Fabric Of My Soul

If you could take apart yourself, strip everything down to just your soul, what would be the very core of who you are? Your biggest passions in life. What makes you you, or makes you tick. The very fabric of my soul is 3 things. Just these 3 things that if I got rid of all the superfluous stuff would be left.

BOOKS!

The printed word is -- pardon the pun -- printed on my soul. I cannot be without a book or I get restless and crabby. I am a huge reader and will read anything if I can't get my hands on something better, even Sugarbowl's teen crap or my older sister's sappy romances. I never read just one book at a time; I'm always reading at least 2, although that feels like almost nothing to me. I like to read 3 or more, or I feel like I'm not getting any reading done. I can't understand people who don't read. It is incomprehensible to me. What do you do if you don't read? How do you go to sleep at night? No matter how tired I am, my eyes must go over printed words for at least a paragraph or it takes me way too long to get to sleep. A world without books would be a very dreary place and not a place I would want to live in.


Old Houses/Antiques

I love old abandoned houses. I love to photograph them and just take my time appreciating every last detail. They make my soul sing. I know that sounds cheesy, but it's true. I like to go alone and just let the house speak to me without someone else jabbering in my ear, which makes my family nervous, hence why I have a cell phone now. I like the antiques/houses of the common man. I can't relate to the rich and upper classes, being a common woman myself and assuming I would have been in the middle no matter what age I was born in. When I can get away and tear up crappy back roads, I am in heaven.

I love to go antique shopping and could spend all day looking at the old pictures. I have several old albums that I fill with the pictures that spoke to me and that I couldn't leave behind to molder in an antique store when they so obviously needed to come home with me. I have spent a lot of time studying fashions of the past 150 years so I would be able to date the pictures and know what I was looking at. It's amazing the great antiques you can find at a Flea Market or even garage sales and I am always on the look out for anything old -- except old men, sorry, gramps.


Princess

That's right. I love my family like nothing else, but Princess is the light of my life, the apple of my eye, the cream in my coffee. If something happened to that little girl, I don't think I would survive it. I don't want to live in a world without her. That world would cease to have anything for me if she was not a part of it. Yes, she drives me crazy, but I love her like nothing else. She doesn't believe me, but it's true. I would most likely off myself if something happened to her. I don't tell her that, but I do tell her that the world would have nothing to offer me without her an inhabitant on it. She can get me every time. She doesn't know how much she could really get out of me and that is a good thing, because I cannot resist that little girl.


I am very curious about the fabric of your souls, so please do tell. I like to know what makes other people tick, and please forgive me such a serious subject. I don't know what came over me. Probably this great book I'm reading, the old house I drove by yesterday, and Princess's sleeping face in my bed, reminding me of her sweet little face as a baby.

I Have Absolutely Nothing To Say

And I want to say it to you. I haven't been on here because I have nothing of interest to say about anything. We are all jogging along in our same old ruts that have been worn smooth by now. I have been suffering with the flu the last few days and between moaning, "H1N1, take me away!" and stoking the flames of my addiction to The Price Is Right game, I have not been even slightly busy. I am not even sure that I do have H1N1, but I like to tell Sugarbowl that she gave me the pig flu because she is such a pig. To which she threatens to punch me in the butt for saying because she hates being told the obvious -- has she seen her room?! I don't care to be punched in the butt anymore because, besides the bruises, IT HURTS! So I only tell her what a pig she is on the phone.

I hate being sick. I lay here and think about all the things I want/need to get done. I need to burn the leaves (for heresy and witchcraft), do the laundry, do the dishes, make sure the trash gets taken out, make sure the dogs get let out in time, etc etc. I also hate how being sick kicks up all those annoying MS symptoms that I thought were in the past and I had forgotten about. My MS Hug is girdling me tighter than ever, my itchy spots are itchier than ever, my right leg is even more dead and dragging than ever, my TN is even more painful than ever and not fully quieted by the meds that usually lull it for a few hours. Luckily, being a "sick" person, I have a fully stocked medicine cabinet and dug out my Amantadine and have started taking it and I am impatiently waiting to feel better. Those leaves ain't gonna burn themselves!

So there you have it. Aren't ya glad I (didn't say orange) didn't blog about all this boring crap? I'm even boring myself right now, but I have got in some great reading time, when I can step away from The Price Is Right. I AM going to win that showcase showdown before this flu runs its course!

