Tuesday, February 23, 2010

New boots make everything OK

It's not like I have intended to not post anything, like intentionally. There has just been a lot of stuff going on. First of all, I am in the final stages of mentally preparing myself for travel. It has occured to me that I will be leaving my safe place and my safe routine for a serious period of time. And that makes me a little tense. And also crazy. And a little manic. I haven't slept much. But parts of the sleep deprivation have caused me to be very entertaining. You know, to myself. Here's the rundown...

A. My children got into my make-up while I was teaching. I know this because the dog was covered in make-up. Expensive, mineral powder make-up. He has a very even complexion now. Clue number 2 was the cat nose and whiskers drawn on my 4 year old. I still have not located the eye liner and some of the eye shadows. Hopefully more clues will turn up soon and point me to the correct location. It's like an adventure really.

B. Lily decided she would paint her nails without any permission. I smelled the nail polish and rounded the corner to find her painting her nails on the carpet in the hallway. Never one to be outsmarted, she quickly decided to erase the evidence. Me: Are you painting your nails? Her: (wiping her nails on the carpet) No. See? Nothing there.

C. I decided to try ProActive. But I am cheap so I bought the generic ProActive. It's the same ingredients and everything so it's cool. Day 1 I had fabulously smooth skin. Day 2 my skin had been eaten off my face. Gone. Most of the top few layers. So I had fabulously unbroken out chemically burned skin. It's all very glamorous.

D. I love Yoga. So I was becoming all educated today about all the different kinds of Yoga and my chakras and my breathing and whatnot. I started reading about Hatha Yoga which led me to Bikram Yoga. This is where you do 26 specific poses in a row in a certain order. You do this in a class with an instructor in a room heated to 105 degrees. It all sounded really interesting. I read about the benefits of each pose. One is for releasing tension in the lower back, one is to strengthen and align some kind of muscles or nerves or open up a chakra, and one is called the Wind Pose. This is done lying on your back with one leg pulled to your chest and bent at the knee. This pose is to release your internal bodily winds causing discomfort. So it makes you fart. And not only that...it makes everybody else fart. In a room heated to 105 degrees. I am not doing that. Ever. Instead I bought new boots. The benefits of the boots are that they have 4 and a half inch heels and come up to the new and have buckles up the sides. The are used to cause sore feet and back pain while looking stunning and dangerously tall. Definetly better than one gigantic Dutch Oven.

Seriously, I didn't mean to not post. I'll be better. Promise.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Sometimes I remember to take my pills

My assignment this week was relatively simple. At least as simple as life with OCD can be. I was to take my meds. Every day. Every freaking day. At the same time. All of them. I ended up getting one of those old people pill boxes with the days of the week. I had to get the AM/PM one. Yes, it requires that many pills to keep me normal.


I’ve made it one whole week and took my pills every day! Woo! The illogical/forgetful reasons that I avoided my medicine cabinet are another story for another day. But since I have been fully medicated lately, I have had a few ruminations about chemical enhancement.

First of all, the crazy ride that I put myself through by being inconsistent with pills has brought to my attention the fact that I am NOT normal. The “flair ups” and “breakthroughs” I have been having are a direct result of my inconsistency. Well no crap. But the idea that my brain requires assistance is slightly unsettling. I mean honestly I can’t even go for a day off meds without being all over the dang place touching things and clearing thoughts.

Also, I still have the disorder. There doesn’t exist a pill strong enough to just plain old turn it off. I have monumentally quelled the worst of my obsessing and compulsing. Seriously I was up to hours and hours a day with this crap AND I couldn’t hardly leave home and especially not alone. So I am new and improved with my drugs. Like Angela 2.0. Or really 8.0 because…well you know. But it has finally actually occurred to me that a year and a half ago when I was FINALLY diagnosed and I was told that my OCD/anxiety was moderate to severe and that I should expect this to be a lifetime diagnosis…they weren’t freaking kidding. I mean I had already lived with it since childhood but somehow hearing it out loud “you are a nut bag and are going to be that way foreeeeeeeeeeevvvveeeeeerrrrrrr” makes it way different.

