Slice of Lime-Blue Moon

It's been a long while since I did a musical Slice of Lime but since tonight's New Year's Eve happens to coincide with a blue moon it just seemed to beg for it. The pictures aren't new since I've been busy being a slug this week and because I have yet to getting around to making my camera and computer play nicely together...blah blah blah, et cetera...on with the music. Just enjoy some Chris Isaak and have a safe and Happy New Year.

Blue Moon

You saw me standing alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
Blue Moon
You know just what I was there for
You heard me saying a prayer for
Someone I really could care for
And then there suddenly appeared before me
The only one my arms will hold
I heard somebody whisper please adore me
And when I looked to the Moon it turned to gold
Blue Moon
Now I'm no longer alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
And then there suddenly appeared before me
The only one my arms will ever hold
I heard somebody whisper please adore me
And when I looked the Moon had turned to gold
Blue moon
Now I'm no longer alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
Blue moon
Now I'm no longer alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own

Links to the Past

Back at Thanksgiving I mentioned how there has recently been a bit of resurgence of interest in family interest among my cousins. I have been fortunate enough to inherit the photo albums from both sets of my grandparents. Even so there have been family pictures I never saw before. One of my cousins shared a few she had with my mom who later scanned them to give me copies. One more reason to love technology when it works right. So today I thought I'd share a few of my favorite new findings either because of the picture itself or because of what I learned in the process.

First, allow me to introduce you to my great-great grandfather, Howard. I had never seen a picture of him before. He was a house painter and wall paper hanger. If you recall I have a tremendous aversion to wall paper and have even cursed its inventors. That said, I understand there was a time before latex paint was available when people wanted to be able to change or brighten their decor and wall paper permitted for that far better than oil based paints. Howard sure looks like a serious fellow but I know the family value regarding doing a job well or not doing it at all. I'm sure he was a darned fine paper hanger and painter.

Howard had three sons. I was aware the older two went to work after high school so their younger brother could attend university. What I didn't know was they went to work with their father and carried on the business of painting and paper hanging. The fellow on the left is my great grandfather, John Russel. I have to say this picture makes me grin ear to ear because of the real smiles on their faces. Although I was always taught to do whatever work I had to do as well as I possibly could the family always valued having a bit of fun in the process. I can just imagine these two brothers pranking each other during various jobs and I love the hints of impishness in their eyes. When I found out they had been painters I mentioned to my mom that some of the proud comments the older generation made to me when I spent a summer working as a painter made more sense to me now. I'd like to think great grandpa would be pleased that I know how to cut in a proper line (and take pride in doing so) when I paint a wall.

Here is my great grandmother about whom I have written before. Those memories were of her as an old woman though. It was special to see her as a girl and I really liked that she was smiling in a picture from an era where that was not usually the case. I just thought it made the picture especially charming and lovely. It gave a face to the stories from her own childhood I used to enjoy hearing her tell.

One of the other very few pictures of my great grandmother as a young woman was this one from her wedding day. I tend to remember her as a smiling woman with a good sense of humor but she looks rather serious in this photo. Her body language and the look in her eye seem rather unlike how I think of her as well but perhaps it's just the formality of the particular setting since this was a professional portrait for a momentous day.

O Come...

Today I simply leave you with the two pieces of seasonal music which speak most deeply to my spirit. The first pleads for the coming of the long awaited Messiah; expresses an ancient longing and dreams of a future hope. Its haunting simplicity has gripped me from the first time I ever heard it. The second is what should be my appropriate response to the fulfillment of that promise, whether it came in a form I expected or not.

Merry Christmas. May all your nobler longings be fulfilled.

Oh, Come, Oh, Come Emmanuel
Translated: John Neal, 1818-66

Oh, come, oh, come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Oh, come, our Wisdom from on high,
Who ordered all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
and teach us in her ways to go.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Oh, come, oh, come, our Lord of might,
Who to your tribes on Sinai's height
In ancient times gave holy law,
In cloud and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Oh, come O Rod of Jesse's stem,
From ev'ry foe deliver them
That trust your mighty pow'r to save;
Bring them in vict'ry through the grave.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Oh, come, O Key of David, come,
And open wide our heav'nly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Oh, come, our Dayspring from on high,
And cheer us by your drawing nigh,
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Oh, come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Oh, bid our sad divisions cease,
And be yourself our King of Peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

O Come All Ye Faithful
Joyful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem.
Come and behold Him,
Born the King of Angels;
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

O Sing, choirs of angels,
Sing in exultation,
Sing all that hear in heaven God's holy word.
Give to our Father glory in the Highest;
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

All Hail! Lord, we greet Thee,
Born this happy morning,
O Jesus! for evermore be Thy name adored.
Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing;
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

Merry Christmas

Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome Christmas,
Come this way!

Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome Christmas,
Christmas Day.

