Oh Geez…

That’s right, I’m a mid-westerner now – so now I say things like “Oh Geez” and “Dontcha Know.”

Actually, I caught myself exclaiming “Oh GEEZ!” the first time I watched Fargo whilst in Australia and “Dontcha Know” somehow crept into my lexicon many years ago…. Albeit not as regularly. I’ll blame it on the lady from Wisconsin that watched my daughter as a baby and my BFF from Michigan. Though, to be fair, I don’t actually recall Dane ever saying those phrases haha.

All that being said… Oh Geez… I hurt.

I worked my first three shifts this week. The first day was HELL I tell you… in as far as how my body reacted to the physicality of it all. That day it dawned on me that I hadn’t worked the floor in over 4 years. My last job was strictly a desk job and the one before that, though in a similar field, was also mostly a desk job. Certainly didn’t have to be on my feet any more than I needed to be.

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My fitbit stats right after getting off of work on day one

My feet were on fire and my back ached like crazy at the end of day one. Day two was a bit better as I acclimated, but also wore gel inserts in my shoes and a back brace. My god I feel like I’m getting old… Day three, I felt even better afterwards. Slowly but surely getting used to 8 hours on my feet. So glad it’s not currently 12 hour shifts like I was otherwise used to previously!

Now I’m on day two of my four days off… and owwwieee… my knees… and …uugggh… everything hurts now that I’ve been sitting down again! I told myself that I would stay up and active while being off  – yet I lied to myself and now look what I did. LOL

Next week will be crazy with two days on, one day off, three days on… then another random shift later that next week I think… Then, thank goodness, I’ll be done with training and will go to my regular part time hours which will be every OTHER week for 4 days in a row. Those stretches I’m sure will be just as exhausting by the end… But hopefully I will have gotten myself much more accustomed to the activity and have ten days between to recover… Phew! (Suffice it to say I am soooooo glad right now with the decision to go back to work only on a part time basis and to choose the 4 day every fortnight position (they originally offered me the other opening that had more shifts, but then they told me about this one in case I wanted to make the choice.))

In any case, pray for me ya’ll… That I heal enough before returning next week LOL

MIA, Medication, and Making Money!

Gosh, I feel like I’ve been MIA again… I suppose I have been, particularly given that my kids have been ill since Friday. They’ve been in high enough spirits and feeling over all well enough… But they are contagious and not allowed to go to school until we can procure the medication – which has been a nightmare so far.

The original prescription was sent off on Friday. I was told then that it had to be ordered and would be available Monday… On Monday I was told it was delayed and they couldn’t get the whole thing filled… AND that with my insurance it would be $300. I called around to all other pharmacies – same story, no one in town or the next town over had it nor could they easily get the full amount needed.

So I had to call the clinic to discuss with them and they were able to figure out a different (and thank goodness generic) medication… side note: who in their right mind ever prescribes meds that aren’t available in generic anymore?? – eff you Friday doctor. That nurse also found a pharmacy in town that could fill it by this afternoon. Crossing fingers there are no more hiccups because I really need these kids back in school!

In no small part due to the fact that I have my first day at my new job tomorrow! Hubby said if need be he’ll take the day off so I don’t screw up the very first day! However, he is also really busy this week so that would be far from ideal.

So anyway… Yay! I found what seems to be a perfect fit job-wise. I interviewed two weeks ago and the next day I had the offer. They were very enthusiastic so that was nice – nice to feel wanted! They wanted to offer me the Part Time position that had more hours, but gave me my choice as they had another position with less hours… I chose the one with less hours. Really, I am just wanting to make a little extra money and get out of the house a bit… keep up some skills while I wait for nursing school to start back up again. Minimal stress, but the ability to pick up extra hours if I want to. I also got offered more money than I expected so… Bonus! Woo!

I’ll be working at a Rehabilitation and Nursing home – apparently (so I’ve heard since taking the position) the best facility of it’s kind to work for in the area… so, another Yay! LOL

I can’t wait to get out of the house tomorrow for orientation… I have been scrubbing this house clean since Saturday – most of the work being done Sat/Sun – and then chasing the kids to keep things clean which of course has been difficult. I still have a big pile of laundry I’m trudging through though…. uuuggghhh…. and, well… I best get back to that I suppose.

