"You jus' gotta have patience with the chilrens."

“You jus’ gotta have patience with the chilrens.” This is one piece of Madea advice that I cannot/will not head.

Every year when the Suwannee River Fair rolls around, I re-vow to never have children. Somehow, every year, I wind up sitting by the most annoying children in the tri-county area. Today, as I was trying to watch my sister in her steer showmanship class, three little girls kept fake-sneezing on me. Only after a few death glares and threats did they finally stop. I don’t care if they were “fake” sneezing…I still don’t want their spit on the back of my neck. Then, they started the oh-so-annoying game of hand-slapping. Where were their parents, I wonder…Probably at their house, or gallivanting around town, using the fair as a free baby-sitter. Ugh! Never, never will I have children.

We actually were supposed to have the steer showmanship last night. But due to the rain, wind, and nastiness, they cancelled it…after we had sat there for about 3 hours. But I digress. Anyways, during the 3 hours, I wound up sitting by a family of annoying heifers (whose name I shall not mention…I will only say that they are in the Journal a HECK of a lot with their steer pictures :). I wanted to shoot myself in the foot. They narrated all the showmanship classes. I wanted to turn around and say “I don’t care what you think!” Then, they kept inching their manure-clad boots towards my big Vera Bradley purse. THEN, they started discussing dieting and how one of them had stuck to eating only chicken for a whole year. She had tried to eat a hamburger recently and it didn’t even taste good. Can I just say here, that I desperately wanted to whip out a burger and fries and eat it in front of them?? I swear, they look like starving Ethiopians as it is. Their diet obsession is insane. I’m all for people losing weight for health purposes…but looking like a skeleton with skin just isn’t my cup of tea (as you could probably tell).

Who is Rachel Ray’s pharmacist and where can I get some of the uppers she’s on??

Let me just say, before I get into this, that I don’t watch an awful lot of Food Network. It doesn’t provide entertainment for the girl who cannot cook. But sometimes, my mama has this on when I come home…and I’m forced to watch some of it. Although I can appreciate 'ol Rachel's ability to make a wonderful meal in 30 minutes, does anyone else find her as annoying as I do?? I mean, I like most of her recipes and all, but I’m tempted to throw my shoe at the tv everytime I hear the phrase “EVOO” or “Sammies.” And where, oh where, does she find THAT kind of energy? I get wore slap out just watching her. I’m betting that it’s good drugs. If that’s the case, where can I get some? But at least she’s not as monotonous as the Barefoot Contessa. Her show puts me to sleep about as well as my High School Chemistry class did (as a side note here, I slept through both semesters of my HS Chem class…made A’s, but didn’t learn a thing).

Anyways, let me fill y’all in on what’s happening at the Sheffield Casa tonight. My sister is all wound up for the fair (at least the social aspect of it). My dad is watching his new favorite RFDTV show (yeah… BIG surprise). This one’s called “Country Family Reunion”…or some nonsense. It’s where a whole bunch of old country singers (or their kids) sit around in a circle and talk about the good ‘ol days. I’d rather be shot in the butt than have to watch that mess. What’s worse is the fact that even if he leaves the room…we can’t change the tv…because he’s “still watching it.” Ok, Dad. And I think Big Joe and his clan of dancing grannies are coming on next. If it’s up to me to take dad to my house when he’s old and gray or take him to the home….he’s SOOOOO going to the home. (Just kidding….but seriously). My mom’s working on folding Mt. Clothesmore (our ever-growing mountain of clean clothes). And I am using every stick-like object to scratch my back with. I’m itchin’ like a mammajamma tonight. Unfortunately, I got scorched last week and now I’m peeling. FUN.

On a good note, I am in a much better mood tonight. I got to visit with the very sweet Miss Allie Claire today and she perked me right up. Thank goodness for quilting classes…I got enough sugar to last me all month. She’s just as cute as she can be, y’all. That little baby has got me wrapped me around her little finger, let me tell you.

O.U.C.H.

Well, considering that my anxiety/depression medicine works really good, I haven’t wanted to fling myself off a cliff lately :) However, today was no-doubt the worst day I have had all year.

