Oscar Wilde Week #5 - The Truth Hurts

* The reasons for today's handwritten entry can be found HERE and HERE.

(click the pic to make it bigger if you're old and blind...or even if you're not)

Oscar Wilde Week #4 - Self Esteem

"The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated." -Oscar Wilde

Yeah...I really don't think I'll be expounding upon today's quote. All the stuff I could say is likely to land me in big trouble. We all know Beej thinks pretty highly of herself and has taught her offspring to do the same. I will say that this Oscar was a sassy fellow...yes?


Here's a bonus pic from the Fall Funtastic. Litkia makes a great pirate.

Oscar Wilde Week #3 - Popularity

"The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about." -Oscar Wilde

The phone rang at 7:00 PM. It was Coco. She was making sure that I was watching "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown". She proceeded to tell me that she's been watching this show every fall since she was in diapers. I didn't have the heart to tell her that everybody else in the world had too. Then she told me that I should blog about the phone call, but I reminded her it was Oscar Wilde week. Care to take a guess at her response to that? Let me just quell the anticipation you must be feeling and go ahead and tell you that she said, "Oh yeah, that's why I'm not reading it." If it's not about Coco, Coco isn't interested. So, here's my question. Why should I keep linking to her blog, when she never, no never, updates it? I say it's an exercise in futility. I think a better way to deal with her need for attention is to just out and out talk about her right to her face. In fact, you are all welcome to do that now if you wish. I'll be sure to tell her you did if you do.

Oscar Wilde Week #2 - Consistency

"Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative." -Oscar Wilde

6:15 - Wake Litkia and get dressed.

7:15 - Take Litkia to school.

7:30 - Go to the gym.

8:30 - Go home to work or occasionally meet a friend for coffee.

12:00 - Eat cheese and triscuits.

2:15 - Go pick up Pateriko from school.

3:00 - Go back to work and yell at kids about homework and turning down the music.

4:30 - Continue to work but get that nagging in your head about what these people are going to eat for dinner.

5:30 - Actually start worrying about dinner, but play Wordtwist on Facebook with Jerry, Abby, Brandy or anybody else who will play instead of cooking.

6:30 - Greet Dirty Larry as he comes home and realize I never figured out what to do about dinner. Go to the kitchen and look around for about 10 minutes and then try to throw something together.

8:00 - Start yelling at kids about winding this day down.

8:30 - Tell Liktia to go to bed. This lasts about 45 minutes for some reason so I have to start a little early.

9:45 - Get in bed with the laptop and watch as many episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" that I can pack in until my eyes get tired.

11:30 - Sleep.

Lather, rinse, repeat daily times 5 days then have the weekend.


I don't remember what it is that I do on Saturday. On Sunday I go to church and then I take Litkia to choir at 5:00 and meet my friend for coffee while Litkia is singing. Then we go home and do the yelling at the kids about winding down thing again.

I am so consistent it makes me cry. There is no spontaneity in this life I lead.

Hello, my name is Beej, and I am boring.

Oscar Wilde Week #1 - Fashion

I will be the first to say that Oscar Wilde was a mixed up so and so, but he seriously said some blogworthy stuff.

"Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months." - Oscar Wilde

When Coco came to see me last, we went to New Orleans for a girl trip. She forced me to wear a shirt that belonged to her daughter because according to her, all I had to wear was "stuff that looks like your grandmother crocheted it". I suppose I've never been much for fashion. I'm pretty sure I wear what makes ME happy and not so much what everybody else might think I should be wearing. I'm a rebel like that I guess. I like my blouses to have angel or peasant sleeves (see pic) that tend to fall into whatever food I may be eating (but obviously not for that reason), my pants to be jeans (preferably nicely worn in) and my shoes to be flip flops. Those three things together tend to make me look a little on the side of gypsy-ish, which I don't really mind. I also like to use the word bohemian to describe myself, but I think the actual definition doesn't fit me at all really, considering that I view myself as a conformist in so, so, so many ways. I think I just WISH I was more capable of being a nonconformist and I think if I pretend to be, maybe one day I will be. Until that day, I'll try to be satisfied with dressing like a witch and keeping secrets from my mama.

