I'm... REFORMED?

I had to share a cute story - this happened last night at an annual Christmas Party that we attend.

This is a large party - probably over 50 people - and it's hosted by close friends at their gorgeous home. We know about a quarter of the people outside our little crew of 4 to 5 couples.

So we're sitting in the living room, and there are a few people in the room that we don't know personally. One of those people, a man about my age, is drinking a large can of some type of specialty soda.

My friend Stan, (Mary Kay's hubby) leans over to me and softly asks...

"Is he one of your kind?"

"My KIND?"

"Yeah - you know... REFORMED."

"I'm REFORMED?"

"Reformed. Or whatever you call it."

"RECOVERING??"

"That's it."

"I don't know, why do you ask? Do you think we all know each other?"

"Well, he's been knocking back those tall weird sodas all night. I figure he's got SOME kind of issues."

"Well, when you're right, you're right, but no, I don't know him."

Can't blame it on autocorrect...

So, I've talked about these patients before - the couple that talks and talks and talks and never leaves? Well, they were in this afternoon. The Mr. was in a treatment room, the Mrs. was out in the reception area.

Part One:

bsgirl bumps the back of my chair.

"Mrs K is playing with herself."

me: WTH?

I look and sure enough, there she is with her pants pulled out, her hand WAY down her pants... I stared for a moment not believing it, but then realized she was just tucking in her shirt. A lot. There was a LOT of tucking going on.

Bsgirl and I giggled a bit.

Part Two:

30 minutes later we hear from the reception room:

"aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh....ooooohhhhhhhhhhh"

And I hear bsgirl chortling. (SUCH a good word)

The chortle quickly becomes a snort and more chortles... and she tells me "DON'T turn around."

Which makes me immediately turn around... and I see her typing an IM to me. So I wait...

I wish I could do a photo upload... but I erased it too quickly... this was what it went like...

BSGIRL: Was that a delayed organism?

ME: Do you mean Orgasm??????????

BSGIRL: OMG

And that was the end of us for the rest of today. We had to leave the room... tears coming down... dissolving in giggles...

It took them almost 30 minutes to check out - it was at least 10 just to put coats on - (this is not because they are infirm in any way - they won't stop TALKING) and just a moment ago the phone rang... it was the Mrs.

She forgot her coat.

The Farting Monkeys.

Ahhhh... finally, a few minutes to sit and write the Farting Monkey story. I'm supposed to be creating, but I'm waiting for a whole lotta spackle to dry, and I'm trying not to touch it. SO I'll type instead.

The story really starts with Chip... if you don't know who he is - read this.

The County College Of Morris used to hold a huge garage sale in one of its parking lots. Chip and Judy used to take a space and sell off their stuff every year. We would go to the sale, and hang with them and walk around, and have fun... and find treasures. As Bob and I walked around, we found... The Farting Monkeys. We knew the moment we saw them that they would be perfect for Chip. We delighted in giving each other very ODD gifts.

We gave the man a quarter, and hightailed it back to Chip & Judy's spot.

"Look what we bought you!!!"

"What the F*CK are they???"

"Farting monkeys!!!!"

"Oh COOL."

He pressed the button and farts abounded. He chortled and snickered and giggled.

Judy was HORRIFIED.

"You're not bringing them into the house."

"Oh yes I am, try and stop me."

The look Judy gave us would have stopped a clock... had there been a clock handy.

Rarely a day went by without hearing the Farting Monkeys on our answering machine. Chip would call while we were at work, set them off and all you could hear was him laughing in the background.

Then you'd hear Judy say "Turn those F*CKING THINGS OFF".

And then the world changed, and the Farting Monkeys were silenced... until...

the first County College garage sale after his death... and Judy, knowing Bob's addiction to collecting coolers, said "Here Bobby - I found this cooler and I want you to have it..."

I saw a LOOK in her eyes... and it was like slow motion - I turned to grab the cooler, all the while saying "Noooooooooooooooooooo....." but it was too late.

Bob accepted the cooler, opened it... and guess what was inside?

"They're YOURS now...." Judy grinned evilly.

So we ran home and called her answering machine. And left her a Farting Monkey message....

I love these damn Monkeys.

Say again?

Or... my adventures in lip waxing.

Yeah - I'll come right out and admit it - I get my upper lip waxed. And a little on my chin too. Honestly - there's not too many women in their 50's that DON'T have a little 'stache action going on.

