SueWorks

Auld Lang Syne

It means old long ago, and we're not supposed to remember the old friends in our lives but we drink to the old times.  On old friends and boyfriends, my dear sweetie and I have had a heated discussion.  I do not like him communicating with any of his exes.  Not at all, nope, nada, nein.  Mainly because the man makes horrid decisions and has a history of extremely dependent women in his life.  Not more than three months ago one of these women called him (note, he got this cell number in the time we've been together, over five years) to ask for help putting up shelves.  Shelves!

I asked that he not communicate with the exes and that I would no longer communicate with the one ex I do. The one ex thinks it's silly, and I feel silly too.  Dear God, I do hope Craig doesn't read this.

He and I are on the eternity plan.  The only way one gets out of this marriage is by death.  For example, should one party cheat on the other, the party of the second part would end the life of the first. Capisce?

So far we are doing OK.  I do wonder, however, about the boyfriend from 20 years ago who I never did "it" with.  I wonder where he is.

Now I'm reminiscing, wouldn't it be nice to be 20 again.  My cousin is just 19 and has dropped out of school.  We try to convince her to get the darned degree, but no, she's got to do it her own way.  I was 25 when I got mine.  Her mother was near 40 I think.  Heck, my mom at 65 still considers it.

People have to learn at their own pace.  But I'm still wondering about Jeffrey Kirk Miller.  He was 6'4" and skinny like a rail.  He had a small head and runner's thighs.  One night he carried me up two flights of stairs, yes I was much, much smaller then.

I'm sure he's married with ten kids.

Stay Tuned Tomorrow for the Top 10 New Year's Resolutions!

Free Career Advice

Today and tomorrow, Challenger, Gray & Christmas is given free career advice.   You can call in or email.  And it's free!!!

Chubby Kitty

I have a chubby kitty, and I hear there is a fat cat in Britian whose waistline is keeping her a ward of the state.

Yoga and Life's Reflections

It has been suggested that I take up yoga, so I researched yoga.  I recommend Yoga Central for quick, free information.  I'm just reading the home page and I'm overwhelmed with feelings of calm:  Breathe, Stretch, Workout (OK, now I'm wondering, "will this be hard?"), Interact (I'm calmed again, I like to interact), Chant (remember Hare Krishna), and Relax.

This is interesting, "Yoga benefits body, soul and blood vessels."  Just up my alley.  I can reduce my blood pressure with this simple, time tested practice.  It's also interesting that in LA lots of actors are yoga enthusiasts.  You can join an ashram if you like, or maybe even build one in your million dollar compound.  Though the later seems very un-yoga-like.

I must admit I prefer aerobics as I think of myself as a misplaced dancer, misplaced in this rhythmless body, and as tone deaf as a door nail.  But I dream.  I have heard that you can learn to sing at least one song well.  You need to find the song that using your talents and vocal range and with practice and diligence it can be accomplished.  My sister would howl like a werewolf when I sang.  She's not very nice.  My husband has turned the radio louder when I've sang.  He's also given me advice on the placement of my chin in relation to my diaphragm. 

I just want to sing along with Mitch (don't know who that is but have heard Mom mention him), or Kenny Rogers, or John Lennon, Paul McCarty, Don Henley, or Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band, just to name a few.  Last night as I was driving home I heard a song about a women with a Marine Corp sticker on the bumper of her SUV and by the second chorus, I was singing along too.

Now if I can combine singing and yoga ... it could get scary!

Trying to Conceive

This might be the theme of my blog.  I'm older than sin (when it comes to making babies) and I've been trying to get pregnant.  Today I had an HSG.  Basically, it's a minorly invasive procedure that shows if the uterus and fallopian tubes are unblocked.  I passed!  Yippee. 

Now I need to figure out what the next test will be.  Honestly, I think that stress is my major concern.  If I can just relax (and get hubby to do so as well), we'll be just fine.  Unfortunately, I was born stressed. 

I married a low stress man only to find out that he is actually a very highly strung person.  He just handles it a little more low-key than I do.  He gets headaches.  I get twitches.  Both are responses to internalized stress.  His causes him to withdraw.  I almost attack my stress with totally engagement.  I want to talk about, explore and analyze all my stress factors.  I want to get to the root cause.  The hope is that I can then overcome the stress issue, without resorting to drastic (read violent) measures. 

What I would really like to do when stressed is climb into bed and not get out.  I've done that before, just hidden from the world.  I'm getting better as I mature and can stop myself from retreating.  I know, you're thinking "mental illness" or depression.  Depression is a growing concern worldwide.  Just because more people are depressed doesn't make it any easier. 

Oh, oh, oh ... was reading a book review about a book detailing the decline of civilization as we know it, Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed.  Talk about depressing.  Are we headed to another dark age?  There have been so many societal disasters that make the natural, cataclysmic ones seem like drops in a bucket.  Now I'm stressed about bringing a child into this world!

Any way, if you read about the HSG.  There is an increased chance of conception after this procedure.  I told this to hubby and he's got a little bit of a headache.  I sure hope he isn't reading my blog, or else I'm going to be in real trouble.  I just might end up in the dog house. 

And Rosey, said dog, is not feeling well.  When we went to see the Mouse, she stayed in doggie prison.  And her tummy is not well at all.  I'll need to get Pepto Bismol for her.  A mother's work is never ending.

