Damn Internet!

I am terrified by how easily accessible people have become due to the internet. The Twitterverse itself completely freaks me out.

I love Neil Gaiman. I read his books, and watch his movies, and read books about him...I'm fairly obsessed. He's had a blog for a long time, which I think is great. He responds to emails from his fans. I have been totally intimidated by that for a long time, because what awesome question could I ask? It has to be the perfect question, because I don't want to be asking him things all the time, so I only get one chance. Therefore, I haven't sent him any messages.

And now there's Twitter. I follow him, and I see random people always sending him little notes, and he responds. This proves that he is really a nice guy, which of course makes me love him even more. But the possibility of sending him a direct tweet is even more terrifying than e-mailing him. Then you have even less space in which to pack a truly meaningful message!!

Okay, I realize I'm crazy. For one thing, Neil has no idea who I am and probably never will, so it doesn't matter what impression my question or comment makes. For another thing, all his interaction with his fans proves what a regular guy he is, and he probably doesn't want some weirdo woman obsessing in her blog over how to send him a message.

But here's the thing: A loved him. He's the one who started my obsession, by introducing me to the Sandman. A actually got an autograph from him, lucky bastard. But even so, in my mind it's two people's fandom that I'm dealing with. So a simple "Hey Neil, how's it going?" isn't going to cut it.

And the problem is, he's too accessible. Back in the day, I never would have had a prayer of interacting with my favorite author, and I could bitch about that and move on.

The other issue is that he lives in MN. And I heard rumors that he likes to go the Renaissance Festival in Shakopee. Every year I go and keep my eyes open, but no sightings yet. If only he'd have a reading and signing near me and I could go and be done with it.

weather woes

Why does everybody complain about the weather? Do we have nothing better to do with our time?

I live in MN, which people normally believe to be a frozen tundra. Maybe at the northern end of the state, up by Canada, it's different than it is here. I live in the twin cities metro area. We have a winter, yes. But we also have spring, summer and fall. It is no colder or snowier here than in any other state that has a winter. And in the summer, it's just as hot as anywhere else. Okay, I just needed to get that off my chest.

I like it here. I like winter, because I like all the seasons. If I lved in Florida or Arizona or California, I'd probably kill myself. I need variety. And I hate it that people complain about being cold all winter, just to bitch the first day it hits 80 that it's too damn hot. And then, after a few days of 80 we get a cloudy day of 69 (today), they say "We went from Summer back to fall!" It's actually spring, moron, and this is perfectly acceptable spring weather! Stop whining!!

Alice Walker wrote, "I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. " And I agree with that. I try to notice as much as I can. And I also think it pisses God off if you are constantly complaining about the weather. If it rains on your wedding day, that's one thing. Or if your beloved baseball team is stupid enough to bulid an open air stadium in MN and you end up missing a game due to rain. (It doesn't happen until next season, but I'm already bitter.) My point is, there are exceptions. But complaing every day gets on me nerves. We need rain, and sun, and everything else. Learn to appreciate it!

And if the only thing you can think to talk about is the weather, go read a damn book! Learn some new topics, or don't bother starting a conversation with me.

Mom trouble

After days of waiting, my mom showed up at about 10:30 on Thursday night. When she came in, my first question was, "What's up with that leg?" Her right leg was swollen and an angry red color. When I touched it, it was hot. Apparently, she hit her leg on their grill - over two weeks ago! She had a scabbed over little puncture wound, and a raging infection. The next day I made her go to urgent care. N took her, because I had to work. Sure enough, IV antibiotics, a prescription for orals, and as assignment to come back the next day to make sure it was improving. There are a couple of mind blowers here.

First, why didn't she do something about it earlier.? She flew to Hawaii to see my niece graduate, which is awesome. But she walked all around there, then did a week long road trip from Cali to here, including some sightseeing. From the pictures, it seems like the swelling was even worse then. Why would you not get it checked out?

