He HAD a new do!

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Took crabby ol' man Riley cat to the vet for his once weekly "drink".  The technician came and carried him away in his carrier like usual, while I amused myself listening to these crazy cat people obsessing about their cats, pretending I wasn't one of them.  


It wasn't too long before Riley cat was being returned to me in his purple carrier, all watered and ready to go.  Except the tech had a strange look on her face as she approached me, which wasn't usual at all.  She hesitantly asked me, "are you painting your house?"  


Well isn't that the strangest question to get at the cat clinic!  

Cute even with a clean head!

"No, not painting anything ... "


"Well Riley had this stuff all over his head .. "


Oooof!


I realized I should have warned them but I had forgotten.  "OH!  NO!  That was cottage cheese!  He wanted to finish the container of cottage cheese and stuck his head all the way down to the bottom and it kind of slicked back the fur on his head and dried like that."  I went on.  "I kinda thought it was cute, so I didn't wash it off."  


The tech smiled at me, not nearly as amused as I was.  "Well it's washed off now."


Oops. 


It really was cute, though.  Really.


.

It's hard to look surprised ..

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... when your forehead doesn't move!

Instead, (sorry Brooke) you just look CRAZY!

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View from a plastic chair

*
Because I takes meds for various things, it's necessary to go back and see the doc every 3 to 6 months, depending what's going on. Diagnosed with type 2 diabetes in December I did really well at first, eating well and losing about 20 lbs.

Then my mom got here.

With less time for shopping and preparing healthy food, once I went off the wagon I went the opposite direction and totally started medicating with food. Long day? I deserve Taco Bell. Awful day at work? I deserve ice-cream. A day off? I deserve to indulge. At work - have to get on that conference call? Wait - lemme get a candy bar first. Have to drive to the nursing home? Get some Skittles for the road. So, going to the doctor today I wasn't looking forward to what he had to say about gaining weight again.

Surprise! When he asked what was going on I answered with some variation of "Stress. Stress at work, stress at home, stress stress stress." And then I started to cry. And I absolutely had no idea going in there that I was feeling on the edge of well .. anything.

Queue the box of Kleenex while I dried my eyes and my doc tried some lame distraction-aimed conversation. How embarrassing. But oh, was that ALL that was going to happen? OF COURSE NOT.

Hopped up on the table and sat while the doc listened to my heart, my back, took my blood pressure, etc. I remember thinking "geez .. enough deep breaths already ..." and "am I going to pass out? A hot flash? What?" Sat back down on the chair and realized .. "Hey doc - you have something to test my blood sugar?"

Off I went to the little lab area where the nurse fumbled all over the place to find the right strips for the right meter and my doc (apparently a chocoholic I found out) brought me a Kit Kat to eat once they determined it was low blood sugar. Sigh-h-h ...

So there I was in an area normally considered a biohazard area eating a Kit Kat and drinking some diet coke, sweating profusely, flushed, and feeling a bit woozy. God was THAT attractive!!

When I made my way up to the desk to make a new appointment and pay my mom's bill, the receptionist came around the corner and said "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you - you look great!" She must have seen the shocked-don't-have-a-clue look on my face so she said "BetteJo, right?" My brain started sluggishly going through files .. someone I went to high school with ... someone I know from work ... nothing was registering. She continued "You used to have short hair right?" "Er .. yeah .." "Right! You really look great!" I thanked her, still having no idea what change I might have made other than to grow out my hair .. or who she must have thought I was. I still have no idea.

Bizarre.

She went into the computer and pulled up my mom's file and told me the amount she owed, telling me what a good daughter I am - and how good I looked. It was surreal. Home now, feeling kind of hungover and headachy. And I've sent my son off to get me a grilled chicken sandwich on chiabatta bread and a cannoli with chocolate chips. After this day, I deserve it, don't I?




*

Praise my diagrams, please!

Most people take the same route to and from work every day. I am no different. The road I drive most of the way is 6 lanes across at the start with lots of stop lights and traffic. At one point the far right lane ends, there are signs from way back that show it merges into the middle lane. It has been that way since I have been driving that road. So you would think other people who drive the same road every day would prepare and merge early so traffic doesn't get bunched up and slowed down. But there is always a bozo or 2 who has to gun the engine and and rush up the lane so they can merge in front of all the cars in the middle lane. What.Ever.




