My Little Secret

Last night Jason cleaned the kitchen while I vegged out on the couch. In my defense, I'm struggling with a sinus infection. Earlier this evening, Jason and I were hanging out in the kitchen, trying to figure out what we wanted to do for dinner. Here is the conversation that occurred during that time:

Jason: "Look what I did for you." (referring to the clean kitchen)

Me: "Thank you, 1950s Asshole."

Jason: "Hey, some of your happiest moments have been when you've been all domesticated"

Me: "Ummm.... no...?

Jason: "So, anyway - I helped you out. Happy Valentine's Day!"

Ok, let's look at the things wrong with this conversation. First of all, Valentine's Day was 2 days ago. Next, if some of my happiest moments have been when I've been all domesticated, how is cleaning the kitchen for me a help? Wouldn't that actually make me sad because I've now lost my purpose for living? And finally, the fact that Jason actually thinks that I enjoy playing Betty Homemaker... Aw hell, ok, fine. I admit it. I do sometimes - let me reiterate that - SOMETIMES get a kick out of pretending to be a little housewife. Damn, I hate (yet love) that Jason knows me so well.

An essay from class...

If you've been reading my blog, you know that I'm currently taking a writing class. Recently, our assignment was to go through our junk drawer (or purse or whatever) and write an essay on something we find. Opening one of my junk drawers, I came across my first generation Nook and knew the story behind why that device was now in my junk drawer HAD to be my essay. I really liked the piece I wrote, so I wanted to share it with you all. Here it is. It's called Death of My Nook.

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When e-readers first came out, I was instantly intrigued by them. Being able to have all these books at my finger tips, but not actually having the physical book take up space in my house? Amazing! But, due to the high prices, I knew it would be a long time before I could even think about getting one.

A couple of years later, the prices on e-readers to dropped. With the cost being a little more attainable, my husband declared that I was going to get one. All I had to do was choose the lucky winner. After much research, in late June 2010, I brought home my new bundle of joy – Barnes and Noble’s Nook.

It was love at first reading. The convenience of having a Nook was wonderful. I didn’t have to worry if I finished reading the current book du jour and didn’t have another book lined up. I could just jump on my Nook and quickly find another book. Having this e-reader was glorious, plain and simple. When my husband and I went on vacation, I didn’t have to worry about how many books to pack. I would just load up my Nook with e-books and I was good to go – carrying 10 “books” that weighed a total of a handful of ounces.

For over a year, my world was filled with happiness as that little piece of technology gave me a new sense of freedom... until that one faithful morning, about a week before Thanksgiving 2011. My Nook was innocently sitting on my nigh stand, getting its battery recharged, minding its own business when one of my dogs (a 125 pound, 2 year old beast) removed the Nook from the plug, took it outside... and proceeded to destroy it.

Upon finding the destruction of my beloved Nook in the backyard, I fell to my knees and cried to the Heavens “Why??!!” Ok, so I wasn’t that dramatic, but I was pretty angry at my dog. But, believe it or not, my Nook is actually still usable, despite the punctures that now cover it. At the time of the violent act, I was actually reading a physical book (versus an e-book), so I put my now injured gadget onto a shelf in my bedroom (out of my dog’s reach, mind you) to wait until I was ready to read on it again.

That time still hasn’t come because on Thanksgiving night, I replaced my first Nook with a new second generation device. I had received an email from Barnes and Noble saying they were lowering the prices of the new version on Thanksgiving. Even though I now have a new “toy,” I was unable to just get rid of my old one. So, I put my first generation Nook into the junk drawer of my dresser, which is where it’s been since I brought home its replacement. Needless to say, my new magical reading machine will be kept away from my dog.

Teaching an old Missy a semi-new trick.

The summer I was 18, my brother, Rob, taught me how to drive a stick shift. He did it just because he thought it would be a helpful life lesson to have. As it turned out, those lessons became a necessity when, later that summer, he broke his right hand (meaning he couldn't shift). So, we swapped cars (since mine was an automatic) for the many weeks that he had to wear a cast.

