Random Thoughts about Dog Poop and Dementia

randomtuesdayKeely, over at Unmom, does this thing.

You post Random Thoughts on Tuesday. That’s it. Try it – it’s addicting. Then link back to Unmom and see what other people are randomly thinking.

~I have proclaimed today Official Domestic Goddess Day at my house. That means, I have the whole day off,  I’m home alone and I love it, y’all. I love the silence, I love padding around from room to room with a cup of coffee in hand, thinking about what I want to clean, organize, rearrange and redecorate.

I love writing all this down on a great big ole To Do Today list and then scratching things off. Today, so far, I have walked the dog, started a load of clothes and made a hair appointment. I feel so accomplished.

~I’m still trying to figure out this “how to get people to comment on your blog” thing. This really really puzzles me. I read on one of the authoritive-type “How To” blogs that in order to get people to visit and read your blog (and this, apparantly, is what has to happen before they actually leave a comment) you have to write something that is interesting, thought provoking and/or funny. In other words, quality stuff.

The other day I posted a rant story about how much I hate dog poop. It was funny, if not thought provoking, (at least I thought it was.) More importantly, it took me over an hour to write it. It got three comments.

Now to the three wonderful people who commented, (and y’all know who you are) I thank you. Profusely.

But on my other blog, Wilmington Daily Photo, I posted a picture of my shadow and I wrote two sentences. Two. Anyone wanna guess which post got the most comments? Well, I’ll tell ya. The Shadow post got fifteen! Obviously something is wrong here. Either the experts are all wrong, or I can’t write. Or maybe dog poop stinks isn’t as funny as I thought it was.

OK, I’m done whining now.

~Have y’all been listening to all the news about the alarming rise of dementia cases? This worries me, because I forget stuff all the time. Like what I was going to say. Then, when I pause for what might be long enough to write a short novel a nano second, my husband jumps in with his own version of what he thinks I was going to say, and it’s always something sexual stupid.

For instance, Me: “Sweetheart, I thought of something else we need to put on our shopping list…”

Long pause while I try to remember what I was just thinking of.

Jeff: hopefully, after waiting patiently “…..condoms?….lube?…..vibrator?”

Grrrr.

I hope it’s just another sign that I’m getting older, like all the other things that keep pestering me. What other things, you might ask. Saggy knees, curly white hairs (so stupid considering all the brown ones dyed blond are straight) foot pain, tennis elbows although I don’t play tennis, hot flashes, crazy acne that has persisted way past puberty and really looks disconcerting on my wrinkly cheeks, and of course, hot flashes.

~Still, I’ll take all of those things if I can continue to enjoy the one thing getting older has given me: grandchildren. My God, it is wonderful to hold a baby again.

I have told y’all that I have another grandchild on the way, right? A boy! He’s due January 1st. I can’t wait.

~Yesterday was what we affectionately refer to as “Crappy Day.”Crappy Day is the day after our last 12 hour shift of night shift. My husband, Jeff, and I work together in a factory, the largest one of it’s kind in the world, that makes optical fiber. Optical fiber is that stuff that allows your computers to connect to the internet, just in case y’all didn’t know. And it’s made out of glass. Very hot glass, before it gets turned into fiber smaller than a human hair. I handle the hot glass. Jeff works on the equipment that measures the final product’s properties, before it is shipped out the door.

I know. Boring.

Anyways, we work 12 hour rotating shifts, or “swing shifts.” That means we work nights from 7 pm to 7 am, then we are off for three days and go back into work on day shift, which is 7 am to 7 pm. Then we are off for one day, and we go back on nights. Then we are off for three more days and then we go back in for four days and then we get a seven day break, except we have to work forced overtime for a day or two, and/or maybe a night during that week off.

Confused yet? Welcome to my world.

My doctor tells me that it is a proven fact that folks who work this kind of schedule are 90% more likely than someone who works a regular 9 to 5 job to develope stomach ulcers (right after she diagnised me with one). Apparantly the body does not respond well to the stress of constantly figuring out whether it is supposed to be awake or asleep. Go figure.

Maybe this accounts for my memory loss and my whiny attitude. Maybe shift work causes dementia. I know it causes whining. Just ask Jeff if you don’t believe me, y’all.

My New Year Plan – To Enjoy

This week’s spin cycle, brought to us by the ever engaging and evolving Sprite’s Keeper is about New Year’s Resolutions. From some darn reason, I can’t hardly bring myself to do this one, y’all.  The whole idea of having to “resolve” to do something is way too final.

