Day Six - One day late; Day Seven - Back on Schedule

I AM A FAILURE!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!



Ok. I'm over it.


I totally missed yesterday. Totally. The last time I made it out of bed was around 11am - yesterday - for a quick trip in the interest of...well, we don't need to get into it.

Then, I remember my sister calling, I think around 4 or 5. I remember talking about Thanksgiving, Jordan crackers and what question to write about on the blog later. Because I was sure - SURE! - that I would be able to write a post later on. No problem!

12 hours later I woke up again and realized I blew it. So I went back to sleep. What's a girl to do?

So I am going to try to address both yesterday's and today's topics in this post. Because I'm not too delusional.

I already read my sister's post about her bedroom and it brought back all kinds of warm fuzzy feelings about being warm and fuzzy. Which, I think, is probably what my life is lacking right now - feelings of warmth and fuzz. Because, you know, they just don't make footie one-piece pajamas with a snap at the collar for adults. And if they did, I think the world would be a whole lot better place than it is now a days. I mean, how can you scuff scuffle to you bathroom in the morning, look at your self in the mirror in your fuzzy pj's and think "I will cut my competitor DOWN today! No holds barred!" You would be much more inclined, I think, to play fair and nice.

I'm sorry...am I digressing? No, really, because it's probably going to happen a lot. I just can't get over the crazy head things a fever can do you. I mean, if they could bottle it, they would make a killing on the streets.

Here's a little for instance...today I rolled myself out of bed and thought, "Hey, I'm feeling pretty good. I'll surprize hubby and feed the animals so he doesn't have to do it and then I'll get ready for work."

Yeah.

Well it went alright for a bit - up until the part where I put the leads on the horses and walked them up the hill to the little temporary pasture we have set up in the back field. I had to take two breaks on my way up the hill. By the time I was at the top of the hill, I had that...you know the opening scene of "The Sound of Music" where Maria is twirling about on a hilltop while the helicopter with the camera flies all around? Remember? Ok, so I had that effect but I wasn't in a helicopter. Or musical. But everything was spinning. And I could hear Julie Andrews singing. I managed to get the horses into the fence and then took an apparent mandatory nap on the ground.

Suffice to say, I didn't make it into work today.

So, yeah, fuzzy pajamas. I'm there.



Good luck following me today, folks.



So, in the interest of writing about a topic that I can keep straight in my head, I will tackle my childhood bedroom.

There are two words to describe my bedroom. The first would be "pink".

It's somewhat odd that I would have ended up with a pink bedroom because I don't think you could find much less of a girly-type daughter than I was. The room used to be my grandmother's so it might have been a hold over from her. Every once in a while it griped me that I had to suffer through child hood with this insufferable pink on the walls of my bedroom but, really, it wasn't that bad. Although it was that bad. The shade of pink was like...like...Hot Island Mambo. I'm sorry...I can't do any better than that. The last time I had cause to read the shade of a pink was probably on the bottom of a tube of lipstick. Which, thankfully, I had sense enough not to buy.

I think there was a pink-ish type rug too. And the shade on the ceiling light was pink.

The second word to describe my bedroom would also be "pink".

I remember that I had wanted a canopy bed for the longest time. Finally, my parents broke down and granted my wish - which they pretty much did with everything but the horse, pony and burro. When I had mentioned "canopy bed", I kind of had in mind the type that Ebeneezer Scrooge took shelter in when the various Christmas ghosts came to visit. You know, squarish, dark, lots of big, heavy curtains for hiding. From what? I don't know. Kid things. Monsters, liver, etc. The bed that arrived was a charming double (so I could fit my sister) in maple with a full set of pink sheets, shams, bedcover, canopy and curtains.

Oh well.

The other thing about my room was that the closet door never stayed shut. Probably because the zombies inside were always trying to get out. After a while it didn't bother me but it did always bother a certain cousin of mine. And we always shamelessly exploited that bother.

Even for all the pink, there was nothing like my childhood bedroom. I remember once, after smashing my head on a coffee table...not many good memory stories probably start out that way...laying in my bed, surrounded in pink, and Dr. Hale COMING TO OUR HOUSE AT NIGHT in his houndstooth coat, with his black doctor bag and smelling like alcohol, rubbing alcohol, and I guess recommending stitches. But, oddly enough, it's not a bad memory. I think because of my room. I bet if I had been at Dr. Hale's office, in the Sea Foam room, it would have been scads worse.

Can I have some more Ny-Quil now?

No?

Another question?


Oh...ok.


Wednesday Best Of.

I'm feeling generous today so I might just give out two awards.

The first is for Best Portrayal of an Asthmatic in a Movie

The award goes to the asthmatic criminal guy in The Lookout. Which I have only made it through 38 minutes of so far. But! I grant this award based on the asthmatic character not being the typical fat, dorky bubblehead that is always trailing around after the other criminals, puffing on his inhaler.

It's about time.

Now, this award may be a bit premature based on the fact that I am currently only 38 minutes into the movie, but I've seen enough of the typical Hollywood asthmatics to say "Here ya go, The Lookout! You earned it!"

My second best of is for Best Meat Type Thing to Eat That Isn't A Regular Hunk of Meat.

That would go to Kowalonek's Kielbasy Shop in Shenandoah, PA for their hot kielbasy sticks. Mmm, mmm, good. And a little spicey too. You go git you some now!