commentaries on the little stuff
Are you sure about that whole seein’ your shadow thing? It’s 70 degrees outside. In February. In northern Virginia. Where the average February high is 46.
Not that I’m complaining – I hate being cold. On account of I hate having blue extremities.
I would welcome an early Spring – I do so hate the cold of the wintertime – but I really don’t want to be teased by a week of 70 degree weather just to be slammed with 2 feet of snow.
So Mr. Groundhog, I do so hope you were wrong this year.
Ok, so, yeah, while getting a root canal has made my top 10 list of things NEVER to do again, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared. Of course, I haven’t exactly made it through the entire recovery, I’m sitting here hopped up on 600 milligrams of ibuprofen. But – the fact that 600 mg of ibuprofen takes care of the pain – vs. the codeine goodness I got for my wisdom teeth – must mean it’s not that bad, right?
One of the worst things about it was holding my mouth open for an hour. Even all numbed up, serious pain started in my jaw about half way through. I thought for a second that my novocaine had warn off, then I realized the pain was in the joint near the tooth they were working on – not in the actual tooth.
The worst thing about it, though, is all the stuff they put in my mouth: some kind of metal ring around my tooth, a rubber sheet with just a hole for my tooth, a bite guard, mr. suction, all kinds of dental implements, and the dentist’s hands. I had no idea how much I hated having my mouth covered by a rubber sheet until this afternoon. It was strangely suffocating, even though I had no trouble breathing through my nose. I think I suffer from rubber-sheet-over-the-mouth-o-phobia.
So, here I sit with my shaken-baby headache (seriously, can they make a drill that doesn’t completely rattle your head??) and a temporary filling. Oh, and 3 less tooth-nerves. And a serious determination to never need another root canal.
‘dhl chantilly’ has become my most searched for google hit, so I feel that I should say that not everyone who goes there has such a terrible experience. My boss went to pick up a package there a week after I did, and had no trouble. Of course, he went at 3 – not 7 – so that might have had something to do with it …
Last year, for the husband’s birthday, I threw him a murder mystery dinner party. The theme was a ‘super hero’ convention where all the guests were, well, superheroes. There were some great costumes, some lively conversations, blatant accusations, and fervent denials. I’d like to think a good time was had by all, and I hope to continue the tradition this year.
Last year, I purchased a murder mystery online. They sent me a zip file with all the clues and directions for the evening. The description for the murder mystery led me to believe it wasn’t a ‘scripted’ murder mystery – one where everyone’s lines are dictated. I had been under the impression that it was one where people were given clues, which would lead them to natural discussion and ad-libbing. But when I started looking through the files, it became very clear to me that what I had was a script. And a very lopsided script at that – there were 8 characters, but only 3 or 4 of them really had any lines.
And so I took that script, and I turned it into clues. And I added elements to the story, so that the 4 people who the script neglected, would have something to do for the evening. I finally got everything to my liking, and printed out on color-coded cards. Everything worked out well – better than a script, if I dare say. People took what they were given and really ran with it.
And so this year, I have decided to write my own murder mystery from scratch. Not so much because I’m cheap – I’m more than willing to shell out $30 for a good game – but because there’s no way to know what I’m getting before I hand over the money. I mean, if I’m going to be re-writing a sub-standard mystery, I might as well be writing my own. That way, I don’t have to think bad things about people who packaged a poorly-made product …
So, this year’s theme will be something a little more classic. At this point, I’m leaning toward something sort of clue-esque. If all goes well at the party this year, I may even post it – free of charge – right here at akaemi.com
Congratulations, b3, you’ve lasted another year!
(Don’t worry, everyone, this is the last birthday for December.)
I’m distributing my Christmas newsletter via blog! Never heard of a Christmas newsletter? It’s a long-standing tradition in my family to deluge the world with a ‘Christmas newsletter’ with all the year’s happenings. Instead of mailing it out in print, I’ve decided to use electronic media. That way, my 5 readers who might care can get the scoop, and the 32 other people I sent Christmas cards won’t have to be all, “as if I care,” as they toss it in the trash.
So here’s the wrap-up for 2007!
The cats and I rang in the year with the assembly of my Lego Batmobile. The turtle … burrowed under her newspapers and ate a lima bean. And the husband … did something exciting, I’m sure, on his computer in the basement.
The husband got a promotion to timesheet-approver of 5 hapless souls. My boss decided that I don’t completely suck, and has allowed me to keep working and drawing a paycheck.
We dropped directv, and moved to cable.
I built a rock garden, tore up a rock garden, got approved to build a rock garden, joined the HOA ARB, and got kicked off till I get my act together and clean up my disgrace of a fenced-in backyard. A fenced in backyard that nobody can see except for the people and critters who live in my house, and, apparently, members of the HOA Board who like to hang out in random people’s backyards.
We got sunburns on our sunburns in San Diego.
The cats shoved 14 toys under the refrigerator and range. Oh, let me be honest: Forge shoved 13 toys under the refrigerator and range. Havok managed to get one lodged under the range, but he didn’t intend to. Because, well, he sorta understands that you can’t play with a toy that you can’t reach.
Our AC went out during the hottest part of the summer. Ah, that was good times.
WE GOT CLEANING LADIES. If you have it in your budget, I highly recommend it for the cleaning averse. I HATE HATE HATE cleaning bathrooms, they gross me out – plus, it’s not a quick task when you put it off for as long as possible. I never have to do it anymore. Also, I rarely have to vacuum or sweep or mop anymore. And, there’s nothing like that feeling on the first or third Tuesday evening of the month, that I’m not gonna wipe off my counters cuz there are people coming tomorrow who will do it for me. Juvenile, maybe, but it’s a nice feeling.