Luckily enough, my friend and neighbor Hoopy is a hairdresser. She's been doing my hair for umpteen thousand years, and also waxes me whenever I'm feeling furry.

She says she'll do my legs if I want her to, but she draws the line at a Brazilian. (I think she's a party pooper.)

The best part about colder weather is that hoopy's fingers tend to get very cold, and after she rips half my face off she quickly presses her fingers against my skin. This feels amazingly wonderful.

In the summertime it's nowhere NEAR as wonderful. Warm fingers pressed up against ouchy skin just doesn't cut it.

Well, today was cool... and hoopy was excited to show me that her fingers were cold. I did a little banana dance in my chair.

And the waxing commences... and my upper lip becomes nice and smooth. She presses her cold finger against my lip and says...

Ready? Wait for it...

"I'm saving my coldest finger for down there."

I RIPPED my eyes open to see where she was pointing...

It was my chin.

I thought perhaps that she was FINALLY going to do that Brazilian...

Beach Crop 2011

Another incredible long weekend with my girls... there is truly nothing like a girlfriend. Especially ones that you love and trust with all your heart.

I shared at a meeting the other night that this crop was the best EVAH, because it was my first sober/AA crop. Two years ago I was newly sober, but not in the program. I was insane. I was craving... I was miserable... One year ago we didn't have the crop... so this year was a new beginning for me.

A few years back, toward the end of the weekend, we lined up all the empty booze bottles along the dune. It was a long line... because those crops were excuses to drink freely, heavily, and at all times of day or night. I was never sloshed - but I was always buzzed.

This year a different type of bottle was lined up...



I remember every moment of this crop - all the talking, the laughter, the tears... the therapy sessions... the serene moments early in the morning when I sat with my coffee as the sun rose... and I discussed the day to come with my Higher Power...

Here are some photos from the weekend - enjoy... and thanks for reading!

sometimes i even surprise myself...

with the things that happen to me.

I was walking at the park, as is my norm, minding my own business. It's a Sunday morning, it's warm... the sun has peeked out and I'm enjoying communing with nature. Nature being my iPod, my lime green tank top, about 4,392 people (which included 4,134 cheerleaders of all different ages) a few dogs and some mosquitoes.

Football is in full swing, and I round the curve toward one of the fields. It's at this point that I have to dodge all 4,134 cheerleaders, who have decided to congregate ON the walking path instead of beside it. My apologies to the '75 RHS cheerleaders that I possibly may be friends with now (thank you fb), but why do cheerleaders think they are something special? I actually felt like I was that shy, gawky 16 year old again... but that's another post for another day. I digress.

Just as I get next to the playing field, just as I am MID stride, one foot raised in the air, one arm swinging one way, one the other way... JUST at that moment, the announcer screams on the PA system (well, ok, maybe he didn't scream, but it was LOUD) that little so and so made a touchdown... and it caught me so off guard that I hopped on one foot for a yard or two. Arms akimbo, leg in the air... I looked just like... The Karate Kid. And all 4,134 cheerleaders snickered. I know they did.

I'm sorry, can you repeat that?

So... I couldn't even find a picture to go along with this post - because if I google any of the key words here, only p0rn sites come up.

Here's how it went down. Yesterday we went over to our friend's house for a cookout. Mary is also a patient at my office. I've known Mary for 25 years. Good friend. She married into our 'friend family'.

Well, the last time Mary was in, a couple of weeks ago, I wasn't there. I left early that day. Apparently Mary is having a tooth issue and needs to see a specialist. But hadn't called yet... so when I saw her yesterday I noticed that her jaw was swollen. She admitted that she was in some discomfort and had to take Aleve... but I told her she needed an antibiotic because she was swollen. She didn't want me to bother the boss, but this required intervention!!

So I texted my boss, and here is the volley of texts as it happened:

me: hey, at *****'s house, her LL jaw swollen, needs to call o/s tomorrow, antibiotic?

boss: yes what is pharmacy #, any allergies?

me: 973 555 0101 no allergies

boss: all done

me: thank you SO much

boss: that was an easy one

me: did you have a hard one?

boss: EXCUSE ME????????????????

me: OMG bwhahahaha please forget i said that

I may NEVER live this one down. I almost don't want to go into work tomorrow.

and sometimes...

it's bsgirl that 'these things' happen to.


We have patients, an elderly couple, that live in the retirement community next door to our complex. They are THE most annoying people on earth. Now, before you get on my case about being mean - seriously - if you were alone in a room with them for more than 5 minutes you would look around for an escape hatch.

