Cranky Post

I'll start off by being honest: I am not a huge fan of Halloween.

I never really was. As a kid, I did not do the whole costume and trick-or-treat thing till I was about maybe four, when I was in preschool and lived on a block full of kids. And I don't think my mother ever took me trick-or-treating. She might have, but I do not remember it. Other kids moms took me trick-or-treating, or as I got older, I just went with a group. I do not honestly remember having fun. I mostly remember I never was something I deemed "cool" for Halloween. The last time I had an actual costume, I was Kirsten the American Girl Doll. It was an elaborate costume my mother made and I do not honestly think I appreciated it too much. I never did. But I was always cute. Everyone always told me I was cute. Well, except the year I was Bonny from Bonny and Clyde. No one knew who I was that year. That was the first year my mother did not sew me a costume, as she spent most of her time on my brother's and neither of us knew what to do with me. After the fifth grade Kirsten costume, I never had another costume made for me. I never bought one or made one. In sixth grade, I did not dress up and everyone thought I was strange. So I came home and spray painted my hair pink.

The last time I went trick-or-treating was in sixth grade. I only went because a girl in my class showed up at my door by herself and said, "Hey! Come with me!"

My mother (who believed that I was too old to trick-or-treat) actually pushed me out the door.

And that was the last time I went trick-or-treating. I spent most Halloweens hiding in the family room or my bedroom, as kids from my school hit up our block because it was the place to trick-or-treat. In high school, I started answering the door again and my senior year, I did put candy in pillow cases of people in classes with me, but they failed to realize who I was. Except one guy, who always seemed to know who I was, even when I was hiding.

Then I went to college and dressed up only one time. I was Buffy. I had a white dress and a leather jacket and clunky knee high boots. I also had blonde hair and a lot of cross necklaces. So, because I never had the guts to wear that sort of outfit on a daily basis, I wore it for Halloween and said I was Buffy. After that, I never dressed up again. I would wear orange or black, but I never dressed up as someone. My senior year of college, I was going to dress up as Rory Gilmore, but the plaid school girl skirt I had, was WAY too short, so I just wore a brown skirt and a orange sweater. I think I told my friends I was college Rory, but I was dressed in an outfit I would have worn on any day.

Since I got married, I have never been in a place that get trick-or-treaters (or been home). The first time, we were on our honeymoon on Halloween. The second time, we lived in the Dirt Hole and no one rang our bell before we walked down the empty street to our friends out, where she got maybe three people while we were there. Last year, I was in the middle of nowhere OK and missed Halloween at home. Basil Bea was locked away in a room upstairs, but still barked and wined. This year, I cannot find out ANYWHERE what time tirck-or-treating is. It is not listed anywhere online. None of the news stations have it anywhere on their web sites. It is a secret.

I don't have any candy. I have no idea what time the events are, so why would I have candy? (It was one of those things where I got mad and thus decided I wasn't going to take part.) Plus, Basil hates doorbells. Then, I'm not that crazy about Halloween myself. I do not care if other people take part, but just don't make me. I'm like the Scrooge of Halloween.

A Soap Box Kind of Post

I think everyone has body issues. Its a fact of life. When I was a twig, I had body issues. I thought I had a tummy, my legs were fat, and my arms were saggy. I was 16 and thought I had fat legs since I was 10. Or younger. I cannot remember a times when I did not think my legs were fat.

My legs were never fat. Never. I was never fat. I just thought/think I am. Because I am surrounded by images of skinny people and in my warped head I think everyone looks better than me. I am not a size negative zero. And I never will be a size zero. Why? Well, for one, it wasn't healthy when I was a size zero (which confused me because size zero people don't have fat legs and tummy fat....)My doctor kept telling me I needed to eat more to put on more weight. I ate. I just never gained any weight because of the stress I was under. Since I stopped being stressed out on life, I've gained a ton of weight and am at a healthy weight level, which I am trying to maintain, but its hard because of my warped head and body image. I want to be that smaller size because that is what society tells me I should be. I should be skinny and have very long blonde hair.

I don't want to have blonde hair again. It did not work for me. And being skinny did not really work for me either, as after I began gaining some weight people told me A LOT that I looked SO MUCH BETTER.

"You no longer look like you might break," someone told me.
"Hey! You have curves!"
"You look good, what did you do?"

I gained fifteen pounds. I gained fifteen pounds and people suddenly started telling me I looked good. Go figure.

