how to possibly express...

"So sorry"
"You're in our thoughts"
"If there's anything I can do..." 

The standard words of sympathy and support.  What else is there to say?  They feel so expected, stale, and even if the person means it wholeheartedly, they sound hollow. 

So when a friend loses her 11-year-old daughter completely unexpectedly, where do you find the correct words?  This isn't a pet, a friend or even a parent...this is her child.  Someone she carried inside her for 9 months, she was a part of her.  Someone she raised to be one of the most kind and caring, giving people I've ever known of who had already touched so many around her at such a young age.  How can you express the immense amount of hurt you are feeling for her and her family?  The fact that you can't fathom the deluge of emotions and pain and sorrow and excruciating emptiness that they have to be experiencing and that you truly would do anything for them at the drop of a hat?  How do you tell them that you know that though life will be this roller coaster of extreme pain from loss and elation from memories for a while, probably a long while, and things will be different forever, that they will be okay?  They will carry on and she will be with them always - somehow - depending on their beliefs either watching over them from afar, staying with them, or smiling in their hearts through their memories.  No words can bring her back where they want her, where they can hold her, hear her voice, smell her hair...

How do you possibly say anything that can give them any comfort?  

You say, "I'm so sorry, you're in our thoughts and if there's anything we can do, please let us know."  Then you pray, send wishes for healing and strength, think positive thoughts for them, hold them tight if and when you see them, help them out in any way possible, and hope that in some way it alleviates even the smallest bit of pain.

With love...

Avery

(aka "Dotter")

10/5/01 - 10/24/12

A memorial fund has been set up to help the family pay for expenses:

In Memory of Avery

c/o Walworth State Bank

PO Box 66

Walworth, WI 53184

You can read more about the beautiful, kind, caring, unique, funny, lovely Avery and her amazing family at her mom's blog, Stumbling Towards Perfect.

the rants i never post

There have been so many times on Facebook when I've written out a rant and then decided not to hit "Post" because I figure I'm basically preaching to the choir.  Almost all of my friends are above juvenile behavior and for the most part it's the friends of friends comments that get me riled up - they wouldn't see my rants anyway.  Why bother?  But, because I still need to vent my virtual frustrations, you get to be the lucky folk to read my latest rant. 

Dear apparent 10-year-olds who were actually born before 1985:  The President's name is Barack Obama.  Not O-blame-a, Obummer, Odummy (really?), etc.  Yes, his middle name is Hussein. Is that his fault? Many people are forced to use initials only because of their hatred of the mysteriously picked middle name forced upon them.  Do you think poor Richard Tiffany Gere loved writing out his full name?  Or Kiefer William Frederick Dempsey George Rufus Sutherland?  How did he fit that on a scantron test?  And Mitt Romney - He's not Mittens or R Money or Flip Flopney.  If you're going to post a four paragraph political rant and want to be taken seriously thereby keeping your readers' attention and possibly changing minds (*cough* good luck *cough*) then speak like a freaking adult!

Did you know there are websites that list the candidates nicknames?  No lie!  There's the Pretty Exhaustive Obama Nickname List and this list of 85 Romney nicknames found in internet searches.  Some are pretty creative, some are extremely offensive.  Most are just plain dumb.

Sometimes I wonder what these people teach their kids about bullying and name calling...if anything.  Rant over.  Enjoy your day!! :)

hearts on fire

I know this is about a week late, but it's been rumbling around in my head and I just have to share it. 

The vice-presidential debates were last week.  Biden vs. Ryan.  Not getting into actual politics, who won, who was rude, who drank 5 gallons of water, who actually answered questions and who didn't...  No, this shall focus on the visions I had of the two of them preparing for the debate in two completely different ways. 

Ryan getting up in early the morning, doing his P90X in his workout room / home theater, having a protein shake, running a half marathon on his treadmill, looking at his shirtless self in the mirror over and over again as his wife tells him how awesome he is.  Biden crawling out of bed around 9am, frying up a thick steak in some bacon fat and drinking a raw egg for breakfast, going out into his filthy garage, doing some bicep curls on a rickety old bench set that he's had for 20 years, knocking through 5 sets of fifty push ups on the hood of his Trans Am, and squeezing a couple pull-ups on a bar over the door as his wife looks on and rolls her eyes.  All with cheesy 80's movie montage music playing in the background.

I'm sure it all played out something like this:




Just had to free that image from my brain and put it out there in the universe.  You're welcome.

the woes of a thursday morning

Thursday mornings and I haven't gotten along for quite some time now.  No specific reason, but the day has it out for me.  I usually end up getting to work late(...er than usual) or have wardrobe malfunctions or get behind some extremely slow farm machinery on my way to work.  This morning was no different.  I got up, did my workout, picked out a fun and sassy outfit to wear to work and got ready.  Unfortunately because it's a Thursday, the forces of nature decided to annoy me to no end and I was left dealing with the following:

My skirt keeps riding up.

