Shh...I have to whisper..

I have to whisper...I can't let my captor know I am trying to contact the outside world on company time.  You read it right...I am at work.  Wait a minute, you say...you don't have a job do you? Aren't you retired?  YES, yes I am..or I was, it would seem. Now here I sit, trapped in this office.

Time is dragging by.  No, it's crawling. Actually, it doesn't seem to be moving at all..  I keep acccidently looking at the clock. It's like poking something dead with a stick. It's disgusting, but I can't stop myself.

How did this travesty happen you might ask? Well even if you didn't ask, I'm going to tell you. And since I don't know how to do one teeny, tiny little thing that would be even remotely helpful to anyone here at this office, I'm going to start at the beginning and give you the really, really long drawn out version.

Many years ago, in a land far, far away (Cooper Michigan) there was a happy mom with four VERY rambunctious little boys that took up all her time and energy..

Oh rats, here comes the boss.

They grew up. Her husband forced her out into the work world..

The End.

A "novel" endeavor..

No, no, no,no, nooo!!! Why, oh why?! I can't believe it! What was I thinking?? I'm doomed!
 
It all started last night. There I was minding my own business. Reading a blog, choosing another from the ones that commented, going to their blog, picking another from the commenter’s, going to their blog... I was so far into the deep recesses of Blogdom, I could NEVER have backtracked my way out.

Suddenly up pops a little message on my screen. I have a note from Tori.  Ah Tori,  a dear friend and fellow blogger, she has been most helpful in guiding me through the do's and don'ts of blogging. Well let's see what "The Tor-ster's" up to tonight:

Hi Pam,
I don't know if you've ever heard of this: http://www.nanowrimo.org/.  You write a novel in a month. It starts November 1 and ends on the 30th (duh) . I am seriously considering doing this. I'm wondering if you'd like to take this crazy journey with me.
Tori

Let's see what I said:
Gee Tori, I’ve never even considered writing a book, I've got no ideas. 50,00 words? Wow. That seems like a lot of time and effort to put into something that would be awful. (See? See my response right there? I am using my deductive reasoning skills. It doesn't happen often. It's my inner-self quietly telling me no. No Pam, don't.)

Tori: Most of what results is CRAP, but that's half the fun. They expect crap. I have no idea what I would write either. I think that's part of it, just letting go, concentrating on hitting the word count goal w/o worry about the content.

Me: Hmmm ...I don't know...the time commitment.. the fiction thing. I wouldn't even know what to write about... (See, here again, that inner voice of reason)

Tori: We could encourage, commiserate, celebrate, procrastinate with each other! We could set small rewards for goals met. We could celebrate huge if we succeed. It would involve carbs....lots and lots of carbs...and alcohol {and maybe strippers}

Me: drooling slightly..Carbs? Oh my. Dang it all, she KNOWS I'm in the carb-less hell of Phase 1 on the South Beach Diet! (This is when I start to hum  a little. My inner-voice is still talking but I can't quite make out what it's saying. )

Tori: Maybe something surprising would come out of it, ya know. Bragging rights that you wrote a novel is one! No pressure really... I could do it alone I guess...I'd still luv ya...

Oh no! Poor Tori, I can't let her be alone in this.  (My inner-voice is now screaming bloody murder, "She LIKES being alone! She WANTS to be alone! Let her do it .. ALL alone!!!)

Me humming loudly..Well,  I guess it might be fun...and if there's carbs involved and they really just expect drivel... then, ...Okay, I'm in.   (My inner voice is now crazily rattling around  in my mental cupboards looking for a VERY sharp knife with which to cut off my two typing fingers.....)

I am not really a writer, I am a yammerer (this probably isn't a word, but you get the idea). My mind flits around like a butterfly, never landing in one place for too long. I think that's why I enjoy blogging. An idea comes, I ruminate on it for awhile, spit it out into the blogosphere and viola! I'm done and it's gone, never needing to be thought about again.