They talk NON-stop AT you. And they ramble about all different things - and none of it applies to what you're trying to talk to them about. They talk NON-stop AT each other. And neither answers.

They were in last week. As the Mr. half was checking out, and rambling on and on and on... AT me... I im'd bsgirl behind me "HELP".

Now, normally when we need to get each other out of this type of situation, the one not occupied will go into the doctor's office and call the office from the second line. The occupied party will have to answer the phone, and that USUALLY makes the offending occupier hit the road. We make believe we have an emergency patient on the line.

Well, after I im'd bsgirl, she picked up the phone at HER desk. Which is 3' behind MY desk. And instead of dialing the office line, she just made believe she was placing an order for paper towels for the office.

Here's how it went:

"Hello, this is Inga at Dr. VV's office. I need to place an order."

"obvious silence on the other end"

"Oh, wait, let me ask Sandi"

Bsgirl leans towards me and says "How many cases should we order?"

at this point, the offending occupier is starting to move toward the door, but is still within 5' of me.

"Well, let me see. Ask them how much per carton, please."

"How much is it per carton?"

"Oh, $43.59? Let me tell Sandi."

Before I could open my mouth to respond to her, what do I hear? What does EVERYONE in the vicinity hear????

Yep. That annoying loud beep beep beep of a phone being off hook for too long.

I bolted for the back room.

Bsgirl sat glued to her desk with the beeping phone still to her ear, her eyes about as big as saucers.

It was truly priceless.

This room is freaking ugly....

SO... I did it again. This time I had a witness to it. Donna was right there, and heard every word.

The backstory:

We are leaving Brave Girls Camp, and heading back to Boise (btw, did you know it's pronounced 'BOY-SEE', not 'BOY-ZEE'?) and we hitched a ride from Eagle with Shelley, one of our Brave Girl cohorts. Shelley, Donna and I had lunch together and then she dropped us off at our motel near the airport.

Near the airport was kind of misleading. AT the airport was more like it. LOL But in it's defense, we didn't hear ANY plane traffic at all. Surprising. Now, let it be said that I chose the cheapest motel I could find for that night. And the Sleep-Inn didn't disappoint.

Keep in mind now, because it's part of the story, that NOBODY knew where we were staying except my husband, Donna's husband, and Shelley. The hubbies had our cell phone #'s... Shelley didn't.

Donna and I walk into the Sleep-Inn. Cute young girl behind the counter. All of about 22 years old. Fresh faced and smiling.

"Welcome to the Sleep-Inn!" she chirped.

She really did chirp. Seriously.

We checked in, got the room key and she directed us to the second floor... which could only be accessed by the two story staircase behind us.

"No elevator?" I said.

"No, sorry." she chirped again.

Donna and I looked at each other, shrugged and proceeded to hump our overpacked suitcases up the stairs.

This took about 10 minutes, and we were hot, schwetty messes by the time we reached room 208. Of course I was complaining all the way. And honestly, NO ELEVATOR????

After about 5 minutes, the motel room phone rang. Donna and I looked at each other like WTH? Only Shelley knew where we were... so I answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi ladies, just wanted to make sure you got settled ok, how's the room?"

(Donna whispers 'who is it?', and I say 'Shelley'.)

"Well, let me tell you - it's pretty freaking ugly, it has a funky smell and we had to hump our suitcases up 2 flights of stairs because there's no freaking elevator."

Stunned silence on the other end.

"Yes... I'm so sorry about that. And I'm sorry about the smell, too".

At that moment my stomach dropped and I realized it wasn't Shelley. It was the chirpy girl at the front desk. I'd never had the front desk call the room before to ask if we were ok. I mean, we stayed at the freaking HILTON on the way IN, and THEY didn't call.

"It's fine, really, fine, no problems" I said and hung up.

I flung myself on Donna and cried with laughter.

"It wasn't Shelley."

The two of us laughed and snorted ourselves sick. I knew I had to apologize to this young girl, so we ran downstairs. Miss Chirpy was busy checking in a family, so we waited.

I'm guessing we weren't too obvious, standing behind the pole, still crying with laughter.

Finally I approached the desk.

The girl looked at me with fear. I guess she thought I was going to say 'freaking' to her one more time.

"I am SO sorry. I thought you were my girlfriend, Shelley. I never would have said that to you - the room is fine, honestly."