But, I am accepting the unique qualities of my brain. I am accepting the inimitable behaviors that my brain produces. I am absolutely fascinated with myself and how and why I do things that don’t make any sense. I am completely enamored with my dual thought processes (those being rational and irrational) and how they argue like ugly little monkeys. I am mesmerized by crazy myself. OCD and all. At least no one can call me boring.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Another reason I shouldn't be allowed out in public

You know how when you are in public and you didn’t fix your hair or make-up and you are wearing yesterday’s clothes only because you were too tired/lazy/busy to actually do any laundry and everything you own is still in piles on the floor after 2 weeks of swearing you are going to catch up on it only now it has become the dog bed? You know how every time you are in public in this state your kid suddenly becomes one of those wild crazy kids with the pig blood on their face from Lord of the Flies only its not pig blood its pizza/peanut butter/popcorn/ramen noodles because you haven’t gone to the store since before you did the laundry and you didn’t have anything to feed them for breakfast and they kinda look ragamuffin-y too and now it has been called to everyone’s attention that you apparently have, in fact, raised your children in a barn in the company of a pack of wild wolves (Ignoring the obvious fallacy that if a pack of wild wolves actually lived in the barn they would no longer be wild but domesticated)? So NOW you are at the store presumably to buy said breakfast and/or laundry detergent and your kid is climbing up the shelves/opening cookies/screaming obscenities/taking off their pants and they need to be *gasp* disciplined.


Suddenly everyone in the entire store is all up in your business but they are trying to act like they aren’t watching and judging your every move. As though the label on the back of the canned carrots is that freaking fascinating that you must stare it at for 5 entire minutes without moving a muscle and the can just so happens to be angled in exactly my direction. It is freaking carrots. In a can. Ingredients: carrots.

This is the part where I start to feel like I am in the Olympics or a Golf Tournament or a Dog Show (and yes I capitalized the generic events to prove that it is not just a generic dog show or golf tournament but an extremely important one only I am not a dork and I don’t know the specific names of dog shows and golf tournaments.) It is as though there are suddenly judges all over the store and a voiceover duo providing commentary on my every move. I imagine that they are called Flip and Suzanne. Flip is a total slimy tool bag and has hair plugs and everyone knows it but he still denies it all the time. He is British by way of Florida and has a car that screams “I am compensating for something.” Suzanne is dumber than a box of hair and has no actual knowledge of anything. Flip constantly hits on her and one of these days she is going to be drunk enough to do something stupid. She gets drunk easily because she only weighs 90 pounds and looks and sounds like a Chihuahua.

Flip: Welcome to today’s match everyone. We have our challenger Angela “I’ll wash my hair when you quit peeing in the shower” Cavett versus our undefeated champion Little Cavett. A powerful contender indeed. Bloody strong that one. Suzanne, that little champion isn’t the only powerhouse here today *wink wink*

Suzanne: Why yes, Flip. It looks Little Cavett is starting off strong by insisting on no less than 4 candy bars. OOoooooohhhh….and now she is pulling out the high-piercing-blood-curdling-scream. Nice move.

Flip: Speaking of making someone scream..

Suzanne: You stop it. You just stop right there.

Flip: Anyhow, let’s see how Cavett reacts: Nice. Very nice. The subtle grab-you-under-the arm-and-threaten-with-a variety-of-time-outs-and-no-TV. But it seems that little Cavett is undeterred…Yes! Point to Little Cavett for screaming “My mommy is hurting me!!”

Suzanne: Here we are at the beginning of Round 2…Cavett seems to be using the “evil eye” technique. Little Cavett is un-phased.

Flip: Yes, in fact, Little Cavett seems to be mounting an escape from the cart and has now taken off down the frozen food aisle. Cavett is giving chase, but doing so in that I’m-not-actually-chasing-my-rouge-child-I-just-happen-to-be-walking-fast-so-go-about-your-business type of way. The crowd has now definitely gotten involved.

Suzanne: You can tell by the way all of their heads are going back and forth.

Flip: I believe that Mom has just threatened to throw away Obi the favorite stuffed kitty where she will be alone in the garbage and cold and scared because Little Cavett doesn’t love her enough to save her life.