Social Activism

It's official, Planned Parenthood of LA has accepted me into their rank of volunteers.  Now I get to paint the walls and file.  And make a difference in someones life.  I have large dreams.  It must be the Blue State in me.

A few days ago I saw something that bothered me, more so because I didn't do anything about it.  I was at my doctor's office and saw two women sign in.  The older was fashionably dressed and appeared to be Indian.  The younger was dressed in traditional Indian garments.  The older woman signed in, told the receptionist she was paying cash and was filling out the new patient paperwork.  Neither knew the year of the young woman's birth.  "The paper was at home." 

I immediately thought "home slave" (I tried to find a link, maybe I'll add one later.)  I've read about people brought to the US by a former countryman to work and they end up slaves.  The "American" takes their passport, threatens them with deportation and other horrible things, and makes them slaves.  There was an ER episode about it not too long ago. 

What should I have done?  What did the doctor do?  What was wrong with the young women?  She looked 20 or so.

Nothing Special

My blog has no specialty.  I read two three knitter's blogs.  They grow you know, they are always stitching things together.  Now I've added a Chubby Girl's site to my daily list.  I also read the crazy postings of a British ex-pat. 

See?  They all have a hook, that is a specialty.  What is my specialty?  That I'm whiny?  It's not enough in the highly competitive world of blogging. 

Today's just not a good blog day and I apologize.  If I don't write today then it will be doubly difficult to write tomorrow, and near impossible to write next week. 

Maybe I'll have something terrifically exciting will happen over the weekend and I'll get to share it all with you.  Of course, if Mr. SueWorks sends me the pics from Disney and I learn how to post those, you can see the killer death Ferris wheel.

Oh oh oh, I'm officially a sufferer of high blood pressure.  I have drugs and a portable meter now.  And I have a red eye.  My vision is good.  It's surface break but I'm rightly very worried.  Why do I have to diet?  Why did I get fat genes?  Bad genes?  I guess it's Self-Pity Sue Day.

Being Judgmental

I know I am and I can't help myself.  Being judgmental is a bad thing.  Why is it that I think I know better than everyone else?  Well, I am incredibly perspicacious ("of acute mental vision or discernment") and I know lots of big words too. 

Also, I'm an ENTJ, only a few months ago I came out ENFJ.  It almost knocked my socks off.  In fact I'm still reeling from that change, though I chocked it up to my "period," but that's another story.

I am heartily sorry that I upset my sister, yet again, with my judging behaviors and words.  I was wrong to say something but I still stand by what I said.  So the apology is basically worthless.  What can I do to be a better friend to my sister? 

1. Listen and not respond with, "I think ...."
2. Learn to say, "Ah uh.  I understand.  Of course." and mean it.
3. Say "I love you" more and not only after saying, "I think ...."
4. Match word for action.  I tell her to be responsible for herself but then I hover over her.  I need to stop that.
5. Never say, "I told you so."

My Tell All Book

My tell all book will never be.  Each time I share a humorous tidbit about my family, there is backlash.

My mother is the most generous person I know.  She gives very freely of her time and money to me.  In fact, when we got married, she paid for the entire reception and gave us a house.  See, generous to a fault.

Why is money such a bother?  Craig had [operative word] this friend who loved to "scam the system" (per Craig.)  He would organize the money at restaurants and somehow no one ever got change back.  Your six buck sandwich ended up costing $20.  This guy was rich, literally a millionaire.  He was young relatively and attractive, very business saavy and a jerk.  Pure-D jerk from hell.  He had to have things his way and was manipulative about it.  He surrounded himself with wannabes and toadies.  In fact, Craig's friendship with the guy really gave me pause to think about Craig's moral fiber and self-esteem.  My only consolation, because I do believe in a just system overall, was that he is germ-phobic, the OCD type and he married for money and not love.

Money creates so many problems.  We never make enough of it.  Everything costs so much and never, never is their an even sharing of expenses.  Sometimes you give more, sometimes you get less.  I do hope it all balances out in the end.  My dad liked to pay the bill, only so that he could use it against you.  So, what is the answer?  For me the best answer is usually, let it go.  I take things entirely too seriously. 

The Mouse

The Mouse is extremely frugal and believes wholeheartedly in class distinction.  We are enjoying the lowest end of the Disneyland resorts.  It's nice, of course, it's Disneyland after all.  However, when you experience the "outside" restroom of the Grand Californian and are bathed in the softest bathroom stationery available this side of the Waldorf, you know that Mr. Disney strongly feels that the Dollar rules.

Also, high speed Internet access hasn't yet made it to our hotel.  I'm connected at 28.8.  I haven't been on 28.8 in 10 years.  Between downloads and uploads, I eat snack food.  Needless to say I've grown huge-er during these past three days.  I suspect that next year the Mouse will charge by the pound.  The airlines do so why not the Mouse?!?

I could go on and on but nothing terribly exciting has actually happened.  We didn't become "incredible" after shaking hands with "Mr." and the former Elasta-Girl.  I've only soared over California by aid of mechanics, hydraulics and engineering feats.  Oh, oh, oh, scariest ride of all is Sun Wheel, the Ferris Wheel from hell at CA Adventure.  Seriously, Splash Mountain is for sissies.  The Haunted Mansion is old hat.  The Tower of Terror tanks.  Beware of the Sun Wheel of Death!