I think it’s because Southern women kinda shy away from resolutions. It sounds so formal and churchy, as in, “The Southern Baptists have formally voted to adopt a new resolution.” It reminds me of a formal, sit-down dinner. You know the kind, where you send out invitations that say “RSVP” on the bottom in fancy gold letters, and you have to get out your great grandma’s silverware and polish it up? I envision starchy tablecloths, linen napkins and awkward silences, or somebody finding a piece of old food stuck to the back of a salad bowl. Shudder.

I’d prefer something alot more casual. As in, “Y’all come on over for supper, we’re havin’ homemade vegetable soup and cornbread with sweet ice tea.”

And well, sure, we Southern gals sometimes “resolve” to think about it tomorrow, if it’s really wearin’ on our nerves, but any Southern woman worth her weight in fat back will tell you – we are much better at making a PLAN. Now, a PLAN is something I can get all a-twitter about. A PLAN requires a list. And being a true southern gal from “North Cackalaky”, there ain’t  nothin’ I love better that writing (actually, revising, ’cause I always have one)  my good ole ‘”To Do” list. It’s second only to shoppin’ for new shoes, y’all.

In thinking about stuff I’d like to do this year, I’m ever conscious of the loss of my grandmother this past October. I have a fresh understanding of how short life really is, and I feel like we need to enjoy it as much as we possibly can, while we still can.

So, in the interest of promoting All Things Southern, and keeping my goal of enjoyin life more, I give you my 2009 “To Do” list:

1. First and foremost, have more frequent sex. We might as well use it before we lose it! (Hey, even the preachers are advocating this one.)

2.Enjoy the little things that I never give myself time to do. Bubble baths. Hot chocolate. Reading books. Listening to music. Painting. Lighting candles. Watching the sun set. Walking on Wrightsville Bdcp_09801each.

3. Make a memories DVD of the pictures we took LAST summer. I enjoy torturing my family by making them sit down and look at our pictures.

4. Finish scanning all of my grandmother’s old family photos, so I can make  DVDs to send to all of her family, and  type all of her poems, so they are saved in my computer. And then, make poetry DVDs to send to the family. My grandmother had alot of profound things to say, and I’m on a mission to share her words and stories.

5. Start another blog, about my grandmother’s life, with the old scanned pictures and poems. I already enjoy posting her poems, and I want to put them all out there.

6. Finally getting around to setting up my grandmother’s sewing machine, that I’ve had for 2 years and mending some clothes that probably don’t even fit anymore.

7. Help my youngest son move into his new apartment, where he’s going to college, and clean out and re-paint his old room and get new furniture for it. Then we can have friends over for the weekends, another thing I enjoy.

8. Try and get over my phone phobia, by planning to make more phone calls. That will allow me to do something else I enjoy – share a laugh with friends.

9. Plan a vacation. (There. A sentence with two of the most heavenly words in existence…PLAN and VACATION.)

10. Lose 15 pounds. I realize this is on everyone else’s list. I don’t want to stop enjoying cooking, or dinners, or eating out and especially I don’t intend to give up my cocktails. I’d just like to enjoy shopping for clothes again. I might have to join that HASAY thingy.

Blogging is like everything else, I suppose

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Like everything in my life, it all sits there waiting for me to do it. The laundry sits, waiting to be hauled to the washer. The dishes sit, waiting to be washed. The dog is in the other room, laying on the floor, waiting to be walked. There are pictures sitting in boxes waiting for me to get the time, if ever, to organize them into albums. The walls in the kitchen are still waiting for me to touch up the holidays I missed almost a year ago. My grandmother’s ancient sewing machine has been waiting for me to figure out how to thread it up for over a year. There are emails in my computer, waiting to be read. Two friends called yesterday – they are waiting for me to call them back. There are bills waiting to be paid, movies waiting to be returned, people waiting to be invited over for dinner.

Like every other Southern woman, I have a “To Do” list that is endless, because as soon as one thing gets crossed off, five more items are waiting to be added to the list. And now there will be blogging…waiting for me to blog something. And, like the endless “To Do” list, that requires me to pick which item to do, and which ones to ignore (again), this blogging will also require a decision: what to write about.

There are so many topics floating around in my head that have been waiting, for years, to get out. How can I decide where to start? Should I write about my job, my marriage, my children, my dog, my past, my mistakes, my accomplishments, my hopes and dreams, my fears, my goals, my opinions about life, how I was raised, how I’ve been mistreated, how I’ve been adored, why I think manners are so important, or why I have such a hard time making decisions? Or is it all, somehow, in the end, the same thing?