Cell Phones

I got a new cell phone yesterday. For those who know me, you are probably laughing because this has turned into an every six month occurence.

In my defense, I had my first cell phone for almost 3 years. I only bought a new phone because I needed a new battery and good old trusty flip phone #1 had been discontinued. And, thus begins the cell phone chronicles. I bought my second phone which was similar to the first one. This was flip phone #2.

I broke the lid on phone #2. It literally wouldn't stay on the phone any longer. That happens when you repeatedly drop and then kick or bounce the phone with your foot before you get it picked up. I had dropped the phone so many times that I cracked the joint thingys that held the phone together. Of course, we found out I have arthritis in my hands and that explains some of the dropsies, but I really beat the crap out of the poor phone. *sigh* So, as a result six months later I bought another phone, flip phone #3.

My son called this phone "the Hummer" because it had a black rubberized bumper around the phone and seemed virtually indestructible. I really, really, really liked this phone. By now I had lots of information from the previous two phones and new stuff from work all saved in this wonderful slick black indestructible phone.

Unfortunately, I used to put this gem in the big outside pocket of my handbag and it got stolen. Can you say pissed off? The worst part was loosing all the stuff I had stored in the phone! Boy I was mad! At this point it's maybe been 18-20 months since phone #1 bit the dust. Feeling guilty over the loss of "the Hummer" I decide to suck it up and buy an inexpensive phone. This is phone #4 which we affectionately call the "crap phone".

The "crap phone" didn't get its' name because I loved the phone. Not only was the menu a beast to deal with it constantly dropped calls and broke up calls so badly that I couldn't carry on a coherent conversation. No it wasn't my provider...the rest of the family and their phones were just fine. It was the damn phone! What can I say...don't buy LG Electronics. Their phones suck!

Fortunately, or not so fortunately, my youngest son lost his phone last week. He is the lucky recipient of the "crap phone" and I decided to splurge with my first pay check from the new job and bought a totally awesome Treo 650.

I've just spent most of the day putting all my life into it. Address books, calendar events, business, etc. I'm bleary eyed and pooped. Isn't any wonder I've written the most boring post of my life about cell phones for God's sakes?!! I love my phone...but I'm tired!

I'm Tired

By Gizem Saka

Okay World...Are you Ready?

Well I did it! It was officially announced yesterday. I'm the new manager. Of course as soon as it was announced the Assistant Manager quit. While I don't wish anyone any ill will seeing as how we have two completely different styles of work, it is for the best.

Of course this is the first time since 1991 that I will be working full time. I cut back to part time work and jobs when the guy I live with started working all sorts of different hours at his job...which paid lots more.

I'm elated, excited, terrified all at once. I'm earning some decent money for the first time in literally years.

I've got lots to do and am a little nervous about how the old bones of mine will hold up. Stress and fatigue ae the enemies of my arthritis. And, of course there is the matter of all the people I have to hire and train. I take comfort in the thought that they will be trained correctly and once I've put in the time I'll have a cracker staff.

So I'm off on a new adventure. I can hardly believe it! Count on me to start wanking about how tired I am! : )

Erin McCarthy, Roseanne Cash and the OB Waiting Room

I just read another good book by Erin McCarthy, HEIRESS FOR HIRE. I'm mentioning her again because it is actually pretty amazing when I read three books in a row by the same author and am very satisified with all three reads.

Yes, I have my auto-buys authors I love, love love. Now Ms. McCarthy has made it to this list too. If you haven't tried her yet I recommend starting with PREGNANCY TEST.

She writes kind of screwball romances. This sort of description usually puts me off because I'm hooked on tortured and/or intense men who do what they have to but not without a personal price. This means I'm crazy for the Carpathians that Feehan writes, the SEALS that Brockmann writes, and those Dark Hunters that Kenyon writes. But, I digress, as usual.