"It's ok. Good thing I have a good sense of humor though..." she said quietly.

All evidence of chirpiness was GONE. I destroyed this girl's afternoon.

I am officially a mean girl, and didn't even know it. The fact that we're still laughing about this proves it.

These things ONLY happen to me.

Bogart.

My friend Amy's post on facebook yesterday reminded me of a funny story. So of course, I must share it with all of you.

Many years back, we had hermit crabs. Two of them. Bogart and Bacall. (yes - I am a Bogie fan) They lived in an aquarium in my kitchen. Easy pets... they ate Gainesburgers.

Well, Bogie had a wanderlust... and we'd find him outside the aquarium occasionally. He'd stretch REALLY big to the top lip of the aquarium, and launch himself out.

We'd hear him clicking around the top edge of the bowl, and knew he was out for an evening stroll. Then we'd place him back inside... (he was probably cursing us out BIG TIME)

One night I got up around 2am to pee. (aren't you glad I told you that?) I sat down on the toilet, MOSTLY still asleep, looked down and guess who was staring up at me?



All I can say is that it was a good thing I was already sitting on the toilet.

I come by it naturally...

I shared this story with a facebook friend the other day, and forgot how funny it was...

This happened about 25 years ago. My mom was living in Lake Hopatcong at that time, I was in Mt Olive.

My mother was a character. In fact, character is too light of a word. She was funny, naughty, sharp and loving. And 25 years ago, liked to knock back the drinks...

So on with the story. It was a Saturday morning. The phone rang and it was my mother. The conversation went something along these lines:

"Sandi, something happened."

"What, Ma?"

"I think someone broke into my house last night."

"OMG - are you ok?????"

"Yes. I'm fine. But I'm very frightened."

"Did you call the police? Is anything missing?"

"No. Nothing is missing. But they left a NOTE."

"Holy crap - what does it say???"

"I don't know. I can't read it - it's just dirty words and scribbles - it's very strange and frightening."

"Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes. Can you come? I want to show it to you, maybe you can figure out what they were trying to say to me. Say, you don't think it was ALIENS, do you???"

"No, Ma. I don't think it was aliens. Let me jump in the shower and we'll come over in a little while."

"Ok - I'm locking all my doors, just knock when you get here."

SOOOOOO I showered and got ready to go and just as I was leaving the phone rang.

"Sandi? You don't need to come. I figured out what the note was."

"Really? What?"

"I heard a dirty joke on tv last night and I thought it was so funny that I jotted down some words so I'd remember it."


This is what happens when you get very, very tipsy, watch tv and write yourself notes. Don't do that.

Uvula. It's a funny word...

Ok - look at the picture. See the Uvula? It's the punching bag in the back of your throat. Yes, it's a funny word.

A little backstory: I have the ability to open my throat. Really WIDE. (I can hear everyone snickering now) (BEHAVE). My boss cracks up everytime I'm in the chair - you can literally look down my throat without touching anything in my mouth.

I'm a multi-talented tigger.

So the other day I was having a tooth issue. There I was, in the dental chair, patients in the other treatment rooms... and bsgirl (who LOVES to make up her own words for things and people) YELLS from the front desk...

Ready?

"DOCTOR - MAKE SURE YOU CHECK HER VULVA WHILE YOU'RE IN THERE!!"

I sh*t you not. The entire office erupted in laughter. Welcome to my world.

Lessons...

I had to work this past Saturday. As you know, this didn't make me happy. I wanted to be in my studio... playing with paper and ink and mod podge... yet here I was, dressed in my scrubs, standing in my office holding a clear plastic garbage bag in front of a patient while he puked.

You would think that would have just put me over the edge... but it didn't. Yes, it was kinda gross - but you know I'm all about gross. What it did was embed even further that kindness and compassion go further, and make you feel better, than anger and resentment.

My patient, Matt, is a high functioning Downs Syndrome man. He's 28. He holds a job, and drives a car. He frosts and spikes his hair. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He looks at you with all the honestness and earnestness that a human can have.

He was so ascared of having two fillings done. I sat him in the treatment room and I saw the tears roll down his cheeks. I patted his back as I put the bib on, and tried to reassure him that he would do just fine... but as brave as he tried to be, he failed.

The sobs started to come... and it took some time to calm him down. I sat in the treatment room next to him as he told me about his bad week. He hit a deer, his boss yelled at him because he did something wrong... and now "THIS". It was just all too much for this innocent boy...

