"It's just something about a woman with short hair that screams...POWER." -Anonymous

I needed a change. I had the same haircut for way too long. My hairdresser was ecstatic that I realized I had to go shorter because, apparently, women are stupid and think the hairdresser can magically grow 5 inches of hair to make them look like Marilyn Monroe.

I was realistic. I'm no beauty queen. I don't have bags under my eyes...I have luggage. I have a weird face. It's a bit crooked. And I may (or may not) have a mustache. And yet.....I don't mind at all going short, short, short & highlighting all those freaky features in all their glory.

I about crapped my pants when she chopped off my bang-swoop.

But now I'm happily in love with it....she said, "You're ready for summer!" and I said, "I'm ready for a stocking cap!"  If I can look 1/2 as good as my mom with hair this short...I'm stickin' with it.

What I wanted to look like....realizing I'm nowhere near this pretty....

Actuality

I do look like a boy! Better get some big ass earrings.

"We bring beauty with us into this world, as we bring innocence, and the ugliness that we take with us when we leave is what we've made of ourselves instead of what we should have made." -Dean Koontz, One Door Away From Heaven

Ugh. I was really looking forward to today - I have nothing on the agenda except watching the shows I taped last night, keeping an eye on Elvis so he doesn't poop on the rug again, cuddling with Garfield because I tend to ignore her over Elvis, and being anxious about driving 5 miles to get my haircut tomorrow...and anxious about driving next Thursday (yes, I know that's far, far away) to Atl for my med-check appointment.

Now I'm just sad...and confused...and shocked....and bewildered....but mostly just sad. And still damn anxious.

My cousin's boyfriend committed suicide yesterday afternoon. I just found out this morning because my younger brother texted me at 5:30a.m. to confirm it. If he hadn't, I probably wouldn't have known until tonight when I got so bored, I'd jump on FB to see what my family was up to.

I only met him a few times at Thanksgiving get-togethers but he seemed like such a great guy - fun & obnoxious & loyal & caring....perfect for my cousin. And now he's gone. Just gone. And I'm sure they're left with a big hole in their hearts.

It just makes me think - you never really know what a person's going through. Never. And how horrible he must have been feeling to do this to himself. I mean, I don't know the particulars - maybe there was a fight; maybe he was fine up to that point; maybe he was drunk  But really, in my opinion, a person who does this to themselves isn't in their right mind. Just as a person who murders isn't either. They may seem fine...but they're not.

I don't know what I'm saying. I'm talking out my ass. I need to go laugh at something.

R.I.P.  big man. 

"Yoga is a good way to stay centered. If by "centered" you mean "in agonizing pain"" -Maxine

Wasn't it last month - January 17th, to be precise - that I said I was going to start working out daily and I posted a disgusting picture of myself to "motivate" me and "hold me accountable"?

Yeah....that didn't work out so well.

And didn't I say just last week or two that thanks to the carrot cake, I'd be 150lbs in a week?

Well hell. I'm a goddamn psychic.

LOL, not really, but I weighed myself this morning, sending good thoughts to the scale, and all I got back was a whopping 145lbs. My body hates me.

*sigh*

Damn carrot cake.

The good news is, I've worked out the last two afternoons and while my body can barely move, it feels good. I don't know why I fight myself every day over doing exercise or not. I've never regretted exercising (though I sort of regretted it this morning when I couldn't get out of bed without cussing).  I need someone to wire my jaw shut so I can stop eating and lose some goddamn weight. This shit sucks.

My friend, Shan, and I are going out to lunch today. Last night I was thinking how good a burger sounded, but in light of the scale, I'm going to have to get a salad....and no dessert, which is really the whole point of going.

I got a call this morning. Nobody calls me. People text or email or Facebook but I rarely get phone calls. And this one was on my cell so as I walked to grab the phone, I thought, "This is going to be a wrong number and I've tossed Garfield off my lap and put my cigarette out for no reason whatsoever..." I guess I'm not psychic, because it turned out to be my old boss/pastor. We haven't talked in ages and my first thought is always, "Who died?" because why else would someone call me?