Let me paint a picture for y’all. I stayed up half the night worrying about a friend of mine. Do y’all ever get those overwhelmingly bad feelings?? Well, I had one last night. I couldn’t seem to shake it, and it kept me up really late last night. Before y’all go thinking I’m crazy…I do have reason to worry. But, I got up this morning and got ready for work in a zombie-like fashion. As I was getting to work, I got the worst news (not in relation to the friend previously mentioned… and no one died…so no worries on that front). I don’t really want to discuss the issue…but it’s just the kind of news that honestly just knocks the wind out of you. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t really talk….all I wanted to do was cry. I sat at my desk for a while “pretending” to work, while trying to stop shaking and tearing up. When that failed, I ran to my Hannie’s work…because I just needed that little reminder that things were going to be ok.

Truthfully, I just want to crawl in a hole and stay there for a while. I hurt. I’m exhausted. I guess it’s true about “when it rains, it pours.” It’s really frustrating…because I’m trying, really I am, to be a better person. And then all this mess gets brought up again.

I’m going to go to my friend’s play tonight, and try to take my mind off of the current situation. I guess I’ll try to fake it, and act like everything’s fine. The play will be wonderful, I’m sure. Krystle does an excellent job, and I’m sure that I’ll laugh and have a good time. For all of you that haven’t been. The Suwannee Valley Players are presenting “Into the Woods” all weekend. They do a great job…so you should check it out.

Thankfully, Little Miss Allie Claire is going to be gracing us with her presence tomorrow…I can’t wait for that. She sure does brighten the Journal up. I’m sure that’ll be the boost I need.

Betty Crocker and Sara Lee can kiss it!

I just want to say that I love to do things for my friends. Well, a friend of mine is celebrating his 30th birthday this week. So, what better way to celebrate than to have a really good, homemade cake, right? So, that is what I set off to do tonight. Mrs. Cindy Jo had brought in an AWESOME chocolate cake a few weeks ago (the recipe ran in the paper). I LOVED it. So, that is what I wanted to make him.

You know that irritating little phrase that says “You learn something new every day?” Well, I learned something today. I learned that I have NO business being anywhere near a kitchen. Although I am certainly proud of my result, it took WAY too much effort. (I feel like I backslid on a few things I said last night during this project.) My two cakes were only finished after a bunch of obscenities, three threats to go to the ABC liquor store, one ruined shirt, and one threat to send my mama to the home if she didn’t hush and get out of my way. ;-)

Well, I made the first cake for us to try (I wouldn’t give someone a cake that we wouldn’t eat at my house….okay, okay…maybe I wanted some cake too). The cake part went together really easy. Then came the icing. Somehow, in reading the recipe, I translated softened butter with melted butter. If you didn’t know…melted butter won’t fluff up. So this is what my first attempt at the icing looked like. Yep, throw up in a bowl.

I had to drive BACK to Hitchcocks to buy more stuff. Aye-yi-yi. It was a mess. BTW, my apron (though you can't see it) is very cute. Picked it up in Cedar Key. It says “I take life with a grain of salt, a wedge of lime, and a shot of tequila.” Cute.

Finally, FINALLY, after umpteen million dirty dishes, chocolate smeared all over the counters, and marshmallow crème all over everything…I’m finished. Here is the finished product (ours…everyone seemed to like it at my house…so hopefully he likes his).

All I can say after all this mess is….it will be a long time before I attempt another cake. Sara Lee and Betty Crocker can kiss it. I’m SO not a domestic diva. Anybody know any men that can cook??

This ain't no dress rehearsal, y'all!

I believe that I have talked about this in previous blogs. I have a real problem with the fact that I’m not God and I can’t change everyone. But as I was standing in my shower tonight (my best place for thinking)and thinking of all the troubles around me…I realized one of my life’s ambitions. I want to inspire people to want better for themselves. At first, I know that that sounds a little odd. But here is my point. Lately, I see people all around me that could be much better than what they are. They are settling for second best, when really they should be striving for something better. I know that they can do better, but this knowledge completely slips by them. I want better FOR them. It kills me to see someone not be what they can.

On the other hand, I realize that I am not near the person that I should be. As my last blog can attest, I have a TERRIBLE temper, a very foul mouth, and a lot of insanity. So before I can become this “great” person that influences other, I, too, need to undergo some change.

