My favorite things...

I normally don't like Carmex. The taste that is, cause I'm a lip gloss licker. However, this stuff isn't too bad. My crusty crusts need some good stuff in the Winter months and this stuff does the trick. Go get ya some!!

This may be love...

And so I say...

Seriously

Remember these? It's a simple blow up toy that's weighted down with sand that you can beat the hell out of and it just pops back up. I don't feel like I need one to let out some frustration, I feel like I AM one. Not all the time, just in recent months. It's like every time I start to feel like I'm feeling calm and collected BAM. Pop back up. BAM. Pop back up. You get the idea.

I'm not gonna go into detail cause ewww. I'm just wondering, do I have a sign on my person that says, Come on...PUNCH-ME?!?!

Once upon a time

The whole reason for this post is because I saw a recent picture of my mother. She's 55 years old has been a smoker for about 40 years.
I remember when I was little I used to think she was GLAMOROUS because she smoked. I mean, the ladies on Dynasty did it. I remember asking her to buy me those awful candy cigarettes from the gas station so I could copy her in all her glamour. And she did, sometimes 2 "packs" at a time.
She would often run around in a tizzy then sigh loudly and exclaim, "I NEED a cigarette!" She would sit in her chair, one leg tucked under her while the dangling one in constant motion, she'd reach over and grab her soft leather case, snag that loooong Virginia Slim 120 out and snap the case shut. Funny, I can still hear that little click. Her lighter was always MIA and she'd have me run and go find it QUICK. She'd light it up, take in that first thirsty inhale and close her eyes. Bliss. So I thought.

As I got older I hated her for smoking. I hated that she would barely crack the window in the car while she was smoking and driving me to school. I tried everything I could to get her to quit...hide her packs, her lighters, accidentally sit on her cigarette case crushing them (whoopin' for that one). I hated that my clothes and hair smelled like well, Her. I hated that money went to a fresh carton instead of ordering from my school fundraiser. I hated when she tried to kiss my cheek with that awful ashtray breath thisclose to my nose. I knew that I would never smoke. And I haven't. Not even once.

My mother and I don't speak now. No, it's not because she smokes. Our reasons run deeper than that. The picture was found while Facebook creeping. (What? Don't act like you haven't done it) She looked many many years older than her actual age. She looked very thin, very sunken, very dull. Very NOT Glamorous. She has had Emphysema for about 6 years now and is on full time Oxygen. I would ask her if it's been worth it, all these years of smoking, but I already know her answer.

The Black Keys

I. Love. Music. If you sit still while listening to this song, well, I just don't think we can be friends.

And now she's an actress!

I'll make this short and sweet as I could go on and on about how proud we were and are of Chesney's acting debut....she was ahhmazing! Yeah, I'm biased but shouldn't I be?! So, here we are after her performance as Mitzi Bond in Murder Takes the Stage.

A cranky girl says, What?!

I used to think I was a really "let it roll off my back" kinda person, but if I sit here and think about it for oh, a split second...not so much. In fact, I seem to be less tolerant than I used to be. I get easily irritated when people walk a pinch too slow in front of me. Heaven forbid someone doesn't use their blinker on Main St. And oh my how my feathers will ruffle if some Junior High girl is talking in her loudest, squeakiest, "and then I told him all about so and so who told me that she was texting him while he was texting me" voice right.in.my.ear.
I used to not care so much or shall I say it wasn't as noticed. Does this mean I'm getting older and thereby more "cranky"?! Are the next words out of my mouth going to be, "Kids these days! Turn whatever that is down! Some of us work for a living!"?!
I shake my fist and yell....HELL NO!! And here's why:

1. I like my music loud. Not sound warp loud but I love to roll down the highway to clear my mind while blaring music. Sometimes it's some 80's mashup of Phil Collins or Metallica. Another time it's Loretta and Split Lip Rayfield. No matter, if I'm in the mood, it's gonna be so loud that my seat vibrates and I can feel it in my heart, in more ways than the obvious. If you don't know what that feels like, oh man, you just aren't living right.

2. I laugh at any and all bodily functions. Yeah. Nothing beats a good fart. It's something that all of us do, there's even a book called Everyone Poops. Of course everyone knows what it feels like to fumble with house key while doing the peepee dance. You rush in the house dropping the groceries, damn the eggs anyway, lose the purse along the way, unzip, unbutton, squiggle out of, sit down JUST in the nick of time annnnnnnnd, whooosh! Ahhh. Sweet Lord, I almost peed my pants. If you didn't smile and nod your head in agreement to that, go drink a lot of water and hold it til I say when.

3. Babies. I love their smell, the coo's, the little grin that comes over their face when they pass gas. (see, back to farting) I love to hold them and squish their squishy little fat rolls. I love even more the fact that I don't have to wake up in the middle of the night to tend to them. (um, what does this whole baby thing have to do with the getting cranky/old subject? Not sure, just go with it)

4. I play Bejewelled Blitz at work. Yeah, I said it. I'm not always nose to the grindstone. This girl needs a break from the coding and billing and researching! It's good for the company in the long run. I mean, do they really want me all burned out? I think not. See, an old cranky person wouldn't screw off while at work, would they?

One final thought, age is nothing but a state of mind, right? And we change our minds oh, a bajillion times a day. So, on any given day/moment I can be like a curious 4 year old. Or maybe a rebellious teen. Ooh, how about a whiney "my jeans don't fit" 35 year old? I may be a bit less tolerant, cranky, older...whatever the case may be, I'm just gonna have to roll with it. Just use your blinker, mmkay?