Here's what: People I haven't talked to in a long time are difficult to talk to...because they want to know what's going on, what's been going on, what's going to be going on....and I have to rehash last year and how I'm still jobless and how I really have nothing new to tell anybody except how f-ing fat I've gotten. It's a bit depressing....so it's a good thing I've gotten exercise the last couple of days to combat that. I was thinking ahead without even knowing it. Maybe I am psychic!

It was a nice chat and listening to him & all the shit he & his family have gone through the last year puts my shit in perspective.

I just need to read more.

Speaking of....I tried to read "The Hour of Lead" (another western) and I just couldn't do it. I guess I'm only a Robert B. Parker-western-reader. But now, oh now! I'm reading "Personal" by Lee Child; another Jack Reacher novel. I love it when I can get excited about a book. Makes life worth living.

I took down my outdoor winter decorations yesterday and put away all the pinecones inside and brought out some Spring stuff....and then last night, after my workout and my hot-soak, I painted my toenails pink. I'd say I'm ready for Spring and now we're in for snow today, snow Saturday and snow Sunday. It's ok - just means I have more time to not mow....and if I shovel, that means I don't have to workout...because that is my workout.

I'm banning myself from baking anything ever again. Or, if I do, it must immediately leave the premises.

"When I make friends, it's for life...'course at my age, that's not saying much." -Maxine

My fear Thursday night came true. I walked to the school in freezing cold temperatures and the door was locked and no one was around.

*sigh*

Luckily, I'd dressed warm enough for the "beach theme party". And two 5th graders came along and ran around to the back of the building to let me in to the front. I'd have stood there until someone let me in rather than walk an additional 2 blocks.

And then I waited....and waited...and waited...for the librarians to show up. I was told 5:30. It was almost 6 by the time they showed up. But, whatever. I was there already. It wasn't like I was going to leave. I had my VCR set to tape "The Slap" so I was set for the night.

We had the kids make fish & jelly-fish out of paper plates, streamers, ribbon, markers and glue. It was fine except for the two boys who I didn't trust with scissors...or the hole-punch...or markers....or pretty much anything. And that's just one of the many reasons why I don't have kids.

Who knew we had an Indian family in town?

Alyse - she's my favorite.

Karaoke - they were singing "Let It Go" from "Frozen". I wanted to shoot myself in the face.

Speaking of "The Slap", have you watched it? I was hooked as soon as Zachary Quinto's character smacked the little brat. Here's what: I've wanted to smack numerous children throughout the years - grab them by their arm, smack their ass and tell them to sit in a damn corner....but I never have. I've barely yelled at them. In fact, I've never yelled at them. It isn't my place and if their parents are too damn dumb to discipline their own children, I hope those kids turn out to be....well, you can imagine. So I'm totally on board with Quinto's character and I loved the last scene of the most recent episode. I'm a very spiteful person, even though I rarely (have I ever?) follow through with any of the rantings that go on in my head. So, yeah, I hope he kicks those parents' asses and takes them down good. When I saw that kid (I think he's 5?) breastfeeding, that pretty much sealed the deal for me. Idiots from the get-go.

I read "Casual Vacancy" by J.K. Rowling (good book) and there's an angst-ridden teenager in it who is trying to be his authentic self. Turns out his authentic self isn't all that great...but it made me think. Am I authentic? I don't think so. I mean, what is authentic? And who decides what's authentic? Me? I wouldn't even know. Does biting back what I want to say authentic? Or just polite? Is volunteering for activities with kids authentic? Not really, since I normally can't stand children....but it isn't hurting me and in fact, it might turn out to be good for me...so really, what's authentic?

It's too much to think about. I'd rather read Robert B. Parker's "Appaloosa" series and not have to think at all. And isn't it a wonder that I like Westerns? Who knew?

I'm going to talk about cat poop now, so if it disgusts you, just stop reading.

Elvis pooped on the rug again Thursday. The rug that isn't even a foot away from the litter box. WTH? He'd been using the litter box just fine since the last incident so......Friday I kept my eye on him all day. All. Damn. Day. He didn't poop at all. *sigh* And of course, as soon as I leave the house on Saturday to just run to the library, I come back to more poop on the rug. Do you know how many damn times I've washed that damn rug? Too damn many. So he's on my shit-list - literally. And then there's Garfield. Poor, fat Garfield. Garfield who is so fat, she can't properly clean herself. I know where this leads....I cat-sit (sat? sit? set?) for some friends once who had an enormously fat cat and she couldn't clean herself either and her entire backside was feces. That shit is not going to happen to my cat! So, while Garfield was peacefully sleeping under the top blanket of the bed, I lifted an edge and cleaned her rear. She growled but didn't move, so I ventured further. I took some scissors to the fur of her backside. She growled more and took a swipe at my hand. But she still didn't run away so then I took a brush to the leftover hair. That's when she'd had enough, hissed & spit at me and didn't come near me the rest of the night.