I don’t talk much about my spirituality on my blog. But I am a Christian (foul-mouthed and hypocritical as I may be). I used to be very active in my church. Unfortunately, a few years ago, I strayed a bit. Then, when I tried to come back and get involved, I had my sins announced to my Sunday School Class. Before y’all go thinking anything horrible about my church, realize that the words spoken were true. I can’t deny them. But of course, me being me, I blew up and refused to go back to Sunday School. To this day, I haven’t been back to Sunday School. Honestly, days like today, I miss it. Looking back, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at the person that spoke out against me (who did so in a joking manner, I might add…just without tack) I should have been mad at myself. But now, I have a problem going back. I know that I can dish a lot of sarcasm and meanness out, but really, I have very thin skin. I’m just not sure what everyone has heard about me…and therefore, I feel like a little girl scared of the dark.

But I need to change. I can promise y’all this…I will never ever be “Miss Sandra Dee.” But I am going to take some strides to be better.

It is my hope that I will have an impact on someone during my lifetime. ‘Cause y’all…this ain’t no dress rehearsal. We have one life to live (if my blog had a soundtrack…the old theme song to “One Life to Live” would be playing here :-P ) so we need to make the best of it.

I hope that people will realize in this life that money doesn’t give you happiness, drugs and alcohol cannot take your problems away, and that family and friends supply us with pieces of heaven here on earth. Living each day as if it were your last and trying to make an impact while doing so might be the way to “really live.” As a final note, sometimes, the smallest gesture of kindness or the simplest kind remark can make someones day a little brighter...keep that in mind...

Mama said there'd be days like this...

I would NEVER describe myself as being even-tempered or level-headed. So, I near about threw myself a little fit this morning while dealing with a bunch of morons. I’m talkin’a turnin’ red, horn-honkin’, profanity usin’ fit. We had to rush around this morning because my sister wanted to go to the fair to watch some of her friends participate in the horse show, mom and I needed to run to Chiefland for a bit, and then we had to make it to Branford’s Barrel Race by 12. Needless to say, it was a crazy morning.

We made a quick run in Walmart to pick up a few things, then we raced to the Post Office. While driving we got behind the slowest imaginable person…who happened to be going to the Post Office, too. After 3 minutes of putting along, I reached over to Mom’s steering wheel and started honking. Didn’t help, but it made me feel better. Idiot.

Then…You know how some people just aren’t breakfast eatin’ people? Well, I’m not one of them. I have to eat breakfast or I’ll be even crankier than usual. And I am absolutely smitten with Burger King’s Cheesy Tots. I should probably say right here that all of my family wants different places when were eating out. What can I say?…we’re just difficult like that. Well, after getting Mom and Rheba’s breakfast at McDonalds, we headed for the Cheesy Tot Palace. As we pull up, mom points to the clock (10:29) and says “we’re sure cuttin’ it close.” As we go to place my scrumptious order, the order-taker informs us that they are no longer serving breakfast. (I will not say what I said at this point ;-) But luckily, cheesy tots are served all day, so at least I got them. But as we pull around, and the boy practically threw my food at my mama, my mom laughingly says to the man “Sir, it was 10:29 when we got here.” (as I am mumbling obscenities under my breath). He then, in a smart butt way says “Actually, ma’am, it was 10:35, your clock must be wrong.” As mom was driving off, I may or may not have leaned across her to call him a lying little a-hole. …oops. (shaking my head in embarrassment now) You can smart off to me, but you’d better not smart off to my mama, bud.

We picked Rheba up from the fair, and started towards Branford. We got behind yet ANOTHER slow driver with a bedroom set in the back of his truck. (insert more honking and profanity here). I am a bit of a “road rager,” I guess you would say.

Well, finally we made it to Branford. After we finished laying everything out…books, magazines, chairs, hats, etc …we finally got to sit back and relax. We had a while to wait. Rheba was number 168 (literally, we were there for 5 ½ hours before she ran). I was sitting back reading “Bright Lights, Big Ass” by Jen Lancaster (hi-larious book, buy a copy, I’m sure you’ll love it…)I feel something brush against my toes. A little ugly mutt, who’s owner is nowhere in sight, is trying to pee on my feet. WTH? (add more profanity here…)

Then, with the sun warming my face, I decide to take a little cat nap. Somewhere in between consciousness, I feel something graze my head, and a thump behind me. I wake up, turn to mom, and say “What the hell was that??” The woman behind me lifted up a rock and says “It was a rock.” Someone had thrown a rock at my head while I was trying to sleep. (add more profanity here…) Needless to say, I was not amused.