My awesome knee-high boots have developed a squeak that makes it sound like I'm walking on a creaky wooden peg leg.

I have rug burn on my elbows and knees.

The combination of these minor complaints makes me sound like a lady of ill repute, but I can assure you neither my financial situation nor my sex life have become that desperate to turn me in that direction.  Let me explain...the skirt it about 4 sizes too small and therefore moves upwards so that it fits me without cutting off the circulation to my legs.  The waist is sitting somewhere around my navel...you know, like mom jeans.  The boots are work appropriate but funky.  The rug burn is from my morning workout.  A lot of floor work this morning...and I exercise on carpet.

So I am not a prostitute, but I'm sure we have some of the same Thursday morning problems.  Thankfully these are probably the only problems we share.  Knowing this makes my Thursday morning a little brighter.

demi-gods don't dance

Ummm....  I don't know how I happened upon this, but I don't know that I'm glad that I did.


Though he took Patrick Swayze's role in the remake of Red Dawn, I don't think he'll be taking his role in Dirty Dancing if they ever decide to remake that one.

I wish I could un-see this...

...and how are you?

I've come to hate the fact that "How are you?" has become the standard sentence after "Hello" or "Hi."  In fact, sometimes it replaces the greeting all together.  Nobody really cares.  Nobody sticks around long enough to hear the answer.  I doubt that people who don't know you truly have concern as to the state of your life - how you're feeling, how your Aunt Edna's doing.  I was taking a walk the other morning in a different town and complete strangers were saying, "Hello!  How are ya?"   While I love the friendly atmosphere of this small town rural area, stick with hi and talk about the weather.

I've decided to come up with some creative responses to this mundane question to see just how closely people are listening after they ask the question as they're walking away.

• Sluggish, like a wet sponge.
• The gonorrhea seems to be clearing up, thanks.  You?
• Great! Well, other than the fact that Beelzebub is constantly chattering in my head day in and day out.  It gets kind of old.
• Purple
• Got a really heavy flow going today.  Not sure if these wings are gonna hold up.
• I'm a day closer to complete insanity, my friend.
• I seem to be craving dryer lint today.  Odd. 
• Fit as a flatulent flounder
• I. Am. Job.
• The doc says I'm fine. My pillow doesn't agree with him.
• Oh man, I am so freaking HORNY today!
• Incoherent garbling as if you had no tongue while turning and slowly following them.
• That's an extremely personal question and I am truly offended that you would ask something like that in this setting.  What is your name and phone number?  Expect a call from my lawyer!

Feel free to contribute your own ideas in the comments.  I'm sure there are plenty more out there. 

observations during monday night football (not a rant about the outcome)

I don't usually watch Monday Night Football, but the Packers were playing, so I had no choice.  As I watched, I noticed a few things that I felt the need to share with you.  Why?  Eh, why not?

• Isn't there some rule somewhere that you should never mix sports and politics? (If not, shouldn't there be?)  What's with all of the political commercials during the game?  Don't they realize that people are drinking heavily and that politics gets people even more riled up than football?  They're asking for mucho trouble!  (By the way...are we ever going to be rid of Super PACs?  Political ads might be a little more tolerable without them.)
• I've always been amused by the suggestive terminology of the game.  It's especially humorous when it's just about, or past, my bedtime.  Talk about tight ends and penetration sends me giggling for the next 2 plays.  My husband does not find my giggling amusing.
• Do we really need so many different penalties?  I mean, how many different penalties do we have for players crossing the line of scrimmage?  Offside, encroachment, false start...why can't they just have one penalty for any person, offense or defense, that goes before they're supposed to.  The premature embarkation penalty.  Simple.  Done.  It would be much easier for those replacement refs to remember everything.  (Hands in the face?  Really?)
• The hand signals for their calls crack me up.  The signal for delay of game looks something like a cross between I Dream of Jeannie and a mummy.  Loss of down looks like a bad dance move.  There are a few that make sense though...like holding and facemask...and look like the naughty thing the player did.
• And speaking of replacement refs and hand signals, I found this fun online today. 

HappyPlace.com is often full of snark and thereby linkworthy.

No, I'm not going to get into the outcome of the game.  I'm a Packer fan - How do you think I feel?  (In all honesty, I was tucked in bed sleeping soundly by the time the final play came about, but thanks to the internet, I got educated.) All I can say is that I hope the outrage from the officiating debacle last night and the past three weeks might wake up the NFL and get them to come to an agreement with the real officials. 