All of a sudden he looked at me and said "I'm not feeling too well, I think I have to gag."

I'm usually NOT the one you want around in a panic situation. I tend to go sit in a corner and hide.

But something was guiding me... I quickly removed the Nitrous mask and sat him up... grabbing the first thing I could get my hands on - the clear plastic garbage bag. And I held that bag while he got sick... over and over again. And in between heaves he would cry and apologize... And I rubbed his arm and softly told him that he was going to be fine, and that it was ok...

I actually amazed myself. Didn't think I had that in me...

Of course, when he was better, and I left the room to dispose of the bag, I collapsed in the back room and shook. After-shock...

Matt was sent out to a dental office that could meet his special needs... and he's going to be just fine. I'll miss him. He touched my heart... and my life.

Um. Help?

So, I don’t know if this will translate well. It might be one of those ‘you really had to be there’ moments.

My friend Linda gave me a beautiful silver necklace. I wear it every day. Last night, I was SO dead tired as I was getting ready for bed, that I decided to get lazy and see if the necklace would pull over my head instead of unclasping it.

Voila. It worked.

Pleased as punch, this morning I decided to pull the necklace ON without unclasping it. (Remember, I am the epitome of lazy) (also – just so you know, bsgirl pronounces epitome as Epi Tome (rhymes with Rome))

Well, I had hot rollers in my hair, and the necklace got stuck over the roller on my left side, and UNDER the roller on my right side, and was pulled completely across my eyelids. I was stuck. With my eyes closed. Well, I couldn’t OPEN them, the necklace was pulled so tightly against my lids that I had no choice.

And there I stood.

I’d only had one cup of coffee, so the brain cells weren’t completely firing. Took me a moment to realize the only way to get the necklace off was to unclasp it. That was one hell of a long moment...

Fear...

Lump. Lump. LUMP. LUMP.

Of course, the doctor didn't even have to SAY the word 'lump'... the longest 30 seconds of my life were spent with her fingers massaging one single spot on my left tata. I knew when she didn't just move along like she usually does, that the next words out of her mouth were words I was NOT going to want to hear.

And sure enough... I was right. "I'm feeling something right HERE", she said. And she grabbed my fingers and put them where she was pressing.

"I don't feel anything".

"Here. Right HERE".

"I still don't feel it".

That's almost as ascary as feeling it. WHY couldn't I feel it???? Who knows...

And the rest of my nice, calm, happy doctor visit was not so nice, calm or happy.

The doctor said "it's probably NOTHING, but I want you to have it checked out, and don't wait." Those of you that know me, know that this was equal to telling me "you have cancer and you're going to die within the month".

I called the moment I got home and made the appointment for another mammo and ultrasound for today, Monday. And I then spent 72 hours worrying. Even though logically I knew that it was PROBABLY nothing, most breast lumps are benign things... this was ME. I'm a worrier... to the n'th degree. Once you've had one cancer diagnosis, you always think you're getting another one. Even though it will be 20 years for me in May, it's ALWAYS in the back of my mind.

I'm not one to keep stuff like this to myself, so within moments of leaving the doctor's office on Friday I had texted a few people... and the phone calls and texts started rolling in... I went home and got on my boards and filled in the friends that I hadn't texted or talked to. I was in close contact with my sponsor - and although I know she was worried, I was never in danger of taking a drink. But her support was invaluable. As usual. ;-)

I spent the weekend in my studio - creating stuff. That was the only time my mind didn't work overtime. Hb was good about it - he left me to my own devices, and just offered support when I needed it.

And then FINALLY Monday came. And I went for the follow up Mammo (my last one was just 5 months ago) and down to Morristown for an Ultrasound.

The Mammo girl couldn't find the lump. The U/S girl couldn't find the lump. I couldn't find the lump. We knew about where it was, 4:00, according to my doctor, but we couldn't feel it.

The U/S tech rubbed and rubbed with the U/S thingy (that's my technical name for it) and I watched the screen intently.

"do you see anything?"

"Nope... everything LOOKS normal."

My heart sank. This was not what I wanted to hear - if my doctor FELT something, something WAS there, and it was hiding itself from the rest of the world.

The radiologist came in. Nice doctor. He's been reading my mammo's for the past 16 years.

"Sandi - there is absolutely no change in your mammo from the last ones, and I don't see anything on the U/S, but let me take a look."