But after all of this insanity, I have been shown once again that God has a sense of humor. As we were getting back into Dixie County (taking Rheba back to the fair), we happened along a little church. This is what the sign out front looked like…

I don’t know if you’ll find it nearly as funny as we did. But it made me laugh and laugh. Only in Dixie will you see the combination of Larry the Cable Guy and Church. I love it. Even on bad or crazy days. God will give you something to smile about. It helps that we have a wierd sense of humor...

Things I will never understand...

Things I will never understand…

1. Why it is that every time I go to Walmart, I wind up with the ONE buggy that needs a tire alignment. Or I wind up with one that squeaks really loudly. Either way, you can always hear me coming. Kerplunk, roll, squeak, kerplunk, roll, squeak.
2. Why is it that grown men can shoot a deer, but can’t seem to “aim” while peeing.
3. Why do we always want the one we can’t have, and the one that wants us, we don’t want?
4. How anyone could ever live anywhere but the South. I mean, really, could you go without hearing a Southern accent all day??
5. How is it that ALL teenage girls go through the “like” stage. You know, the “Where everything they like say sounds like…like…this.” Ugh.
6. Who in the hell wants to sign up to be an actor in these feminine itch/odor or erectile dysfunction commercials?—As a side note, “Bob” from the E.D. commercials looks as if he might need some anti-psychotic drugs and a straight jacket. I don’t really think E.D. is the biggest problem he’s facing.
7. When speaking of commercials. Why is it that ALL of America is fascinated with that dang Geico Gecko, or the caveman, or that irritating perky Progressive Insurance woman?

I will never understand these things…and there’s tons more, but I’m exhausted. I’ll think of more crap to add to this list, I’m sure.

This ain't Tara...and I ain't Mammy!

I would just like to point out that this ain’t Tara, and I’m not Mammy…so they can all kiss it. I’m sorry y’all, but don’t you guys just ever get the feeling that you’re underappreciated? You do things above and beyond the call of duty, only to have no one notice? Like…you work so hard on things, only to have others take the credit? I know, I know, life isn’t fair. But sometimes it just sucks.

I have finals this week. I have a teacher that seems to be refusing to give me above a 90, even though I go well above what she wants for her assignments. (BTW, did you know that an A- is not the same as an “A” when figuring your GPA??? If she messes up my GPA, I promise, I’ll scream). I have 2 finals, one of which wound up being a 21 page paper, and a big project due. And still, STILL!!, I have people giving me their crap to do. As if I don’t have enough on my plate. It is moments like this when I want to find a rusty plastic knife and slit my wrists (theoretically, of course ;-)

I keep having this little voice in the back of my head say “Move. Just move far away.” Oh, how I would love to move. Get away from all the drama, some of the people, and some of the constant reminders of what could and should have been. I dunno. Just a few thoughts running through my anxiety-filled mind tonight…

Spa and ER lessons learned

Today we finally celebrated my lil sis’ birthday. I say finally because it has been extremely hard (mainly due to Rheba’s crazy barrel racing schedule) to pin point a day that we could all get together. Anyways, Mom, Rheba, Hannie, Margaret, Elmer Fudd and I all got together at the spa and then went on to the Ivy House. All in all, we really enjoyed ourselves. The day was really crazy, though. After all the fun we had this morning, we wound up in the ER this afternoon with Rheba (more on that in a minute). Today, I learned some valuable lessons that I will share with you.

Aleta’s spa lessons of the day

1. Lesson #1-Always shave every inch of your legs before going to a spa.—Last night, in a hurry, I only shaved up to my knees. Mainly because I didn’t think that a massage would entail anything above my knees (and maybe the fact that I just didn’t want to put that much effort into it at 12:30 a.m.). Now before y’all go thinking my thighs were all “wooly mammoth”, they weren’t. It just wasn’t smooth by a long shot. ANYWAYS, so I go into the massage and tell the girl to work mainly on my back, shoulders, and neck…but I guess she could work on my legs as well (fully thinking it would just be the calves). I got a shock. As she ran her hands up my leg, I had to bite my lip and curl my toes to keep from laughing. Still, I nearly snorted. I kept thinking “Oh s***, I KNEW I should’ve shaved my whole leg!”