Suzanne: That would explain why Little Cavett is now screaming “don’t kill my pets!!!! You are a mean lady!!” Point Little Cavett.

Flip: What’s this? We seem to be seeing Cavett dragging little Cavett back to the cart. By the arm. Little Cavett is now strapped securely in the seat. Oh wait…it looks like we have a winner. Mama Cavett has just given the traditional signal of giving up…Yes, I can clearly see the candy in the cart now…and…a bottle of wine.

Suzanne: Great match today. We’ll see you next time as we bring you Little Cavett v. Cavett at the Post Office.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Because it's Valentine's Day: Luke and Angela and some yadda yadda yaddas

Valentines Day. Grrr. Never been much of a fan. Of course, I don’t like any holidays including Christmas, New Years, Thanksgiving, etc. I have recently become a big fan of March 14th. Only Google that if you are over 18. I’m not trying to promote the decline of today’s youth. Anyhow, with Valentines Day being today I thought I might share a little bit of how Luke and Angela became lukeandangela or angelaandluke as I like to say. Side note: Could we not call it V-day. It makes me think Vagina Day. And that is probably not fun for anybody. So this is lukeandangela THE ABRIDGED VERSION:


12 years old: We met at church in 7th grade. I have no memory of the event. He has no memory of the event. We know we met then because that is when I started going to church there. But as far as we can remember, we’ve just always been. It’s kinda creepy if you really think about it.

I do remember the first time he called me. He had a major thing for my best girlfriend. I thought “Why is he calling me?” So I asked him “Why are you calling me?” and he said he just wanted to talk. And so began our nightly tradition of talking for hours. Usually in the neighborhood of 2 hours or more. What two geeky little Jr. High kids had to talk about for that long; I can’t even remember.

I eventually developed a mad crush on his close guy friend. Sooner or later that turned into a relationship and I was swept away in that for quite awhile. But we were still best friends. We still talked every night. Maybe just not 2 whole hours. I did have a boyfriend after all.

He was there the night it all ended with said boyfriend. It was quite the scene. Luke watched the whole encounter. So did about 15 other people. I’m a little bit dramatic. But a scorned 15 year old shall not be silenced. Nor rational. I got the whole run down from the other perspective later on that night. Does he miss me terribly? Is he devastated? Luke says “I guess.” 15 year old boys shall not be elaborate in their recounting of dramatic events. Nor informative. But he did listen to me cry for a few days. God bless him.

We created something called “The Luke test” and “The Angela Test” around that time. All prospective dates had to pass this test. I don’t think anyone ever did.

Meanwhile back in Luke’s world, the crush he had on my best girlfriend had developed into a full blown relationship. It was cool at first. I had both my best friends right there with me all the time. But as high school will go, the two of them spent more time alone together and his daily time with me diminished. We still talked. Every day. About her, about the dorky boys I had crushes on, about anything and everything. We used to go on double dates. The two of them and whatever boy they could dig up for me. I think they took turns trying to find me a boy that would stick. But no luck. For me, my best friend was starting to look scarily like more than that.

Hmmm…this poses a problem. I might be developing feelings for my best friend. Who is seriously involved with my best girlfriend. But things were starting to bubble under the surface. I’m gonna yadda yadda yadda this next part and just say that there was jealousy. There were hurt feelings. There were many many nights that Luke and I sat up talking into the morning. I can categorically say that he never wanted to be unfaithful to his girlfriend and he never was. And that was the moment I fell in love with him. Officially.

It was a tough few months for me. Being in love with your best friend sucks. I feel your pain Jacob Black. I had no desire to be the evil beast and “break them up” but holy crap it was hard to watch. I had an unlikely friend during this rough patch and I’m gonna yadda yadda that too.

The day came. They broke up. I wasn’t sure which emotions were legal. My best friend was hurting. My best girlfriend was no longer my friend. And here we were; back where we’d always been. Best friends. But it was a little bit different this time. I’m a big chicken so of course I never said a word to him about what was going on in my head. We were back together all the time and we were having a blast. I think it was my bonehead idea to give him the phone number of a girl I knew. I thought that they would hit it off, go out a few times, and give me the opportunity to shake off this crazy I-think-I’m-in-love-with-you crap. Well dang it if they didn’t hit it off really really well. It was like Rebound Extreme. And man did I hate that girl. What a skank.

