.  Seems I put  an abnormally large chicken, assorted veggies and stock into a 6 quart Crock Pot when I should have used a larger Crock Pot.  Devoted Spouse stood there in the early a.m. watching me cut up onions and carrots and he heard me griping about the fact that the chicken was gonna be too large for the Crock Pot.  He said and I quote:  “There’s a huge hole in the inside of the chicken; use that to stuff the vegetables in and you’ll save space.”  I listened to him and his bright idea.   Top Chef  Stupid.  Chicken everywhere…

Fixed a quick lunch.  I sought solace in frozen pizza.  Dropped it on the family room floor coz the plate slipped out of my hand while I was trying to catch something somebody was saying on tv.  Not-Paying-Attention Stupid.  EmmaLou was in Major Snarf Mode and she got my lunch off that floor so fast I didn’t even need to use the Resolve on the carpet.  Unfortunately, about an hour later she yakked up my lunch on the same floor and that time I DID need the Resolve.  Dog Stupid.

Went on another errand — had a problem with my Smart Phone.  It ate one of my apps and I couldn’t get it back.  I walked in the phone store and approached this 20-something young man with arms full of colorful tattoos and a big smile. ( Wait…that didn’t come out right…HE had the arms full of colorful tattoos and a big smile – I had the Smart phone and a puzzled look.)   I told him my issue and he calmly re-loaded my app and showed me what to do if that happened again.  He spoke v-e-r-y slowly.  I wanted to slap the snot outta him for that.  Then he showed me another cool feature which I forgot by the time I got to my car and didn’t have the guts to go back inside and ask about.   Tech Stupid.

Afternoon meeting scheduled with one of my team members to go over a process I’m working on.  Up the stairs I ran to plug in the hot curlers and do something with these out-of-control tresses.  Picked up the hot curler container and promptly dropped it on the floor where it turned upside down, spilled out all the curlers and pins plus broke the plastic top.  Stupid and Clumsy.   Got half way to my meeting and had to call Devoted Spouse because I couldn’t remember if I had unplugged the hot curlers.  Runaway Stupid.

I know at one point in history people with leprosy had to announce loudly to the world ahead of, behind, and around their general area:  Unclean!  Unclean!  so people could get out of harm’s way.  Perhaps I need to walk around hollering Stupid!  Stupid Woman Comin’ Through!”  so it doesn’t rub off on anyone else…sigh…

That’s Alright Honey, You’re Aging Like Fine Wine…Not Moldy Cheese


pic courtesy of

Scene Setting:  Sunday afternoon.  Football game on tv.  What to eat?  Pizza….duh.

Devoted Spouse:  You want more pizza?

Me:  Heck yeah.  I dunno why I’m so hungry; I’m absolutely starved!

Devoted Spouse:  What’d we have for dinner last night?

Me:  Umm…errrr….uhhhh…

Devoted Spouse:  No, really, I don’t remember…what’d we have for dinner last night?

Me:  I.Don’t.Know.  I.Can’t.Remember.  Are.You.Happy? Okay, so now BOTH of us need to go to “the home”  (laughing in background)

Devoted Spouse:  (grinning) So…what’d we have for dinner last night? 

Me:  CRAP.  I.Don’t.Know.  Gimme my pizza.

Devoted Spouse:  calmly walks toward family room with his plate of pizza and a smirk on his face


Devoted Spouse:  Huh?  You want nachos now? (looks confused)

Me:  No you goofball, remember we had a big plate of nachos late in the afternoon Saturday coz we were watching football and that ended up BEING dinner.  (Wipes brow and breathes sigh of relief knowing mind is still sharp as a tack and I won’t be going to “the home” anytime soon.)

Devoted Spouse:  Oh yeah, nachos.

Me:  ‘Oh yeah, nachos?’  That’s the best you can do??  I REMEMBERED AND YOU DIDN’T (insert me doing happy dance here).

Devoted Spouse:  Chews pizza, tosses crust to EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer, and goes back to watching football.

Tomorrow I may just drive down the highway, slow down at the gates of the VA , reach over, open the passenger door, and boot him out.  They have to take him.  It’s in the handbook…sigh…

You Celebrate Your Way and I’ll Celebrate My Way

Saturday was weigh-in day at Le Weight Watchers.  It was a momentous day for me as it signified the end of my 6-week Maintenance Period (it’s akin to leaving prison).  I didn’t want to go – come on…it was two days after Thanksgiving and while I hadn’t exactly devoured an entire turkey, I did have a little more than I had planned.  I was concerned just how much those scales would groan.

Deciding to own up to my T-Day folly, I hopped on the scale and was told “Congratulations, you are now a Lifetime member of Weight Watchers (read:  you only have to be mortified on the scale once a month vs. every week).”  I was surprised. 

So, another achievement in my long life…and now, of course is the hard part where I vow I’ll never weigh as much as a Mack Truck again, blah, blah, blah.  And Weight Watchers, bless their little point-counting hearts, gives me a whopping whole two pounds to play with — yeah….I can never weigh two pounds more than I do right now (or I have to start giving them money again).  I think five pounds would have been more realistic, but I don’t collect the money.

So now it’s time to celebrate w/Devoted Spouse.  The one thing Weight Watchers teaches is you don’t celebrate your achievements with food – duh – you find other ways to congratulate yourself.  Okay – I understand that concept.  Otherwise, we’d all never lose weight, but then again, Weight Watchers would be much richer. 

So I find a suitable reward.  Oh yeah…it’s food.

Devoted Spouse and I go to Bob Evans where I have already decided I’m going to splurge on 2/3 of one blueberry pancake w/sugar free syrup and one sausage patty.  I gave my order in a very quiet voice and glanced around in case the WW police were lurking.  A pancake – gasp. 

When it arrived and was suitably prepped and ready for devouring, I happened to look over at Devoted Spouse.  He was wearing one of his favorite shirts that day….the one with Charleton Heston raising the flintlock above his Moses-like head and screaming something on the order of From My Cold Dead Hands.  Now I’m a pistol-packin’ member of NRA so that didn’t bother me. 

What I couldn’t stop staring at was the way the tee-shirt had “settled” on Devoted Spouse.   Ya know how ya sit down and shirts wrinkle and rearrange themselves in whatever way they feel?  Well, his had settled such that poor Chuck had no neck.  Now ordinarily I probably wouldn’t have noticed….but it looked so odd and every time Devoted Spouse would say something, Chuck’s head would bob up and down. 

I’m trying to enjoy what little piece of this pancake has the blueberries in it while gagging down sugar free syrup and I have a Bobble Head Chuck Heston in front of my eyes.  It took away from the savory moment of that first blueberry filled bite of pancake coz I couldn’t stop staring at Devoted Spouse’s chest.

Bobble Chuck…may he rest in peace.  Now I have this overwhelming desire to watch the movie The Ten Commandments…maybe I’ll whip up a batch of manna or something to go with it…sigh…