But another thing about me..I'm faithful. Once I tell ya I'm there, I am (just usually 15 to 20 minutes late).

I told Tori I would do this, and so I will. I will write a REALLY crappy, confusing, jumbled novel in 30 days time. So here I go:   "It was a dark and stormy night..."

Sounds fun... doesn't it? :-/

Care to join us?

You've Been Warned..

This is your daily "what to wear" update from the good folks over at WWMT Weather:

Good morning West Michigan! How can they always be so lively?
(Massive amounts of Water Street Coffee me thinks!)
Anyway, back to the forecast: "We're all waking up dry this morning, by the end of the day though, we will all be much wetter.

A strong, fall storm will spread rain into West Michigan this afternoon. This rain will get steady during the evening and may bring a thunderstorm or two. Another big story will be winds. Winds will rip across Lake Michigan tonight. Gusts could easily reach 40 mph; with a WIND ADVISORY expected for us."

Have a nice day. (What??)
WWMT Weather Team

This is very clear isn't it? It plainly states "There is a storm on the way. You've had fair warning, get ready now."

If I were like most horse owners, I would  spend the rest of the day bringing horses in to put their rain sheets on them, securing the barn doors and making sure all hay feeders and water tanks are full. But that's not the way I operate. I am wired (or miswired) so completely different, that MUST wait until the storm is emminent,  (lightning flashing on the horizon) before I even begin this process.

Then when the time is right,  (wind, rain, thunder, darkness perhaps), out I'll go with an armful of rain sheets whipping in the wind behind me. I head out to the field, talking softly and cooing to my herd, offering a bucket of grain to their leader, Marq, the oldest and most docile of the bunch.  The wind, however, has a way of making horses spooky. It can turn a 25 year old, slowpoke into a fiery  race-horse running for the roses.  Additionally, this behavior is catchy. All you need is one horse cutting loose, to turn the whole herd into a wild mob of mustangs trying to out run the Bureau of Land Management helicopters.

It's exasperating to say the least. As I begin the chase, my mood is one of calm, it deteriorates rapidly however, to one of frustration, then anger and finally near panic. Soon I am running after them screaming their names, throwing things and yelling that I hope they ALL get struck by lightning.
(I know. I'm not proud of it.) Ultimately I will collapse in a wet, exhausted, chest-heaving heap.

That's when it happens. First I'll hear a soft snuffling sound behind me. Then a fuzzy nose will touch my shoulder. I'll turn around and he'll be standing there all wide eyed and innocent, with the rest of the herd on his heels. It melts my heart everytime.

Rooted there in the wind and the rain, he will look at me with those soft brown eyes as  I hand over the bucket of grain. With the storm whirling about us, he will let me halter him and head toward the barn, the rest of the brumbies single file behind us. I'll lead them into the warm bright barn, where bedded stalls and fresh hay wait.  So satisfying; the warmth of the barn, the soft snorts and nickering, the sweet smell of hay..

I wonder what makes me tick. I could save myself so much time and frustration if I would just do things in a timely, orderly fashion. But I don't. Not ever. I know it baffles those who love me. Is it some weird control thing? They don't get it. I am equally disgruntled about my behavior, but seem to have no ability to change these extremely odd quirks I struggle with.  I would change if I could, wouldn't I? And if I could, I should...right?  Hmm..

Well looky there, it's hailing...gotta go, it's chore time! ;D

Beauty is in the Eye...

A week ago I went to Chicago with a friend to celebrate her birthday. As we were primping and preening to go out to dinner one evening, I began to bemoan my lack of eyelashes. She turned to me, cool as a cucumber and remarked, "What's the big deal about having eyelashes?" What?? Now you have to realize this question was posed by a woman who looks like she has a black  butterfly wing attached to each of her upper lids.  What's the big deal?? Hello!!! On the left is a photo of my eye. On the right is hers. See any difference between the two???

