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Archive for January, 2012

“Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, totally worn out and proclaiming. “Wow, what a ride!” 

…this sentiment was expressed on a sign outside my Grammy’s apartment. Oh, Grammy. What a great lady.
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I really should have called her yesterday, while I was thinking of it. Momma says she was pretty much sedated yesterday, but still. I should have called.

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Craig met her at Christmas last year, and he just loved her. When we took her home at the end of the night, and she said something about needing to get her walker, he told her “I’d think a walker would just slow you down.”

The sign outside her apartment really amused him. More than once he’s mentioned it, saying that “she really lives those words to the fullest.”

She did, too. She had a great ride.

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Oh, Grammy. I miss you already.

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92 Hours

Have you met Ted?

I start school tonight.

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The starting-tonight thing was not entirely my idea. I had registered for a conveniently-timed afternoon class that starts later in the week, but it did not “make.” As it turns out, the only CNA class that did make is the one that starts today, runs until 10pm, and will  require me to miss a dance audition on my birthday. I’d say “FML” if I didn’t think it was so tacky.

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That said, I’m excited to start school. I haven’t been to school in seven and a half years; it’ll be nice to learn something new and exercise my mind. Not to mention, it’ll be nice to be the student instead of the teacher again (I was a dance teacher for eight years). I’m also a little nervous– the disagreeable hours will certainly be a challenge; but as I mentioned, I haven’t been to school in seven and a half years. Do I even remember how to learn stuff? Not to mention my handwriting has gotten downright atrocious in my years since school (then again, I’m studying to work in the medical field; where awful handwriting is commonplace).

Anyway, here it goes: 92 hours, spread out over 5 weeks. If all goes well I’ll be a Certified Nurse Assistant by the end of it all.

Wish me luck, internet!

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Fish market fun

Hubs & Friends went to the fish houses in Seabrook to get some fish to smoke during the football game. I’m not a fish eater, but I like to tag along. Fish houses are interesting places!

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Some scattered notes from Saturday into Sunday:

Getting up at 5:30 on Saturday mornings is not the most fun thing in the world. On the other hand, getting up at 5:30 on Saturday mornings means I get a lot more stuff done before noon– like a head start on cleaning and laundry; and beating the big rush at H-E-B.

And frying a fish at 6 am. Because I wanted my husband to have a (non-fast-food) meal for his long workday, and we were out of already-cooked fish and meat (and pan- fried flounder seems to be Hubs’ new Favorite Thing Evar). I should mention that I did all the boiling-oil stuff *before* I had my morning coffee, and I still have all my skin. I think I deserve a high-five

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Hubs’ new job is going well. So well, in fact, that he got a promotion on Thursday. *pause for happy squeals and high-fives.* He works five days a week; off on Friday and Sunday (hence our early start on Saturdays). In honor of his promotion, I baked him a celebratory pie this afternoon.

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Yesterday was my Nan’s birthday. She would have been 82. I spent a lot of the day thinking about her and reflecting on fond old memories. Many memories have faded in the nearly 17 years since her death; sadly, the memory of finding her dead on her kitchen  floor will never leave me.

Let’s change the subject!

I also realized, early yesterday, that in exactly one year we’ll be swearing in a new president. Or (I’m hoping) re-inaugurating an old one. I’m really hoping it’s the latter. Those GOP candidates scare me.

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Speaking of birthdays, my 26th one is this Wednesday. I would like a pony, or at very least a guy to gallop behind me clapping coconut shells.

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Political highlight of the week: Our state’s biggest embarassment since Bush governor finally threw the towel in on his bid for presidency. Liberals across the state cheered.

Political lowlight of the week: Hairhelmet Gingrich won South Carolina, which begs the question: what the hell, South Carolina?

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Before I went to bed [freakishly early] Saturday night, there was word around the internets that fired Penn State Coach Joe Paterno had  died; similarly, there was word going around that those death reports were not true.

He’s dead for real now. I learned this after I posted “Joe Pa’s not dead, you guys” on my facebook page (excuse me: timeline). *facepalm*

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It’s Sunday now. We’re relaxing at home, doing some Bible readings and getting ready for some foot-ball. We observe football just as religiously as religion on Sundays. It’s cloudy and windy outside; a good day for staying in and laying low. We go out on the patio every so often because the wind feels nice and the air smells sweet. We bet it’s going to rain again today.

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Living on the coast, seashells are in abundant supply. Not just on the actual beach, but in the lake, in the creek, on the banks, at the marina, and by the boat ramps. Which is awesome for me, because I love seashells. I’ve collected them since I was a little kid; as an adult I like to find uses for those little knick-knacks of nature. I use them often in crafts and decorating, but last year Hubs introduced me to a new application for the shells: in container gardens.

 

We use  seashells for drainage in our container garden; instead of rocks. Not only are the shells a considerably lighter than using rocks, but the curved shape of the shells holds water a lot better. Oyster shells, clam shells, and mussel shells work the best– simply layer the shells concave-side-up, several inches deep, in the bottom of your planter before you add your dirt. Your plants will thank you!

 

 

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It’s 72 degrees here in Houston today, so the cats and I spent the morning on the back patio, cleaning it up and getting the containers ready for planting next month (well…I did, anyway. The cats just ran around in Holy crap, the human actually let us OUTSIDE! jubilation. Can’t say I blame them).

I can’t believe it’s almost garden time again!

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Shit Cassandra Shaff says:

“What’s up with all these Shit XYZ says videos all of a sudden?”

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