Rants and Ravings of a Redhead

Dear Blog...I am sorry I abandoned you.

2010-02-16T16:38:00.002-05:00

In commenting on another blog today, I saw the little dashboard menu at the top of the screen and thought, "Hmmm....I do have a blog or two set-up. I wonder how long it's been." And then I clicked. And then I saw 2007! 2007! Holy goodness have I abandoned my blog. I am just like all the other well-intentioned bloggers with all these things they want to say and then after a few months just wander away from their post, leaving the blog in suspended animation. Poor blog. I am sorry. I will try and do better. I will. I swear.

Now...what's for dinner tonight.......

(wanders away again....)

It's a Moo Point

2007-10-26T09:38:00.000-05:00

Joey Tribbiani cracks me up. Every night, my dear, darling husband puts on Friends re-runs when he goes to sleep. And though all of the Friends are pretty funny, you just have to laugh at Joey. Plus, how can you not love a guy who loves sandwiches as much as he does??? One of my all time favorite Joey quotes:
"It's a moo point....You know, it's like a cow's opinion. It doesn't matter. It's moo."

Pure genius.

Of course, if the cow could talk, would her opinion matter than? I would be very interested in what a talking cow had to say. I would guess that their opinion would include things like "red meat is very bad for you. Eat more chicken." or "Can't you find a cute guy to milk us instead of these cold machines that just tug and tug?" or maybe "go milk your own kind and leave us alone". Cows seem very opinionated to me.

That concludes my random thought of the moment. Can't believe you waited two months for a post and got that, can you?

My New Favorite Word

2007-08-10T19:07:00.000-05:00

So.

This is my new favorite word. It is normally accompanied by a question mark or a "what" and a question mark. Other people are lucky enough to find the beauty of the word "so" earlier in their life. Its a little newer to me, but its making things gosh darn super and a hell of a lot easier.

Why do I like "so"? Because I am an exaggerator, inflater, worry-wart. I get all wrapped up in little things and make them so overwhelming that I can't think straight. And then I discovered "so" (and for those of you who made read a certain magazine, I did not find "so" there). I have realized that when my brain starts to freak out, to stop and say, "So?" or "So what?". What could really happen? Is what I am worrying about real or a huge figment of my imagination? I found out that one little word offers an amazing perspective and some great insight on life.

When life feels huge, something feels like you've screwed it all up, or something seems like it might be embarrassing, take a moment and try out my favorite new word. So? What could really happen? So? How bad is it really? So what if it might be embarrassing? It could be fun and might be an experience you will never forget. I'm telling you. It's a great word.

Quotes

2007-07-01T16:38:00.000-05:00

I am a fan of quotes. People share such profound thoughts in so few words. One of my favorites right now is from Albert Einstein. He said, "We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them." How I wish people understood this concept. I would like to make this quote required reading for most government officials. I can think of a few other people who could also benefit from this concept...(they will remain nameless).

And just for fun…

"A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort." - Herm Albright

"Every day I beat my own previous record for number of consecutive days I've stayed alive." - unknown

The Other Blog: Tips and Tricks

2007-07-01T14:27:00.000-05:00

I started a second blog. I kept thinking of all sorts of tips and tricks that I would want to share, but they didn't feel like they really fit with this blog. So, here is blog number two:
Tips and Tricks of a Redhead: http://tipsandtricksredhead.blogspot.com/.

Enjoy!

I am officially domesticated…

2007-06-29T07:51:00.001-05:00

I have my first-ever garden this summer. I went to the store and spent all sorts of money on seeds, soil, containers, a watering can, and some plants. I bought some tomato plants and I started some cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, and oregano from seeds. First lesson in gardening: cucumbers, zucchini, and yellow squash plants look almost exactly the same when you don’t pay attention when transplanting seedlings to containers. I planted the seedlings in April. I just found out yesterday which plant was which (they actually started producing vegetables).