Second, why does she always come to me to be ill? About two years ago, she had a heart attack while she was visiting me. Thank God I got her to the hospital on time. And if I hadn't made her, would she have ever gone in about her leg? The thing is, everyone else was telling her all along, but she only went when I told her to.

As my sister says, at least she listens to someone. And I appreciate that, but it's difficult for me. I'm here in MN, she's in AZ or MA, or en route. I can be with her all the time. What if the leg had been even worse, and she had not come to see me right then? What if she had been at home when the heart attack happened? Even then, she didn't want to go to the hospital, and I had to force her. The doctor told her that if I hadn't made her come in, she'd be dead. That's a little more than I can handle.

I do have a great support system. Two years ago I spent a lot of her hospital time on the phone with two of my sisters. And the other day I called one of them to vent about the leg thing. She was in Hawaii with my mom, and had been trying to get her to have it looked at the whole time.

But I already have guilt about choosing a life that kept me away from my mom. I haven't been around her on a daily basis since I went to college. And sometimes I am really sad about that. I won't go all into it, but my three sisters and my brother have complicated relationships with my mom. I do too, but I also know that if I lived near her I would spend more time with her than any of them do. It's the cruel irony of my life. But the truth is that I love my life here. For all the guilt I have about it, I wouldn't have the quality of life on the east coast that I do here. And I don't actually miss the area, just the people.

So the fact that I can't take care of her when she needs it really worries me. Her significant other (I never know how to refer to him...they're not married - and even if he were, I'm a little old for a stepfather- and boyfriend sounds weird when you're over sixty) tries to convince her to take care of herself, but apparently she ignores him too. After the heart attack, the only way I made myself okay with her going to AZ (at least in MA my other siblings are there) was believing that he would take care of her for me.

So while I bitch about my mom only listening to me, I want her to keep doing so. I guess it's good juju that's she's with me when craziness occurs, since I'd want to be with her. I just wish that she would take good enough care of herself and listen to others as well. I'm so worried about what will hapen when I'm not there. The truth is, I can't handle the thought...no, I can't even type it.

Anyway, we went back in today and all looks well. I've got her ace wrapped, and she's taking the antibiotics, so I hope it will be better soon. I'm going to enjoy this visit, and wait to feel guilty again until she's back on the road.

Neighbor update

Yesterday, I wrote the big long blog about the rude neighbors and the note they had given us the day before (thanks for the comments, by the way). I also mentioned it on Facebook and got a ton of comments. Then, as I was driving down my street yesterday evening, I noticed 3 yards that had approximately the same length of grass as us, which ruled all of them out. So I had thought it must have been either the next door or across the street neighbors. But the across the street neighbors were out of town that day, and the note mentioned the shared flower beds, so I became convinced that the note was from next door We'll call them the B's. When I got home I told N all this stuff about the blog and the comments and the yards, and he just listened. Then he said, when I was done, "Yeah, it was bothering me all day too, so I went and put a note in the B's mailbox."

What?!? Yeah, you read that right...my non-confrontational, don't stir anything up, keep the peace husband, after telling me not to do it, had gone ahead and noted them right back!! I was so proud! Well, I was disappointed that he didn't wait for me, but mostly I was proud that I have passed some of the dark side on to him. He told me it said something along the lines of,
"We aren't going to deal with the flower beds, as we discussed when we first moved in. Please feel free to take care of them if you feel the need. We are looking into professional care for our lawn and it will be done soon, since it bothers you so much." Hee hee. For my taste, the part about the lawn had a little kow-towing to it, but overall it was well done.

Then he called me at work this morning to say that he had a "run-in." When he went in to the garage and opened the door, Mr. B was standing in his yard, near the flower bed. N said hi, so did Mr. B. then N asked, "Did you get my note?," which I think is hilarious. Mr. B said that he had, then apologized to N. He said there had been an overreaction from "some people." In my mind, "some people" means Mrs. B. N repeated that we were trying to hire a lawn service, and Mr B. suggested that, since he had some extra time on his hands, perhaps he could do the neighborly thing and mow our lawn. Wow!! N told him we had some Twins tickets that we can't use* and offered them to the B's. They had a neighborly handshake, and N went to work.