We moved from cable to FIOS.
Forge found a new hiding place, in the rafters of the utility room. It keeps him safe from visitors, except, well, the heating/AC folks and the cleaning ladies. And the FIOS installer, he REALLY gave her a start when she noticed him hovering a few feet above her head.
I made it to level 70 with my wow character. And then I proceeded to stop playing wow. Ah, well, the husband is getting some use of my level 70 hunter.
We attended The husband’s 10 year reunion. The husband is still not popular.
Tortellini ate 20 yellow squashes, 4 zucchini squashes, and over 2000 lima beans. She is really doing her part to make sure children in the area will be spared the awful fate of “vegetable eating.”
The husband and his work buddy launched strahotski.com, which is now bringing in actual money! Not enough to quit the day jobs kind of money, but perhaps almost enough to make it pay for itself.
The husband’s friends left 37 comments on my blog. His family, 10. My friends? 8. My family, 4. Clearly, I need to recruit some more friends and family. Or maybe, find some friends who like to read and comment on silly blogs …
The husband mowed the lawn on 5 occasions, and weed-eated 4 times. Still not enough to make the HOA happy, but, well, what are you going to do? Get blacklisted from joining the ARB?
akaemi.com did not make me famous. In fact, it did not bring in a single penny. It had 290 visitors, 280 of whom have only visited once. Guess maybe I should find a purty girl to base my site on …
We put up Christmas lights for the first time ever! They aren’t quite as pretty as the Amy-house, but, well, there’s always next year.
We joined linked in and facebook. The husband is immensely more popular than myself. Most of my friends are really his friends.
We watched 27 movies.
And yes – we had no babies.
Happy Holidays, from
akaemi, the husband, tortellini the grouchy, havok the OCD, and forge the sink-pooper
To my mom. 🙂 I know she doesn’t read my blog, but hopefully one of the 4 people in her house who do, will pass the sentiment along.
To my favorite sister! 17 is a big year, it’s the year you, uh, dream about all the freedom you’ll have NEXT year! In a nutshell, here’s all the GREAT things you have to look forward to this year:
The realization that you are probably within an inch of your final height. I did manage to grow half an inch in college, rounding me out at an even 5’6″. But, well, since I was already telling everybody that I was 5’6″, it was an empty victory.
SATs. ACTs. Blech, can you believe they make you pay MONEY for the honor of taking a TEST that is 3 hours TOO LONG? And then, a few weeks after you’re done, they send you your results that sum you up into a percentile with all the other high school students in the nation. And, depending on your results, you may end up signing up for another 4-hour Saturday morning of torture.
College applications, complete with essays. Oh yeah, and don’t forget the check. Don’t worry, they are just getting you into the habit of handing over money for your education.
Scholarship applications, complete with even more essays. Be sure to keep track of all the various deadlines, you don’t want to miss an opportunity to get someone else to foot your bills. I realize you don’t know what it’s like to foot your own bills – but trust me, it’s not any fun.
Ok, so maybe not all that stuff sounds like the highlights of your next year. Surely, you’ll have more fun hanging out with your friends, going to dances, dating, cruising around town, and being up to no good. 🙂
Hope your birthday is a good one!
Whew, not yet. I still have one more year, but the reunion rumblings have already started. I just got word from one of my new facebook buddies (and old high school friend) that it is scheduled for next August. Kudos to the class of 98 class presidency, they are seriously on top of things!
I just accompanied my husband to his 10 year reunion. In high school, my husband was not popular. He had a few really good friends, but didn’t really hang with the popular crowd. And the people who ignored him 10 years ago … ignored him at the reunion. Now, I realize that communication is a 2 way street; if he wanted to re-connect with all those people, he could have gone up and talked to them. But he found, just as they probably found, that he didn’t really care to re-connect. He spent 4 years of his life co-existing with them, followed by 10 years of not thinking about them. So one more weekend of not interacting with them didn’t really hurt his feelings.
Luckily for my husband, one of his really good high school buddies was there – so we mostly hung out with him and his adorably pregnant wife. He did get a chance to catch up with some other friends, but most of the people he was friendly with in high school didn’t make a showing at the reunion.
I was even less popular in high school than my husband was at his. At the time, there were probably like 10 people who knew I existed, and maybe 3 of them would have considered themselves my friend. 10 years later, there are probably now 3 people who remember my existence – and they are already my facebook friends. And, well, catching up through facebook is much easier than getting a plane ticket, hotel, and car – just to remember all those awkward high school moments that I have spent the last 9 years working to forget.
Where I’ve never gone before. Growing up, that’s what b1 always was for me, just one step ahead of where I was. Always ahead of me in school, always ahead of me in what he was allowed to do. It could be frustrating – like when I had to wait till I was 12 to use the stapler (a rule introduced when b2 stapled himself to … himself). I had many a “project” that I had to get stapled by b1, until I was old enough to have the privilege of doing it myself. But, more than often, it was a hint as to what was next.
Now that we’re grown up, though, I’ve finally caught up, for the most part. The one last thing that he’ll always have on me is his age. I’ll never be able to pass that one up. 🙂
Today my brother takes a step into an age that really, truly marks him as an adult. There is no more denial, no more hiding behind the excuse of youthful folly. So happy 30th b1! Don’t let it get you down … Just remember, I’m not far behind …