I have to admit: I truly doubted my ability to garden. I assumed the poor little plants would be at my mercy as they dried up and died. My suspicions were nearly confirmed when all of the leaves on my plants started turning white. I was positive I had given them some horrible disease. Turns out they just needed a little fertilizer. This gardening stuff is getting easier.

Second lesson is gardening: patience is important (and I virtue I do not possess). I was soooo excited when I saw the first ever tomato I had grown appear on the plant. I even dragged my husband outside to see it. I was going to take a picture as proof that I could indeed support life and growth. It was only a little cherry tomato, but I had actually made something grow. That was weeks ago. I have still not been able to actually eat a vegetable from my garden. My plants are full of all sorts of vegetables (and fruits, if you want to get technical about the tomatoes)…but they are all small, still growing, and unripe. How much longer do I have to wait?!?! Turn red tomatoes! Turn red!

Someday, I will actually get to pick a vegetable from my garden. I will enjoy the fresh, happy, I grew-this-myself yumminess. I do have concerns that this caring and nurturing life for the purpose of eating vegetables may somehow indicate that I am a grown-up. I object! I just made a bigger version of those little plants you would grow in a plastic cup in elementary school. I may be domesticated, but at heart, I am still a five year old amazed that I can make something grow.

Married to a Rock Star

2007-05-31T07:03:00.000-05:00

I think my husband may have multiple personalities. That is the only explanation I have for his behavior. How else do you explain how the same guy who shuffles around my house in slippers, laughs outloud at "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" and "According to Jim", and goes to bed around 9:30 p.m. is also the guy who gets up on a stage in front of a room full of people and rocks out on the microphone? Multiple personalities! Its hard to blend these two people together in my head. It is a little surreal when you watch the person you wake up to each morning morph into a rock star onstage. He stands up there, wailing away on his vocals, playing with the band, dancing around, and joking with the crowd. Who is this guy? Where did he come from? And where does he go at 9 p.m. on a Tuesday night when the other guy is getting ready for bed?

I do have to admit it is sort of fun having a rock star for a husband. He's good. Seriously. He's really fun to watch perform onstage and I am still amazed at the amount of evergy he puts into every show. I guess I have come to terms with being a rock star's wife. Of course, I do keep a bat on hand to fend off any groupies...

For some great original rock 'n roll, check them out: Delta Whiskey Myspace Page

An article on the husband's band: What's In a Name - Delta Whiskey Article
and a podcast to go with it: Poolside with Delta Whiskey - Write up and Podcast

And believe it or not, Rachael Ray and I have something in common (and no, it is not our bubbly personalities)! Both of our husbands are lead singers in rock bands and both of them are playing at Stash's Cafe in New London, CT on Saturday night. The Cringe will be starting off the night and Delta Whiskey rocking out the rest of it.

I just can't stand it!

2007-05-10T11:07:00.000-05:00

I can't believe that I am actually willing to dedicate any of my blogging time or space to Paris Hilton, but I just can't stand it. There is a petition asking for a pardon from the governor of California. And why does she need a pardon? Well, because she got a DUI and then drove with a suspended license. And how did she manage to do that? Well, you see, her publicist told her she could drive. She also signed a document acknowledging that she was not to drive (she claims she didn't read it, but just signed). This woman is 26 years old. If you are not responsible enough to comply with a court order by the age of 26, you have more problems then jail time.

What gets me more than anything else is that there are people out there trying to get her pardoned. The woman drove drunk and then drove with a suspended license. She deserves whatever legal ramifications any other citizen would receive. I read the petition. I also saw James Lipton do a live reading of it on Conan. It is truly disturbing to me. Some quotes from the petition include:

"She provides hope for young people all over the U.S. and the world. She provides beauty and excitement to (most of) our otherwise mundane lives."

and

"If the late Former President Gerald Ford could find it in his heart to pardon the late Former President Richard Nixon after his mistake(s), we undeniably support Paris Hilton being pardoned for her honest mistake as well"

Seriously? Is this complete absurdity or is it just me?

