Tech-No

I am usually dragged kicking and screaming towards new technologies - by husband, who loves that which is innovative and shiny.

Our printer isn’t just a printer.  It can also scan, copy and fax.  I refuse to acknowledge these capabilities, even after Husband showed me for the fourth time how to line the little picture up in the corner of the machine and press “print.” 

This is totally at odds with the fact that I’ve worked in office environments for many a year, and can competently use a xerox machine.  I can even open up the doors to remove a paper jam AND put them back together.  I should get a degree or something.

I also have a really hard time using touch-screen technology.  My phone is touchscreen.  I constantly dial the wrong number, even after it was programmed to recognize the intentions of my short, stubby fingers.

My old iPod finally bit the dust, so I purchased an iPod Nano. I can’t make it work.  My short stubby fingers also don’t want me to listen to the dulcet tones of Kenny Rodgers.

So, I feel conflicted.  On one hand, I’m really lucky to have access to these confusing new technologies.  But if left to my own devices, I’d probably still be walking around with a walkman.

Maybe a discman. 

If you want to get fancy.

I Am Bipolar. I am Not Insane.

I want to highlight the posts I've written about mental illness.  Because of this.  Because it's hard to come out. There is internal shame, external stigma, loss of hope, loss of worth.

This is my experience:

Is Anybody Out There?

Stigma

Side Effects Include Empathy....

The Post In Which I Belatedly Relate My Two Birth Stories

What I Did Over My Thanksgiving Break: The Bad (And Ugly)

If you suffer from mental illness, please read.  If you love some one with mental illness, please read.  If you know nothing about mental illness, please read.

Know you are not alone.  This is not your fault.  It is a physical ailment.  Medication helps, though it can take a long time.  Talking helps, too.

I'm off to give my kids a good hug.  Because I am alive to do so.

Don't give up.

I Used To Know A Lot About Literature, Politics, And The Law. Now All I Know Is.....

The phone...the phone is ringing......

We are the pirates, who don’t do anything.........

Swiper, no swiping! Swiper, no swiping! SWIPER, NO SWIPING!

We had a great day, it was a super way.  To spend, some time together......

There’s a party in my tummy.  So yummy! So yummy.......

I’m just a kid who’s 4, each day I grow some more......

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you for your attention.

Note:  I have only myself to blame, for turning the TV on in the first place.  Take that, me!

Why Does My Food Keep Talking To Me?

Why does my food keep talking to me?

First it was Dove Promises sending out inspirational messages.  I understand that. I’m often inspired by chocolate.  Inspired to eat more chocolate.

Surround myself with loved ones?  You mean more chocolate?

Thanks, Dove!

But today I opened a new  carton of sour cream, and the foil seal was inscribed with the message, “The most precious thing one can make is a friend.”
 

Can I be your friend?

How does my sour cream know I need more friends?  Is it that obvious?

Maybe my food doesn’t want me to be depressed.  But that doesn’t make sense; when I’m depressed, I eat more.  You’d think this would be a good thing for the food (unless maybe it’s displaying an act of self-preservation.)

So, since I always want to be on the cutting edge, I came up with my OWN inspirational messages to common foods*:

You can be the wind beneath any one’s wings.

Be happy.  No exceptions. Ever.

Infiltrating yourself into every aspect society of  NOT make you a whore.

See? Advertising is easy.** Someone should pay me for this.

But then again, I think someone should pay me for everything I do.


*My jokes are lame. I won't be offended if you don't get the joke.  Because it's lame.

**Note: I actually think REAL Advertising is probably damn difficult.  Otherwise, why would they hire some of my smarty-pants friends to work for them?

Common Colds ≠ Interesting. But I Don't Have To Write About Anything Of Importance! Ha, Ha!

My Sunday went along the lines of:

Mbfmmbgfzmmbfd.... Wonderful Husband lets me sleep in so I can dream I became a member of Congress and for some reason a lot of pancakes are involved.

Wake up.... Hey, I’m awake.

Go to church, come home.... Yay! I did things!

Eat lunch.... I’m on a roll!

All of a sudden.... Hmmmm....kinda sleepy.

Then.... Baby gets sleepy.  Idea!  Hold baby = work.  But then I can sleep = sleep.  Therefore work = sleep.  I’m a GENIUS!

Then.... Baby and I wake up.  Why am I awake?  More important, where is my face?

Hmmm.... Breathing hurts.  Walking hurts.... Owie.

Make supper.... I’m walking around like a short mucousy Ent.

After supper.... Weeeee........I’m magic!.........Illness has transplanted my brain to a whole new level of thought and time! I should blog!  And fold laundry! AT THE SAME TIME!