Ms. McCarthy writes about regular people with regular people conflicts. Her characters frequently have a sharp and witty edge and lots of humanity. What can I say I like 'em!!

___________________________________________________

About fame...

I read an article in the LA Times yesterday about a new CD by Roseanne Cash, daughter of Johnny Cash. I've always liked her voice and have enjoyed her music over the years. She's one of those people whose music the listener feels.

Anyway, my interest in the article was regarding her feelings about the movie WALK THE LINE, the biopic about her Dad, Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash.

Roseanne is still grieving for her father and her mother, Johnny Cash's first wife who died just 6 weeks before the movie came out. As you can imagine, it was a painful experience for Roseanne and her sisters. While Roseanne was able to see the movie at a private screening, she spoke about how difficult it was to see. Can you imagine watching a movie that shows the love of your father's life, to the exclusion of almost everything else, isn't your own mother but another woman? Not only that, but you have to share the knowledge of this with the world?

I don't think there is enough compensation in the world that can make up for that kind of exposure of your personal life. Artists and performers, even those I don't like who are publicity hounds, have no privacy. No amount of fame and fortune is worth losing the quiet enjoyment of just living. I'm so grateful for the anonymity to live my life in peace.

___________________________________________

Ugh...the annual OB-GYN

Tomorrow is my lucky day. Annual visit to my gynnie. I don't know what I hate worse...the excruciating wait in his office, or the fact that I will have to come back when he reviews the test results for all the crap he is going to order for me to take. The actual exam never bothers me, but the waiting room sucks!

You know when you've never been pregnant it is absolute torture to sit in a room full of pregnant women who invariably end up in a discussion of their swollen ankles, hemmoroids, constipation, sore boobs, what current cure they are using to prevent stretch marks, and either a colorful recounting of a previous delivery or an equally colorful accounting of a delivery gone wrong. Or there is a first-time mother who is nervous and worried about what can go wrong to which there are several accountings of horror stories about birthin' babies followed by lots of pats and words of encouragement that "everything is going to be okay". At this point the first time mother is hyper ventilating and needs to be medicated almost as much as I do.

You think torture is too strong a word? NO! Because almost without exception someone will ask me if I have children. "Yes" I reply knowing what is coming next. Which is usually some question to include me in the conversation. At this point I have a lightening decision to make. Tell them my children are adopted or lie and make up a fake pregnancy story. I'm not that good a story teller, so I opt for the truth. And as God is my witness I end up in a Q&A about adoption.

While I'm an enthusiastic proponent of adoption I usually don't like to say too much to strangers about it. For one thing there is a lot of judgement on women who choose adoption for their babies. Since I'm the happy beneficiary of this unbelievable act of courage and love, I get a little testy with the "I could NEVER give my baby up!" comments. Who asked you anyway, I always wonder?

Secondly, a room full of women who are pregnant don't usually have any interest in adoption beyond morbid curiousity. Yes, I know, maybe one of them is contemplating adoption herself. From personal experience, I can assure you, if there is a woman among them who is thinking about relinquishing her baby, she isn't going to be discussing it in a roomful of pregnant women at the OB's office.

So what do I do? I book my appointment either very early or end of the day. I isolate myself to an unused corner of the waiting room...if it isn't packed. And lastly, I bring a book which I immediately open and bury my face in. The conversation can still be loud and distracting, but as long as I don't make eye contact and keep my nose buried I won't get sucked into it.

After enduring that the big TRANSITION MEETING at work on Thursday will seem like a piece of cake!

Perspective

Anybody got some? I sure could use it!

IN THE COLD by Jeanie London

I looked at this book on the NEW RELEASES shelf forever in my local Barnes and Noble. I kept picking it up and putting it down indecisive about buying it. I've never read Jeanie London books under the Harlequin Blaze imprint, so she was a complete unknown. But being the book junkie that I am, I purchase the book and put it in the towering TBR basket of books in my office.

