When I grow up, I wanna be....

The Echo. 1975. My high school yearbook from the year I graduated, 35 years ago... I keep this yearbook, along with all the others, up in my attic - buried under a pile of crap. And while looking through it, I realized how much I TRULY don't miss high school. This was not part of the 'best years of my life'.

I was not a popular girl. I didn't have a crowd of friends, or a string of boyfriends. I was quiet, ascared of everything, very unsure of myself... well, hell - I haven't changed much since then. I glanced at the senior portraits, which included little tidbits about ourselves. My nicknames, 'Floyd and Mousey' (don't remember why I was called mousey);my dislikes, 'being called short'; my likes, 'a certain guy's big brown eyes (I think that might have been a guy named Jack); my future hopes - being a journalist.

I was not an involved student - I went to class, got average grades, had a few close friends and mainly tried to stay OUT of the line of sight of the popular kids. They certainly weren't about to include me in their lives. The first few years of high school I spent my time trying to be just like THEM. Didn't work. All it did was make them look at me like I had two heads. The only club I joined was the school newspaper and magazine. With the other misfits. ;-)

I was not the girl that the boys wanted to bring home to meet their parents. I had a slender body and very large tatas. Of course, that meant I was fast and loose. (insert rolling eyes here) If you had large tatas, it meant you were automatically a slut. So I had this incredibly bad reputation, for no reason. I was a virgin until my 18th birthday. But you would have NEVER known that by the boys in my senior class. I apparently slept with most of them. And a few juniors, too. And possibly some of their older brothers.

It wasn't until I was long out of high school that I realized those 4 years were DONE, over, and not to be held in my memory any longer. LET it go.

So this is me, letting it GO. Goodbye Roxbury High School, Class of 1975. You don't impact my life at all anymore.

What was that sound???

So I get up early this morning, leaving hb snoozing in bed. This is my favorite time of day. 6:15am, still dark, quiet, coffee in hand, Sunday paper in the other hand.

I hear something fall in the basement.

I ignore it.

Over the course of a half hour I hear many sounds from the basement. Scurrying noises. Things tipping over.

We have a critter. So hb finally wakes up and I say "good morning, we have a critter in the basement."

And down he goes, clad in his boxer briefs and nothing else.

At this point I'm just praying it's not a BIG critter.

I hear him call my name, asking for my help. Yeah right. Like I'm going down there. So I say "what kind of critter is it??"

A mumble in response.

"I'm not going down there until you tell me what you have."

"flying squirrel".

OMG - how freaking cute are these things????? Little body, big head and big eyes. ADORABLE. FAST.

We finally trapped him in a fishing net and put him outside. Turns out he had nested in one of our birdhouses, the same birdhouse hb brought inside yesterday afternoon to repair.

Imagine that squirrel's surprise when he woke up inside his house, INSIDE MY HOUSE.

Evil.

Evil, I tell ya. Do NOT attempt your... private area with this. It's NOT pretty. And it wasn't so much the OUCH part of it.

I can handle physical pain. I've been waxed before. But I've never waxed my OWN... um... woowoo.

It's almost physically impossible to do a good job. And the residue. HOW the hell do you get rid of the residue??? Soap and water didn't work. Lotion didn't work.

So I have a half waxed... um... AREA, and by half I mean sporadic. And sticky. I'm sticky and I can't get it off.

It's going to be an interesting day.

Chill, girl...

My new mantra.

Someone very wise (actually TWO very wise guys) have told me multiple times that I need to 'chill, girl'... because I get so crazed and angry at things... I have a short fuse and I tend to reach a boiling point and then explode... mostly at work. Bsgirl can usually sense it coming and will push me out into the hallway so that I can walk off my anger.

But I figured it was worth a shot to NOT have those moments of outrage... so now, when I feel one rising, I say to myself, and sometimes OUT loud... "CHILL, GIRL, CHILL".

And it's working. So far. It's been a week.

I'll probably end up going postal and end up in jail.

I know who I'm calling for bail. ;-)

Elizabeth's Altoid Tin

When we went into the city 2 weeks ago, we were treated to lunch by Dave's sister, Cathy and her husband. We wanted to send them a nice thank you gift. I decided to do an altered altoid tin with a mini album inside with pics of their 9 month old, Elizabeth.

Hopefully she doesn't have one already. ;-) I crack myself up.

Again...

Janette went to CHA again and got me another prezzie. This one just makes my heart go pitter patter... ;-)