My unlikely friend and I took this opportunity to reconnect a bit. So now I’m just a big ole Lifetime movie or teen romance novel torn in different directions. I promise I couldn’t make this stuff up. At the end of the summer before our senior year I decided that I was over it. I wasn’t going to lose my best friend over this. I’m going to let him make his own decisions no matter how trashy the chick is. And also dumber than hair. I had my own thing going sort of anyway. Yadda yadda yadda.

And then he decided that he needed to break up with her. We talked and we talked. He broke up with her on a Monday in September. He called me in the middle of the night. He was so upset. And I loved it.

Aaaannnd…we were back where we had always been. Only this time it was better. About 4 weeks after the break up we went on a trip. There were 3 of us. Could I have created a more dramatic scene if I had tried? Probably not. There were 3 seats. Yadda. I made a choice. Yadda. I made my feelings clear. Yadda.

We never spoke of it, him and me. But several evenings later he pitched a dramatic fit about my flirting with someone. I told him to quit acting like a jealous boyfriend because he clearly didn’t feel that way about me. He told me we needed to talk. We sat in his car. And we fought. Loudly. And suddenly there it was. “Well maybe I’m so angry because I have feelings for you!” “Well maybe I have feelings for you too!” And we were kissing. And it was cliché and exhilarating and fulfilling and right and painful. Because I had made a choice. And that seems to be an unfortunate side effect of making choices. Hurting people. It was Luke in the car. I had chosen Luke. And lucky for me, he chose me back.

We dated for almost 4 years before we got engaged. Yeah we broke up twice but never for very long and both while we were still in high school so Luke assures me that it doesn’t count. Plus we still talked everyday even while broken up. We got married on December 29, 2001. We renewed our vows on May 14, 2007. In Vegas. With Elvis and everything. That’s why he is my best friend. It was his idea to have Elvis marry us. I maintain that most of the stupid things we have done in the last 17 plus years have been his idea.

We have a lot of fun everyday. We laugh a lot. Mostly because I think I am funny. And he thinks it’s funny when I laugh at myself. So this is our 17th Valentines Day. We became lukeandangela about 17 years ago. We ended up together because we’ve always come as a set.

And maybe someday I’ll fill you in on the yadda yaddas.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

From my perspective

It’s 5am. I’m awake. I’m nervous. Nervous isn’t really the word. It’s anxiety. Not as bad as I would expect but I suppose that is the medication. Actually, I’m kind of surprised that it took this long to show up. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but I haven’t cleared any visions or ritualized anything yet. I’ll probably do that now since I’m awake. Just a few chants. Just a few. Just a few. Just a few.


OK. This is do-able. Breathing. Breathing. Yeah, the sick tummy isn’t going to make this very fun. Not like it’s going to be “fun” anyway, but this is not pleasant. I need to be very careful with my counting today. Yes, OCD, I know that it’s you making me do that, but I’m going to do it anyway. 4 times here. 8 times here. Repeat in my head. Repeat outloud. 4 touches. 8 taps. Good deal. Still OK. Not breaking down yet. This is happening today.

I look good. That always helps when I have anxiety or anticipated anxiety. I want to look good. There are a lot of reasons for that. One of which is entirely mental illness related. I believe (or rather OCD believes) that looking good will protect me. It makes sense to me. So, looking nice, feeling nice, haven’t yelled at, snapped at, screamed at, cried at, or cursed at anyone this morning…so far. I’m kissing Luke goodbye without only a little bit of the usual anxiety surrounding his daily departure. I’ll do a few mental rituals for him just to be on the safe side. Tap Tap on his face. He is good to go. Me too.

This is it. I still have time to turn back, but I am able to put the voice in the background. I’m only running if I just can’t take it. I think I can take it. I’ve prepared for this for weeks. I am in the driver’s seat. I drop off my children at their various locations. I’m not ready to do this with them in the car. A few taps, a few chants, a few deep breaths, and one anti-anxiety pill taken at exactly the right time to maximize it’s effectiveness. Nice.