Repairing Beej for nearly half of her life

As a science teacher in 1989, I was invited to a trade fair in Mobile where a person could pick up a lot of freebies that might be helpful in the classroom. One of the things that was handed to me was a Liquid Paper correction pen. It was fabulous. There was no excess mess like you have when you use the kind with a brush. When I quit teaching, I still had it and it was still working. I put it in my desk at home and used it from time to time. So tonight, now nearly 20 years later, Pateriko asked me if I had any liquid paper. I pulled out my trusty correction pen, shook it up and handed it to him. As he repaired his inked mistake, I said, "Do you have any idea how OLD this thing is? I can't believe it's still working". I'm not sure if this a testament to what a great product it is or if it's more a testament to how very close to perfect I obviously must be since there's still so much left in there. I think we'll go with the latter.

Ever smashed up a waiting room?

So I woke up this morning at 4:45 in order to get my mother to the outpatient surgery area of one of our local hospitals by 6:00 to have a "procedure". When we entered the waiting area we were greeted by an overly happy person. Now, let me tell you...Beej does not enjoy overly happy people at 5:50 AM. No she doesn't. And nobody... I say nobody, has any business being THAT happy, THAT early in the morning. Once the waiting room was good and crowded with sleepy, frustrated, waiting people, this overly happy person popped up with her big old toothy grin and reminded all the patients that they were to remove their jewelry and give any valuables to their accompanying family members. She did this in a very perky voice and then added that the men should hand their wallets over to their wives and if they didn't have a wife that any single woman in the room would be thrilled to hold it for them. Then she nearly fell over from hysterical laughter at her own, only mediocre, joke. Every person who walked in was greeted with "Hey baby!" "How are you doing, baby?"and sometimes it was accompanied by a hug. When people left, it was "Okay baby, take care!". She answered the phone "HEY!! Thanks for calling!! Okay!!!...every danged time. It only took me a few calls to realize that her callers were several people not 4 feet from her desk (but behind closed doors) and they were directing her to send in the next person. I think I would have just answered it..."who next?" or something less vibrant and obnoxious. As time passed, she repeated the spiel about removing the jewelry for all the newbies, but this time added a story about how once, here in the waiting room, a 66 year old woman asked her if her belly button ring had to be removed as well. She said she couldn't believe that a 66 year old woman had a belly button ring and then began asking several of the men in the waiting room what they would do if their wife came home with a "belly button" (which is what she called it for the remainder of her little entertainment of the waiting people moment). "Sir, what would YOU do if your wife came home with a BELLY BUTTON??!!" *hysterical laughter*



So while I'm sitting there, a news story comes on the TV about this place in San Diego called The Smash Shack where, for a small fee, you can go smash things when you're frustrated. Watching the news clip made me want to smash something, but all I had was a Styrofoam cup that once held some lukewarm hospital coffee. It was empty, so I spent the rest of my waiting time tearing it up and then decorating what was left with my fingernail. Yeah, so that's what I did with my morning. Beat that.

We know she's brilliant, now she's just showing off.

When I graduated from college, my parents were in the process of moving from Mississippi to Alabama and I went with them based solely on the fact that I felt like I had nowhere else to go. I obviously had other options, but at the time, it wasn't so clear to me. This was a move back home for them. They wanted to be closer to their aging parents. When I was a child, my family visited my grandparents every year or two, so I knew them, but I never really KNEW them. One of my grandmothers was a quilter and I decided to ask her to teach me how to quilt. I wanted to know her and I knew this would be time well spent with her. She took me to the fabric store and walked me through all the steps for making my first log cabin quilt. We picked out greens and blues in various shades of dark and light and I was completely lost. During the quilting lessons, she was pretty patient with me and she laughed a lot. She was truly a perfectionist, which made me try a little harder, but I'm sure she was rolling her eyes at me when I wasn't looking.