I was quite proud of my confident husband. Although I had an influence on him, his handling of the situation was a lot less volatile than mine would have been. And I think that his was better, in the long run. Mine would have been more satisfying short term, but it wouldn't have led to better neighbor relations, as his did. Go N!! You're the best. We got an apology, a free lawn mow, and the avoidance of a feud. Sweet!

* Usually there is no such thing as a Twins ticket that we can't use. But we got them free from N's work, and my mom will be here then. She's probably the only person I'd turn down a Twins game for. :)

I hate yard work! And neighbors!!

In december 2007, N and I bought our dreamhouse. We loved it the moment we set eyes on it. Then we brought his parents to see it, and they loved it. And then, despite some issues with the crazy people who sold it to us, we ended up buying it. In the 17 months since, we have managed to unpack, put things mostly in a semblance of order, finally get pictures and things on the walls (mostly last week for the walls), bought a dog, pretended to train him...what I'm saying is, we've been busy. And clearly not always with the house, as it has taken us so long to get it this together. We love the house and working on it, but we also love traveling and spending time with our frineds, and relaxing with a book or a movie or...whatever.

The one thing that we have not really dealt with much is the lawn. When we moved to our dream house, N and I divided up all the chores. We figured that we could each just be responsible for our own things, not nag each other, and never end up fighting over something as stupid as who did the dishes today. And it has worked. I do my stuff, he does his, occasionally we each slack a little, the other one doesn't mention it, and we move on. The lawn, and all the outside stuff, is on N's list. N, as much as I love him and believe him to perfect for me, is not a working on the lawn kind of guy. I don't see that as an issue. I don't need him to be that kind of guy.

While I love having a back yard for the dog, I think the front yard is more of a burden. For one thing, crazy seller lady (CSL) and crazy next-door neighbor lady (CNL) made a flower garden in the plot of land between our two driveways. At the closing, CSL mentioned that CNL was afraid the new tenants would put asphalt over it (they had sliced a bit off our driveway, making me have to back out at a weird angle.) So when I met CNL, I assured her that I would not put asphalt over our half of the garden, but I also told her that I would not be tending to it. I told her she was free to tend to the plants on our half should she feel the need. Over the first few months that we lived there, she offered multipple times to teach me or give me tips, and I politely informed her that none were needed...I have no interest in gardening. She always meticulously cares for her half and ignores our half now, which I have no problem with.

So there you have N and I, who want to have nothing to do with yardwork, and mow as little as possible, and only under duress. N does mow, just not with such obsessive frequency as the neighbors. And out flower bed is messy. Personally, I'd rather mow over the damn thing, but I left it up because they are all perennials, and they're pretty, if not perfectly cared for.

So yesterday, I came home and checked my mail, as usual. And there was a note in there, which said,

Neighbor -

PLEASE mow and bag your lawn or have a lawn service come and do it!! And clean out your flower beds. Your neighbors are getting testy!!

Thank You

I left the punctuation as it was, and the capitalization of PLEASE, but there were also random letters within some of the words that were capitalized. Is the author not very smart, or were they thrown in to throw me off the trail? You be the judge. Anyway, I was pissed. An anonymous letter? Really??

Here are some of my issues with this.

1. The neighbors two doors down from me use most of their lawn as a circular driveway, and the rest as a graveyard for some kind of machinery.
2. The neighbors across the street from CNL have the cops there 2-3 times a week. (I have no idea why, I just see the lights a lot...and the lady across from me told me once about some gossip, but I wasn't listening. Have I mentioned that I'm not a big fan of neighbors in general??)
3. My lawn may be a little tall, but it's not a jungle. N mowed about two weeks ago.
4. Why, if this person (or people - the note said said my neighbors -plural - were getting testy. Are they having secret meetings about us?) thinks that my lawn is an issue, could they not talk to us about it? Or at least sign the note. How wimpy are you, that you have to leave an anonymous note in a mailbox??
5. Why do you have so much time on your hands, and why do you think that I do too? N and I both work full time, have a 45 minute commute, and have busy weekend lives. There's honestly not a lot of time for yardwork, even if we liked it. Which, as stated before, we do not.
6. What gives you the right to dictate what happens on my property? You want to pay my mortgage and taxes? If not, then back off!