I don't think most people are fat. And if they are, it doesn't bother me because that is just how they are built. What matters to me is how they behave and treat me. I don't want to be treated like crap. I also don't really care what other people look like around me for the most part. I mean, I kinda get upset when people's clothes don't match....or they wear PJs in public all the time. (One or twice is okay, or if you're just running to the store, but when plaid PJ pants are your staple pant, I have issues, I'm sorry. Its just me. I'll still hang out with you, but I might tell you to buy some fleece pants or some solid colored warm up pants.) But other than the matching and plaid pjs buttons, I don't give a crap. I mostly care about myself because I am kind of self centered like that. If I look good in my head, then I don't care about much else going on around me.

I like seeing people of different weights on TV. It makes me happy to see non-skinny people on TV. I keep forgetting to watch "Mike & Molly," but I did stumble across this article that mentions the show.

I have never seen the show, but by the time I finished reading the article, my ears were burning. (They are burning right now as I type this...so I guess I am still mad.) For the life of me, I cannot think why Marie Claire would POST THIS. It is completely intensive and, well, gross.

Twitter is abuzz with information on the matter. Which was how I found out about it. I swear to god I saw the article in my google news feed and just ignored it because I thought the title of the article was...gross.

However, here is a good response that kind of sums up why I was so pissed off when I did finally read it this morning. It also helped me process my head to why my ears burned. When I get mad, I can't think straight so all I could think of was a string of curse words and well, I mostly thought this: (#&(@#&(#*$&(#$&((*@#(&@(#$&(#$^(*. I am serious, that was in my head.

Blarg. I hate society sometimes. The masses are sometimes kind of stupid. If we all looked the same, life would be a total bore. Being all sorts of sizes and colors allows us to be unique. I just wish the media/Hollywood/fashion would get that.

Best Dressed Hermit

For about an hour today I felt rather worthless and jealous. Why?

I don't hang out with people. I don't really have anyone to hang out with, if I am honest. I know people here in Alaska. I know a few, but the key word is KNOW. These people are not ones I feel comfortable texting/calling/emailing/contacting in any way. If they contact me that is find and dandy. I might go somewhere with them.

Or not. Depends on my mood and if my hair is done.

For an hour today, I felt like there was something wrong me me.

Then I took a shower.

I'm a hermit and have always been a borderline loner. (I say borderline because I get lonely sometimes and feel the need for human contact.)

I'm a really well dressed hermit too. I am serious. I get dressed almost daily and I get "overdress." I have outfits I put together and I wear them. I put makeup on and sometimes I do not leave the house. This always confounded my mother, my getting dressed up to go nowhere (the makeup thing started since I began paying big bucks for makeup, figure I should use it.) I feel better when I am in an outfit, dressed up. There are a few times where I just wore bum clothes and had to be social in them. And it did not go well. One time that jumps to my mind is when my husband had his "solo" flight. He took the keys to both cars, so I figured I wasn't going. I took a shower, tossed on some junk clothing and let my hair air dry. Then, D called and PICKED ME UP and I had to stand around in my junk clothing with my crazy hair and no makeup. Least to say, I was totally embarrassed by the photo of me as I look squat and fat. I work hard to conceal the fact I am short legged and fat. That is why people do not think I am 1) short or 2) fat. (My husband thinks I am sort, but that's because he's almost a foot faller than me, or so it seems when he puts things on the top shelf and I can't reach it.)

So, I get dressed daily. I do my hair. I put on makeup. And sometimes I don't leave the house. Because I don't like to leave the house. And if I do leave the house, 95.5% chance it is by myself. I shop by myself. I entertain myself. I cook for myself. (I lie. I can't cook.) Tragically, though, I have this crazy idea I need to be wild and crazy and popular. As a child I always wanted to be the popular girl, but I would never be popular due to the fact I was quiet and awkward. I learned in college I was awkward because I had no self esteem. As I learned more about myself, I realized I could be fine on my own and I actually kinda liked being on my own.

Well, kinda.

I like having my dog to talk to. As a kid I talked to my clothes. (I pretended they were people, so in my own head I had a lot of friends. Oh, and I had screwdrivers as friends too. Yeah, I didn't play with dolls, I played with screwdrivers.) I was on my own as a child often, as I remember a lot of the neighborhood kids parents worked, so they weren't around during the day. So I played myself and I could do this for hours. I entertained myself with my own imagination till high school when I had a demanding friend. I never had to entertain myself after that and after she was gone I realized I had no idea what to do with myself. I had to re-learn how to entertain myself. Luckily, I still know how to entertain myself since I decided to become a professional hermit.

What do I do on a daily basis?