Then in early December Karen Scott made mention in her TBR III book reviews that she read the book and liked it. Nothing like getting an endorsement from another reader, one you trust, to get you to read a book. I still didn't rush to read it. It languished in the basket.

Then this past weekend I was looking for something different to read. Instead of reading the backs of a stack of books or looking at the blurb in the front of the books, like I usually do when I'm deciding what to read next, I just picked this one up and started reading.

I was captivated immediately. IN THE COLD is not your run of the mill spy/adventure/suspense book. In fact, we know who the betrayer is early on. What I liked about it is the realistic way it portrayed the H/H discovering one another with no apologies. They make mistakes, and have made mistakes in the past by not revealing their feelings to one another. Usually this makes me nuts being a direct person myself, but this conflict was presented very realistically.

Even though these two main characters are very intelligent and accomplished, they still have concerns and insecurities about the realtionship...serious and realistic ones like: yearning, wanting to gain acceptance before risking and revealing themselves, self discovery and suppression of feelings they don't feel they should have.

I thoroughly enjoyed the book. I'm always most interested in depth of character and this book does that. We know these people and understand their inner conflict. The author was also able to hold my interest in the plot even though we have many of the pieces of the puzzle for most of the book. This is a book of the struggle of the human spirit in extreme conditions.

When the author explains why Simon, the head of the special black ops group, has the handle King Arthur because he believes in things like honor, integrity, and loyalty I was hooked. It's damn hard to write these qualities in a realistic way that doesn't sound corny or fake and to present someone who lives those ideals in this day and age and not make them look one dimensional.

I would have liked to have a little more about how Violet transitions back to her life at the end, but overall a good solid read...and these days I'm very grateful for those!

My Potty Mouth

I have a potty mouth. I'm not saying it is something I'm particularly proud of...but there you have it. As punishment for my lack of creativity and intelligence which I demonstrate by my use of many infamous four-lettered word-friends, I have two sons who swear and cuss at will.

Now, I don't really think those things about myself, but cussing tee-totalers think it of us cussers. Is cussers a word? Maybe I am a dim bulb!

Anyway, my reaction to my sons' swearing usually goes something like this.

"Shit! Er...umm...damn it! How many times do I have to tell you not to cuss. Watch the language!"

To which the two little beasts laugh. Which prompts me to yell at their backs down the hallway.

"You know you are both being real assholes!"

Pitiful isn't it?

The two assholes in question are 19 and 15 so they both get plenty of exposure to profanity aside from what they hear from me. Fortunately, their Dad rarely swears and they know better than to push the envelope too far. As for me, their Dad finds my cussing, unless I'm mad at him, amusing. He usually laughs when I cuss. Humpf! That's food for thought. Are people not taking me seriously when I swear? Do I want them to?

When I cuss I'm not standing in the middle of the local mall, or on my desk at work, but I frequently string a sentence together like the one above full of swear words. Oh and I say the "F" word...fuck...not fart. I don't like it when people say "fart" or use it in a sentence. I just don't like the word. Yet I have no problem with fuck. Explain that to me if you please.

Anyway, at least once a month I "swear" to myself to clean up the language. You know because I do think it's so lazy!!! Really except for rare occasions where a cuss word can make an impression or point in a conversation, it's a lazy way of getting your mood, reaction or impression across. Hell...that's what I like about it! So you see my problem. How can I honestly clean up, if I like my addiction?

I've indulged myself over the years like a drunk with booze or a nicotine addict with ciggys. It's my only real vice I say to myself. I don't cuss in front of small children, old people, the parish priest, my dad and at work. Well, not for the most part at work every once in a while a stress relieving "shit!" escapes, but not in front of clients...EVER.

So truth be told...I like to cuss. I must because I haven't stopped. So I was thinking. Do you have a friend, or know someone whose cussing is offensive? Funny? Clever? Does it make a difference whether or not it is a man or woman who swears? Are there some words you just NEVER want to hear outside the bedroom, or any where else?