So Dude-ing Dumb

Sorry for not getting back here for so long -- I'm sure you all had the hounds out looking for me -- but I have just fought off the last vestiges of a hideous, dark, ugly depression. My older sister is getting ready to have surgery tomorrow and I have been helping her get ready to be laid up for a while. She's having a hysterectomy and has that pre-surgery "must get everything done NOW" going on. My mom is coming down to spend the next 2 weeks with her to help out. I live just down the street and can't wait for my mommy to be here and spend 2 weeks with us. I would end that sentence with about 50 exclamation marks but then I would be writing like Princess, who has now embarked on the most irritating "Dude" stage. She uses Dude for everything and everyone. To the dogs, "Dudes!!!!! You're on my homework!!!!!!!" To me, "Dude, I told you last time I don't eat that and, Dude, you just made it for dinner AGAIN!!!!!!!!!" Talking on the phone, "I know, Dude!!!!! He always does that!!!! Dude, do you think he is just a stupid dude who can't figure anything out, Dude?!!?!?!!!?!??!" It's really wearing on my nerves. I started using Dude like the Smurfs use the word Smurf, as an adjective, verb and noun. "Dude, that is so dude-ly dude-ish! I was just dude-ing this really dude book about something dude-ly close to that dude-est subject!" That didn't phase her, so I had to step it up a notch and have been calling her "Penis Wrinkle" every time she calls me Dude. I suggested that she use that instead of Dude all the time but she didn't think that would be such a good idea at school, plus she thinks Penis Wrinkle is gross. I would rather be called Penis Wrinkle right now than have to hear "DUDE!!!!!!!!" one more time.

Speaking of penis wrinkles and all things male anatomy, I have been pondering why so much stuff centers around the female anatomy, and have started a one woman crusade to change that to all things all male anatomy all the time. If you would like to join in this crusade, I will give you a few statements to help you get started, Penis Wrinkles, and hopefully we can make a dude-ing difference.

"Who used up the last penis-ing roll of toilet paper and didn't replace it?"

"Get your fat prostrate off this couch and get something done today or I may hurt you!"

"Why the testicle didn't I get this bill before it was late?"

I Don't Get It

I don't get a lot of things. I have come to terms with this. I am used to getting the joke last, not finding the deep hidden meaning to things everyone else saw immediately, and so on. So it should be of no surprise to anyone that when I just did a search about pronunciation to some of the names in the book I am currently enjoying, I stumbled across a deep intellectual discussion about the meaning of every little thing that happens in the book. There was a big argument about the author I am currently reading and an author of the same nationality and who was better. I read through the comments about it all and felt like I had missed the point of the whole book. Which led me to pondering how I could have missed that when the bear shat in the woods it was a symbol for the political situation and how society is being shat on by the current people "in charge" of us all. This naturally led me into wondering whatever happened to just enjoying the story and not looking for meaning in every single word. I get that there is meaning to the books, but does every thing have a hidden meaning that only the learned will comprehend? And where does that leave me?

I read these books for the simple reason that I enjoy a good story and, as I always say to anyone who will listen -- or is within earshot of me -- the classics are classics for a reason. I don't read them to analyze every word and break down the novel until it is no longer enjoyable. I can get most of the meaning in these books, I just enjoy the whole story and can see the value in the story as a whole, not broken down into little bitty pieces that leave the beauty behind. And if I don't tear it down sentence by sentence does that make me stupid or not as "smart" as those who do? I think it is pretentious to do that. That's right! I said it! And I know that I will probably be crucified for saying it, but I stand by that statement. Reading these books and trying to find a deeper meaning than anyone else is pretentious and I am not in a contest to see who has the deepest thoughts or is the smartest. I do not think someone passing a kidney stone is a metaphor for how human relations are akin to a painful and unpleasant situation for those who have to pass that stone/deal with other people.

If you want to find all these deep and hidden meanings, by all means, do so. I want to enjoy my books and love a good story. I get the books, just not in the same way all these intellectuals do. I think it annoys me so much because I don't like the idea of someone reading a book and feeling like they missed the whole point and must not be as smart because they didn't find all the Waldos hidden in it. I'm not looking for Waldo, just a story that grabs me and holds me to the end, which is why I enjoy the classics so much.

2 Really Good Excuses

I have 2 really good excuses for why I have not been blogging much lately. 2 Exceptional and jealousy-inspiring excuses... maybe I shouldn't share them, I don't want a price put on my head for being such an object of envy. But I am willing to put myself in harm's way to keep up the integrity of honesty in the blog-o-sphere.