2. Lesson #2- Aleta has very ticklish knees.—I realized this during the point where I was already near the “pee-in-your-pants” state trying to stifle my laughter about shaving.

3. Lesson #3- In telling the massage therapist what you want, you might want to tell her what you don’t want, too.—I won’t go into too much depth with this; deeming it “TMI.” I will say that although my chunky behind provides a good amount of working space, I didn’t need it massaged.

4. Peppermint oil will NOT come off of you, and it begins to stink after a while.—After getting greased up like a pig, I hopped into the spa shower to try to get some of the oils off my skin. Surprisingly, it didn’t help a whole lot. I still smelt of nasty peppermint all day. Bleh.

Ok, onto the ER visit…Rheba has been having a “pressure headache” for about 4 days now. First, we thought it could be the bug that was going around. But mom finally took her to the Emergency Care Center today (only place that was open). They promptly sent us to the ER, because they didn’t “do” headaches. So, off we went. About 6 hours later, we finally returned home. No need to worry, it wasn’t anything serious. As of now, Rheba is doped up and feeling much better.

Aleta’s lessons about the E.R.

1. Lesson #1-Some male nurses are both manly AND cute.—Ok, so maybe I just am prone to stereotyping…but I’ve always considered male nurses to be just a tad bit on the girly side. I was proven wrong today. There was one that strolled through the E.R. tonight that even my mom said was a cutie.

2. Lesson #2-My sister will wear boots with ANYTHING.—No joke. My sister’s feet got cold at one point when we had FINALLY gotten called back (about 4 hours after arriving). She was in that awful green gown…sportin’ her cowboy boots. I did take a pic on her phone, but she said she would kill me if ever I showed it to anyone. She cracks me up. (side note—at the spa today, she was wearing blue sports shorts with her boots…the spa ladies certainly thought the Clampits had come to town).

3. Lesson #3- Despite my dad’s arguments, I was NOTTTTT meant to work in the medical field.—Apparently, when a person takes that little machine/thingy off their finger while it’s still plugged in, it will beep…and beep…and beep. After 38 minutes of hearing a steady “beep…beep…beep,” I was in hot pursuit of a sharp object to slit my wrists with. The nurse finally came in and told us what the sound was (after a few complaints and few long sighs from me, I might add). I don’t know what old geezer had pulled the finger thing off, but I was minutes away from searching for the culprit myself when we were finally released.

4. Final lesson of the night….It’s good to be home.

My inner/built-in girdle is broken

Ok…so Tuesday night (before I got the tummy bug), I decided that my growing belly was driving me nuts, so I started doing crunches. Believe it or not, I was doing like 200 everyday a year ago. I stopped around the time I got mono (and thought my spleen would suddenly burst at any over-exertion). Needless to say, it’s been a while since I’ve worked those muscles. And boy do I feel it now. It’s been 2 days, and I can hardly move. I can’t touch my toes. I can’t laugh without doubling over in pain. If I drop something on the floor at work, I leave it where it fell (and pretend like I didn’t notice that it fell). This sucks. That stupid lady on television that talks about having a “solid core” and “stomach muscles that work like a built-in girdle to hold you in” apparently hadn’t met any chubby girls. My inner/built-in girdle is broken. I want a refund. I won’t lie, I’ll probably do the crunches again when I’m not in excruciating pain. Although exercise is quickly becoming a dirty word for me.

Has anyone that is reading this (if anyone is) ever tried Tae-bo? If you should ever be given that opportunity…pass it up. Especially if you are as uncoordinated as I am. In trying to do the move where you move your knee up to your other (other side) elbow, I lost my balance and fell onto my couch. My friend Steph was working out with me at the time, but she was in front of me…so I had hoped she didn’t notice. (Never mind the loud thump, and “OWWW!” that followed). She saw everything. Our entertainment center has glass doors, so she saw it all. Next thing I knew, she was doubled over laughing at me and my clumsy self. Dang Tae-bo man.