As for me, I go through periods where hardly a blue word slips my tongue. Then a moment...happy, sad, angry, anything just grabs hold and hail, hail the sailor's on shore leave, and the four-lettered invictives fly right and left. Very liberating...very cathartic. But is it really necessary?

Hmmmmm.... Sometimes don't ya just gotta say...What the fuck! What the fuck? What...the fuck?!!

Holy Shit...my job!!!

Okay, for all my regulars, this is a warning that I'm going to talk about my job...again. Unbelievably after all my whining and complaining and countdowns I'm now doing something completely different and taking a NEW job at the SAME place. I'm going to be the BOSS!!! Can you just scream, or what?!!!

Yeah, they are putting an offer letter together for me because they've asked me to be the Manager. I'm crazy and if you knew the whole sordid story over the last six months you'd call me "retarded" which is what my sister Mary called me when I told her this morning. Don't jump my crap about not being PC by putting in that word. I'm a nice person and so is my sister. She was using that word to question my judgement and my ability to make this decision. I have not been particularly skilled or bright over the past few months screwing around back and forth with my management company over all the drama. Again, waaaaay too long to recap here, but my poor sister has listened to me over and over again the last six months so she's entitled to question my judgement. Besides she wanted to get the name calling (PC or not) out of the way so she can be her sweet and sympathetic self when I call to complain, a probability for which there are very high odds.

So, there is always the possibility that the offer won't have all the contingencies I requested...and the money. But barring that, starting Monday I'll have a new job. Unbelievable...really!

I LOVE YOU MOM! I'LL MISS YOU FOREVER...

Mom
August 9, 1932 -- January 10, 2004

Halleluia!

Today my brother Ray turned 50! Praise be as I'm not the only sibling in the 50 club now...there are two of us. Someone to share the verbal bludgeoning of old age jokes. Last December, my wacky and wonderful family threw me a fabulous suprise birthday party.

When we called Ray's wife she warned us all off from doing anything for his birthday. She recalled the story of his 30th birthday when she threw the ingrate a surprise party and he didn't speak to her for two weeks. That my friends is a what is called a bonafide jerk.

So while I'm elated to not be the only one in the 50s club any more...I don't know if it counts if the only other member doesn't do birthdays any more. Of course we wouldn't let a little stumbling block like that stop us so while we respected his wishes for there to be no big fuss or shindig, we simply cannot forego the ribbing and sniping about getting older.

More big news...my nephew and his SO had their first baby on January 5th. A little girl they named Laci Juliette. Here she is:

















Laci Juliette 5.5 lbs and 18 inches long

About Porn

Karen Scott had a post about a particular blow job scene in a porn film. While I commented that I don't much like porn films, that wasn't entirely true. I pretty much loathe them. They don't turn me on and are pretty much torture for me to watch. So I don't.

While there are an abundance of critics who hate both porn films and erotic/romantica/romance literature as being denigrating and demeaning to women I have to separate the two. The films have it all laid out for you. With books you can create and build the scenes in your head. I never imagine scenes that I feel demean the female when I'm reading. In the books I enjoy, the women are consenting and usually in love with the guy(s) they are having sex with. That just isn't the case in porn. The point in the stories I read is to have a faithful relationship with people who are in love with the HEA ending.

What used to be classified as porn in the 70's was kind of funny, endearing and silly. I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking I'm a real officiando...cause I'm not. In fact I couldn't name a single porn actor or actress by name. I'm just saying that my exposure in the past to mainstream (is there such a thing?) porn films while not particularly sexy or turning me on...they didn't make me uncomfortable either. Now they do.

In recent years after a certain hour of the evening many of our cable stations have soft porn on which involves horrible dialogue and mostly bare breasts. It's awful and is like watching adults playing Barbie and Ken. Remember those days? You and your little friends playing Barbie and the stilted conversations where there was more time spent on the explanation of what the other little girl should say instead of just dialogue? Well that's what this stuff is like. The guy I live with who is pretty visual doesn't like them because he can't stand big hair, and over made up, plastic boobed women. It does nothing for him.