Okay, I probably have more points, but that's enough. When I got the note, I went in and called N and I told him that I wanted to post a note on our malibox or in our yard. I had many options:

• Feel free to mow for us!
• Unsolicited advice will not be heeded!
• We do not negotiate with terrorists (or anonymous neighbors!)
• To anonymous: You're a coward!

But N told me to let it go. He said he had planned on mowing before my mom shows up (at the end of this week) and I said, not now you aren't. Let 'em sweat a while. We will not be bullied! (That would make a good sign too). He also discouraged me from going door to door until I found the culprit and then giving them a piece of my mind.

Yes, I probably overreacted. I have anger issues. We've been over this.

The point it, I really was insulted. It's not that bad. And if you can't have the courage of your convictions and say it to my face, you probably shouldn't be leaving me a note either.

So I talked to my mom and two of my sisters, and they had similar reactions (how do you think I got this way?) and I felt a little better. Then I posted a brief thing about it on Facebook and got a ton of responses, which made me laugh. Bringing in a goat to take care of it was my favorite. Go Mama Dixie! Anyway, I am mostly done being angry about it now, and have moved on to being amused. I wonder how long N and I can hold out before even we hate the lawn? Of course, I think that CNL and her hubby wrote it, only because it specifically mentioned the flower bed. (Which, by the way, is covered in wood chips, so it's mostly clean even without making the effort.) And if I see her in the driveway, I will ask if it was her, and let her know that the note was a cop-out. Even if she didn't write, I know she knows who did.

And on the happy side, when I was looking out the window by the front door yesterday, checking to see if anyone was out in their yard, I saw a bunny in mine. He was in the driveway, eating little weeds that pop up next the bush by my front door. He pulled one out by the middle, and the two ends were hanging down to the ground from his little mouth, and I watched him eat the whole thing, nibble by nibble. Super cute!!

Maybe I could train him to eat the grass....

cruise!!

We're going on a cruise!! Woo-hoo!!

N and I decided that we need a break. We took that long weekend on the Cape, but if you've ever spent any time with my family, you kow it's not really a vacation. (sorry, guys - I love you all, but there's less drama on some Jerry Springer episodes.) So while it was great to see everyone and have a family weekend, we still need a vacation.

After many weeks of searching for a deal, we finally found it and we are headed to Alaska on June 6th!!! My brain is spinning with all the details - what to pack, doggie care, how to set up at work. I haven't been gone for a full work week since I had this job, and I'm nervous about that. But I know it will be taken care of, and that I have to not care, just for seven days.

We've been wanting to go to Alaska for years, so it's hard to believe we are finally doing it. Our honeymoon cruise, to the western carribean, was the best vacation ever. So I'm fully expecting this one to measure right up there. It's Norwegian again, fo course, but a different ship. I can't wait to explore it! We already booked our shore excursions too. I can't wait!!

faith

Lately, I have had a bit of a religious conversion. Or a reversion, as it were, since I feel like I'm returning to something. As a child and a young adult, I had a fierce faith. Because of circumstances in my college years and beyond, that faith eroded. It was pushed away by many things, but I would say a big player was my study pf philosophy. And to this day, I am in love with everything I learned, and continue to learn, in that study. But in some ways all I was doing was replacing my faith object; instead of faith in God, I put my faith in the cannon. And while I gained a lot from my readings, I could never get a feeling of safety that I missed when I dismissed God from my life. After years of craving it, and then some years of increasing depression over the fertility issue, for which I could find no comfort from my philosophers, I decided to take the leap again. I know more about the alternatives this time, and I admit to having shopped around a bit for the pieces of my new faith, but it real and it is me.