I’ve dropped off the last child and I am right by an on-ramp. I mean it is literally a few hundred feet. But this ramp is very busy. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t want this one. I drive back the opposite direction of where I am going on regular streets. I need a 7-11. A “safe” 7-11. I drive back a mile, two miles, three miles. I found the one that will work. I go in and get myself a Dr. Pepper. Back in the car with just me and my mind. No safe person. I drive a little bit further back until the “right” on-ramp presents itself.

And now I am here. Accelerating. Outloud chanting. Ritualistic praying. Genuine praying. My body wants to tick. I need it to focus. Amazing. Just as soon as I need to merge, all traffic disappears. I have a half mile in either direction to enter the highway. It is giving me time to control my breathing. Thank you Jesus. Genuinely. Not as part of a ritual prayer. Keep my hands at 10 and 2 touching right in the center of my palms. 10 and 2 because 10-2=8. The other acceptable position is 6 and 4 because 6x4=24 and 2x4=8. Center of my palms. Keeping it together quite nicely thank you. I need to just keep away the thoughts of how far away my safe person is. I can get to him by phone. Even his phone number is safe. The last 4 numbers add to 16 divide by 4 to get 4.

20 minutes. 30 minutes. An hour. I passed the major traffic a while back and now I am free and easy on a wide open country road. Is it possible that I have reached my destination all by myself. Of course it is. I’m here.

Challenge 2 is going about my day here doing the work I am supposed to do without focusing on the drive back. The skies are bright and clear and I should leave well before dark. I can keep the thoughts away. So take a break OCD, you have some free time. Go find something constructive to do while I play the piano here for a while.

The time has come. I must get back into my driver’s seat, start my car, and return to the place that causes me so much stress in order to get past it and arrive at my safe place with my safe person. Touches all completed. Taps all completed. Chants, ritual prayers and genuine speaking to Jesus is all happening inside my mind and out loud. The return trip takes me on the long country road all the way into the city. This means that there is no actual merging, just smooth sailing onto the interstate. It’s a little bit rougher this time around. Maybe my pill is wearing off. Maybe I am exhausted from the energy it takes to do this twice in one day. 20 minutes. 30 minutes. An hour. I think I am home. I am. I’m home.

It’s evening now. I’m having sort of an anxiety backlash. I guess I should have expected it. I used a lot of energy knocking my disorders to the ground all day. Now it seems as though OCD has decided to show up and reclaim a little of my time. But I’m OK with that. I’m in my safe place. I do have a raging headache. I think from the amount of mental effort I put forth. But it’s nothing a little Tylenol and rest can’t handle. I go to bed early. I sleep really well. Dreams of Taylor Lautner may or may not have taken place. He is 18 now after all. I wake up in the morning and think to myself “Did that really happen?” Yes. That really happened. Suck it OCD. And you too agoraphobia. And also you panic disorder. And also you 7-11. But only because you charged me so dang much for gas and Dr. Pepper.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Hey there! Good to see you!

Lately, thanks to the Okie Blogger voting and some other various outlets, I've had lots of visitors and new followers. And I am so thrilled! Just to quickly recap: I'm a mom and wife and I check in at 72inches tall. I love burritos and Dr. Pepper and my (therapy) dog. I am a Christian girl and I love Jesus but I'm not afraid to tell things like I see it. I use humor as much as possible because I think everyone needs to laugh but sometimes I'm the only one that thinks I'm funny. And trust me, I believe myself to be very funny. Also, I have OCD. I live with it, I talk openly about it and hopefully it doesn't freak you out. I also live with agoraphobia, anxiety disorder and panic. So basically I'm just a regular old barrel of monkeys. If you have never been here before OR if you are still new you might want to check out some of my favorite posts.

Leaving on a Jet Plane - The time I tried to fly in an airplane without ANY medication
Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again - A better attempt at flying
Poo in the Pool - Yes. This really happened
How to Read Angela's Blog - A Tutorial
Marine Life has Better Mental Health because of my Pee - I also mention poo again. It is a gift really
Things I Saw on Halloween
Felt Up By an Asian Woman...Again - Yes this has happened more than once
Interview with my Safe Person - Spoiler alert: It's my husband

Please don't stop being friends with me after you read some of these.