He rubbed my tata. (my tatas have had a LOT of attention lately) He zeroed in on it immediately - I guess you have to have an MD after your name in order to feel my lump. And he grabbed the U/S Thingy (again - techy term) and rubbed all over it.

"You're fine. Normal breast tissue". (He wasn't big on words, but the words he spoke were good ones)

I said "Normal. Just tissue. No cyst? No TOOMAH?"

"Nope. Normal."

I said "So... what IS it?"

"It's you. It's just YOU and the way you're made."

Ok. I can accept that.

Thanks to all that supported me and held me up with your prayers and good thoughts... those Dawg thoughts worked their magic once again.

My friends are my lifeline, I've said it time and time again, and I mean it everytime I say it.

And I never want to hear the word LUMP again.

My Reality...

Yeah. I'm copying my Princess. I liked her blog post. You can read it here.

1. My bed is only made Friday, Saturday and Sunday. During the week, fuggedaboudit - even if I'm home.

2. I have a hard time creating in my studio when I'm home alone. I gravitate to the computer, and we all know what happens then.

3. If something happens to Charlie Sheen, and 2-1/2 Men goes off the air, I will be seriously heartbroken.

4. However, Lindsay Lohan could drop off the face of the earth and I wouldn't bat an eyelash. Same goes for most of the Housewives, those Kardashian women and all the guests on Maury Povich.

5. In a moment my dryer will buzz, and I will feel resentful.

6. Something that makes me happy to look at: I have a Tigger baseball cap sitting on top of a lampshade in my studio. And a tiara on top of the cap. Not many people can say they have that.

7. I love to clean my bathroom. To me, there is nothing like a clean bathroom, yet the moment it's used for the first time after cleaning, it's ruined completely. Nothing is quite as pristine.

8. My tabs are always open in a specific order. And it must be adhered to.

9. I carry a cup of coffee to all my meetings. I spill my cup of coffee carrying it to all my meetings. Everyone knows when I walk into the room, I require napkins immediately.

10. My dryer is now buzzing and yes, I feel resentful. I think I'll have a cup of coffee before I go fold towels.

Twisted...

Since the weather is SO horrible this winter, I haven't been able to take my walks every day. The park is snowed under, and our streets are in bad shape with ice... and it's FR (that's Phuck Ridiculous) cold and I refuse to walk outside in those conditions.

Or, how about I just tell you the truth and say I'm too spoiled and lazy to go outside in this weather...

SO I came up with the idea that dancing, specifically dancing the Twist, would be a great indoor activity that would help me stay in shape.

I downloaded a few 'twist' songs and burned them. I've been twisting around the house for about a week.

Today I put my cd on and twisted around while I was dusting the house. I made it into the bedroom and started dusting my bureau, which has a large mirror on it.

Can I just tell you how horrifying it is to watch yourself dance? Here I thought I looked just FINE. Yeah. NSM. I may never dance in public again.

That is all.

Tell me it's not just ME...

Our dental supply company has branched out and now has a Techy department. We need new techies. I don't like our current techies. I forgot they were sending out one of those techies to evaluate our computer system and give us a quote on being our new service techies.

He came at 9am. He was a young man. Not techy looking at all. Not bad looking. Not incredible, not UPS hot or anything like that. But presentable. His name was Sean.

The rest of my office came in at 9:30... and patients would be starting at 10:00. At 9:45 or so, Sean disappeared. We checked all over, no Sean. But he left his usb thingamabob stuck in bsgirl's computer.

SO of course we had a field day - "ooh - Sean left his stick in your thing!" "oh no, Sean lost his thingy!" "Inga's got Sean's thingy!!!" and on and on and on...you get the idea.

And we're loud. We're not a quiet bunch. And we're laughing and hooting...

And then I decided to go outside to get the mail. And I opened the back doorway into the hallway...and with my back to the hall I made one more "Sean's stick thingy remark", turned around... and there stood Sean. On his cell.

Of course he heard it all...

Only me. I swear... only me.

Keurig -3; tigger -0

Seriously. I have never had such issues with a machine in my entire life.

First of all, for whatever reason, I can put in the water, I can put in the Pod, but putting the mug under the nozzle? Too much for me, apparently. Perhaps I overload on that 3rd step. And I'm really GOOD at step work. Usually.

