Thursday, August 20, 2009

Random Thoughts Thursday

This is no surprise to some of you - man, you people are quick! - but I finally did it. I gave in to peer pressure and joined Facebook. I don't know whether to be relieved that people will quit bugging me about it, or ashamed that I didn't stand my ground more firmly. I did hold out longer (2 days, ha!) than my sister, though, so I guess that's something.

Maybe it's a newbie thing and will wear off, but I feel funny asking people to be my friend. It's probably kind of like how I used to not admit to stalking other people's blogs. But if I didn't send you a friend request, it doesn't mean I don't want to be friends. It just means I feel like an awkward seventh-grader doing it, and would much rather someone else be the awkward one. Not that it feels awkward to me when someone send me a friend request. Not yet, anyway. I suppose it could depend on who sent it...

But my point is, if you're on Facebook, feel free to look me up!

Enough about Facebook...

I hate taking drugs. I realize that my new wonder-meds (as I lovingly refer to them) made the unbearable itching go away, and that it's only temporary (8 more days! But who's counting?), but for crying out loud, it would be nice to not feel so wound up all the time. And to sleep. Sleep is good.

But at least the laundry's getting done. And the kitchen is reeeeeally clean.

Why is it that I can think of all kinds of things to write before Thursday, but as soon as I sit at the computer, my mind goes completely blank?

Some days I feel like this is my life:
Okay, most days. Three little girls, remember?

Anyone remember that Kenny Loggins song, "Return to Pooh Corner"? Vicki and her friend she went to camp with have been singing it for the last two days. And it makes me cry, which is embarrassing. Kenny Loggins singing it never made me cry until I heard my daughter sing it. Blah. No more growing up.

It was my dad's birthday on Tuesday. When I told Ellie, she said, "When are we going to his house?" When I told her we couldn't, she said, "But how will we have the cake?"

Ooh, I think I'll go clean the bathrooms. Chris will have a heart attack when he gets home tonight. The house is never so clean all at once. Maybe the wonder-meds aren't such a bad thing after all...


  1. Glad you are getting relief that that itching and pain. Did your doctor ever pin down what it is? Is it gone yet?

    That Garfield cartoon reminded me of a website called "Garfield Minus Garfield." They digitally remove Garfield from all of the cartoons and it makes Jon just look really lonely and pathetic.

    Here's the description:

    "Garfield Minus Garfield is a site dedicated to removing Garfield from the Garfield comic strips in order to reveal the existential angst of a certain young Mr. Jon Arbuckle. It is a journey deep into the mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness and depression in a quiet American suburb." -John

  2. Maybe Chris already knew the benefits of the wonder drugs and so he planted something in the garden that would make you itch which would make you go to the doctor and get said wonder drugs which would make you stay up all the time and clean the house?

    You're right. That's giving him way too much credit. And it's also making him appear to love a clean house enough to drug his wife. And we all know that's not Chris's style.

    Ah, Pooh Corner. It's okay to cry when you hear songs. Lately "21 Guns" from Green Day makes me teary eyed. Go figure.

  3. I was seriously going to bug you about joining Facebook because I wanted another Twihard online with me to make snarky comments. YAY. Gonna go look you up right now. :D

    Umm, and I did read all the other stuff. I enjoyed it. Just don't have anything else to say. heh.

  4. Hurray for the wondermeds, can you pass some along? And I love the Garfield comic. That's how I feel most days too.

  5. I want wondermeds that make cleaning how house easier. What are the symptoms I need to have? Other than a messy house, I already have that.


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