And then I read Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. A lot of people have told me to read it, and I wasn't interested in it. Then I finally got around to it, this week, and I loved it. It was a beautiful book, and I applaud her journey. I read it at the perfect time in my own journey. I could quote the whole book, but I'm going to give a piece of it because it was such an a-ha moment for me. She could have been writing about me.

There's a reason we refer to "leaps of faith" -- because the decision to consent to any notion of divinity is a mighty jump from the rational over to the unknowable, and I don't care how diligently scholars of every religion will try to sit you down with their stacks of books and prove to you through scripture that their faith is indeed rational; it isn't. If faith were rational, it wouldn't be -- by definition -- faith. Faith is belief in what you cannot see or prove or touch. Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it owuld not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be . . . a prudent insurance policy.

I'm not interested in the insurance industry. I'm tired of being a skeptic, I'm irritated by spiritual prudence and I feel bored and parched by empirical debate. I don't want to hear it anymore. I oculdn't care less about evidence and proof and assurances. I just want God. I want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water.

love!

Last post, I talked about N making me laugh, and I got a cool response. So, in keeping with my resolve to be positive for a while, I thought I'd do a post dedicated to my amazing husband.

• When we met, I had recently lost A. I was a widow, with not a lot to smile about, and he made me smile again. Not to mention, he immediately wanted to hear all about A, and has never made me feel bad about missing him or talking about him. Actually, there are times that I forget they never met, because he seems to know so much about him.
• He thinks that if his belly button opens, all his innards will come out. Which makes it really fun to poke his belly button. :)
• He plugs my cell phone in for me at night, he kills spiders for me, he never leaves the seat up, and he lets me put my cold feet on him even though I never let him put his cold feet on me.
• Whenever I am feeling bad about myself, which is often, he always disagrees with me and tells me I'm wonderful. Or he'll say, "Hey, that's my wife you're talking about."
• He has the same three best friends he's had since he was six.
• He will spend hours on the internet, searching for a good deal for any trip we go on, any appliance we buy, any random item that I need and don't want to buy at the store. It's fun for him, and I get the best stuff.
• He also makes me a packet every time we go on a trip, which includes our travel info, hotel info, itinerary, maps, anything else he thinks we'll need...and then he puts a cover page on it that says something like, "N and A's European Adventure!" I keep them for our scrapbooks.
• Whenever I call out to him from another room, he always answers with, "Yes, love?"
• He is a really good kisser. I mean, really good. This, of course, often leads to other things, which he also excels at, but the kissing is what really got me.
• He has such a good soul. He is always thinking about other people and putting them before himself. Often that person is me, and I am always trying to deserve it.
• He is completely oblivious to girls hitting on him or having crushes. I always have to point it out.
• He is 6' 10" and completely comfortable with that. After more than seven years, I still laugh when people ask him how tall he is...and he's still calm about it after almost thirty years!
• If he doesn't know the answer to a question, he just makes something up. Most of the time, people believe him. It cracks him up that I'm the oly one who calls him on it, every time. Even if a story is true, he likes to embellish it. He just likes to laugh.

Okay, I'll stop with a baker's dozen. There is always more I could say, but I have to stop some time. The most important point is that I always love being with him, no matter what we're doing. And when we go through trying times, it's best to remember things like that. No matter what the outcome of all the fertility issues, I am glad to be married to N.

happy entry

Last week I promised myself that I was going to write about something happy. Then the stupid ER thing happened, and I wrote about that instead. Now I have rested all weekend, and I am determined to have a happy entry for once. I am throwing off the cloak of negativity I was wearing last week (and the whole situation that I continued tonguing at, like a wound on the roof of my mouth, long after I should have ignored it) and putting on my happiness shawl. Or whatever.

N and I had a really fun weekend. On Friday we saw the new Star Trek movie, which I loved. I can't believe how good the casting was, I truly forgot about the actors and was completely absorbed in the characters. I didn't want it to end, and I can't wait for the next one. And in the meantime, I may have to dig out the old episodes and watch them again!