I get up, let the dog out, feed the dog, feed me, watch TV, sew/craft/write, feed myself, feed the dog, be creative, play video games, text, text, text, talk on the phone, feed the dog, feed myself, write/post purses/blog/surf internet, shop, eat, chase the dog and then go to sleep.

I find putting on makeup entertaining and creative by the way.

I'm a well dressed loner hermit who wants to be popular but has no desire to try.

Interesting huh?

Advetures with Brother Unit

Yesterday, the Brother Unit and I drove up to Wasilla. I have yet to venture over there, mostly because I was not sure what was there other than Sarah Palin.

There was not much there that was not in Anchorage. Well, other than really nice houses in the various neighborhoods we drove through while trying to get back on the main roads. Downtown was...well, almost non existent. It was really a small town. We drove around the lake Palin lives on and went to a park across from her house. (We weren't sure we were at her lake till we got home and Brother Unit looked it up.) The park we were at was the highlight of the trip, as it was a very nice park and I wouldn't mind heading back there when I was more properly dressed. Brother Unit and I only stayed at the park for a little while before running back to the car because it was rather...brisk outside. I was wearing a thing sweater and a trench coat. Brother Unit forgot his hat. As did Ireland Unit.

We then ate at McDonalds, the same one Pilot Boy told us to eat breakfast at because all the workers knew Sarah Palin. "They all know her. You should go there." No one was talking about Sarah when we were in there.

We then drove to downtown Anchorage and walked around downtown. I actually went to a gift shop. I have yet to be to an Alaskan gift shop aimed at tourists, but we went and it wasn't totally tacky. Plus, downtown was as brisk as Wasilla, so my ears hurt. Later, since it was so brilliantly sunny, we tried to Seward Scenic drive again to see if Brother Unit could see Denali from the car. He could. After that, we got Basil Bea and went to Earthquake park to watch the planes land and take off. (Exciting, I know, but we like this sort of thing, even though you'd think we'd be immune growing up near O'Hare...)

Today, we did not do too much, mostly because I sliced my foot open the day Brother Unit arrived and the past three days did a number on my foot. I blame Pilot Boy. Neither of us can really remember what we did before yesterday....we tried to do the Scenic Drive, but the clouds rolled in so you could not see Denali, but the other ones you could see. It was really windy too and I hate driving in general, so a lot of people passed me. And we went to Earthquake park twice. Both time with Basil Bea. She enjoys Earthquake park. We also went to the grocery store every single day Brother Unit's been here.

I am serious. We've been everyday, its like we think we're European.

My foot is throbbing so I think I'll go take my boots off and collapse till we start grilling steaks for dinner.

Dear GCI, I hate you

So, today, my brother came downstairs and informed me that GCI was moving to only capped plans and doing away with the unlimited plans. This upset me for various reasons, one being they never told me. I never got an email. I don't remember seeing anything in the bills they keep sending me even thought I signed up for paperless billing. So, basically, I hate them with a flaming passion. I can't even tell if they moved me to a capped plan and I can't get into my bill because the site doesn't work. I can't even log into see what useage I use because evidently the log in I use to pay my bill ISN'T WHAT YOU USE FOR THE MAIN WEBSITE. How lame is that. Even Time Warner wasn't that lame. So I tried to set up an account, but the website TIMED OUT. THIS IS SO LAME IT IS NOT EVEN FUNNY.

So, basically, what this boils down to is, I'm going to have to cancel Netflix. Why, you ask? Because I actually got Netflix to stream movies and TV shows. I didn't actually get it watch DVDs. Mostly because its kinda lame, as I only get one DVD at a time. But I thought, I can get unlimited downloads of what they offer online, this is worth the 8 bucks a month. On a daily basis, I usually watch around five or more TV episodes, and more if I am working. I watch less when Pilot Boy is home, but then we watch movies and stuff. Seeing I don't know what my cap it, but from what I've gathered tooling around Twitter and the Internet, I will no longer be able to stream what I usually do and NOT GO OVER this "new cap" they put me on. I have no idea what my usage is, and no way to figure it out because GCI is so lame. What will more than likely happen, is that I will cancel GCI, get a dish and slow ass internet and cancel Netflix. Dish is cheaper. Slow ass internet is cheaper. Netflix is only 8 bucks a month, but I won't be able to stream it in the least with slower internet. I mean, I have a pretty fast modem now and I still sometimes have issues with streaming stuff.

This was not a good way to start my day, so I strongly dislike you GCI. Before now you were the best internet/cable company I had dealt with, now, you suck.

Smelling April Fresh

My senior year of college, the fabric softener in my walk in closet decided it wanted to see if it could fly, so it took a leap. This leap, some five feet off the ground, informed the bottle of fabric softener that it could not fly, as it broke into a million little pieces and its guts went everywhere.