I am English on both sides of my pedigree. Descended it would seems from the Royal House of Hairless. I believe my lines are simliar to say that of the Chinese Crested in the canine world. These guys aren't actually hairless, but are covered in a fine fuzz over their entire body. Like this:

Sure I can blow, curl, spray, paste and laquer my hair into a style, but I will never have long, luxurious, run your fingers through it locks. My friend on the other hand, has a mane like this to go with her lashes:

Want to see us in another species? Once again me on the left, her on the right:

I am also a direct descendant of "Ferdinand of the Big Feet", but that's a story for a different day...

When did I become a butterball?

Actually I am  more likely a wine and cheese ball, but either way, these last few years I have let the pounds sneak on and my middle thicken. I think am beginning to resemble a member of the Pillsbury Dough family. Either that or my arms, legs and neck are getting shorter.

To make matters more complicated, for the last month or so,  I have been travelling almost non-stop. Weddings and birthdays are such fun and  I love gathering with family and friends. Lots of yakking, lots of food, lots of drinks. And speaking of travel, what about those hotel "all you can eat breakfast buffets", aren't they awesome?  Though I doubt you are actually supposed to see how much you can pack away, I act like it's a contest or something. Bleah. I'm starting to feel like I may  pop. ENOUGH with the eating already!  I will never run a marathon and I do not really hibernate, so there is no reason to eat as if I do.

I have always gained weight in the winter, lost it in the summer. I've been my own personal sundial. Long days equal slender and fit, short days equal chubby and subdued (read fat and lazy). But somehow my metabolism changed when I wasn't looking and now I gain weight in the winter, don't lose any in the summer, gain weight in the winter, don't lose any... You get the idea, and guess what, winter is coming. If I don't get a handle on this now, you won't be able to see my limbs at all by Spring. 

So yesterday I ate a goodbye Whopper (not the junior), fries and a coke. This morning I signed up for the South Beach Diet online. I didn't have a lot of the ingredients needed for today's meals so I had to modify somewhat, but my body got the point...the "carb party" is over. Although the first two weeks will be pretty tough, (no bread, potatoes, bread, rice, bread, beer, bread, wine or bread. Did I mention no bread?),  I like the over all looks of the diet, very balanced, satisfying amounts of food, some sweets.
 
Here's a problem though, I don't usually cook, I graze. So today was spent shopping and chopping and prepping so it won't take me hours to make my meals, because when I do cook, I have a tendency to nibble (read: gobble) while I work. 
 
Another problem? I haven't been getting any exercise. So today I went back to the gym...Wow have things changed there since my last visit. New machines, an awesome coffee bar, a ..WATER PARK?  Cheez! How long has it been since I  worked out last??  If you know the answer to that, please don't tell me, I don't really want to know.
 
I went to a class called BODYPUMP. Each person grabs a barbell and then weights it up according to their abilities. The instructor then puts you through hell, a full body workout,  yelling insults encouragment while she attempts to kill you  works you for 45 minutes to an hour. There were little bitty grey haired women with more weight on their barbells than me. I looked like I was holding a really long silver Q-Tip, and I still struggled to get it over my head. Tomorrow I will be so sore I won't be able to use my pudgy little arms at all.  Sad.
 
 I have always taken my health and my slender frame as a given, like the color of my hair (don't go there..that's a topic for another day) or the color of my eyes. It seems pretty arrogant when I look back on it, but here's the cold hard fact, it isn't easy anymore, and now I'm scared. 
 
I want to be active and healthy for the rest of my life, but in reality it's not going to a breeze like it was before. Now it's going to take hard work and sacrifice (Goodbye curling up on the couch with a good book for hours. Goodbye double bacon cheeseburgers, great big beers and DQ Turtle Sundaes..hello aerobics classes from hell, water, veggies and lean meat in all it's forms...boiled, broiled, baked, stewed and shoe leather). 

Changing my lifestyle for good? Wow, that's daunting, but you know what? I'm okay with it,  I just have to be. Hey, I'd better get to bed, I've got to work out in the morning..  :-}

Hanging tough!
Pam