Variable

It goes without saying that technology is a magnificent thing.  Yay, progress :)  Every now and then, I find myself faced with a "backwards" experience that reminds me to appreciate the technology we have today.  Sadly, these aren't very life-altering or profound backwards experiences -- I mean, it's not like I occasionally shit in an outhouse in the middle of the night or have to pluck my own chickens before dinner.   No, it's just little things and I say, geez my life really has been made easier/better/more full because of this small advancement.  

Most recently I experienced this in a rental car. 

Diatribe

I love free shit.  In a good, healthy way - not in the call-the-hoarders-show kind of way.  When I tell stories of how I got free stuff it is reminiscent of my grandparents telling boring stories about farming, roller skates, and flowered feed sacks.  And I realize you are not interested in my tale of triumph, but come on, FREE!  And, yes, I also realize that the lengths to which I will go to get free shit sometimes defeat the purpose.  Finally, I'm only sort of good at things (my freaking life story) - I'm sure that my approach to freebies is not particularly admirable and that others are way better at it (there are websites dedicated to that kind of obsession) - but I'm still going to be proud of that $25 Barnes and Noble gift card and use it with zeal. 

Open in New Tab

This particular I.E. function is the neatest thing since sliced bagels.  I love it. 

UPDATE: I have since switched to Firefox, and it, too, has the open in new tab function. But Firefox has something that IE doesn't - little themes for the browser.  I picked SpongeBob.  Natch.  

Acquaintance.

I don't know, and I don't think I've ever met, someone named Simon.  Or Ralph. Or Clay. Or George. Or Harry.  I know a few Harold's, but no Harry.  I only met a Paul a year ago.  Those just seem like common (or at least not uncommon) names to me, yet my life is bereft of these people.  Huh. 

Attempt

My first try at a LOL Cat.  Please don't laugh . . .  wait . . . please DO laugh. 

PS. Don't laugh at the couch.  This is a picture of our kitten back in the old apartment in Iowa.  The couch was free and ugly, but served its purpose.  Now that I have a real job, I can afford slightly less hideous furniture.  And better plates.  Geez, I just noticed the damn plate - yeah, that was a hand-me-down from the hubby's side.  Those are gone too with slightly less monstrous replacements.  Killer sandwhich, though! 

Ruminate

When I was in a sorority (read: I am better than you), we had a process of discussing potential candidates (rushees) that was designed to (1) stay positive and (2) stay on task.  It was simple: for each rushee, a sister could only say three things about the aforementioned rushee - preferrably in one word or a short phrase - and the sister had to start and end on a good note.  Pro - Con - Pro.  My guess is that the process was also designed for us to not sound like totally materialistic bitches or at least to give the impression that we weren't total bitches.  As a sidenote, to no one's surprise, we used the words "cute" and "nice" as veiled "cons" (example: Sara Brown: Cute, socially awkward, and nice).  I'm pretty sure that women in the South are much better at the veiled "cute" and "nice" adjectives, but we tried.  Moving along . . . in this same vein I will try to keep posts generally positive.  It is my goal and destiny.  Pro, Con, Pro. 

No one

Will ever read this.  Good for me - because I'm sure my friends already think I'm crazy!!  Sad for the internets and its denizens because I rule.

Greatest Story Ever Told (today)

There is this food-court like place where I sometimes eat lunch during the workday.  There is a really snazzy fresh popcorn shop therein.  I was enjoying a simple lunch of something boring, like subway or tacos, and sharing a chat with my hubby who sometimes meets me for lunch.  I stopped chatting with him mid-sentence and started staring at one of the fiercest messes I'd ever laid eyes on . . . and by staring, I mean casually looking up at this mess, then back at my lunch, back at the lunch companion, casually back at the mess, over to the shop signs, around to others, back to the mess, and so on.  The way we all non-chalantly pretend to not look at things . . . Describing all this doesn't quite do it justice, but I'll try: 

On Stress.

This blog and my distractions help me deal with stress.  No surprise there, I am sure.  Today I read this article about symptoms of stress; and while I wouldn't categorize these items as "surprising" as the author does, it, nevertheless, serves as a reminder that our body dislikes stress as much as our brain.  http://health.yahoo.com/featured/95/9-surprising-symptoms-of-stress  My hubby often gets the eye twitching problem, and I know it drives him crazier than whatever is stressing him at the moment (which is sort of ironic).  Today I am really feeling stress.  I work well under pressure, but feeling a bit underwater during today's pressures.  In any case, at the suggestion of the article, I have been periodically shutting my eyes and recalling fun memories from my past vacations.  I haven't been to a lot of places, but still thankful I've had some chances to travel.  Right now, I'm remembering the blue waters of the Mediterranean: I once sat on the boulevard in Nice and just looked out at the glass-like surface of the sea.  It was too many years ago, but the color is permanently imprinted in my mind.  Later during that same trip, I looked at it again while in Monte Carlo.  I was a touch too young and petulant at the time to really appreciate the trip and the views, but the sights and color remains easy to recall.  Cool, yet vibrant . . . inviting and calming.  I need the Mediterranean outside my office right now.

Indignant

When I was in second grade, I used to get into all sorts of trouble.  The teacher didn't like me - which I realize is an over-used excuse generally, but what I mean is that my actions and behavior caused her to NOT like me (i.e., it was an earned dislike, not an excuse).

Once we were tasked with coloring dinosaurs.  My teacher handed out sheets of white paper with black outlines of dinosaurs and we were to color them so we could each make a "Dinosaur Book".  Admirable goal, if I may say.  Who doesn't want a book of dinosaurs?  Anyway, I pulled out the trusty box of Crayola 64 and set to it.  I colored all my beasts multi-colors of the rainbow (staying within the lines, mind you).  The teacher stopped me and said to me (and the class at large) "Dinosaurs were not that color."  To which I replied, "Dinosaurs are (sadly) extinct.  How do you know what color they are? They might have been blue and yellow." 

Got in trouble for that one. Oh well. I realize this story is probably not uncommon for kids/teachers, but there were a series of these run-ins all through my second grade tenure.  This was all particularly memorable to be, because the teacher told my parents she suspected that I was ADD and encouraged my parents to get me tested.  Which they did - because back in those days, parents respected teachers and their authority.  I failed the ADD tests (which meant I was not ADD).  And in third grade I was placed in the TAG program.

On Aging.

As a teenager, I was told that bad skin was just a part of puberty and that I would grow out of it.  That was a lie. I'm considerably older and my skin is only marginally better.  I hate getting zits and stuff.  It sucks along with the rest of my aging body.  Bleh.

The internet is a playground . . .

I think there are some more words that go after the elipses . . . like it's a quote or something, but I'm surprisingly too lazy to even google it.  But I remember hearing or reading the full quote from whoever at some point and thinking, "well, no shit, sherlock" even though I agree with the line. The internet is a playground. And I love to play - not so much in the interaction sense of team sports (e.g., editing wikipedia, write on message boards, or blog (oops, wait . . . )) - but more like the swinging by myself or looking for shiny rocks (totally did all those things when I was a kid).  But here's me, on the playground, just chillin'.  Looking at shit.  Laughing at shit.  Getting entertained.  So, thanks Interwebs.  Thanks.

UPDATE: It was David Thorne.  Mea Culpa.  It's the title of his 'effing book.  I'm such an ass for forgetting.