On Saturday we had a really interesting conversation, which could easily have been an argument, but then we talked instead, and we learned some new things. I won't go into all the particulars here, but I think it is amazing that after seven years of sharing everything with each other, we can still learn new things.

Last night, at about 10pm, we decided that we needed to go to Perkins. N is always saying that he needs potato pancakes at ridiculous hours of the night. This was early enough that we could do it, so off we went. And then, at the restaurant, he made me laugh so hard I got the hiccups. Thankfully, I was done with french toast before the hiccups started.

We have always had so much fun together. But now, with all that we've got going on, it has felt really good these last few weeks to be just ourselves again. I think we could maybe get out of the stress if we spend a little longer like this.

non-emergency

Yesterday I took a little visit to the ER.

I was at work, about an hour after my lunch break, and I started getting a stomachache. It felt just like indigestion or something. Then a few minutes later the pain traveled all over my abdoment and went crazy. I think I'm pretty good at pain...not stoic, but I can usually handle it. This was 8/10, couldn't stand still, had to work on breathing kind of pain. And once it got up there, it stayed. No throbbing or waves, just steady-on blazing pressure. I told one of my friends, who took a second to realize I was serious, and then started doing vitals and listening to my heart and bowel sounds and everything. It's a perk to be surrounded by other nurses all day. My blood pressure was sky high, so I called my clinic. While I was still in pain, I described what had happened and answered a bunch of questions. She told me to go to the ER. After a while the pain went down to about a 5, and then down and down until it was gone. All in all, it was about 20-25 minutes. My work friend would not let me decide not to go, even though I tried, so off to the ER I went.

In retrospect, I could have gone to urgent care. Why I didn't think of that at the time is probably due to being pretty scared about what might be going on. So now I'll probably have a huge bill. Bler. So yea, they did blood work, and urine tests, a 12-lead EKG, and chest x-ray. The doctor said it all looked good. She also talked to me for almost half-an-hour. A very cool MD. After all this, her diagnosis? Stress.

Ha ha. Seriously?

Although I did tell her all about the infertility mumbo-jumbo, she seemed to think I was stressed even before knowing that. Also, she has a son, by IVF, so that was interesting. And the thing is, I had thought I was really de-stressing in the last few weeks. But when I started telling her about stuff, tears were coming to my eyes. I wasn't exactly crying, just tearing uncontrollably. Which makes me realize things are still a lot closer to the surface than I had thought.

I'm not sure I believe that it's only stress. I know all the tests were good, but I'm still worried it was something that they didn't test for. And I'm really not a hypchondriac. I've been having weird chest pains for long time now, which my NP is aware of, and there seems to be no reason for those. But this was serious pain, like I have never felt before. But even if it is only stress, what the hell am I supposed to do about that? I thought I was doing better, so I'm not sure I have a whole lot of coping mechanisms stored up at this point.

metablog

Blogging is stupid. There, I said it. I am guilty of doing it, but that doesn't stop me from seeing the issues involved. The thing is, if you have a blog, you are probably the kind of person who has had journals...maybe you were good at keeping it up, or maybe you started a new one every year and only wrote three entries before giving it up again. You feel like you want to remember life, to document it. Or you feel like you have something to say. Like you are interesting, or wish to be. But in any case, blogging means taking your journals or essays into the public forum. You want people to read what you have written.

I get frustrated that I don't have many readers. I know it's probably because what I have to say isn't grabbing people, isn't new or intersting enough to stand out. But I hold on to the hope that there are other reasons, so I go out into the blogosphere and try to read others, and maybe connect with them, in the hopes that they will turn and read me too. So far, not so good, but I'll keep plugging. Because even though the part of me with loe self-esteem says that no one cares, the secretly overconfident part of me says that someone will aprreciate me. (Also, I cut myself off at the knees by being afraid that those who are too close to me will find it and know too much, but that's a neurosis for another day).

The point is, people who blog want to be read, plain and simple. But the reason blogging is stupid is that then some people turn around and decide that they don't want to be disagreed with. Yes, please read and appreciate my contribution to the world, but don't let on that I'm not the best thing since sliced bread! Don't say anything unless you have something nice to say!