I am sick of poop. It's like I've got damn dogs living here! Gotta go - I just heard Elvis fall off the bed so I have to go make sure he isn't pooping on anything. My life is grand.

"I'm feeling nice and cozy today....well, at least cozy." -Maxine

I should have saved the George Macdonald quote, "You have a disagreeable duty to do at twelve o'clock. Do not blacken nine & ten & eleven, & all between, with the color of twelve."

Tonight, I'm heading to the school to help the librarians with a craft for the PK-6 beach theme party. I wrote my grandma a letter the other day and told her about what little there is in my life, such as helping at the library. I noticed - absolutely none of the library-activities I've volunteered for are "library" or "book" or "reading" - related. Huh. Funny. And not in a ha-ha way, either. Anywhoo, the kids' youth council is sponsoring the event and it includes karaoke, "beach" volleyball, crafts (librarians), games and a dance...well after I'm gone, I can tell you. Luckily, we only have to do our craft for an hour before the dance. In 6th grade, I tried to convince our teacher, who was scary as hell, to let us hold a dance. It didn't work. And now look! PK's are having a dance! WTF. I got ripped off.

Even though my part in this whole shin-dig is very, very small, it still causes anxiety. I was awake a lot more than usual last night and not all because of Elvis getting lost and meowing to find his way back. It isn't so much the task that worries me. I imagine walking the two blocks to the school and all the doors being locked and nobody letting me in and hanging my head in shame as I walk back home. I just want people to like me. And since I fear they won't, I avoid them as much as I can.

*sigh*

It'll be fine. I'll be fine...

I did a good deed this morning. I had 3 eggs and 1/2 the cream cheese and some pecans leftover from my cake-baking experience, so I decided to bake the exact same cake in two 8X8 pans and take one to my neighbor who blew snow off my sidewalk, porch & driveway this winter (when it was easy to do....I didn't see him over here in the foot-deep snow!) I timed it perfectly so that he was warming his car up to go to 9 o'clock coffee with his lady-friend so I didn't have to stay there & talk for a long time...because, inevitably, something would have come out of my mouth I'd regret. I think he appreciated it...but it was tainted by this:

Some old dude who also goes to coffee asked my neighbor if what the neighbor across the street from Mom & Dad's said was true....that the church gave Dad $40,000 as a going-away gift.

I can't stop laughing and rolling my eyes. I swear, only in this town would some nimrod think this. FORTY THOUSAND DOLLARS! Not even $4,000. No - $40,000. Add another zero. And not only that: the old dude claimed the neighbor across the street from Mom & Dad's said DAD told him this. I don't think my dad has spoken to this guy except when they first moved in. The church gave my dad a damn CLOCK! Unless there's $40,000 stashed in its workings, these people need to shut the f*** up. My neighbor told the old dude, no, his information was incorrect - the church gave Dad $400,000 and they're staying down south for the entire year. Good answer. I would have just told the old dude to go f*** himself. Idiot. People who talk about other people have little minds - they have nothing else to talk about.....

Ok, now that that rants over...I'm off to eat more carrot cake. It's soothing....

Oh, and not to leave Garfield & Elvis out of my post:

Garfield was growling the entire time Elvis was this close....

 

"When I throw a party, I never know if I've fixed enough food. Or care, either." -Maxine

Holy crap! I can cook! And bake!

Major success. Nobody got sick, yet....and damn if that cake wasn't delicious.

I have so many leftovers, I'm going to be 150lbs within a week. But I don't care! Because it all tastes so damn good!

"For what plumbers charge, I'd better get to see some butt!" -Maxine

The only butt I was looking at this morning was my own as I was kissing it good-bye.