Once I got my car back, I didn't drive Rob's car again until the following summer, when I was home from college. He had gone to a local bar and had a little too much to drink. So he called baby sis to get come get him. Jason and I were hanging at my house (we were dating at the time), so we headed to the bar in my car to get Rob. Once there I loaded Rob into his car, tossed Jason the keys to my car, and our tiny parade headed back to my brother's house. Since it had been a year since my last encounter with a manual transmission, I was a bit shaky on everything. But, my brother said "it's just like riding a bike. It'll come back to you," and it all pretty much did. I think I was able to get back to his house without stalling it. That night was the last time I drove a stick shift. That is until this weekend....

In 1999 Jason graduated from college, got a job, and started earning some money. At the time he was between cars (his cars had a bad habit of dying on him). He had his heart set on a Mustang. And not just a plain ol' Mustang, but a Cobra. He saved up his money and he got one. His pride and joy. For those who don't know - Cobra's only come in a manual transmission.

Once we got married, it was understood that he had his car and I had mine... although he could drive mine, but I couldn't drive his. At this point it was 2001 and it had been a few years since I'd driven a manual transmission. I had basically forgotten everything about driving a stick shift. In 2011, Jason got a new car - this time an automatic. He didn't get rid of his Mustang though (need I remind you that the 'Tang is his pride and joy??). He said he would still drive the Mustang, but for the most part, it's just been sitting in our garage. Being lonely and neglected. Ya can't blame Jason. He's got a new toy. The new toy is an automatic, so he doesn't have to deal with shifting and all that jazz. Plus, the new toy is a compact SUV, which means that it definitely sits higher than the Mustang. Which makes getting into and out of the vehicle easier. Jason likes to complain about "his old man hips."

My heart started breaking over the poor, forgotten Mustang. I told Jason that he needed to re-teach me how to drive stick and once I was comfortable with it, I would start to drive it to work some (at least once a week...?). My lessons started this weekend. He took me to a school parking lot and let me go. Whew, this was rough. Some knowledge did come back to me, but other bits just had to be told from scratch.

Jason took me back to the school on Sunday and we practiced some more. I'm starting to get the hang of it again. I actually took the car on the road! About 2 miles away from the school is a shopping center - both the road the school is on and the shopping center are fairly quiet on the weekends (the shopping center is a fairly new area and it doesn't have a lot of stores in it yet). Jason let me drive up to that shopping center and then drive home. I didn't stall the car! I only had one "uncomfortable" moment. I came to a stop light that is on a slight incline. When I took my foot off the brake to hit the gas, I panicked a little since the car was rolling backwards (thankfully no one was behind me), gave the car a little too much gas and barked the tires one good time. Oh yeah. I'm a bad ass.

Anyway - I'm hoping to continue my driving lessons every weekend. Hopefully by spring I'll be ready to take the Mustang out in rush hour traffic (or any kind of traffic). All I ask is that, in the time of all this training, you all pray for the Mustang's transmission.

Ohhhh yeeeeaaahhhh...

Recently Jason and I bought ourselves a new "toy" to just show how lazy we are. Here it is...

We bought it over the weekend and have been using it all week in our shower. It's official - I'm in love. This thing is beyond awesome and we're asking ourselves why it took us so long to buy one. Seriously, every time I shower I get a mini foot massage. Ya can't beat that!

I told Jason we should buy another one that we'll stick to the wall of the shower and use it to scrub our hands. As usual, I got Jason's Standard Look of Disbelief... although I think underneath that "what just came out of your mouth??" attitude, there was some "hmm, I like the sound of that, but I can't let her know she just said something intelligent." (Go ahead, Jase, admit that sometimes I do have awesome ideas. Cuz, I do. I really do. Sometimes)

Oooo, and now I'm wondering if we can buy enough to cover the whole shower wall and remove the piece that goes over the top of the foot. Then we'd have a wall o'scrubbers for our whole body. Doesn't that sound glorious?