New Thankful Thursday

Hmmm…thankfulness for this week:


A) New blogs

I suddenly discovered a wealth of new blogs this week. Not just a bunch of great new blogs, but OCD/anxiety blogs. Yeah! I told you I wasn’t the only one. WooWoo!

B) New Director

It’s been a long, fun, challenging, frustrating, rewarding, educational, serious, silly, busy road but I finally came to the decision a few weeks ago to move aside as the Director of a certain ministry. I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving it without a solid new leader. And she has been found! I can rest easy. The project is in highly capable and energetic hands.

C) New Students

Hello new students! My studio continues to grow. From kids to adults. It’s fabulous. And I never have need to leave my house.

D) New Brakes

Yeah it’s kind of lame but I needed a fourth thing. I can’t stop on odd numbers (letters?). Luke got me some new and improved brakes for my car. Now I just need to drive places.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

I promise not to bite, kick, lick, or otherwise act a fool

I was looking back at some of the things I have written and never posted. I wrote this about a month ago. So there it is then.

First things first: I am fairly positive that I took 2 doses of my morning medications this morning turning 3 pills into 6 pills. Of course, at the time I wasn’t sure if I had taken it yet, so I went ahead and took them. Then I remembered “Oh crap. There is a strong possibility that I might have taken these already” Second: I have also taken my anti-anxiety drugs tonight (but just the one time). This brings me to my point…I am freaking relapsing.


It started last week with an out of the blue panic attack. Yay! Then it has progressed to generalized anxiety all the time. 2 nights ago I had another one of those fabulous episodes. When this happens, OCD rushes in to save the day. I do the rituals/compulsions to make the anxiety stop.

Here are a few things I would like to point out about OCD. I‘ve been thinking about these things over the last several days when I have been counting, touching, and repeating a lot. I’m not yet obsessively checking so I got that going for me. I am having obsessive visions so that’s not super cool. Anyway here are the things that I thought about:

1) Don’t tell a person with OCD that you wish you had OCD

OK. Here is the common misconception. As soon as I say OCD people conjure this image of my house having all these labels and color coordination and symmetry and plastic covers to keep out the germs. That’s only some people’s symptoms. The fast is that each case is as unique as the individual. I’m not like that. And as for the people who are like that, I promise that you do not wish that you had their disorder. If you do, then you really don’t understand it at all. It is like a plague. It is being a constant slave to irrational fears and behaviors. It is exhausting. Having a clean house is not worth having your mind hijacked. Trust me; you don’t want this. You probably won’t even have the compulsions to clean. You might have compulsions that cause you to tick or touch or walk through doorways a certain number of times or constantly manipulate numbers before you can communicate or go into a building. You don’t want this. We don’t want this for you.

2) Don’t tell a person with OCD that you have “a little bit” of OCD

I know that you truly have a need to have your house in order. I know that it may really bother you to have dirt on your hands. I get that you have weird little things that you do everyday and certain orders that you do things in. I really get it. But I don’t know if that is OCD. I don’t know if you have “just a little bit” of it. I don’t even know if that is possible. And I’m not a psychiatrist so I don’t really feel qualified to listen to all of your symptoms and diagnose you. For those of you who really are plagued with this disease, thank you thank you thank you thank you. It is so helpful to know that we are not alone and to hear how other people are living day to day with this bizarre affliction. God bless all your little faces for having the strength and the courage to share. But for everyone else, bless your little hearts, I think that having a certain way you get dressed or clean your car or lock up your house at night is just fine. And don’t worry. We aren’t contagious. You won’t catch it.

3) Don’t tell a person with panic disorder to cut it out.