To the driver of the 18-wheeler...

2007-05-04T07:59:00.000-05:00

For as long as I can remember, those giant 18-wheeler trucks have always scared me. When I began driving, I always had smaller cars and knew that one of those big trucks could squash me like a bug. I have always sped past them as fast as I can and have always felt anxious if there are too many around me. Yesterday, for the first time, I was profusely thankful to the driver of the 18-wheeler behind me. The driver of that truck saved my life. Seriously.

It was a beautiful, warm day. I was driving on I95 south to pick-up my husband from work. The highway is cruising right along, happy as can be. I have my windows and sunroof open, music on, enjoying life. We come over the crest of a hill. Traffic is at a dead stop. They closed the left lane to do some "yard work" on the side of the highway. I slam on my brakes, keeping an eye on the car in front of me because I would like his bumper and mine to live separate lives. I glance in my rearview mirror and see the 18-wheeler trying to stop and know instantly that he does not have enough space to stop his rig without taking a few cars out in the process.

My heart thrust into my throat and as a sense of "oh my god" panic started to hit, that driver pulled into the breakdown lane to stop. He knew he didn't have room. He knew what to do to get the room he needed to stop. By the time he got his truck to stop, he was next to my rear bumper. Next to. Meaning if he was still on the road, the car behind me would have been part of my rear bumper and he would have been very close behind. It took a moment to catch my breath. And then another moment to know that the driver's quick thinking meant I was still alive and well. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized what could have just happened. And then I just kept repeating "Thank you" over and over again in my head.

I never saw that trucker's face. I know his truck said Bradway trucking from New Jersey and got his tag number off the back of his truck as he passed me later (914054). All I know is that the person behind the wheel made a decision that saved me. And for that, I am incredibly grateful.

What the frak is wrong with people?!?!

2007-04-26T07:51:00.000-05:00

I just heard the most ridiculous thing on the news. Last year, two guys got drunk, one drove, they got in an accident, and died. Here is the ridiculous part: the family of one of the guys (the passenger, not driver) is suing two restaurants/bars where the guys were drinking saying that someone at the restaurant should have stopped them from driving! I mean really. The restaurant is responsible? That is ridiculous. What are they supposed to do ...make you turn in your keys if you are drinking alcohol and only give them back if you pass a breathalyzer test? I say that the guys were the ones who did not use a designated driver. They did not call a taxi. the passenger chose to get in a car with someone who had been drinking. A bad decision, but still his decision to make. What the frak is wrong with people?!?!

SNOW!

2007-03-16T13:19:00.000-05:00

I love snow. Everything all white and fluffy. I swear that Lorelai Gilmore and I have the same love of the snow. The first snow. The smell in the air right before the snow comes. That slight "brrr" from the chilly air. I love watching my cats try and chase the flakes through the window. I still don't understand people who choose to live in snowy places, but don't like the snow. Move already and stop your whining. Enjoy how pretty everything looks. All those leafless twigs sticking up from the ground have a new life covered in snow. Its like art. Even better when it turns to ice on the branches (well, not the damage it can cause, but how pretty it looks). I am happy when it snows.

Life and what to make of it

2007-03-03T14:37:00.000-05:00

So, this life thing goes on and on. I keep thinking about what I am doing, how I am living my life, and how I want to be living my life. The worst part for me is that I feel like I am in a constant state of waiting. Waiting to figure out who I want to be. Waiting to figure out what kind of career I really want to have. Waiting to be able to afford a home that I would really love to live in. Waiting to be who I am supposed to be. As of right now, at age 29, I am still not quite sure who I am.