But recently signs went up saying road construction was coming, prepare for delays. The signs said construction would begin on June 16th. June 16th came and went and no construction, I'm sure they put the signs up early so some of the drivers would find alternate routes in the meantime. Regardless, construction came. Probably a week or 10 days after it was supposed to, but it did. Coming home from work not far from the merge from the right into the middle lane - I could see a big lighted and blinking arrow up ahead motioning to the right. Then a sign saying "left lane ends ahead, merge right." Okay, so when you start seeing those signs what do you do? Merge right - now all of us will be in the center lane and hopefully we will play nice.





For the 1st week of construction I was nice. I would get in the center lane from the get-go so I wouldn't have to merge since I knew what was coming ahead. I gave everyone else the benefit of the doubt and did not assume they were aware of the changes ahead. I let people merge.

But come the week after that and there are still morons driving up that left lane because they are too impatient to wait like the rest of us well-behaved kids in the middle lane, and then they expect to merge AHEAD of all of us nice kids when they hit the last possible moment to merge. Um. I DON'T THINK SO. You may even have to hit my car to prove your desire.

See me in this last diagram? It's hard to tell but I am singing and smiling and moving right past that person who can't fool me now and isn't going to get in front of me. I play nice and by all the rules until someone wants to take advantage of me. And then - well - I WON'T LET YOU IN A$$WIPE!!!

Just sayin', and smiling sweetly.

**TODAY on the way home the guy behind me who is probably a real jerk in every other aspect of his life became a hero to me. Although I didn't give him a thumbs up or applause like I wanted to for fear of encouraging behavior that could bring on a serious road rage incident, he was wonderful! He was driving the car directly behind me and I realized he was off to one side. It took me a second to see what he was actually doing - but he was driving right down the middle of the left and center lanes making it basically impossible for anyone to pass him. None of those people who race up to merge at the very last second because somehow they are entitled to be first - could get in front of him. Okay I know it was a move that probably could have garnered him several hand gestures and verbal assaults, but - it made me smile for that half a mile or whatever the distance was. I knew I wasn't alone in resenting those "me first" people who have been making me nuts!

Did I mention neurosis?

I have been trying since Christmas, to get my bead room together. I have emptied baggie after baggie of beads into containers. I have taken beads from boxes and bins and put them into other kinds of compartments and boxes. Shelves have been put up and mailing materials organized.

But I am stuck. This is a project that Molly could have done in a day. Actually, she could have organized the beads, the room, and painted it some wonderful color besides. And the color would have a name. Not me!

Okay I have long recognized that I have some *cough cough* quirks. People at work know I hate when someone sits at my desk and moves things around. My daughter knows if she loads the dishwasher I will move all the dishes around until they fit what I think is a better configuration. The bills in my wallet? Yeah, they all face the same direction, just like the clothing on hangers in my closet. But everybody does that. I think. The Christmas tree? Let’s not even talk about that.

Funny though, I am not that way about everything. Is my house a masterpiece of order and cleanliness? Uh, no. I wish. Does everything in my house have a place? And do I know where those places are? Hell no! It’s my private joke with myself when I am looking for something around the house that I am sure “I put it somewhere safe where I know I will remember it.” If I don’t laugh about it I will cry because I can’t find anything!

Which brings me back to my bead room. I want to organize it so well, I want everything to be within reach and I want it to make sense so desperately – that I am immobilized. I know that if I put everything in a bin or box or drawer, there is so much of it, it will never be right. I will be reorganizing forever and knowing I can’t do that the first time – freezes me in my tracks.

I know, look at it in small bits so I am not overwhelmed by the whole. Just do it, get it all cleaned up and looking wonderful and if I have to move things around every time I use something in there, so what? Just do it!!! Uh – yeah.

In some ways it makes it harder that I know exactly what is stopping me. Somehow if I could be oblivious to the idea that I will be extremely uncomfortable if I do not get it all in place to my liking, I could move forward and put everything – well – somewhere. But I think somewhere in my mind I think I will come to the end of the space and still have stuff left over with no place to put it.

Crisis for most people? No. For me?

Can you say neurotic? Sigh-h-h.