And not for the reason you might imagine or what I imagined as I lay awake last night thinking about baking & cooking. The Crockpot seems to be working just fine. The chicken was easy to dice (it's nice to have a sharp knife!) I even cooked the small amount of leftover chicken for a meal tomorrow. In oil and a skillet, no less! I'm becoming a regular Julia Childs.

However, I had an issue in the bathroom this morning. The stopper on my sink has not worked since I moved in. I vaguely remember Jerry the Plumber mentioning something about it when he was working on the rest of the house, but geez. We had enough going on at the time and since then it seemed like such a little thing to bother him or Dad with. I just lived with the stopper leaning halfway out of the drain and if it fell closed, I was able to pull it back out.

Not this morning. I cleaned the bathroom this morning - of course I did - I'm expecting guests - and when I cleaned the sink, I must have really pushed the stopper down hard because it was flush to the sink. No gap in which to pull it out. I tried an ice pick. I tried a thin, flat barrette. Nothing could get between the stopper and the sink.

Last year, at this time, I would have called Dad, even though he's gone. Or I would have called Jerry. I couldn't handle this shit last year.

What a difference a year makes! And thank goodness for Google and all the weird shit that floods the internet.

http://homeguides.sfgate.com/remove-stuck-metal-sink-stopper-30426.html

The second suggestion the site had (the 1st wouldn't work) was to get a small suction-thingy and suction the stopper up. Ah-ha, I thought! I've got just the thing! I have a small suction-thingy I used on my hard contacts when they wouldn't come out of my eyes! Took me 30 minutes to find the damn thing, but I did clean out several drawers in the meantime.

That didn't work. That damn stopper was stuck!

Number 3 suggestion? Remove the pivot rod nut and pivot rod.

Hmmmm, that sounds a little technical, doesn't it? However, I'm no idiot, so surely I can get this fixed before the guests arrive. How will they wash their hands in the bathroom? Oh, and by this time, there's standing water in the sink and I can't have that!  So, ok, get some pliers, a bucket to catch any water that comes out, turn the water off at the sink and away we go! And by jove, it worked! I jammed the handy ice pick into the hole, pushed up and just enough of the stopper came up to grab and set aside.

Whew! Not only can I cook (which actually remains to be seen), I'm a goddamn plumber!

And the kitchen's starting to smell like someone is actually cooking....

Just call me Betty Crocker!

Carrot cake with homemade cream cheese frosting
and pecans on top!










Actually, I wasn't sure if it was pecans you put on top of carrot cake....or walnuts....but how can you go wrong, really? And I cannot vouch for the taste...except the frosting, because you can bet your ass....I LICKED THE BOWL!

"When the kitchen smells spicy and wonderful, it can only mean one thing...it's not my kitchen." -Maxine

You won't believe what I'm doing. Even after I tell you, you won't believe it. You'll be all, "She's crazy. She must have gone off the deep end. Are we sure she's in her own house?"

I'm baking a cake!

No, this isn't mine...but it could be!

I know, I know. Don't call the fire department just yet.

It was my younger brother's birthday on Thursday and since Mom & Dad are out of town, I decided to try to "be" Mom and bake a cake & cook a meal for my brother & his girlfriend. Luckily her kids aren't coming so I don't have to worry about poisoning them. Tomorrow. I'm baking the cake today because I fear frosting. I want the cake completely cooled. So 1. bake cake today, 2. frost tomorrow.

Here's what: I don't bake. I don't cook. I microwave. I take pizza out of its packaging and throw it in the oven. I remove a carton and toss food in the microwave. I do not spend time in the kitchen....unless it's to clean.

But lately......

I've been slicing black olives and adding them & more mozzarella cheese to my pizza's. This might not seem like much to you, but it meant I had to get out my cutting board, which I haven't even looked at since I packed it in 2013 and find a sharp knife. Not impossible, I discovered. And whoa! That pizza is so much better! Seriously, my mouth is watering just thinking about it.

And baking?!? Forget about it! Like I have eggs! Who has eggs on hand? Apparently, everybody in the Western world. And Crisco?!? Like I keep Crisco on hand. Grrrrrr. And to make the frosting - powdered sugar! Do you know how old my powdered sugar is?!? 10 years! TEN years old. That's how often I bake.