I am also quickly becoming a hater of all things green. Before my friend Megan’s wedding, I ate salads EVERY STINKIN’ Day. Just so I wouldn’t look quite like a pumpkin in the “Palm Beach Coral” Dress she stuffed me in (still did, btw). I got a little tired of the salads then, and I’m getting’ sick of them again. I ate one tonight. I told my mom, “It’s delicious. It’s just the fact that I hate chewing, and chewing, and chewing just to eat a piece of lettuce.” I swear, I work more muscles trying to eat a damn salad than I do plastering my fake work smile on every day. Frankly it’s not worth it. Oh, and I must mention the fact that while eating a salad at work the other day, I sat there chewing and chewing, wondering why the lettuce I had in my mouth wasn’t breaking down. (This was the salad straight from the bag) It wasn’t breaking down because it had RUBBER in it. No lie. It was a little blue piece of rubber/balloon- looking material. I was disgusted. Now, I’ve earned the name Trojan Woman and Rubbermaid from my dear friend Amy.

Y tu eHarmony?

Ok, before y’all go thinking that I have succumbed to Lee and AnneMarie’s pleas to join eHarmony so that I might find a “lasting love,” just know that I have not. Although, truthfully, I think that someone is stealing all the fish in my sea. WTH? Hussies. So after, say, the age of 25, I might just join eHarmony. I ain’t knockin’ the idea just yet. :)

Anyways. Back to the point. Although people find “lasting love” on there, you notice they only really put the pretty matches on tv. I know this sounds mean…(but when has that ever stopped me, right?) …but I’m bettin’ the not-so-pretty ones were just desperate to settle down, and any match they got would’ve suited them fine. I’m not QUITE to that point yet. (Although, come back in a few years, it might have changed by then…tee-he-he).

I also believe that eHarmony wouldn’t exactly appreciate the specifications that I listed in a memo attached to my “compatibility test.” It would read this…

To whom this may concern,

I have a few suggestions for you when searching for my match. Would you please see to it that my match has ALL of his teeth? I am completely opposed to my match having clammy or feminine hands. I would prefer a dark, handsome, Christian man, with manly hands and the perfect amount of chest hair. Yet, his back must not look like he is first cousin to a gorilla. Also, could you please see to it that he had a Southern drawl and a good singing voice to serenade me with? He needs to be able to make me laugh like Jon Reep does. I would like for him NOT to spend as much/more time in front of the mirror as I do. He must be able to deal well with a bunch of women and a TON of insanity…and that’s not even bringing up his in-laws-to-be. Finally, I’m not really into Vegan men either; having your man look emaciated is not really a turn on. Well, I think that covers all of my specifications.

This should still leave plenty of men, right? Good luck. In the words of Tim Gunn..."Make it work."

Aleta

Yeah, when the “to whom this may concern” person reads my memo, I’m going to get the big fat eHarmony rejection letter. I can see it now. Maybe in the next few years I will lower my standards a bit. Hell, by the age of 30, I may lessen the standard to “mammal.”

Vain Birds, The Chicken War, and When Bats Attack

Have y’all seen the movie Failure to Launch?? If not, you might should watch it. It is hilarious and has Matthew McHottie (as my friend calls him) in it. Anyways, in the movie the guy (the character ol’ Matt plays) gets out of sync with nature. Through the duration of the movie, he gets attacked by a squirrel, bitten by a big lizard, and almost drowns when a dolphin grabs him off of his surf board. All of these animals are generally friendly, so it is very odd. Now, I told you that to tell you this…I am beginning to believe that I am out of sync with nature.

The Vain Bird

I have posted a photo of my car door. If you will notice, there is bird poo all over the door. For the past month, I have been noticing more and more bird poo on my car door and on my side mirrors. It doesn’t matter if I clean it, the bird will return to leave a “fresh coat” right after I clean it. My parents think that it is funny because they have seen the bird just sitting on my car window seal looking in the side mirror, pecking at it and pooing. Apparently, he likes to look at himself in the mirror. Meanwhile, my mom and dad’s vehicles remain untouched. I have just about gotten to the point where I want to call my very own Elmer Fudd to bring her guns to my house and have target practice. Ok…maybe that’s not PC for all my PETA friends. Ok. We’re going to send him to a wonderful place where he can look at himself all day in a mirror if he likes. :-P Dumb Bird.

