Where's Mexico?

Hello... bet ya thought I fell overboard, huh? Crusing is awesome minus the sea sickness. Problem was, I wasn't sick at all. That patch of which was slapped on my neck to protect me, had me nearly puking. Once removed, the rocking became soothing, the putrified feeling dissapated. Now home, imaginary waves still slam me into walls, proving without a shawdow of a doubt... yes, I am a salty sea dog! And Mexico? A very small space of which was heavily guarded by military men with machine guns. Three ports of call visted by us were a pathtic representation of this country. I have still yet to see the countryside. Damn... What did I see? Woolworths. Dad was driven to be the first to get to it, hence his rights to be the leader were taken away. He did however barter his way into the most awesome pair of boater shorts, ever. Skinny white legs bared, marching humbly behind the rest of the family. Those fancy new bloomers wilting in the 107% heat. For gawds sake dad, keep your legs crossed.
Home now, we waddle our way to and fro with the extra ten pounds gained. Leo, Nisha, Ashly, and all the others whom catered to this family... my sincerest apologies.
Farkle

I Don't Call Myself

Robi, a coworker and friend confirmed for me that our age is playing catchup. Showing the shortcut from the store to my house, harrowing.
"Give me your phone number in case you lose me."
"Umm... let's see. I don't call myself.... its... uh... 400-400-4000."
Her pause was suspicious, leading me to a test call. "This phone has not been set up for voice messaging yet." What? Her phones on, I see it glowing.
"Robi, are you sure that's the right number?"
Yea... its 400-400-4000."
Trying again... nope... doesn't work.
"YOU SURE? Let me see your phone."
Uh wrong sista... it's, 400-009-1000. Gawd....
Moving from the parking lot, (twenty minutes later) I continue calling, pointing out landmarks. (We need this as we get older) We conquer the five miles without incident, but still I hesitate.

Note to myself; Leave Robi the GPS.
Farkle

Ha... I'm Still Alive

Flying out Saturday leaving my "Land of obsessions" behind. Of course this will have me twitter-pated and confused, leaving but one word to describe me. Freeeak! My biggest dilemma will be finding flip flops that can be worn with an evening gown by Saturday. Oh... and those new tidy white-ees that don't show pantie lines. Ace on the other hand is packed and raring to go. New tennies resting on suitcase. (The planner and the nester clash) I, on the other hand have my groddy's tossed in the closet somewhere, yet to be found. My philosophy? Forgotten just means boughten later. (is that word?)
Timing my Kombucha making so cat babysitter isn't staring at slimy floaty things has not been easy. Once again... it's hard to be me.
Farkle

Another Obsession... Great...

Oh no... I'm addicted to "Farm Ville." Help me...
Farkle

Ego Feeds Our Fears

So the cruise is like... uh... I don't know... 10 days away? Ace is the walking calculator, not I.  Excited yes, (duh)  but that doesn't alleviate the worries for my cats. Pets? No... family. Knowing fare well that they are as attached to me and my routines, as I to theirs. Creatures of habit, both they and I. Leaving us both well trained in the area of needs. They suck up to me like none other, affectionately doling out lovings as if I'm the Goddess of the jungle. That is... till they get what they want. (food) The I can't live without you routines, flopping on the floor... screaming for belly rubs and chin-ny scratches while others aren't even afforded a glance. This of course makes me super human special and that in turn makes worry. Ludicrous to some... but very real and gut wrenching to me.
My parental figures are just as neurotic. (where'd you think the problem came from?) The dog... the baby... the one with super intellect and a very catchy name of Zena, the princess warrior. (Spelling certain words is mandated around her)
Heaving sigh; Lets face it... so long as they're fed and bulging over indulged buda bellies get some scratches... we probably won't even be missed. Freeeeeaks...
Farkle

FHA Accepted Us!

We passed our inspection leaving the formality's of rewriting the new loan to get under way. Yay! Our appraisal was about where I had the numbers crunched at, shy 5000 bucks. Buying the house at 119,000 at the end of 1999, it's value increasing to $215,000. Our new interest rate of 4.5 has my doing the yippee skip-pee. (it was 5.87)
Where have I been the last of couple days? Fighting Ace for the computer. My "Face book" farm has been hijacked by my now obsessed husband. Staring at the computer for hours waiting for his crop to grow. (it's mine... damn it!)
Two more weeks and we set sail for the Mexican Riviera. To bad my flip flops of assorted colors and styles, bought for the trip look like my garden tools. Barefoot in my formal will be a trend-setter for sure...
Farkle

Killing Me Slowly

Here's the story. Typed a sentence, one sentence... and it made absolutely no sense. If it makes no sense to me... it's worthless for my cyberspace journal. So tired today was I, sugar and caffeine were useless. Attempts to function as a living, breathing entity had me guzzling Pepsi and coffee like a long haul trucker from Texas.
Schedules were made for a reason, logic isn't part of it. Today sucked.
Farkle