SueWorks

Impulse Shopping

Impulse shopping is bad, and not for the obvious reasons.  The long story short is that I needed to kill 90 minutes.  I went to the mall.  It was 100-plus degrees outside and gas is a million dollars a tank full these days, and the mall was 50 feet away.  The Great Sue Plan was to take my newspaper into the food court, buy a coke and pass an hour.  Well, I saw a nail shop, and I looked at my cuticles.  It was obvious, I was going to do my nails sometime during the weekend.  (So much for the short story!) 

I was just going to get my fingers done.  But they asked, Pedicure?  I looked at the clock and then my toes, and said, Yes.  I picked my color.  It was a lovely mauvey violet, in the bottle.  As I was drying I glanced at the bottle again.  It was mood changing polish!  It said Neon Pink to Purple. 

Well, my mood has been nothing less than burnt orange. 

A Serious Subject

It's been ages since I've posted.  There have been tons of Sue Experiences, only little focus.  I fear I'm drifting into a depression.  Heck, I don't fear it, I know it.  Now if I can only figure out a way to stop the downward spiral. 

What I've done so far:  I've added exercise back to my life.  OK, it's only been one day, but I did it.  Mom and I aqua-aerobicized for an hour last night.  I'm eating better, salads at lunch.  (Each time I diet through a "program" I acquire a bad eating habit.  In 1991/92 I started eating salad dressing.  Until that time I never, never ate calorie laden toppings on my salads, never.  This time around, I've begun to add mayonnaise and mayonnaise-type products to my diet.  I'm eating eating ranch dressing for goodness sakes.  I'm not sure if it's really mayonnaise but it looks like it, sort of.)

What else have I done?  I've mentioned it here, right now.  I wonder if there are blood tests that tell you what your brain blood chemistry is.  I'd like to take some of those tests. 

Future entry:  Brain Blood Chemistry and Sue

Nothing to Say

I want to talk about ambition but I think I'd so too bitter.  My Mom feels that I have ambition.  I want to succeed, so she's right.  What I'm talking about is all consuming, horrible, scary, step-on-you mean ambition. 

Do you think fear motivates these people?  Perhaps it is a genetic flaw that deprives them of the natural human feelings of compassion and caring.  I agree that there is a limited pie and if some one takes a large piece there is less pie for everyone else.  I also know that there are other things to eat besides pie.  I like pie, believe me I like pie alot but I'm not going to make pie out of someone's spleen just so I can have more pie.  I'll eat cake if I have to!

That's all I have to say, for today at least.

Small Leather Goods

What is the definition of a "small leather good"?  A coin purse is small.  A cow is large. 

A tote is not small, not large, and medium seems so non-committal.  I love leather goods.  I love shoes, I love purses.  I love this tote, purse, briefcase, expensive thing that I don't need at all.

If I lived in a cooler place, I'd probably love leather jackets too.  I like suede though it's better to look at than to wear. 

Actually, I love cows too.  I like the mooing, not the other parts so much and I do love, adore steak!  I realize that steak is not a small leather good.  Oh, I didn't even think about the other types of leather.  It's too sad.

Sue Knits

Not well, not too poorly either.  I've learned the garter stitch, how to repair (pick up) a missed stitch, and how to add a new skein.  I have not learned how to lose a stitch.  My practice cloth is now 21 stitches wide. 

I'm using 10 1/2 Takumi bamboo needles and Lana Grossa soft cotton in a 50 g skein.  And yes, I know I need to learn the lingo. 

Mom and I went to our first class on Saturday.  She had a whole bag full of goodies, including a pattern for her dog's soon to be sweater.  I think she's going to make me a bedspread and make Rosey a sweater for the winter too.  Rosey is a short, short haired Rhodesian ridgeback / pit bull mix.  She needs a sweater more than chubby Hannah and definitely more than I need a bedspread.  Maybe we can persuade Mom to re-arrange her knitting plans. 

For my first project I envision a wash cloth, a lovely beautiful and handy wash cloth.  Mom thinks I should think bigger.  I think I should think realistically.

Men

I have a black skirt with white piping that looks like it's pleated.  My husband hates it.  He makes me feel self-conscious whenever I wear it.  I put it on this morning.  He commented, "You look like you should be a USC cheerleader."  In some houses that might be a compliment.  I don't live in one of those houses.  I had to take off my shoes, put my jeans on, and then put another pair of shoes on.  I was not a happy camper this morning.  Now I'm sitting in my jeans, unhappy that I'm feeling warm and hating his comment even more and more.