The Chicken War

I hate a chicken. I think that I might have mentioned that a time or two on here. But lately, I am feeling very sad for one of our roosters. We apparently (didn’t realize this until a few days ago) have 3 roosters total. One is ugly, and two are pretty (I guess for a rooster). Well, one of the pretty ones and the ugly one have teamed up and are really mean to the rooster I deem “Buddy.” The hens have followed suit. Buddy is a complete outcast. He constantly has to watch himself. And the other chickens have pecked at him so much that he is now losing the comb on his head. I took this picture of him, all by his lonesome in the cow field. So sad…I came home from work one day last week to find him hunkered down in the horse field, looking from side to side. I feel so bad for him.

In relation to me, the roosters are following me again. Wherever I am in the house, they will be under that window cock-a-doodling all day long. They woke me up at 7-7:30ish on Sunday. Then, that afternoon, while we were trying to watch TV, they were under the living room window making a racket. So much so to the point where my sister yelled “GOOD LORD!” It’s getting ridiculous, I tell you.

When Bats Attack

We have an in-ground swimming pool at my house. I absolutely love it during the summer months. With it turning dark later, it’s always fun to go out and have a late-afternoon swim. There’s only one problem. The bats. Bats are drawn to the water, and typically come out around dusk. Well, one night as my mom and I were leisurely swimming, the bats came out. As I came up for air, I felt a pull in my hair. I went to reach back and pull the clip from my hair…when I realized it wasn’t a clip. The bat started flapping in my hair. All I can say is…once I got that dang bat out of my hair, Jesus wasn’t the only one that could walk on water….

Well, finally, I got around to taking the pics off my camera. This is Rheba’s first driving lesson. (She’s posing…I made sure that she was parked before taking this pic…Lord knows, I value my life…) haha.

Therapy, laughter, green-thumbs, and ringing bells

Sometimes you just have to step out of your drama for a little while to fully appreciate the small things in life. Monday and Tuesday were both pretty hard at work. In fact, I have no idea what had gotten into me on Tuesday, I just kept crying. I guess I’m just a bit overwhelmed right now. I had a 22-page essay midterm last week, a test analysis project due last week (have I mentioned that education classes are SOOOOO not for me?!), a group presentation due this Saturday—yes, apparently you can have group projects in online classes too! But as it is in EVERY group project I have ever been in, I am doing most of the work—and I just found out I have another paper due by Saturday. I’m still worried sick about some of my friends…It’s just a pile of junk all piling up at once. I even went crying to Aunt Angie’s to tell her my woes on Tuesday. We had a little therapy session right in her office :) Frankly, I think that both of us need a vacation.

Back to my point….With all this stuff happening, I took time out and thoroughly enjoyed myself last night. I went to Crystal River and Homosassa with my friend Sam. We went plant shopping at the Home Depot (and later at Wally-world)—for her. I still don’t have a green thumb…and I don’t see one in my near future.—But we had the best time. We laughed and laughed and laughed. It was just what I needed. There’s nothing like hanging out with good, old friends. It just always seems to make your worries melt away.

As a side note, throughout our plant-shopping extravaganza we took some time to look at greeting cards. I am happy to say that I found a few really cute ones. I am still on the search for a card that I bought back in Aug/Sep and sent to my friend in Carrabelle (It’s a Hallmark/Shoebox Card). I would love to find it and buy a few more. The card cracked me up. It had two stick figures on it. One had horns and a pitchfork, I think the other had a halo. The one with the horns had “Guilty, Guilty, Guilty” around it. The card said “Maurice’s first day as the Court Room Artist was also his last.” You would just have to see it to fully appreciate it. As soon as I saw it, I stood there laughing hysterically down the card aisle at Walgreens. If ever y’all should spot this card…let me know. Anyways, I’m doing good on the card front now….although I have thoroughly upset my card-making mama. I’d upset her more if she knew how much I spent on the few cards I bought last night :)

Well, that’s about all that is new with me. Oh wait! The robot OCD kid came in the Journal today. Thank the Lord I didn’t get him. While he was in there, he pressed the counter bell for about 2 minutes straight (while Mrs. Cindy Jo was helping him), before making himself at home and getting himself some water from our Culligan water thingy we have in the hallway. The kid is weird…he doesn’t ask before he starts messing with things…just goes right ahead and messes with them. He is the reason I’m really considering not having any of my own.