On the other hand while we were in Paris a couple of years ago, the porn was too explicit for me...he enjoyed it because there were no muscle bound and tanned guys and aforementioned plastic chicks. They were regular looking people (for the most part) with normal (toned) bodies and real boobs and dicks. Also, very little dialogue, which is good because it was in French, and lots of hetero one on one sex. So when we were in the room and weren't shagging ourselves (it was a second honeymoon after all) it was a coin toss between CNN and porn for TV. The news and porn, two musts for vacation! Poor GG, I'm always asking him with an appalled voice..."Does that turn you on?" He usually is smart enough not to answer...he knows a trap when he hears one.

The point, I'm trying to make is that while the visual does something for the guy I live with...not so much for me. I like creating the scene, emotion and visual in my head while reading. It is always a more tasteful and sexy romp than any I've seen in a porn flick. Of course, good writers help with this tremendously...Linda Howard, Sarah McCarty, Anne Stuart, Robin Schone, Lora Leigh...they have all written sex scenes that sometimes didn't even contain the actual physical act but created the tension and intensity of sexual attraction between H/H that left me breathless and consumed. Some scenes are very explicitly written, but because of the relationship the writer has created the sex seems right and appropriate to the characters. While I love sex and obviously enjoy reading about it I'm not much for throwing in a sex scene because the writer appears not to know how else to progress the story. Blech...that is not my idea of a good book.

So I guess the guy I live with will occassionally indulge in his interest in the visual by watching some porn and I will frequently indulge my interest by reading mine! ; )

Just when you thought it was safe to go out...

I was over on Jennifer Crusie's blog, Argh Ink and reading her January 1st post. At the end of the post she says "say something nice to yourself in the mirror every day". Now I've heard this espoused before. I have even (picture me with pink cheeks now) tried doing it...out loud no less.

Sometimes this works amazingly well and other times, not so much. Most days I see myself in the mirror and wonder who that person is. I'm still surprised to see that I'm aging. Hey, I'm not complaining. Aside from my weight issues, I have a pretty decent gene pool. No excessive wrinkling or frown lines. But gravity is definetly evident. I have circles under my eyes. I have on occasion mistakenly thought they were remants of poorly removed eye makeup from the day before. Yeah...NO!!

Can you believe that I would rather beleive I left old mascara on my eyes the night before than believe that I have circles under my eyes? I just can't believe how dark they are sometimes.

What was my point, I know I had one...just a sec while I scroll up...oh yeah. Saying something nice to myself in the mirror. You know what I finally figured out? The something nice doesn't have to be about how I look!!! Duh!!! You have no idea what a relief this is! No pressure. Yippee!!

Although, now I have to ponder why I'm so shallow and vain that for nigh on these many years I've been only thinking about saying nice things about myself that had to do with how I look. Gad zooks! I'm a silly, vain, middle aged woman. Or, I'm a fabulously happy, oversexed middle aged woman who is passionate about the people she loves and the world she lives in. Yeah, I think I'll go with number 2. Fab-u-lous...fab-u-lous...fab-u-lous...I can do this!

What did you do New Years Day?

Me? Nuthin'! Quiet day. Reading. Teasing the guy I live with. Got all the Christmas stuff put away yesterday. The guys took down the outside lights today. Tomorrow we gear up to return to work on January 3rd.

Yeah, I know you've heard it before, but I REALLY truly have only 9 work days left this time. I told them no reprieves and I don't care if they don't have someone hired. January 13th come hell or high water I'm outta there!! Got HR backing me up this time. If they bug me any more it will be harassment. Whew! What a relief. Of course you know I will have to find something else to wank about. ;)

Guy I live with wants me to write him a naughty story. Hmmm...what would THAT be about I wonder?

More later.