ETA: FUCK! Generic is no longer available still out of pocket $300 😦

Knickerbocker Glory

RIGHT ABOUT NOW; The Funk Soul Brother. Check it out now; The Funk Soul Brother. Right about now

Imagine if you will, a gorgeous but chubby raven haired white girl driving home hopped up on a toasted coconut latte, dancing behind the wheel… So graceful is she as she rocks her shoulders back and forth and wiggles her hips – still seated and with both hands on the wheel of course. She IS a mother after all; there has to be some sense of decorum and safety. Well, perhaps not decorum so much… but safety always!

Right about now, ’bout now, ’bout now, ’bout now

Surely the coffee and music on it’s own didn’t put her in such a bouncy mood? It must have contributed to her mood when her children were promptly ready for school this morning… But today is a day for laundry, not dancing silly woman! Yet as the music changes she is still bopping along towards home.

Vanilla Strawberry Knickerbocker glory. Vanilla Strawberry Knickerbocker glory. Vanilla Strawberry Knickerbocker glory. Vanilla Strawberry Knickerbocker glory…

‘Oooo, Ice cream…’ she thinks – only increasing her sense of hyperactivity. Man, she is gonna be SO productive today! Laundry and a blog post (or two) AT LEAST!

She pulls into the driveway, intending to promptly get out and get to her planned productivity. But wait… Now that’s she’s parked she can dance WITHOUT her hands on the wheel! ‘Just one more song won’t hurt nuthin’,’ she decides…

Put me in the hospital for nerves and then they had to commit me. You told them all I was crazy… They cut off my legs now I’m an amputee – God Damn you!

Yup, Today is gonna be a good day 🙂

*Artists: Fat Boy Slim, Fujiya & Miyagi, Harvey Danger

Tee hee heeeeeee

My husband came down to the living room where I was sitting, watching TV, to inform me he had a new story for my blog. I had free reign over the words that followed  to share with the masses.

He had just been taking a bath, trying to warm up after a long day out in the cold, rainy, outdoors. He thought about how I commented the other day that his sandy colored hair was soft. As such, he decided he’d try putting conditioner in it just to see if it would become even softer/silkier. It’s not something he usually does.

He picked up my new conditioner that is from Revlon’s new ColorSilk color protect line – for Black.

It was a blue color, which didn’t concern him as he used to use Selsun Blue… So it didn’t seem odd to him. The bottle said to leave it in for five minutes, so he ran it thoroughly through his very red beard and his sandy blond hair.

After a few minutes he noticed a black streak running down his face. He looked down at his beard and his beard was black!

He said he nearly shit himself as he quickly started rinsing it all out… scrubbing as he did so.  It didn’t come out immediately, so he scrubbed his head and face for 10 minutes and still his hair was darker than it should be. He got the majority of his true color back…. but his beard is still a darker red and his hair is still tinted a blue-black:

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AHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA…. I giggled to the point of tears again. He was telling me how silly I was the other day about how I still laugh to tears over scaring him over a year ago… I told him this may just make the laugh-to-tears-even-after-years list too… Hahaha!

He said the thing was that he checked the bottle and no where does it say it will color hair… Yet, the shampoo states clearly that it does not color hair… the conditioner did not say either way. So, I guess the moral of the story is… Don’t use the Revlon ColorSilk Color Protect hair shampoos/conditioners unless you actually have dyed your hair that color (or you want to enhance your natural color that matches the version you’ve bought.)

Also…. Bahahahahaaaaaa!

*PS I love him even though he has noted I tend to laugh only at his pain…. …. …

Birthday Twin, my ass

Hubs told me a story last night about a woman that I met when I lived in New Orleans – a truely heinous woman in my opinion; who happened to share my birth date.

The story he told me only served to solidify her as a bitch in my mind – it was a story that he had thought he mentioned to me at the time… But I know I would have remembered it if he had because it would have attached to the other few memories I had of her.

So I decided to tell you about her today. I suppose it makes me bitchy to do so so many years after the fact… but… Oh well.

My husband became friends with her husband so he arranged that we would all go out to dinner so I could meet the wife and possibly become couple-friends.

We went to a seafood place and it was a nice enough. That’s where we found that we had the same birthday. We chatted a little bit and I suggested we should hang out sometime. She seemed noncommittal, but agreeable. So for the next several weeks I told my husband to pass my cell phone number along to his friend to have him give it to her to give me a call whenever she was free. I bugged him a few times to remind the friend in case he had forgotten to pass it along when he got home. She never called so I changed tack and asked him to get her number for me.

I was actually trying… yet for some reason she wasn’t interested, so her husband didn’t give the phone number to mine. Ok then. That’s fine. I just wasted efforts for nothing – when all she had to do was say she didn’t care to be friends in the first place. I otherwise did not get overly bothered by it as we hadn’t actually started being friends yet.