When she died, I inherited all her quilting things. It's not like she left them to me, but I was the only one who knew how to quilt at the time and I felt honored that her things were now mine. Amongst all the scraps and patterns were several completed owl blocks. I used a few of my own owl blocks along with grandmother's to make my Mom a lap quilt for Christmas that year. I put a "quilted by" tag on the back corner that had my name and my grandmother's name as if it were a joint effort, which I guess it was.

Before each of my children was born I made quilts for them and when they were old enough to understand, I told them that the quilts were made especially with them in mind because I loved them before I ever even saw their tiny faces. Needless to say, they are a pretty protective over those now tattered pieces of cloth. I've repaired them both so many times I can't even count anymore. I made a baby quilt for one of my dearest friends for her daughter's first birthday, using the baby clothes from that first year that she loved the most. I even wondered at the time if making quilts like that would be a good source of income for me, but I think I quickly realized that the effort I put into each one was worth a lot more to me than people would be willing to pay.

I just don't see how people can make these things and then sell them. I have one in the closet right now that has been pieced since (NO LIE) 1997. It still sits there waiting for the final touches to be added. And by final touches I mean about half of it still has to be quilted and the whole thing has to be edged. Who has time for that stuff anymore? Not me. But, I really do miss the part of me that used my hands to create things. Quilts are mathematical as well as artsy. They satisfy the brain in at least two realms and maybe more. I'm sure this blog is some sort of brain outlet for me, and it's one that allows me to stay seated at the desk where I work for actual money, which is a plus. But it doesn't do the same healing as the tedious in and out of a needle through layers of cloth and batting. This is the happy kind of sewing. Those 4 pair of school uniform pants that need to be hemmed in the other room? That's the not happy kind.

Short people got nobody

I've never really thought of myself as short. In fact, for the first 20 or so years of my life I actually FELT like I was taller than average. I grew up in a house full of shortish people and excluding my 5'8" father, I was probably the tallest person there at 5'4". When my tiny 4'11" sister needed something to be retrieved from the top of the kitchen cabinet, it was my name that was called for assistance and tacked onto the end was something like "amazon woman". I felt tall. They all acknowledged my tallness. I'm taller than my mom by a couple of inches. CB (the other sister you know) and I may be close to the same height right now, but growing up, I was taller based on the 3 extra years I had on her. Then I married Dirty Larry, who is 6'2" and decided that I wasn't tall after all. But I STILL didn't consider myself short.

Sunday morning I was brushing Litkia's hair and putting it in a ponytail. I realized that I felt very awkward. Something was different. Something wasn't right. I slowly realized that my arms were so much higher than normal doing this job that it was almost uncomfortable. She's getting taller. I'm positive she's going to be much taller than me. I wore flip flops and jeans to church that day (another story entirely) and Pateriko, who is now 14, was standing next to me. He was absolutely a full 2" taller than me. Maybe more. It was disconcerting and I felt very, very... short.

I guess once Litkia starts looking down at me, I'll be the shortest person here. This makes me a little sad. I don't love feeling lower than anyone, not mentally and not physically. I'm not going to like it when everybody has to look down at me to acknowledge me...or worse, that I have to look up to acknowledge THEM. I'm used to being big and scary to my children. It's a good thing I've done a great job at making them think I'm dangerous (which actually, I am). Maybe my past behavior will cloud over the fact that they are bigger than me and they'll still be afraid to cross me. (I know better than to cross MY mama.) If not, I'm gonna have to come up with a new plan. Maybe I should start practicing being nice..............oh...hahaha...nah.

And they all lived happily ever after...