Honestly! Why can’t we just knock it off! It is absolutely absurd to be running for your life in the middle of the grocery store (provided that the grocery store is not currently under siege). Yeah yeah yeah it’s one thing when you are having your little freak outs at home, but we are in public so why don’t you just lay off the drama for a few hours. Um…right. We can’t. It’s not being a drama queen. It’s not a bad habit. Just think of it like this…you wouldn’t tell a person having a heart attack to cut it out and save it for a better time (unless you are a horrible evil person). We’re sorry. We really don’t want to behave this way in public. But our brains are different than yours.

4) Just act normal

I’m not going to bite you or lick you or bark in your face (unless I think that it would be funny.) I spent a lot of time and a lot of energy behaving “normally”. I have worn myself out to the point of extreme exhaustion fighting my compulsions, hiding my panic attacks, and lying to just about everyone at one point or another. But I’m done with that and I’m gonna be who I’m gonna be. So if I touch, count, tick, leave abruptly, or anything else that seems out of place, just remember…Angela isn’t ashamed of OCD. But she is a little bit weird about her burritos so just leave those alone.

VOTE VOTE VOTE!

Um...what? Nominated for an award? For blogging? Well...of course.

I was nominated for an Okie Blogger award! So please vote. I've been reading the blogs of several other nominees and all are very deserving. I have also noticed a trend of "I'm sooooooo humble" and "If you want to, please vote for my little blog, but don't feel obligated." So I figure I should be all "Please vote for the blog you feel best deserves the award and if that happens to be me, well then isn't that just the bees knees."

But then I realized that that isn't me at all. I am fully and 100% in favor of you voting for ME.

Think about it this way: I have multiple mental disorders including but not limited to OCD and major anxiety with panic. Your vote would boost my self-confidence which would in turn raise my self-esteem which then would effect the serotin and endorphine levels in my brain which could temporarily alieviate the symptoms of my relentless mental illness. So actually, voting is medically necessary to heal me. This could be ground breaking medical research. We could end up in the medical journals or on Dr. Oz. I think that you definelty want to be a part of this.

Check out this link for a list of all of the nominees and how to vote. You must be an Okie blogger for the vote to count. Here are a few other blogs you will want to check out either way:

The Lost Ogle
Rocks in my Dryer
The Pioneer Woman
And so She Blogs
Living the Good Life
Sleepy New Mommy
Okay City

Now get reading!

Friday, February 5, 2010

Thankful "Thursday"

I have begun to disregard the calendar entirely. Thankful Thursday shall henceforth be the whatever day I get around to it. Just try and stop me. With that I offer you Thankful “Thursday” (air quotes implied).


I am really thankful for all kinds of things this week. I’ve only been out of the house for about 3 hours in the past 8 days because of all the ice and snow and the general notion that I just don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t necessarily think of this as agoraphobic, but who knows. I’m thankful for having power all week so I could make my coffee. I did have a contingency plan that involved using the AC adapter in the car to sit in the driveway and make coffee. I’m thankful that I didn’t have to do that.

I am thankful for all my piano and voice students who trekked over to my house in the cold and snow. I had a lot of fun organizing my file cabinet this week. Literally hundreds and hundreds of scores and solos and octavos and collections all catalogued and alphabetized. It was seriously therapeutic.

I am thankful that people hire me to play and sing at their events. It gives me a chance to get out and about and gives me goals to work towards. Coming up my goal is going (alone) to play piano for contest. It keeps me focused. Also I don’t mind the paycheck. I’m available for schools, churches, weddings and concerts. That was subtle self-promotion. I have no shame.

I am still thankful for my DVR because I have watched all kinds of cool crap over the last week. I learned all about 9/11 conspiracy theories and forensic medical investigation and crime scene clean-up and Jersey Shore’s new season! Woo! I also watched Twilight again and again. I need there to be a new season of True Blood. Stat.

I am thankful that in 23 day I will be on the beach, swimming with dolphins, reading in my beach chair, eating lots of food, and generally having an awesome time with my husband. I’ll be sure to keep you posted on all the awesome things we are doing while you are sitting in the snow. Y

Thursday, February 4, 2010

PediPaws did NOT warn me about this possible side effect

I bought a PediPaws a few weeks ago. I’m a big ole chicken when it comes to cutting dogs nails. You know, they bleed and they cry and they whimper and it’s just terrible. But our dog’s nails were starting to look like talons. Like big scary velocoraptor talons. But he’s not entirely as smart as a velocoraptor.