I have been is such a slump lately. I can't seem to shake off this apathy and depression that has wrapped itself around me. I'm having a terrible case of the "this-is-my-life?!" going on right now. I just can't care that my laundry is backed up and the house is threatening to smother me in filth. Why bother? Nobody else cares that it's such a mess or is willing to help me in any way unless I have to get bitchy about it and that never ends well. I can't find any pleasure in my usual activities and want to climb in bed and stay there for a week until I feel better. I do the things I have to do then go back to holding down the couch so it doesn't blow away. I know this will pass, but it sure is taking its sweet ass time in moving on.

The second, and just as important reason, is that I slammed my finger in the car door the other day and it HURT! Not sure if I broke anything, but my finger now looks like hamburger it is so shredded and bruised. It is making typing very difficult: I have to use my naughty finger instead of my index finger to type.

Until the swelling goes down and I shake off this depression I will have to be silent on here. And Blindbeard + Silence = a backlog of words that will pile up and drown everyone when the dam breaks. Better prepare those high water pants you have been keeping for a rainy day...

Shallow Thoughts By Blindbeard

What would I do for a Klondike Bar? Not much. They really aren't my thing. If I'm going to do anything for any sweets, it would be for a Peppermint Pattie so I could ski on my coffee table. Of course, to ski on my coffee table I would have to move my record player and records and I'm not willing to sacrifice them even for the joy of skiing on that humble table.

Denver Refashionista's recent status on Facebook of being who she is with no apologies got me thinking about how, like Popeye, I too "yam what I yam" with no apologies. Well, I will apologize if I trip over you or spray spittle all over your face because I got excited and was talking too fast too close to you, but other than that, I offer no apologies!

How many times can someone ask you the same questions and not remember ever having asked them before? This is a question that has kept me up for a good 10 minutes each night pondering if the lady in my exercise class will ask me again how old I am, if I'm married and do I have any kids. "How many questions can one woman ask before I go psycho and smack her upside the head? The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind..."

On the whole who we like best on Sesame Street, I have to cast my vote for Oscar and Bert. Oscar is obvious why I like him and Bert because I too am a pedantic and boring-interests kind of person. My little sister likes Grover best and Princess does not know Sesame Street well enough to pick one, but she adores Animal from the Muppets.

Who started this whole women-must-shave-areas-men-do-not thing? I hate being tied to a razor all the time and am thinking the hippies were on to something. I don't want to burn my bra, but I will gladly join in on a razor burning.

Lethargic Lassitude

I have not been taking my anti fatigue meds because I'm an ijit and have forgotten how incredibly lethargic I am without them. I, in my infinite wisdom, thought that I would go off them then start them again to get maximum energy levels like when I first started them. I'm going to have to scrap that plan or risk melting into this couch and never being heard from again because my roomies will never think of lifting the cushions and cleaning under them. I'm so ridiculously tired I have been taking long luxurious naps, going to bed early and almost hitting 7 hours of sleep at night. I don't know if I can handle so much rest. My body may go into shock from being so over-rested.

On top of skipping my anti fatigue meds, my coffee maker broke yesterday and all my cussing and giving it Shaken Coffee Maker Syndrome didn't fix it, so it is obviously unfixable. I had to drink instant coffee, which is akin to drinking cat piss after so many years of real coffee. The good news in all this is that my bff at my exercise class had bought a fancy "gently used" coffee maker at a garage sale (they were selling it because the noise bothered their new baby) for me. She was thrilled that my coffee maker died so that she could give me the coffee maker she had bought for me and I would actually need it now. I was thrilled because I had to lug my lethargic arse into my exercise class while thinking negative things about having to spend my money on a new coffee maker when there is so much useless crap I would rather spend my $2 on.

Princess is enjoying my lethargy because she gets the computer more now. She, in all her lovely 11 year old just-been-hit-with-a-huge-greasy-puberty-stick-ness, is on a mission to try and beat all my high scores on Facebook. The other day she was playing some pearl worm game and told me that whenever she plays it she wishes she had a pearl necklace. Luckily I was turned away from her so she didn't see my face when she said it. Someday I will tell her all the things that are wrong with that statement, all the things I'm NOT saying to an 11 year old.

The good news, my fellow MSers, is that I am going back on my anti fatigue meds. This experiment has been a total failure and I am ready to join the land of the living again, so expect more nonsense from me. My house is a mess and the laundry is in a janga tower that is threatening to fall on us and smother everyone in this house. Now I must drag my lazy butt over to my medicine cabinet and get my meds -- this would be so much easier if I wasn't so lethargic.

This post has been brought to you by the letter L and the number 11. "Sunny day, sweeping the clouds away. Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street?"