I was sitting at my desk, more than likely not working on anything important, when the bottle tried to fly. I heard something fall in the closet. I turned around and saw nothing, so I turned back around. However, in a few minutes, I began to smell fabric softener. Granted, my room was above the laundry room, but usually I did not smell laundry, dirty or clean. The only time my room smelled was during the weekends when the trash got out of control, then it smelled horrible. Other than that, it was the first time I had a smell free room.

I stood up and followed my nose to the walk in closet and discovered the floor was covered and soaked in fabric softener. The whole bottle had shattered (even thought it was plastic) and there was a whole bottle worth of frabic softener all over the carpet. It was a brand new bottle too. Brand new, shiny and broken.

I had no clue how to clean up the massive puddle of fabric softener. All I knew was it smelled REALLY strong and I was getting a headache. I think I used my towel to clean it up and then ran down to the laundry room with a pile of quarters and washed the towels and anything else I had used to clean it up. For months, though, there was a dark spot where the bottle had fallen. For months, the room totally reeked of fabric softener. You'd think after smelling the smell for months, I'd remember the sent. I do not. I have no clue. All I remember is that when Pilot Boy came to visit me the first time he commented how nice it smelled and when I moved out my dad asked me what had spilled on the floor.

Last Monday, I was doing laundry. Pilot Boy was home and I had been rather angry at him because he refuses to put his dirty clothes in the basket and thus I never know what is clean or dirty. I was doing the last load for the night and picked up the bottle of fabric softener to shake it. (Its the fancy stuff you have to shake for some reason.) I guess I had failed to put the cap on right because one aggressive shake and I was covered in pink goop. I had been talking and ceased, so Pilot Boy came to check it out. I was standing there, covered in pink goop. And of course, he laughed at me. I began laughing too, as it was totally my fault. My sweater was soaked in fabric softener, as was the shirt on under the sweater. I had it all over my face and in my hair. I went upstairs, washed my face, changed my clothes and cleaned up the mess that did not get all over him.

Throughout the night though, I kept getting wiffs of the fabric softener. It seemed to have seeped into my skin. I was worried I'd smell like fabric softener for weeks. I don't. Skin doesn't hold fabric softener like fabric does. In college, when the bottle fell in the closet, my clothes forever smelled like fabric softener. I no longer needed it to make them smell, because they just smelled like it. It over powered my perfume it was so strong. I have yet to see how my sweater fared after I washed it. I bet it'll forever smell like spiced whatever.

Back on the Mac Wagon

When I was born, there was an Apple computer in my house (or I think there was, there was one when I was a baby, I know that). I have always lived in a house with an Apple computer. I had no clue how to use a Windows computer till I was in high school. I only learned because my dad bought one in case he had to join the real world again and find a job. (He did not, but he did have to know how to use a Windows Machine.)

I went off to college without a computer. I don't remember why we all thought I did not need a computer, but for some unknown reason, we all thought I could just use the computer labs. Least to day, the first week I was there, most of the computer labs were closed and after they were open, it kind of sucked going to the computer lab and saving things to hard disks (yes, we still used disks back then). I began my campagin for a Mac. I told my dad I wanted an iPod.

Yes, I wanted an iPod. However, to me the iPod was the pod like Mac I had seen on the website. He wrote me back asking if I had meant the iMac. He sent along a picture. And I said, "Yeah, the pod one."

He was confused on why I did not want a laptop. I do not remember why I did not want a laptop either. I wanted the pod computer. So, for parents weekend, they appeared with the pod computer and I loved it dearly.

Then I went to Scotland. Pod (later named Milo) and I could not travel to Scotland as we traveled to Beloit. (Milo traveled in a clothes basket. I am serious. He traveled in a clothes basket surrounded by blankets and sheets and my robe. He traveled like that to St. Louis and then Del Rio. He traveled without the basket to Alaska, but was packed in with his blankets and sheets.) Naturally, i wanted a MacBook to take to Scotland. However, my father could not fathom paying for a MacBook that I'd use for two years and need a new one. Somehow, he talked me into getting a Dell computer with the promise of getting me a MacBook for graduation.