Cr@p Online

There is so much stuff online.  How can you tell what is true and honest?  eBay lookalikes are attacking like gangbusters.  At least once a week, with SPAM guards fully activated, I get a bogus email.  They look so real I fear for myself and for my Mom.  She likes to click on the links.  And they sound so enticing:

Free This

Free That

Bonus, Bonus, Bonus

The bonus is more freaking emails to torment you and the worst is identity theft. 

I don't know what is happening with the latest Microsoft virus, other than I couldn't access work email from home last night.  (I was in withdrawal.  It was so bad but it made me think about how much work I do, even when I'm not at work.  That's another post in the making.)  I'm afraid to open attachments on my AOL email.  I'm even more afraid to navigate to Microsoft to see what they say about the virus.  Oh, and I want a Crackberry, because it's cool and all the cool people at work have them.  I heard that the head of RIM wears his on a jailer lanyard (it's on an elastic-y rope around his neck.)  It's very distracting as he talks to you, and works on the buttons like a autistic stenographer.  And it's all because of the C R @ P online. 

Sleeping

I love to sleep, and can sleep almost anywhere, and not in the bad way.  I really mean sleeping.  The best nap is in the movie theatre.  Unfortunately I can snore.  The next best nap is on the sofa in front of the TV.  Oh, what a wonderful sleep you get as the soft glo bathes your lightly snoring face.

Well, if you notice the time of this post, you'll see that I'm up before the crack of dawn.  Perhaps I love sleep so much because I have trouble staying asleep.  When I'm stressed, I cannot quiet my mind.  Also when I'm deeply stressed and it becomes depression, all I can do is sleep. 

Sleep is both amazing and scary as all heck.  It's a mini-death.  It's also rejuvenating.  You awake vitalized, or should at least.  I hear that some types of mental states, and drugs, keep you awake for days.  I have two college degrees so of course I've done all-nighters.  When you're young staying up for 48 hours is a challenge.  When you're old staying up for 16 hours is torture and it's also a normal day. 

As I started typing this post, I knew that I should be pulling out my exercise DVDs and stretching instead of sitting on my Behind typing about exercise.  I have heard, but I really can't recall this from personal experience, that an exercised body sleeps better.  It's also been "proven" that a poorly balanced diet negatively effects sleep.  Yeppers, I don't eat well nor do I exercise.  Maybe I should just pull the plug now. 

Do you know that I have a page of stick figure stretches right here on my desk?  I also have a TV tuner on my PC.  I'm watching, or rather listening about the brain.  Don't you just love PBS!?!  My plan, it's 4:13 AM now, is to take my page of stick figures, find my yoga mat and go to the big TV, watch the brain show and stretch my body.  After all that, I still will not have time to go back to sleep as I will have to start my long a&& day.  Sigh, long deep breath, oh well.  I'll get to take a nap on Wednesday evening around 7 PM.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

You have to read this:

Rock, Paper, Scissors

Pictures of Love

I have two family pictures on my desk at work, and none on my desk at home.  The home situation is primarily due to the fact that I am a slob, but at work I've always been discreet.  It seems too over the top to have a million and one pics of your family.  It's like you're showing off too much.  Do you know what I mean?

I have a family shot from Mother's Day Brunch maybe five or six years ago.  It's a nice picture.  The great aunts are included, Craig is there too, Mom and Boo, Aunt Glo, Uncle David and Max & Michi.  Now, after much to-do, I have a picture of Craig and I.  It's one of your wedding pictures and we are getting ready to cut our cake.  It's a very nice picture.  My expanse of belly (not pregnant just big) is modestly disguised by arms, knife and cake.  Craig's hair is a little askew.  It is indeed a nice picture.

Yesterday we were visiting Mom.  She has lots of nicely framed pictures in her home.  And there are two pictures of Craig and Mom in her display collection.  Craig commented that there is lots of pictures in his house, only not of him.  I shared that Mom must love him more than I love him. 

It isn't true, though.  Well, maybe it's true that Mom loves Craig more, Mom really likes the guy, but about the number of pictures in our house.  In the living room I can think of three pictures of Craig and I.  One from a random cruise, one from our Disney World vacation, and one from our wedding.  He's a big old crybaby.  He must want a poster sized wall hanging of his face to grace our mantel.  Maybe he wants an Andy Warhol treatment.  You know, like Marilyn!