Awhile later we moved into a new house, so hub’s friend came to help him move furniture into the house. He invited the wife and two kids over as well with the intention of grilling out for dinner and swimming in the pool. It was intended to be a nice occasion. What happened was: I said hello to her in which she only barely acknowledged. She then proceeded to allow her kids run wild through the house and harass my three small dogs. As soon as the moving was done (which of course she had nothing to do with), she insisted on going home because supposedly it was too close to the kid’s bedtime.

A few days later, husband came to ask me why I supposedly ignored her that day. He of course was not aware of what was actually happening since he was preoccupied with his task… But she had complained to her husband who passed it on to Hubs. What he was told that I was supposedly rude in the first encounter so she came over this time to “test” me and “give me a second chance” and that I had failed.

Wait.

What?

I flew of the handle and yelled about this heifer that DARED come into MY house to “TEST” me?! Not only that, but her version of a test was to allow her hellion children torture my dogs while she stood back with a sour look on her face… What in hell was she thinking?

ESPECIALLY when I was in fact the only one who reached out and put forth any effort at all in being friendly with her. UGH!

Hubs reminded me last night about how he walked into their house and it was like a hoarder’s house – due to her issues, not her husband’s. I remember him mentioning it, saying he refused to ever live like that… So I best not become a hoarder lol.

Now that’s I’ve let all that out, I’m not sure if I should be so bitchy as to now tell you about the story the hubs told me yesterday…. Though it did give me a sense of schadenfraude…. a gleeful, so gleeful, amusement at her misery and bad behavior…

It’s people like that that makes me not believe in astrological signs…. Birthday twin, my ass.

Reblogging Rae: Svea’s Summer House in Sandhamn

Post #7 for my recycled posts series – this one is from March 2015. All new pictures added 🙂

Summertime in Sweden meant that the sun wouldn’t set, the weather would warm just enough to warrant swimming and apparel of tube tops and shorts… but rarely did it get too hot. Summertime also meant that there was cause to pack a bag and head out to Svea’s summer cabin on Sandhamn.

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One year we headed out there specifically to celebrate the midsummer holiday. Unlike the usual midsummer, Svea’s older brother nor her parents had any plans for the cabin, so Svea and I headed out there by ourselves. We liked it that way anyway. Some of my favorite memories are of playing house with Svea whether it be on Sandhamn, at her Winter house in Borka, or on the weekends in her Stockholm flat when her family would often be at one of the other locations.

The midsummer that we went to Sandhamn, we packed our bags, carefully choosing our alcoholic selection – which that year I recall as being pear ciders for the most part, and headed out to Slussen to catch our bus. The bus ride to or from Slussen was never my favourite leg of this trip. Most often the bus was over full and hot… and took about forty-five minutes to reach the harbour where we would catch our ferry.

Once at the harbour we were sometimes lucky to just catch the ferry without having to wait another thirty minutes for the next one to arrive. The ferry ride was always pleasant. Since we only ever rode it in the spring and summer, the weather was usually perfect. The sun reflecting off of the water, sometimes almost blindingly depending on the time of day.

We would sit and have drinks and chat. Never running out of things to say, that’s the way it goes with best friends I suppose. After a half hour or so, and a few stops at other islands, we would arrive at Sandhamn – getting off at the second pier. The first pier was large and was home to the tourist side of the island – a hotel, a few shops, yachts and music. Svea and I got off on the other side which was quiet and serene. It only took ten minutes or so to walk from her cabin to the tourist side when we needed groceries or an ice cream anyway. So we usually got into the cabin, set our stuff down, turned on the water supply, etc and then started off for the grocery store.

The ten minutes had us walking through lush green woods comprised of tall tall trees. The scenery in my memory I see as an almost mystical green. But the reality was not so remarkable, I suppose.

IMG_3627[1]When we reached the store we usually picked up just enough rations for the weekend so that we wouldn’t have to carry anything home. The only specific things I remember ever getting were tomatoes, cucumbers, and salt. This particular midsummer I recall slicing these tomatoes and cucumbers and arranging them on a plate as Svea and I laughed about something in the kitchen. We grabbed our ciders and packs of cigarettes and headed out to the deck where we laid out in the sun, sprinkling our veggies with salt and drinking our ciders in between puffs of smoke.