But I'm finding, I actually can do this. Thanks to my mom, I have all the proper equipment (mixing bowls, mixer, spatula, cake pan, etc) and the knowledge (how to crack an egg without dropping shells into the mix!) and I think my sister-in-law bought me the Crockpot I'm going to be attempting to use tomorrow. I'm pretty sure she bought that for me 10 years ago and I've not once used it. Not once. Tomorrow will be a miracle day if it still works.

If not, there's always pizza.

My cake! I didn't burn it! Hopefully it's cooked properly....

"I hope we can set aside our past differences and ultimately create new ones."

*sigh*

Elvis.

So after starting laundry of the pee-stained variety, Elvis & I curled up in bed. He's so damn cute when he cuddles. It's when he's conscious that there's chaos. I barely slept last night and not for the reason you'd think - my snot-filled nose. I woke up every time Elvis moved so I could direct him (carry him) to his litter box after he ate & drank. Three times. He really is old since he has to pee so often in the middle of the damn night.

And I'm not like my dad who can be reading a book, or on the computer, or even driving one minute and the next be fast asleep. How does he do that?!? Must be a clear conscience. Me, however, it takes hours to fall asleep. I read for a 1/2 hour to wind down. Then there's another 15 minutes of laying on one side of my body until my hip starts to hurt and I roll over to the other side....until that hip starts to hurt and then I end up on my stomach....until my arms start to hurt....and then I'm back on my side again. By this point, Elvis is wide awake and eating/drinking so up I get to direct him to his litter box. And then it starts all over again, only now I'm dying of thirst, I have to blow my nose, I might as well pee since I'm up, and why is there so much damn cat hair flying around this place and landing on my damn face?!? And back to bed I go and now everything itches - my face, my butt, my hips, my legs, my feet. Why is it so dry in here? Is the humidifier running? I better go check. Garfield, get off of me and stop growling!! Elvis, you're not facing the bed. You can't jump that way. Turn around! Jump this way!!! Oh hell, I'll just pick you up.

It's a wonder I get any sleep at all.

Though I must have because there was another pee-deposit in the litter box that I wasn't responsible for, so good for Elvis! He found his potty! It's like having a 2 year old or a really old man living here. Either way, I don't like it.

And I keep dropping things and knocking things over and cussing up a storm, so that's how I know I'm sleep-deprived.

At least I don't have to go shovel:

"Well, you deserve it - you just pissed me off!" -Me to Elvis about 5 minutes ago.

This may be Elvis' final moments. Maybe you want to ring him up or give him a shout out or FaceTime him or send him your thoughts via telepathy because I'm about ready to go nuclear on his ass.

As I sat down to eat my lunch, I watched him squat and poop on a rug. Great entertainment when you're eating. And just now, as I was watching the news, I watched him squat and pee on one of his landing-pads (i.e. blanket on the floor). So now I'm doing laundry....again. He's fallen, trying to get onto the bed, several times in the last two days. This afternoon, it sounded like a load of books dropping onto the hardwood floor. It wasn't. It was Elvis, attempting to jump onto the bed, only he was facing the t.v. stand (which is much taller than the bed) and so when he attempted to jump, he missed his mark - - entirely.

*sigh*

*deep breath*

Doesn't some company make pet diapers? Because I'm sure it's as easy as wrestling an alligator to put a diaper on a cat.

I remind myself, he's old, he's blind, he's disoriented. Give him a break. Take care of him. Love him. I wouldn't put my parents "down" if one of them needed diapers, would I? However, I'm getting really sick of cleaning up his messes. Elvis', not my dad's.

If he pees on the bed, you can pretty much guarantee his funeral will be tomorrow.

"Remember, it's feed a cold, starve a fever...moon a neighbor. (Hey, you've gotta have a little fun when you're sick!)" -Maxine

I just got done holding my head over a steaming pot of water. It felt like a sauna. Probably great for the skin - did nothing for my sinuses. I'm too tired to even think. I'm sitting here with my eyes closed. Is it possible to fall asleep while typing? I suppose so. Children fall asleep in the middle of eating.

Pshaw. Like that'd ever happen to me. I love eating too much and that's why I'm glad it's "Feed a cold". I can do that. I can definitely do that. Though I don't feel much like eating right now. Sleeping. That's on my agenda.

That's all I got.

