Time Flies

Whether you're having fun or not.

What the heck was so important that I neglected YOU, my dear readers, for another three weeks?!
(Did you even notice I was AWOL? You can be honest.)

Truth is, not a damn thing.

I hereby promise to do better at posting my usual boring fare. You know, the stuff you read to put you to sleep.

So...

Those of you who are regulars here know that I don't normally discuss undergarments, but these are so amazing, I just have to. Underwear by Naomi & Nicole has a sticky portion (I know, it sounds weird, but trust The Sock Monkey on this, okay?) around the legs that glues those knickers to your rear end in a way that 1.) doesn't hurt, 2.) keeps them in place, and 3.) erases VPLs.
They are GENIUS. (Wonderful Edge. Tag line: no ride no lines) (P.S. don't watch the video, it's just the mannequin ass spinning around for 22 seconds.)


The world of dating. Yep. Still doing that. It's almost like its own full time job.
The 31 year old (K.) disappeared for a bit, but he's back. We have not had date #2  yet, but we will, my pretty, oh we will.
Had a second date with another gentleman, let's call him A; very nice, easy to talk to, seemingly normal.
First date was coffee. All good.
Date #2 involved food and, dear Jesu Christo y'all, I HAD TO AVERT MY EYES - because, (oh babies, I can hardly speak of it)... he held the spoon in his fist!
In the deal breaker category, that's damn close to a comb-over (comb overs - just stop that shit. Shave that pate and be proud.). The worst part, besides doing it in the first place, there was no shame. So, we either never see each other again OR we never eat together again. At least nothing that involves spoons... (Nooooooo...not the soup!) Sigh.

In the weight lifting arena, I dead lifted 170 pounds Thursday night, which is ten pounds over my previous personal best. Our darling Barbell Club coach Paul, (who is as hilarious as he is cute), when asked if I was ever going to get past 160 pounds said, "I'm tired of hearing you whine about being stuck at 160. Put some more weight on and do it." And I did. Ten reps worth.
My upper body sadly, is still unworthy of reporting a personal best. I can barely do 40 pounds in an overhead press. My bench press is only slightly better at 70 pounds. And my squats...well, they are basically a non-entity. I do squats with a kettle bell and risers. The dead lift is my crowning glory. That big Scandinavian arse is good for something - ha!

One more thing: we bloggers are a community of sorts and Andrea over at Go Ask Alice is having a hard time. She lost her cat a few months ago, and now her dog Brio is fighting a losing battle with kidney failure. Please think on her and hers kindly.

Here's some old school good stuff:

And this never gets old either:

Random Randomness

Something is going on with the left side of my body (the yin/female/mother side).
From the hip pain to the knot on the ball of my foot to the sore joints in my index and middle fingers (this morning) to the damaged ovary (long story) to the mastitis scar - they are all on the left side. A hundred million years ago my friend (a homeopath and acupuncturist) told me that the parent you have the most issues with could be determined from the side of the body on which you have the most scars, etc.
Interesting, no?

Finally decided to get rid of the carpet in the bedrooms. That is going to make cleaning up cat puke so much easier. The floor guy (recommended by my hairdresser) found some hand selected 5" bamboo planks for $2.00 a square foot. And even though the rest of the house is red oak, everyone I've asked has said that would be just fine to have a different wood in the bedrooms.

Distracted today.

If any of you happen to be in Lincoln City, OR and need a place to leave your dog for the day, please consider Salty Dog Hound Lounge.

Why do I always try growing my hair out during the summer? What is wrong with me?! And while we're on the subject of hair: if my bangs get too long, they start looking like Cape Buffalo horns:

 In trimming them last night, I may have given myself partial school photo bangs. Oops.

Not a school photo, but these are the bangs

I should vacuum, but the cats are asleep (a.k.a. not bugging me); don't want to rock that boat.

We got a mess of rain Friday from tropical storm Andrea; a good sized puddle appeared in the back floor of the driver's side of the car. Nothing else was wet. Total mystery. Took it over to Bunky's car wash and they were happy to wet vac it (for $15). 

Well, I am fresh out of stuff to say.

Odd and Sad

Genebase does matching of DNA markers; recently a gentleman named Odd came up as matching 20/20 markers to my brother's, meaning there is a very high probability of having a common paternal ancestor within nine generations.

Oddly (heh) enough, I recently watched the Norwegian movie "O' Horten", in which the main character's name is Odd.
Odd is the 11th most common male name in Norway.
This made me laugh - Even is also a common Norwegian name.

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Speaking of Norwegians (clumsy segue, but doing it anyway), my dear friend Linda (who is half Norwegian and half Italian) lost her beloved Luke Sunday.

Luke was a Hungarian Vizla and he looked like this:

They're called the "Velcro dog" because they always want to be near you. She got him in the midst of a very dark time in her life and as a good dog will, he kept her afloat. Every time she talked about him, she sounded happy. He was a bit of a bubble dog with ailments and allergies and special food, but he never lost his good humor and sweet spirit.
He was her faithful companion on many a long meditative walk (when he wasn't chasing rabbits) and kept her parents company for a bit after she married and moved away.
But he got to spend his last year with his favorite person, chasing rabbits, and being loved more than any dog pretty much ever by lots of people.

Safe journey Lukey Luke. You were a good boy.

New Neighbors

I have been very lucky in my home owning life, all of my neighbors have been great. We look out for each other, pick up mail, mow lawns when the others can't, things like that.

The house diagonally across the street from me was for sale for over a year. Last week I noticed the sign was down and assumed they took it off the market until spring. Then yesterday, two cars were in the driveway and I surmised it had sold (or rented). Sure enough, signs of life started to appear - people cleaning windows, trimming bushes in the front yard, truckloads of furniture were unloaded, and...dun, dun, dun...a dog was heard.

The dog, (a beagle, my least favorite breed ever), could be heard, with the door and windows closed, in my bedroom in the back of the house. The temperature in these parts in the middle of this January is about 70 degrees, which means storm doors and windows were open, so you can well imagine.

O.M.G.

Beagles don't bark, they bay. Hunting dogs, they're bred to be heard over long distances. My uncle in Georgia had a pack of the standard size. When I was three, for no reason apparent to me, as I walked up the porch steps, one came out from under the house and bit me; the reason they're not my favorite, aside from the noise.


This is a very dog friendly neighborhood; there's a dog next door, across the street, up the street is Samson, the blue nosed pit (a lovely gentleman), Jane, (the former home owner), had three dogs. But they are all well behaved, quiet dogs.

They got a pass yesterday; you're moving furniture, the doors are open, you're keeping the dog in the backyard out of the way, I get it. But the barking went on for HOURS (why do dogs not ever seem to lose their voice?!). Where other people say - awww, poor dog, I just want it to STFU. NOW.


Noise affects me viscerally. As a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP), I am "...more overaroused by levels of sensory stimulation that do not bother others." People near me sneezing suddenly, high pitched whistling, those f%*&ing cars with the loud bass speakers, repetitive sounds (dogs barking), many people talking at one time - I literally feel those things in my body. In the case of many people talking at once, I hear ALL the conversations. I cannot turn some off and only hear one. It creates a flight or fight response and makes me instantly pissed off; it hurts my head and my stomach.

Yesterday afternoon, my stomach and neck got tighter and tighter as the hours wore on. I imagined several really inappropriate scenarios involving punching.

Anon CP kept me semi-distracted texting about our shared Viking ancestry - inventing hand signs and a motto.

Finally, after about four or five hours (an eternity!), it stopped.

This morning I saw three motorcycles being unloaded.

Oh joy!