Throwing Staplers at the Journal

Well guys, I left work early today. I left around 4 today; it really was for the best. The alternative to leaving would have been murder. We’ll call it my “mental health leave”…

Let me start off by saying that I absolutely love my job. Although it’s a bit stressful at times, I really enjoy it and the people that I work with. Plus, I have the perk of seeing Miss Allie Claire regularly. However…there are days like today where I want to scream and throw my stapler across the room.

I really, Really, REALLY hate when older men (or any men, really) think that all women are stupid and should be barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen. I was not raised with that mindset (Praise God!) or around people that felt that way.

Now, mind you, I have previously been called a “dumb bitch” while waiting on the counter at the Journal. He called me this because he asked me a question that I didn’t know the answer to…so I asked my boss. That, I didn’t let bother me as much, surprisingly.

Then, I was referred to as “a very rude girl” in a public meeting. In front of public officials and everything. Why, you ask? Because I told a woman that called and asked when a meeting was, that I didn’t know and that she should call the Sheriff’s Office. The Sheriff’s office was partially behind the meeting, so I figured that they would know. Although I hate that it embarrassed Carrie (who attended the meeting), I still stand firm in the fact that I was not rude to her.
Today, I had an older man (that I have had problems with in the past) come in and want to pay his bill. Every time he comes in the Journal to do this, there is ALWAYS a problem with his bill. Either it is too high or too low, EVERY FREAKIN’ TIME!!!!! So I hate waiting on him. In fact, I think the last time he came in I said that I would never wait on him again. Whatever. Anyways, so I tried to help him. I printed out his bills for the past two months, totaled them up and gave him the amount. Immediately, he tells me that it’s wrong. I look down in an attempt to keep my eyes from automatically rolling. I ask him what’s wrong. He tells me “You charged me too much for these ads.” I tell him that that is the price of the ads, and the ad did run 2 weeks. He then says that he had an agreement with my boss about paying less. After asking people in the office if they have heard of the agreement (which none had) I say Ok. Fine. Whatever. So, I total his ad bill up. Then, he wants to buy stencils. I add those to his bill, and figure the tax for the stencils (ads are never taxed). He looks at it and says “That’s wrong.” I say (annoyance is building to all-time record) “What’s wrong now?” His response is “We aren’t charged tax.” So I refigure. Give him the amount. He takes forever writing his check after saying “Are you sure this is right THIS time?” Like I’m the idiot. I take his check and say “Have a great day” (politely…while digging my nails in my hands) and walk back to my desk. Then….he does it. He says “Well, I was going to have you add March’s classified bill to it, but I bet THAT would have been too complicated for you.” Oh. No. He. Didn’t. …….Out pops Bitchy Aleta. At this point, I consider throwing my stapler at his head. Typically my aims off, but at this point, I’m willing to give it a try.

I was SOOOOOOOO mad. As he’s fixin’ to walk out, I say “Hold on a second. Let me make sure that you have a tax exempt card, because I have never seen one for you. THAT is why I didn’t know that you didn’t pay tax.” Nope. Sure enough, we didn’t have one for them. He looks surprised and starts digging for one. Unfortunately he found one. But FINALLY, he leaves, and as soon as he hit the door I said “That man pisses me off every time he comes in here. I will NEVER wait on him again. I don’t care if I’m the only one in this office at the time….I won’t do it again.” Everyone laughed…but I am serious. I never will again. I literally shook for about 10 minutes after he left, because I was so mad.

UGGGHHHH. I’ve had a stressful Monday.

On a side note…I am on the hunt for funny, cute Just for Fun or “thinking of you” cards. Walgreens, Walmart, and CVS have seriously slim pickins…so do y’all have any suggestions for where I might find some??

P.S. I am still needing some ideas for things to give my friend to do (as explained in last blog)…so if you think of any, let me know. BTW, she’s married, just for reference ;-)