At this point I'd like to pause to say that it probably looks like I am harping on the issue from yesterday. And I suppose that in a way I am. But after spending some time thinking about why I blew up yesterday, I realized that it wasn't really about that one blogger, or at least not totally. This has happened to me before, with my frenemy, B. Once upon a time, he said horrible things about me and about A in his blog. And I responded vehemently. And then got angry that I had the nerve to respond to what he said in his own private blog. Really?

Like I've said before, I believe that people have the right to an opinion, and to voice that opinion. But I also have the right to express mine, and to tell you why I think yours is wrong. And let's not sugarcoat things. It's okay for me to think you are wrong, and vice versa. Just because I think you have a right to an opinion doesn't mean I have to give your opinion any creedence. I might, if you do a good job of arguing your point, but chances are slim.

So the point is that you have the right to write, and I have the right to respond. Love it or hate it, that's how it is. If you don't want to continue from that point, you have the right of ignoring my response. Or you could delete any comments you don't want to deal with. It is, after all, your blog, and I am fine with you dictating the flow of traffic. But please, don't put yourself out there and ask for attention, and then whine because you don't like the attention that you got. I feel like that is just lying to yourself about your real motivation to blog in the first place.

anger issues

I think I have anger issues.

Last night at Wal-Mart (also known in our household as Satan's World) I had a serious I-am-going-to-kill-someone moment. The night before I had spent almost two hours uploading, reorienting, and resizing a bunch of photos to be printed. This is the only reason I wold go through Wal-Mart, because the whole photo thing is cheap and easy. (Insert joke here). Anyway, I got there yesterday and all the photos were 4X6, with no changes. I seriously freaked out. And I am not good with confrontation, but I did manage to express my pissiness. Of course, it's Wal-Mart, so no one cared. Customer service is about the last thing I'd expect. So after only paying for the ones that were supposed to 4X6 and unchanged, I went home and cried all over N. And he suggested that I order them again, from a different Wal-Mart, so I didn't have to go back to the same people, which I did. He's picking them up today. I was really upset because I am all about this picture project and I am proud of myself for finally starting it, and I want to get it done before my mom gets here in a few weeks. But I think my reaction may have been out of proportion.

Also, there was a traffic incident this morning, in which the horn and both of my middle fingers were used. Let's just say, you can't change lanes whenever you feel like it and expect no reaction. But again, my reaction may have been over done.

And the third time was just now. Catching up on a blog that I recently started following, I realized that a post was directed at me. It made me a little angry, for several reasons. I made the comment a while ago, and I thought it to be calm and reasonable, inviting a friendly debate. Apparently the other blogger didn't feel that way. She felt I "blindsided" her with debate, and that I passed off my opinions as fact. I certainly don't think I expressed my opinions any differently than she did in the post. I stated what I believe. I don't put question marks after solid beliefs, as a rule. And I didn't realize that she wouldn't be up for a debate. When I knew her briefly in college, I remember her being up for things like that. I also noted in the comment that I wasn't trying to start anything, and that I respected her opinions. If I didn't, I wouldn't have bothered to post a comment. Clearly she does not have the same respect for my opinion. That's fine. Then let me know about that. You know where to find my blog, and you know how to respond with another comment, which she did. Don't write a whole post about how you don't want to debate and you resent my comment. And yes, I realize I am being hypocritical about that last point by writing this post. It's part of my charm.

In any case, I'm not catering to any childish wish to hear no feedback. You did have the choice not to publish the comment. Either I read and I respond to it if I feel the urge, or I don't read. I do respect a person't right to her own opinion. But I don't blow smoke up anyone's ass. That's not who I am.

On the other hand, when I stopped following her blog and wrote a curt comment in response, I may have over done it. I know she's going through some stuff, which I could have taken into consideration. And I could have just ignored it and moved on, keeping my decision to comment no longer to myself. Coulda woulda shoulda. What can I say? I have anger issues.