The PediPaws comes with this instruction book thing to “train” your dog to get their nails trimmed. OK this should have been a clue to me. We were supposed to do this whole series of exercises with treats leading up to the big moment when I could file off the nail easily and with virtually no pain. The best part about the training book was the photo depicting how to use your entire body weight to subdue your animal during the painless and easy filing process that you dog will just love. I mean seriously high school English teachers; did you guys even try to teach me about foreshadowing?

I did the little training things over the next few days. You know things like “turn on the Pedipaws and give your dog a treat for getting used to the sound” Seriously? Dogs get treats for tolerating sound? Where’s my treat for not going on a postal rampage after listening to Miley Cyrus Party in the USA? “File just one nail and give a treat.” I did that too.

Finally, I decided we were ready as a dog/pet parent team to go all the way with our PediPaws. I hooked Pete gently under my arm and gave him a treat. I turned the thing on and gave him a treat. He let me do one nail and I gave him a treat. Then he decided that he was pretty much over it. I needed treats stat. So I gave him a treat and then another and another. OK now I’m out of treats and he is really starting to get flaily. After about 4 athletic twists and power jumps he finally wrestled his way loose from me and jumped to the floor. He was quite vocal about his disinterest in the PediPaws which was still running and had filed a few sections of the couch in the struggle.

Well, joke is on you dog because I read the part about using your body weight to restrain your animal. Aaaaand…the book says that you are going to enjoy your quick and painless little procedure so get ready dog. I gave him a few minutes to relax and I needed a few moments to catch my breath as well. At this point I was out of snacks so I had only my cat-like reflexes to rely on. At this point let me point out that the cat that I raised and who was the model for my cat like reflexes had succeeded in burning off all her whiskers at a very young age and walked with a sideways gait. So, cat-like reflexes flexed and ready; I pounced on the dog.

Um…I never took a physics class. I’ve never participated in any kind of athletics. What PediPaws did not share with me was that both of these skills are necessary to restrain your 40 pound dog when trying to quickly and easily file the dog’s nails. The fact that I outweigh the dog by 105 pounds (yes that is how much I weigh) made very little difference. He somehow twisted and kicked and used his ferociously long talons to gouge me in the leg, pick me up, spin me over his head, and throw me about 10 or 60 feet. Also, I think he learned how to talk and he was like “Not my nails *****” Yes. My dog curses. Only when he is really stressed out.

Round 2: I really meant business now. I waited about an hour until he was good and asleep and then I pounced on him. I put my entire 6 foot long body on top of his back, hooked his little snout up in a defensive maneuver and grabbed a paw. This is when I discovered that this little device was intended for dog nails made of tissue paper and flowers, not prehistoric Jurassic era nails. The motor screamed and the little disk thing smoked and it actually stopped a few times from the sheer power required to file those beastly paws.

I managed to get 6 nails done before a finally couldn’t hold on anymore and he broke free of my powerful grip. He shot off like a rocket and leaped onto the couch to the safety of Luke. It was when Luke said “Ow crap! What the heck did you do?!” that I realized that PediPaws didn’t file down the nail…it simply sharpened it to a razor edged point. Great.

I decided it was time to retire the PediPaws and call it a day. That silly dog watched me victoriously from in front of the fireplace as I conceded defeat. Then I noticed that the thrill of victory had taken a turn for the south. How can I be delicate…? He was really really happy that the PediPaws activity was over. That’s it for me. I’m never cutting my dog’s nails ever again.

Tuesdays with Chuck E. Episode: Put your face on

You know how CEC had those creepy robot animals. They were all run on hydraulics controlled by a huge air pressure generator. One fine afternoon during one of our wildly popular shows, I heard a strange hissing sound. I turned around just in time to see the lovely Miss Helen Henny trembling a slight bit. Suddenly her beautiful rubber face shot off due to a build up of air pressure leaving exposed a metal pole, flailing wires and two scary as crap eyeballs staring out and seeming to scream “Someone help me! My face! My beautiful chicken face is gone!”




Now that crap will give you nightmares