It was a beautiful, sunny day and Beej was sitting on the patio at the coffee shop with her friend Leslie, trying to focus on the sky and the breeze instead of the parking lot, when suddenly, there was a rustling behind Leslie's extra tall chair. The two of them turned simultaneously to see what the racket was. They saw an envelope that had been opened and kind of twisted inside out, scraping across the concrete, moving toward the iron fencing surrounding the patio. It was moving pretty swiftly. Beej decided that when it got to the fence, it would surely get caught...but no! It flew under the iron bars and made it's way across the grass, headed for the coffee shop drive-through. "It escaped!", Leslie said with a smile. Beej was a little surprised at her own sudden feelings of victory as she watched it make it's way across the drive, safely to the grass on the other side. It was surprising to the two women when the breeze picked it up and it landed gently in a puddle on the other side of the grass. They both squealed a tiny squeal, and neither had any idea why, but they were rooting for it to make it wherever it was going. It started floating gently along the road and Leslie and Beej began discussing where the little envelope boat might be headed. About that time, a car came by and smashed it to the bottom of the puddle, thus ending it's short journey. The End.


I don't know why I thought that thing was going to get somewhere. The puddle ended a little further down the road. I guess I thought it might grow some legs and walk out of town.


Hmmph.

Is this room spinning or am I?

Oh man! I went to work out this morning and then immediately left the gym and met my friend for iced coffee and before I left the coffee shop I was feeling kinda jumpy but I didn't think too much about it and then by the time I got home I was feeling really jittery and then I sat in my chair to start working and my leg started shaking and I thought I kinda needed to jump up and run around the room a little bit to work off some of the excess energy but I didn't and now I'm trying to think what to do when you are high on caffeine and exercise that will make your heart stop beating so fast.

Whoooooo I'm gonna work now! Now! I am.

Warning:This is about my new underwear.

I'm throwing caution to the wind today in order to warn you of the dangers of Body By Victoria underwear made of 91% nylon and 9% spandex. Turns out some people might be allergic to this combination of materials. A person might even get a rash on the hips and upper behind because of this combination of materials. It might be quite uncomfortable for said person and it might make a person very unhappy that they bought 3 of these items all in different colors, especially because they cost the person a pretty penny...not to mention the scratching. It might even make a person decide to go to Wal-Mart and buy a pack of Fruit of the Loom, 100% cotton underwear for a fraction of the cost with no itching to boot. It's not like the average person even looks good in that Victoria's Secret stuff anyhow. "This is not just sour grapes either", said the fox.

Just sayin'.

I don't even OWN a gun...or a fishing rod.

This evening, Dirty Larry decided that the kids needed to see the Bass Pro Shop across the bay. I was skeptical about the adventure because it didn't sound like much fun to me. I wasn't really interested in hanging around with every good old boy from here to the state line, but since I've been harping about never doing anything outside this house, I couldn't very well decline his offer. I admit to being a little grumpy on the way over, but I tried to put my feelings about unfinished typing and homework aside for the time. When we got there and exited the jeep, I could hear music playing in the parking lot. It reminded me vaguely of Disney World, the happiest place on earth and I almost immediately started feeling better.

The place was huge and there was no detail a sportsman could possibly have been left wanting. There were more dead, stuffed animals in this place than you could ever imagine. Here's an opossum on a spit. Yum!

And bears! There must have been 45 bears (and that is only a SLIGHT exaggeration).

After we toured the facility and saw the gigantic aquarium and the waterfall, we decided to head toward the Islamorada Fish Company Restaurant located inside the store. Again with the skepticism, but I must say I changed my mind as soon as they brought out the bread. Oh my goodness! The food was great even if there WAS a tree in my creamy key west shrimp pasta. My word this picture makes it look gross. I promise it wasn't.

One definite drawback to this nice evening is that I'm feeling the need to walk an extra mile in the morning for putting all that food in me (I did finally join the gym by the way).

So, moral of the story is that sometimes Dirty Larry might be sorta, kinda right even if I think he's possibly off his nut.