"I've got lots of junk in the trunk. And in the closet, and in the basement, and in the garage..." - Maxine

I am pretty darn proud of myself. It's really quite sad. Honestly.

I got up this morning, took out the garbage, showered, brought the garbage can inside, drove to Atl, filled the gas tank, made a deposit at the bank, spent an hour in Walmart (overflowing my cart), returned pop-cans, got my mail, paid a bill, filled out a form for a new dentist, got home and put all the food & stuff away (I am stocked up!), put all receipts/bills/etc in a file.....and got out of my jeans and into leggings. Whew!

I did more today in two hours than I did all day yesterday. And I didn't go sliding off the road!

I think everyone must have had the same idea as me - go shopping today. Walmart was out of the good stuff - my trailmix and my pizza and my soda and my pita chips and my cran-apple juice. I had to compromise. I'm not happy about that. I stood there wondering, Does everybody buy the same exact shit as I do?

Apparently.

"What you do for a living isn't important."

If THIS

is "PLUS-SIZE" then I must be morbidly obese. If I looked this damn good in a bikini, you'd bet your ass I'd be modeling for Sports Illustrated. Puh-leeze. The newscasters were saying that she's a size 12. Still below average of the American woman. Well, that's good to know. I can go up another size or two and still be "average".  WTF? First of all, people need to stop saying this is plus-size. It may be plus-size in the modeling world where most women are below size zero, but repeating it over & over & over and patting yourselves on your backs for including a "plus-size" model in your issue is disgusting. You should always include women who look NORMAL!

On the other hand, when did the average woman in America become a size 14? Not that I'm currently not happy about that, but geez. We need to go on a diet, America.

"Thousands of years ago, cats were worshipped as gods. Cats have never forgotten this." -- Anonymous

Elvis' new haircut.

If my hairdresser did this to me, I'd have to fire her ass and never leave the house. I don't even think he notices or is aware of what happened. He's such a damn good cat. He just took this torture without whining, biting, hissing or sneezing. Garfield, on the other hand, runs away every time I come near her with scissors. I think she's seen what I did to Elvis and refuses to look so stupid.

The snowfall has ended!

Wednesday morning (B.S. - before shoveling)

I was able to shovel everything I wanted to shovel yesterday (numerous times, almost falling on my ass because of the ice under the snow) and because of the sun yesterday...and more today....and more tomorrow....I can actually see concrete in some places. I think I'll try to venture to Atl. tomorrow (even though my folks said I could raid their freezer for food)! Can't believe how excited I am to get groceries. It's the little things in life....

"I'll rise but I won't shine." -Garfield

So much to say and not a single thing relates to the other. Beware.

Snow, snow and more snow!

I still love it. No matter what my body is screaming at me. It's going to snow more. Tomorrow morning. I'm never going to be able to leave my house because I won't drive if there's even a slight chance I'll slide into someone or something. My friend, Shan, all last week texted me every time she went to the store, asking me if I needed anything. I told her No, Thanks, but truth is, I pretty much need everything. I think I have a few slices of bread (so I can make a tuna sandwich) and I have a can of chili and this in my freezer:

Things are lookin' pretty sparse. I was supposed to go to Atl Thursday to see my med-check lady but I'm going to reschedule because 1. The highway will be crap because it always is and 2. I'm fine & have 2 refills on my meds. So what's the point of going, really? Oh, yeah, I need food. I've decided I'll go Friday - that gives plenty of people to drive the highway before me and it's supposed to be warmer Friday and I'm hoping that all works out because I'm not good at starving myself. I'd never make a good anorexic.

Since it's going to snow more tomorrow morning (they're saying 1-3 inches - we'll probably get nothing), I decided to suck it up, take a load of Advil and shovel to the Stop sign. I made it!!

Really, I'm quite proud of myself but I can just see my aunt Hope in Massachusetts rolling her eyes and saying, "Puh-leeeze, we've got 3 FEET of snow!" Poor woman. I feel for ya, I really do because shoveling this just about did me in. But I made it! I made it! I made it! AND, I didn't have a heart attack, so there's that. I think I'll be able to do it all again tomorrow - what a great workout.

