cheers

The old foagies are going to ring in the new year watching scary movies and drinking wine. It's a throw-back celebration, and although we had some tempting party-type options, we're still recovering from our previous trip home -- and we're tired. That, and it's also nice to ring in the new year how we used to --- like I said, watching scary movies.

Tonight's venue: The Machinist, High Tension, House of Wax, Devil's Rejects, and Tales from the Crypt (season one) ... Something old, something new, something with the shade of blue, right? We're well on our way to looking at the clock and noticing that we missed the countdown by at least fifteen minutes.

And time is ticking for me to finish up the last of my 2005 activities.

I don't do resolutions. The Hater says he's going to start a new diet.

Maybe I'll stop tweezing my eyebrows for mine. In lieu of the throw-back celebration and all... despite pleas from my Sister, who says that eyebrow tweezing is a lifelong commitment. Idunno. We'll see how that goes. I'd say I'm going 'amazon' for 2006, but I'm rather attached to my breasts, and I don't do archery.

Meanwhile, The Hater says it's time to get back to the Devil's Rejects. (as he TiVos all of the SCIFI Twilingt Zone marathon episodes...) Looks like we'll be celebrating the new year for at lesat a couple of more days.

Mr. Fix-It

You may have heard us complain about the dryer. It was given to us new as a wedding present when we moved to OKC. But even as a new dryer, it always took four to six cycles through the dryer to dry a modest load of clothes. So when we complained about doing laundry it wasn't like when other people complain about doing laundry... it would really be an all-weekend game to do a few loads. The nightmare of doing laundry has never ended.

My husband has saved the day.

You should know that neither of us are terribly handy people to have around. I'm not going to be the person to try to take apart the garbage disposal -- or take the lid off of the back of the toilet to see why it's running. Not my thing. But I'm a very well-trained gopher; I could write essays on the differences between a flathead screwdriver and a phillip's screwdriver. And my Dad has trained me to be a very good hand-it-to-me assistant, which was really pre-nurse training.

Then there's The Hater. He hung up all the things in the apartment. We tighten screws that are loose. Other than that, when something's broken, we fiddle with it for a while and then look for someone else to fix it. This is evidenced by my broken pepper grinder still sitting on the kitchen counter from way before Christmas...

But yesterday I came home to find that The Hater had fixed the dryer. He shortened the accordian tube thing and reattached it after cleaning out the other part. And now it only takes one cycle to dry big loads, not just modest loads. And he did it all by himself --- he's so great.

I only wished we had fiddled with it a couple of years ago. Maybe the pepper mill will be next to fix on his to-do- list.

the urge

You know when your bladder is really full, as in so full that you probably should have relieved yourself about thirty minutes before you actually do. And there you are, doing the cross-legged walk to the bathroom, trying to keep your legs crossed as you unbutton your jeans, thinking about anything that doesn't involve running water. Then there's the moment where you look at the toilet - and at that moment it's all you can do to keep from peeing your pants.

Something about seeing the john, knowing that there's relief ahead, there's urgency and peace in that moment. And then, relief, paired with telling yourself that you won't go that long again ignoring your bladder.

But you do.

Every day.

Someday I'll have worn out my pelvic floor with babies. That's a fancy way of saying that I won't be able to compete in the olympic-bladder-holding campaigns. That means that I'll pee myself when I laugh or cough or sneeze or jump. That means I'll have to buy stock in Poise pads to justify all the packs I'll have to purchase to keep pee from getting on my clothes. That means I'll get older and hope I'm not one of the women whose bladder or uterus (or both) fall outside of their body. Getting old doesn't seem like a fun passtime. And that's all okay, I guess, because that's what's supposed to happen. Time.

And all of that is a fancy way of saying that in a lot of ways right now I feel like someone struggling with the buttons on their jeans while they desperately hold their bladder. And I'm wondering if it would really be a bad thing if I just pee my pants and get it over with -- or is the struggle with the zipper worth the moment of accomplished relief.

the lister's list

A few weeks ago I was working on a Saturday. It wasn't anything exciting, but I had a patient who was really cracking me up. She's inspired me to start a list. So far it's a short list, so feel free to add your own in the comments.

Quite possibly the best quotes I've ever heard people really say:

"When I woke up this morning my mouth felt like someone had taken out my teeth and eaten gorilla poop. They put my teeth back without even rinsing them off."

"Leave the lights off; I'm beautiful in the dark."

"What's a potato?"

winner winner chicken dinner

I'm a winner.

It's a game of odds, mostly. I always look to buy the coke that has the special top to take off to see if you're a winner of a free coke -- except I never win.

I'll occasionally buy a lottery ticket with the promise of millions -- except I never win.

I sign up for every free car that the mall has to showcase -- except I never win.

I sign up, with multiple email accounts, for free houses on the internet -- except I never win.

When there's a real-life sign-up thing I fold my entry like an accordian to increase the surface area to help me win -- excpet I never win.

But today I came home from work and had a mystery package. I was informed that I had won second place in an online competetion -- in which first place was a sweet bicycle that I wanted to win. But instead I won a box of power bars, power shakes, power things, and a handy tote bag to carry all of my power gear. It's probably $150 worth of power foods -- all terribly high carb and high energy.

And I'm excited that I won... but I'm afraid that I've burned my win on power bars. I think what concerns me more is that today is Wednesday -- and we have a powerball ticket to check tonight to see if we were winners of TN's 25 Million. Please stand by while I check...

***checking***

Okay, so I wanted this to be a big space where I either whined about having to go to work tomorrow or gloated that I was a winner. But they've not posted my lucky numbers yet... So I guess we'll all just have to sit in anxiousness and wait. But I'd advise you not to hold your breath.

story update

I think I'll post random updates about the story I've not written yet. This way there will be an imaginary accountibility. And you can suffer with me! It'll be way fun.

UPDATE:

Much to my horror, my friend emailed me back and said he'd like to be the illustrator for the children's book I've not written. He says he's stayed abreast on all the latest illustrating jazz with his job; he says he knows what publishers like these days.

That makes one of us.

I've not emailed him back yet, but I plan to in the next couple of days. Or call him. I haven't decided yet. When I call him it'll turn into a *real* project, and that idea makes me nervous.

So far as the story goes, other than my original notes, I'm still in thinking mode. I can't decide how I want it to feel. Or end. These are two major problems. And I can't decide if a flower is too fru-fru to be a main character, but I'd like it to be something to which all ages can relate. And I have no clue what format publishers want now -- what they want to see -- what companies are looking for new authors -- how to send it in... I guess that mostly I'm in the thinking/nervous mode.

My anxiety about the story is a 5.7 this morning.