One of the most painful, yet numbing feelings, is not knowing who you are and what you are passionate about. After years of not figuring out what I liked because I was so worried about being judged for my opinions, I never felt brave enought to form my own feelings about things. Now, as I try and figure out what it is I do love, I feel like I am lost in the woods without a compass or a guide. I feel no sense of direction. What steps do I take to find my passion? Or is the real truth that there is no passion inside of me to tap into? I have always thought that everyone has something that they love, that they dream of doing.

How do you find your passion? How will I find mine?

I feel brave.

2006-11-09T10:38:00.000-05:00

Those who know me may know of my fear of having blood drawn. It is incredibly difficult to communicate how truly traumatic this experience is for me. From the moment I hear I have to have blood drawn, I begin having palpitations, little mini-anxiety attacks that make my head swoon and my shoulders hug in to each other to protect myself from the fear. The actual moments leading up to the blood draw only increase my anxiety. I am a rational person. I know I will not die from a blood draw. It does not matter. I cannot control the reaction my body goes through once the process starts.

Arriving at the lab, I must always convince the phlebotomist that I am not overreacting, kidding, or being over-demanding. If I have someone with me (which I always try and do), I explain how they need to come in with me. Then the rest of my needs: I need to lie down; I need them to not tell me anything about what they are doing; I need them to put the blood out of my line of vision; I need them to try not to judge my ridiculous rambling attempts to distract myself with endless chatter; and oh yeah, if there is no one there with me, can you please just keep me talking about anything other that what is happening? Once I get past all of this, it just starts to get worse.

I not only hate blood draws, but on top of it, I have small, hard-to-find veins that every phlebotomist struggles to find. There is nothing so comforting as knowing that the person who is going to stick the needle in you can't find the place to stick said needle. They put the tourniquet on one arm, tappity-tap-tap, then the other, tappity-tap, then back again. Finally they say something calming like, "Well, we'll just try this one". They have no idea that they truly only have one chance to stick me, cause if they miss, they will never be allowed near me again.

At this point, my breathing is becoming shallow, I am talking my head off, and I feel the swabs and the poking, knowing that the needle is coming. And that is when it all goes to hell. Moments after I feel that little prick in my arm, it is like my life-force is being sucked from me. My head is full of tingling cotton balls. A deafening silence takes over my hearing, then the distant ringing sounds. I am cold, clammy, hot, and feverish. My face is now white, devoid of all color and feeling. And then I feel it coming; this approaching swirling blackness. I can't do anything to stop it. I am screaming inside my head for them to hurry up and stop. I panic. I try and not panic. It doesn't work. Just as I approach the abyss, I hear the only words that can start to bring me back: "Okay. All done. Do you need some juice?"

Believe it or not, it takes me longer to recover than it does for them to draw the blood. Ten minutes lying there. Drinking bad juice that is like licking the frozen concentrate straight from the freezer. Testing whether or not I can sit up without the woozies coming back. Eventually, I began to feel some semblance of my normal self again. And I can get up and walk out without falling flat on my face. I am still creeped out every time I notice the bandage and remember. It will linger and haunt me for the rest of the day.

Today, I had to have blood drawn. My doctor said I had to leave from her office and go get it done. I didn't have anyone to go with me for comfort and distraction. The amount of willpower it took to even get off the highway exit was astounding. I was talking myself out of it and back into it every other minute. Pulling into the driveway, I felt my heart start racing. Getting out of the car, my limbs felt like weights trying to keep me from moving. At the registration window, I was praying for the lab to be closed. It wasn't. I went in. I had my blood drawn. All by myself. I almost passed out, but I did it. And ten minutes later, I got up and walked out. I was truly proud of myself (and still creeped out).

I felt very brave.

Welcome to my blog-type world.

2006-11-08T13:48:00.000-05:00

This is what I call breaking the ice. I am making my first blog post with virtually no depth, no controversy, no humor, and very little thought. Instead, it is my way of getting past any anxiousness about putting my words out there for others to read and comment on. My ego is fragile and only protected by a very thin shield of false bravado, so be gentle, kind readers.

Be back soon with something real to say.

K