Kids are in bed.... I try to fold laundry.  It’s all crooked because I’m too dizzy to see straight.  I decide to blog instead.  For some reason, it’s really important to post something, even though my line of thought consists generally of “Husband - umbrella - cookie - help me - kitty cat - sparkly - leprechaun - i am writing now like a good writerrrrrrrr.....bmnkihf........ugcfxtd.”

Later.... I publish this gem, gulp down several Nyquil along with my usual sleeping pills, and head to bed. Promptly have disturbing lucid visions every time I close my eyes for the next three hours, before I actually fall asleep.

Monday.... Wake up to find I’m still alive.  Weird.

More Monday.... The fog encircling my head still won’t lighten up. I am more mucous than woman.

Even More Monday.... Things happen.  Probably.  Because it’s now Tuesday.

Today.... Realize I don’t remember anything about Monday.  The mucous ate my brain. Determine mucous = zombies.  Or maybe zombies = mucous. Doesn’t matter, because according to this, I only have a 31% chance of surviving a zombie apocalypse anyways.

More Today.... Will head to a medic post-haste, if only because I’ve had a routine physical scheduled since October. Understand they can’t rescue me from this viral 5th layer of Hell, but at least I can complain to a professional.
 
Slightly More Today....  Published this post chronicling my experience with the common cold.  Realize it might be poignant or interesting or something if I was actually living with something more serious, like cholera or ummm... bipolar depression.  But no.  I just have a cold.

Cough, hack, cough. The end.

Why Use The Coat Closet When You Have A Perfectly Good Banister Available?

Husband and I have never been good at living like functional adults.  Common organizational and housekeeping practices reveal themselves to us as pure, unadulterated nodes of brilliance.

For example, when we moved into our current abode, instead of utilizing the hall closet, we just threw our shoes in the corner, and hung our coats and bags on the stair banisters. 

A couple months later, we remembered we had a perfectly good coat tree in the basement.  We brought it upstairs, and lo and behold - the coats were no longer thrown haphazardly on the stairs!  Brilliant!

Now the coat tree groans under the weight of my purse, diaper bag, backpack, Preschooler’s backpack, and 329 coats. Suddenly, Husband had a flash of brilliance - Hooks!

He put four hooks on the wall.  Now all our bags hang on hooks on the wall, and our coats are on a coat tree, and our shoes, well, they’re still heaped on the floor.

Husband and I turned and looked at each other and thought, “Wow!  We’re just like real people now!”

Then Preschooler noticed the hooks.  They BLEW HER MIND.

Preschooler: “What’s that?  How is mommy’s purse up there?”

Husband:  “Look, honey.  HOOKS!”

Preschooler: “WOW!!!!!”

Apparently Husband and I forget that we are no longer in college, and can afford to go to a store and buy something we need, as opposed to having to improvise using old cardboard boxes and aluminum foil.

And it is because of that, that our children will continue to be amazed by normal household objects, well into their adult years.

Classy.

I’m No Cleaning Guru. But At Least I Know Better Than To Drink A Mopped-Up Soda

It’s been a long day.  I’ve been puked on, pooped on, yelled at, and then I stepped on a piece of cold, slimy, banana in my bare feet.

Which reminded me, either our carpet was made out of crushed Froot Loops, or I needed to clean.

I vacuumed, but then my children ate more Froot Loops.  I pretended not to see anything.

I also needed to mop.  I don’t have a mop.  We had one of those old-fashioned wring mops at some point in our lives, but it left us.

Screw this!

I’ve tried the Swiffer mop before, but the sprayers always miss the floor and I end up expending way too much energy trying to scrub stains out. I'm aware that I am the only person in the universe that has this problem.

You’re doing it wrong.

I like the old-fashioned wring-mops, but we don’t have a bucket either.  And I'm not buying a mop AND a bucket.  Not in this economy.

Then there was ... the Smart Mop.  

BEHOLD!!

Look, it’s made out of dead ShamWows! 

You can use it as an umbrella!

It picks up ketchup AND dog hair AT THE SAME TIME!

But then....

You can use the Smart Mop to wipe up a spilled soda, wring it out into an empty glass, and DRINK THE SODA.

I like soda.  Coke Zero and I go WAY back.  As a teenager, I used Sprite to hydrate after excersise, like some some sort of derranged butterfly who was also a lousy tennis player.

But I don’t think I should be drinking soda through a mop.  Or mop my floor with soda.  Or something.

I guess I'll have to buy that bucket after all.

Edited to add: I do not promote the Smart Mop, nor do I work for the Smart Mop people. I'm pretty sure the folks at Smart Mop don't know me.  If they did, that would be kind of creepy.  In any case, I think their product sends the wrong message to this nation's impressionable youth.  I shall write my local Congressman. 

This just in: Husband just informed me that in the infomercial they claim "If you've got wood, you'll love this!" Awesome.