And then there's this:

THAT'S NOT A BED!!!  I'm going, right now, to the basement to get her an empty box she can curl up in because, apparently, the TWO freaking cat beds and the recliner and the couch and my bed just aren't enough. I'm renaming her "Garfield". My brother's idea. She would love lasagna if I let her eat it. And she naps all day. And Elvis kind of looks like Odie and Garfield makes fun of and torments Odie, so it all adds up. And I hate the name Bella because, again, my brother told me that's the name of the chick from those stupid, icky Twilight movies. I just can't call Garfield "Bella" anymore. She doesn't answer to any name, anyway, so I might as well call her whatever the hell I want. I could call her a different name every day and she wouldn't notice. So Garfield it is! Welcome Garfield!!

And here's what I think of the State of Iowa - generous but completely disorganized. In December, I received notice that they approved me (again) for State health insurance beginning 2/1/15 and would be sending me more information. By January 26th, I hadn't received anything so I called. The wait time was 5 hours and they said to email them so I did. Asked "Where's my information? Will I get a new card?" By the next day, I'd gotten no response to my email so I called again. No mention of a long wait time so I put it on speaker and smoked a cigarette and by the time I was done, a dude came on the line. He told me the information I received was "valid but inaccurate" because the State decided to move me to the State plan (which is what I had last year)...but that I had to fill out a Health Risk Assessment BY JANUARY 31. Ummm, 3 days away? What would have happened had I not called???? I would have been charged a premium. Asshats. They send no information after they say they're going to send information. They give me no notice that I have to do this assessment or be "fined" and I still haven't received any information. And I'm pretty sure they're going to screw me over because of the Health Risk Assessment. I hate/love insurance. They should have no control over what health care a person needs and they shouldn't be able to force a person to change their lifestyle. If I want to die of lung cancer, let me! But....how can I complain? It's free. Completely and totally free. So I'll pretty much do whatever the hell they tell me to do. Even though they're asshats.

*sigh*

"My windows have a really nice winter glaze. Wait, never mind...I think I just haven't cleaned them in a really long time." -Maxine

I can't move today. For some unholy reason, I decided to go shovel more yesterday afternoon. As you could tell from the pictures I posted yesterday, as soon as I finished shoveling, it needed it again. But I could barely stand upright, so I figured I'd wait until today to shovel. Only then I saw the forecast for today (negative-something) and worried that what I hadn't shoveled would freeze so I got all bundled up and went back out at 4.

*sigh*

I swear, there was another 4 inches in my driveway. Just imagine if I hadn't shoveled in the morning! And no, I still haven't made it all the way to the stop sign. I was just plowing along, trying to keep my back from killing me, when I finally looked up and realized, "hell, nobody can even get to my sidewalk from the street, anyway, because they've got a 7 foot pile of snow blocking it!" So, that was that. Screw anybody who complains.

Driveway

Front-side walk - See where I stopped on the right?

And this morning I walked over to Mom & Dad's to check on the house. I figure the whole family's going to get fined by the city for not shoveling our walks. A family that's fined together, stays together!

Inside garage looking toward street

Side patio area

As I walked to Mom & Dad's, everybody with a skid loader & snow blower was out - usually doing someone else's walk. Uhhhhhh, wanna swing by mine on your way home? Ummmm, no, apparently not. Oh well. I'm going to go lay flat on my back for the rest of the day.

I did walk to my friend, Shan's, for the Super Bowl last night. What a great, suspenseful game! But being there at Shan's, with her daughter who doesn't stop talking except to take a breath, I'm pretty sure my biological clock stopped - permanently. She threatened to send them (she has a son, age 12) over to my house today (because there's no school). I told her they'd never come back because I'd kill them both. If my doorbell rings today, I'm not answering it, lol!

That's all. I'm officially done.

"Old Man Winter's here and, like most men, he's leavin' me cold." -Maxine

Holy Cheezits!

I quit shoveling when I started to feel dizzy.

As I glared at my neighbors who were smart enough to call a guy with a skid loader.

I didn't even make it to the end of my block. I've got about 1/4 left and when I started to think, "Oh shit, I'm going to pass out", I decided anybody stupid enough to be walking in this should be walking in the street anyway.

I feel sick. I need to go lay down...but I'm afraid I won't be able to get back up.....Oh well, at least we've still got power! (TV, electric blanket, Kindle....I'm set for the day!)