In other football news...

My husband was kind enough to post this to my facebook wall the other day.  How's that for love?  I've never read the cheap skanky fan-fic trilogy from which this comes, nor do I want to, but if this guy was to show up at my doorstep decked out in this garb, I certainly wouldn't turn him away.  Well, unless the kid was home.  That might be a little awkward.

Happy football season!

sickness, carbs and lethargy

I apologize in advance for any lack of clarity in my writing as I am coming out of a NyQuil coma and am hopped up on Sudafed. (See NSFW video below.)

I have had a cold for 4.5 days now.  I know, colds happen all the time - especially now that the kids are back in school.  Here's the thing...I rarely get sick.  If I get a cold, my body fights it off and I just get little bits and pieces of symptoms that just kind of say hello, but nothing really ever comes of it.  This time, I got knocked on my ass.  And the thing is, it's mainly just a minor head cold, but it is so utterly draining that all I've done for the last 2.5 days is lay around or sit on my ass. 

It's probably my own fault.  I haven't been getting a lot of sleep over the past few weeks because I've been getting up early to work out and going to late-night lectures, so my body was probably too tired to fight it off.  So by me trying to become healthier, I caused myself to get sick.  Oh life, what a convoluted game you play.

Now add to the sickness and lethargy the constant need to eat.  And not just eat anything, but my body is craving carbs.  The evil white stuff that I've been limiting in my diet has now become the one thing my body wants to ingest.  I've read that this is because my body needs fuel to fight off the virus, but why can't I be craving oranges or tomatoes instead?  Pretzels and Bugles and toast and noodles - that's what my body wants.  Screw the vitamins, gimme junk!

I have this fear that by the time I'm finally over this thing, I'll have gained 15 pounds and won't be able to do the exercises I've worked my way up to, thereby causing me to say "fuckitall" and go back to my existence of XL clothes, bread dough appetizers and extremely low self-esteem. 

Of course, maybe that's just the NyQuil and Sudafed talking.



Warning: Not for innocent ears.

ode to office allergies

To the tune of "O Holy Night!"

O moldy floor!
You make me sneeze my head off
And make it feel like my throat is on fire.
Long has the fungus grown inside the office
Just waiting for something new to transpire.
'Least once a year the carpeting gets soggy
When yonder breaks a water pipe again.
Flood on the floor!
O see the spores are floating,
And blown through the air

By the fan to breathe again.
O mold! O mold!
Ohhh mold!
Ohhh aaah-choooo!!!!

my memories of the rnc

The date was July 31, 2000.  Ah, I remember it well.

It was night-time. I was stuck in bed in the maternity ward of our local hospital...still pregnant.  They had induced labor that morning, but the dang kid was stubborn and didn't want to come out into the world yet.  The doctors decided to keep me overnight so that they could kick it up a notch the next morning, so I shooed my hubby home so he could get some sleep in a decent bed before he wouldn't be able to again for quite a few months.

So there I was, alone in a hospital bed, hooked up to internal monitors (in other words, I had wires hanging out of my hoo-ha) and an IV, a nurse call button to the side of me, and a TV remote in my hand.  Unfortunately the only thing that was being shown on the limited number of channels offered by the local hospital was the Republican National Convention. (This was prior to the name being shortened to RNC for the sake of people who type using only their thumbs.)  Hundreds of people in silly hats prattling on about the "great state of" blah-ba-dee-blah that they were from and casting their nominations for "The next President of these great United States, George W. Bush!"  Sigh.  (Don't get me wrong, I would have despised being forced to watch the Democratic Convention as well, though this was a bit worse.  I hate politics.)

The 2000 Republican National Convention

A scream came from down the hall.  She must have been just as thrilled about the television selection as I was.  Oh, wait...this was the maternity ward.  Nice to know someone around here is actually giving birth.  And then I remembered that I was supposed to be doing the same thing the next day.  In an instant, I wasn't so thrilled to be listening to the woman down the hall screaming in agony.  I wanted to turn up the sound on the TV to block out the screams, but that would have only made me scream right along with her.  I couldn't win!

I tried desperately to find something - ANYTHING - else to watch.  I would have taken the Weather Channel if they had it, but I wasn't that fortunate.  I tried going to my happy place, but the 3rd circle of hell that I was somehow trapped in was too overpowering to allow me to escape.  I had to concede to one or the other and in an effort to psych myself up for the next day and keep a little bit of sanity, I turned off the television and listened to the horrific beautiful sounds of the miracle of childbirth, made a mental note to have the hubby bring movies for me to watch the next day, and swore that I would never watch a political convention ever again.

I'm proud to report it's a promise I've kept to myself for twelve years now.