I found out how quickly I can move right after using my Keurig for the first time. It was probably the 3rd cup I'd set up, when I heard that gurgle noise, telling me that my wonderful hot cup of coffee was about to squirt out of the nozzle, that I turned around and saw that there was NO mug under said nozzle. I flew across the kitchen, grabbed the first mug I could reach and put it under JUST in the nick of time.

The second time... yeah. That didn't happen. I heard the gurgle. Never turned around. Heard the gurgle end. Went to get my coffee, and there was nothing there. Nothing. No mess, no coffee all over the place - nothing. Now, I KNEW I'd made a cup of coffee. So where was it?

That's when I discovered that the drip tray of the Keurig Mini will hold an entire 10oz cup of coffee. Neatly. No mess. Of course, transferring that same coffee to my mug... that's another story.

And then yesterday arrived... and I was making dinner. I needed to open 2 cans. Did you know that a Keurig Mini will not open a can? Even if you put the can on the drip tray and press down the handle? Nope. Won't open. And I giggled to myself... such a silly tigger. Opened the can correctly with my CAN OPENER, added the contents to my pot. Turned around with the second can, and YES - you guessed it - once again put it IN MY KEURIG and pressed the handle.

If anyone knows the proper removal techniques for a head up an arse, please let me know?

I refuse to let this machine beat me. I am a Brave Girl. I will win.

Eventually.

Hmmmm.... me?

Go get comfy. This might be a long one. In fact, I may go grab a cup of coffee...

I remember when I first stopped drinking I was greatly concerned that I would lose my "ME". That I would lose my creativity, my love of words, my writing ability (what little of it there is) and my love of dirty and gross... This didn't happen. I found that I still loved the same things, and was able to write and talk about them with the same results. My creativity actually increased... and my focus got better.

That was a huge relief to me.

Then came AA. Six months into it, I know I have changed. I'm a work in progress, and that progress is going to take a long time, perhaps a lifetime, but I'm changing on a daily basis.

And once again, some fear crept in that I was going to change and lose my "ME". I could see the difference in my message board posts... and in my status updates and comments on facebook. I watched myself, almost as if I were looking over my shoulder, as I would type things that I never would have thought to type before.

Things like "Adding you to my prayers"; "hit your knees"; "Can I do anything for you?"; "please call me anytime you need someone to talk to"... stuff like that... I found myself becoming a kinder, gentler tigger. One with compassion instead of detachment. And meaning it. Not just typing the words... really meaning it.

I knew the new brave tigger would be welcomed - ascared tiggers can be trying on your nerves. That part of the new me didn't worry me. It was the baudy, naughty, dirty scraples bo, gross 13 year old boy tigger that seemed to be dwindling... and I was honestly ascared of losing her. Even Jeanne was having trouble doing the Font... trying desperately to find a tiggerism in my Dawg posts...

I was worried that I would lose my tiggerness.

So I asked some people that know me best. And their responses were all the same. I haven't disappeared. I'm just MORE ME, rather than LESS ME! And just so nobody is worried, I still love dirty things, and words like balls, boogers or penetration still make me do the :evil6: face, I love wearing my white socks and lighting candles, my scraples bos still make me wiggle in my seat, I still lust after Cyn's son and truly, any hot guy that crosses my path...

I'm still me.

Dusting it off...

Sniffle, SNEEZE!! Wow... the dust is thick in here. I have excuses. Many of them. Ready?

1) This is the first day I've had to myself since the end of October.
2) Need I go on?

Life has been one crazy journey... the most fun, the most heartache, the most ascary.. journey.

To catch things up, (yes - this is a PRE-post - the actual blog post will come AFTER this) AA is going great - life changing in a good way. Learning more about myself each day. Not necessarily liking what I'm learning, but learning how to FIX what I don't like. So that's a good thing.

Work is work. I guess if I didn't have that to bitch about, I'd find something else.

Still loving facebook, the new RHS1975 page is a hoot - and I've reconnected with a lot of nice people. NEVER in a million years would I have expected this - just read back one year - I was NOT going to revisit high school EVER again - and here I am. Loving it.

Creating... still creating. Made a few angels for gifts... 2 of which went over quite well. The other one? Yeah... NSM. But you can't please everyone, right? Gearing up for Soul Restoration, and in 6 months I will be at Brave Girls Camp.

I find that there are only a few instances that my mind quiets... one is while I'm creating something. So I hope to never lose my passion for art...

So, as you can see, I haven't had a lot to blog about - but promise to be here every day this week. Tomorrow's subject - the new ME. AKA Tigger The New and Improved.