My new co-worker

Meet the the new office mascot at my workplace: Black Winnie-the-Pooh (the "h" is optional). My co-workers, Melissa and Lorrie, and I somehow got semi-addicted to things that you put in water and watch grow. I believe Lorrie started this fad by getting an alligator. Then Melissa joined in the fun by getting a nutcracker. So, now it was my turn to provide the entertainment.

One day while playing at playing at the Dollar Tree, I came across a small selection of grow thingies (what the hell are these things called? Well, until I can think of a better term, I'm sticking with the term "grow thingies"). Of the animals there, I decided to go with the bear.

I started growing him sometime last week. I should've taken a picture of him before I put him in water just to show how big he's gotten! I love how, from the front, you can't really tell what he is... he just looks like a black lump. Strangely he smells like gasoline. I'm not really sure how safe this thing is for children (or adults for that matter). I suppose as long as Timmy isn't playing with Winnie near an open flame, he'll be ok (I'm not sure which "he" I'm more concerned about with this sentence - Timmy or Winnie).

Melissa made the sign on his current habitat. I had him in a smaller container, but he outgrew that thing quickly. I think he may be maxed out on his growth spurt. I guess we'll give it a few more days just to be sure.

Once we're certain he's done growing, I'll begin training him to take over the office...

Please stop yelling at me!

Why do the self-checkout registers in stores have to scream at you? My god, Robotic Broomhilda, I'm just trying to buy some damn ice cream. I don't think my fellow customers need to know that my fat ass is determined to stay that way with my gallon of Cookies 'n' Cream. Nor do they need to know the price for said tub o'happiness ("Look, Marge, that Sushi Roll over there is paying $5.50 for that ice cream. Didn't she have a coupon?"). Seriously, can't we just keep this transaction between us?

Tonight Jason and I ran into Lowe's (the hardware store, not the grocery store - I didn't need an ice cream fix tonight... I actually still have some in my freezer, thank you very much) to get a piece for our hot water tank. As Jason was handling the purchasing of the item at the self-checkout, I was trying to cover Satanic Sally's boisterous "mouth." At the top of the machine I saw what looked like speaker holes, so I placed my hands over said holes to see if it would at least muffle the sound. Yeah, not so much. I swear, there are hidden surround sound speakers all over that machine. I think the machine even got louder, as if saying "Ha! Trying to shut me up? I don't think so, missy."

So, note to self - don't trust a self-checkout machine with you secrets. She won't keep them.

I can do this. I know I can

Joseph Chilton Pearce wrote, "To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong."

I'm still struggling with that fear because I want to live a creative life. I've been told I'm creative. That I'm a good writer. But, often the insecurities reach out and grab hold of my ankles, pulling me back down into the blackness. My dream is to make something out of this blog... maybe a book. I have recently discovered 2 artists - Jenny Lawson and Jen Lancaster. Lancaster has numerous books out - stories about her life. Lawson has her first book coming out. They both have blogs. I haven't read Lancaster's as much as I've read Lawson's, but both are funny... As funny as I hope I am.

I'm currently reading a book called The Artist's Way (which is where I got the quote that I started this post with) by Julia Cameron. It's a great book. It's telling me that I need to get rid of the self-doubt and just do it. Hell, the fact that I'm even doing this blog and staying with it shows that I'm starting to believe in myself... or at least that I don't give a damn what others thing (please like me).

I read some of the blogs out there and I think, "man, that is so interesting! Unlike my life, which isn't." But, when I step back and look at the random things that happen to me in a given day - conversations with Jason, with Melissa, me harassing my freaking zoo, there's some pretty shit there. I just need to learn to share it with the world. Because, seriously- ya'll need to know how crazy my life is.

Now if I can just learn to shut up that negative voice that keeps popping up ("your life is boring, your writing isn't good, blah, blah, blah..."), I think I'll be fine.