IMG_3624[1]The view from the deck was beautiful, we could see the water from there. The foreground was rocky, large flat rocks lead the way down to the beach, and the view was littered with a few trees to block one side of the view from our vantage point. I remember laying out that day and Svea telling me about a book she was reading. This was not an unusual occurrence, we both being heavy readers. This day Svea introduced me to the world of Mikael Niemi as she told me about “Populärmusik från Vittula.” Later this would become one of my favourite books… I now hold both the Swedish version and the English “Popular Music from Vittula” in an honored place on my bookshelf. Svea laughed this day as she described the mountaintop scene to me and I knew I would be reading it soon. Svea had impeccable taste in books as far as I was concerned.

That night, we decided to watch The Shining. For those of you that don’t know, this is a movie based off of a Stephen King novel. Back then both Svea and I enjoyed Stephen King. I do still find him an excellent writer, but my tastes have changed as far as recreational reading goes.

The mistake we made, as we settled in on the couch to watch it with our snacks and cream soda, was waiting til dark to watch it. The TV sat in front of a large window that gave us a view into the semi-darkness, even darker than you would expect from a Swedish summer since we were surrounded by trees. It’s also important to note that we would be required to go outside to get to the building that housed the toilet, and even if I could convince myself to hold it – the structure that held our bedroom area was out that door too.

I had read The Shining a while prior to this night. Generally when I read a Stephen King novel, or watch one of the movies for the first time a second viewing doesn’t bother me any more because I know what’s coming. This night; however, I had apparently forgotten a few plot developments since it had been awhile since having read the book.

Svea and I were curled under a blanket on the couch. We were surviving through the movie even as the creep factor raised as shadows out of the window seemed to move. Without giving too much away to anyone who has never seen it – we got to the part of the movie where the boy is trying to get away from something in one of the hotel rooms. He finally gets out of the room and shuts the door. I took a sigh of relief, loosened my grip on Svea’s leg, and brought down the blanket I had been half hiding my face behind. She turned and gave me a knowing look just as the arm suddenly came out and grabbed the boy and dragged him back in the room.

I screamed out “Jesus Christ!” in shock.

Svea started laughing.

“You could have warned me, you know!”

I made her accompany me to the bathroom before going to bed that night.

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Reblogging Rae: Tell Your Stories (revamped)

Post #6 in my recycling series… only 2-3 more to go, I promise 😉 This one is from September 2015 and the content has been changed a fair bit (the second half deleted and replaced by different content) so it is not actually by rights the same post 🙂

My friend posted a quote on FB for me yesterday. She said it reminded her of me and some of the stuff I’ve said recently about telling my stories.

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories.

If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.”

I’ve said things about telling my stories so others can learn from my mistakes. I had noted an old friend who knew David said she liked my book… and with slight concern I asked her if she was still in touch with him in any capacity. She’s not and told me that he shouldn’t care about events from so long ago, and besides I was nice and concealed his identity. If she wrote a book she would protect the innocent, not the guilty. This Ann Lamont quote just seemed so fitting for me, and I love when people see something that reminds them of you and fits so well – it makes you realize that at least that one person has paid some attention to you in some way or another.

I also strongly believe in telling one’s stories not only for learning from each other’s mistakes, but also to create a sense of community. More than likely if you tell your story, you will find that there are others like you that have experienced similar experiences. It creates a sense of not being alone – and as I have discovered it emboldens others to also tell there stories – or at the least confide in the original story teller. I can’t count how many women have approached me in private to tell me they connect with my accounts of abuse or how many people have come to relay their struggles with depression. Often I get the sense that I am the only person they have told, or at least in a select few.

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For a very long time, I had been ashamed of various parts of my past. This was a hard thing to admit to myself, in all honesty. For a long time I pushed certain things down or brushed them to the side; choosing to ignore them. That wasn’t healthy. I realise that now.

Making the conscious decision not to be ashamed, or at least to fight the sense of shame, I had about the abusive situations I endured has resulted in a cathartic release for me as well as serving as inspiration for other women to open up, even just a little bit, and start their own coping processes. It has resulted in changes for the better in my marriage and, I hope, changes for the better in how I interact with my family as a whole. My writing and frank discussions have also served to cause others to reach out for help for their depression – even in crises.

I like to think, though I have no proof as yet, that writing my stories about events that contributed to rape culture have also assisted in opening some people’s eyes to understanding that side of our society – a side that maybe they didn’t recognise or realise was such an ingrained problem.

This is why I feel we all must continue to tell our stories; to strengthen each other, to embolden the victimised or abused, to make real change in our society where it’s warranted.