He claims not to remember that promise. Least to say, I did not get a MacBook for graduation. They gave me a car which they had all ready given me. They later gave me the same car after I got married. Yes, they gave me the same car three different times. Anyways, so the Dell Laptop remained me with till this past winter when, poor Jess got very old. I got him in 2003. He lived to 2009! It was much longer than anyone thought he would live, as he was always kind of...special. He went to Scotland and behaved (other than not wanting to import a McFly CD and then refusing to connect to the University internet...) but once he came home, he began to act funny. He basically acted like a moody teenager for the rest of his life. My dad rebuilt Jess a few times, added a new hardrive and memory at one point when Jess refused to run Photoshop (a new harddrive and memory was cheaper than a new laptop at the time.) I finally decided Jess had to go when he REFUSED to run Photoshop and I needed to run Ireland Scott Designs. I ended up having to use my brother's computer to edit my photos and build my banners. Jess, it became clear, was not up to the challenge of running anything in general. The weekend it took him three days to back himself, it was clear new computer was needed.

After much research and looking at laptops, I gave in and decided I'd just get another Windows laptop, as the kind I wanted in windows was 200 dollars cheaper than a MacBook. So I got Hewie the HP Laptop. He crashed and died six months ago and went off to HP Land to be fixed. He returned and I found out I am missing a ton of stuff I thought was backed up, but it vanished into the nether world. Major sad face.

Pilot Boy came with his laptop (Merv) and Merv kinda died around the same time Jess retired. Merv did not all out die, just refused to operate with a battery, thus he was usable to be a laptop. Merv was also super slow, so we got Pilot Boy a net book after he decided he really did not want an iPad. Pilot Boy then parted with his net book (Hubert) when the backpack Hubert was in was driven off without Pilot Boy in the state of Georgia. Now, because of Pilot Boy's job, he leaves a lot and needs a laptop when he leaves. So, we once again began looking for a new computer.

At some point, Pilot Boy decided he liked Macs and did not hate them. He decided we needed a Mac in our lives (even though he hates iTunes). From a price point, an iMac made more sense than another laptop, as in reality, we do not need two laptops. So, I told him he could take Hewie off with him flying all over the world (it'll be an exciting life for Hewie), and I'd keep the iMac with me here at home.

The only thing, I don't think this new version of the iMac will travel well in a clothes basket....

Up hill means up hill

My husband has this crazy idea that we should hike while we live here. His idea of a hike and my idea of a hike are two very different things. What is his idea: a walk up a mountain, the higher the better. What is my idea? The flatter the better.

If I am honest, I hate hiking. I'd rather just for for a walk.

Today, he wanted to get up early and go hiking and see the sun rise (he is insane.) Least to say when I got up at nine am (OMG I MISSED THE KICK OFF!), he thought I was getting up at two am. Least to say, we missed sun rise. However, an hour after we got up, we were out the door to go to this place to walk to a lake. He told me the following it: it was only a 700 foot rise and it was only five miles and it was an out and back.

We loaded Basil Bea in the car and I took my iPhone so I could keep track of Da Bears (who were playing, but we did not get the game, so I had to keep track of it via twitter). We drove down to the highway by the water and took a nice scenic drive.

I then, while we were in the car, glanced at the trail book we had and saw that the travel was marked at rocky and it claimed it took 7-8 hours to complete. So I yelled at him and he assured me we'd only do part of it.

So, we get to this train and it is right by this lovely waterfall and I think, "Oh this will be nice."

It was not nice. It was rock climbing. Except without the rocks. The trail was almost none existant in some areas and straight up in others. I was pretty sure by the first ten minutes we'd done the 700 feet Pilot Boy had claimed the trail rose. And it kept going.

What did not help the matters was that Basil Bea Dog seemed to be on drugs. I am serious. She was on crack or the dog version of cat nip. She was CRAZY. She was turbo puppy. She dragged me up. She then tried to kill Pilot Boy on the way down several times. Till we finally set her free and she went running wild all over the place sniffing everything and then running back and forth and it was like she really was on drugs. She was a drugged puppy and what really made it odd was the fact when we got home, we discovered she had not eaten her breakfast.

We ended up turning around after we climbed up this one part and the trail almost vanished and I almost killed myself. I did not realize the climb down was going to kill me more, though.

All in all I learned that I cannot trust my husband when picking out hiking trails. He doesn't read the book in the least. He didn't read it till we were enjoying Starbucks in a safe parking lot. He was like, "Did you read this?"

"No. I just glanced at it."

"It says the trail goes up to 1,000 feet or so and pretty much discribes it how it was," he said. "I didn't read it either."

"HOW DID YOU NOT READ IT?"

He just shrugged at me. I swear, sometimes he really does want me to just drop dead on one of these crazy hikes he keeps taking me on.

Jump on the Holiday rush

I started posting the holiday items. So, now I am ready for Christmas. Seriously, let it snow.

I am also almost done with my holiday shopping. I rule. I know.