Welcome, Welcome
Fah who rah-moose
Welcome, Welcome
Dah who dah-moose
Christmas day is in our grasp
So long as we have hands to clasp

Fah who for-aze!
Dah who for-aze!
Welcome Christmas
Bring your cheer
Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome all Who's
Far and near

Welcome Christmas, fah who rah-moose
Welcome Christmas, dah who dah-moose
Christmas day will always be
Just so long as we have we

Fah who for-aze
Dah who dor-aze
Welcome Christmas
Bring your light

Welcome Christmas
Fah who rah-moose!
Welcome Christmas
Dah who dah-moose!
Welcome Christmas
While we stand
Heart to heart
And hand in hand

Fah who for-aze
Dah who dor-aze
Welcome welcome
Christmas
Christmas
Day

And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! Maybe Christmas he thought doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more! And what happened then...?

Well...in Who-ville they say that the Grinch's small heart Grew three sizes that day! And the minute his heart didn't feel quite so tight, he whizzed with his load through the bright morning light. And he brought back the toys! And the food for the feast!
And he...HE HIMSELF...! The Grinch carved the roast beast!

~Dr. Seuss~

The Most Annoying Christmas Meme Ever

Ok, first one slight little issue with the authoress of this meme, who I am sure is a wonderful sovereign in her own realm. However, this *cough* self proclaimed Meme Queen *cough* hasn't visited this dominion where the Grand High Exalted Mystic Empress Lime reigns. I will give praise to her for generating some fun themes for memes and to Cooper for generating some absolutely hilarious responses to earlier memes, which drew my attention in the first place. For this week I propose an alliance between our respective monarchies in the interest of peace in Blogland and goodwill toward all.

Now, on with the meme...

1. What is the most annoying Christmas song?
Dominic the Italian Christmas Donkey. I am sure if it were played at Gitmo the entire civilized world would be far more outraged by our treatment of those prisoners.


2. Name one annoying thing that happens to you each time you get together with your family during the holidays.
Dad always wants to show the kiddies his flamethrower. Someone always goes home with their eyebrows burned off. The char marks on the cars are always a pain to clean off and the years when the gas tanks explode and half the neighborhood burns down....gees, just so freaking annoying.


3. What is eggnog? Think about it. Does anybody really know?
I'm fairly certain it's the nasal (beakal?) remnants of chickens and their handlers who have been struck by bird flu.


4. Don't take this personally but there are lots of fruitcakes walking around. Have you encountered any real live nuts lately?
You mean like this?



5. Why were the nine Lords a'leaping in those annoying tights???!
Probably because they hadn't put into practice the advice in the above video and their Christmas balls were painfully constricted.

6. What is the most annoying Christmas gift you've ever received?
Floam. And really, with a name like that it sounds like some sort of post holiday affliction of the mucous membranes as a result of excessive partaking of egg nog (and remember what I've already concluded THAT to be). If this were the case it might not be so annoying because a course of antibiotics might rid you of it. No chance with actual "as seen on TV" Floam. That crap hardens into a foul smelling, furniture staining substance about as easily removed as concrete. It's evil stuff. Any uncle who bestows it upon his niece (thus cursing her parents) ought to be force fed the nasal secretions of a thousand infected hens and their handlers...through a snot bong.

What did you do with it??
I disposed of it while wearing a Hazmat suit and plotting my revenge. Gak proved to be a suitable weapon for counter attack several years later.

7. Let's admit it: Christmas, with all its splendor and goodwill, can also be a pain in the royal patootie. How do you plan to circumvent annoyances this year and enjoy the season?
Well, I've already considered burrowing into the ground next to Punxsutawny Phil and refusing to emerge until Groundhog Day but those accommodations may be rather cold and somewhat less than comfortable. Additionally, Cooper already stole my alternate answer of being catatonic so....

How about a beach front bungalow on Maui?

Mele Kalikimaka indeed!

'Twas 3 Days before Christmas...

...and all through the house

several creatures were stirring

including a mouse!


However, I am less than thrilled to have had Diana barge into the bedroom at 2:30am and shake her father awake to ask, "Dad, do you mind that there is a mouse running through the dining room?" This results in her father bolting out of the bed, turning on many lights and a loud chase ensuing. I tend to be of the opinion that if the mouse is there at 2:30 am it will still be IN the house 12 hours later during the daylight when I can set a trap and not disturb the precious sleep of my bed partner or other residents of the house.

It led me to specify the "emergency" situations under which I desire to be roused from slumber.

They include the following:

1. The house is on fire.

2. The house is flooding.

3. Part of the house has suddenly gone missing.

4. Someone (a human, not a mouse) who does not belong in the house is attempting entry without express permission. (This rule is suspended for Hugh Jackman, especially if he is wearing a coating of chocolate.)

5. Someone who lives in the house is:
a. Bleeding profusely or notices a body part has suddenly gone missing (baby teeth excluded)
b. Not breathing
c. On fire
d. Leading Hugh Jackman to me.

What would your terms and conditions be?

All I Want For Christmas

Santa's elves have gone on strike so wish lists are getting mangled left and right. Here's how it goes. One person makes a wish and the next commenter grants it with a terrible twist then lists his own wish. For example...


Lime says...
All I want for Christmas is a new computer.

Suldog says...
Granted. Dollar Bill just bought out a warehouse of Commodore 64s. I got you one for $1.98! All I want for Christmas is for all my female readers to send naked pictures to me in their Christmas cards.

Ananda girl says...
Granted but all your female readers weigh 700 lbs and are covered in horrible skin rashes. All I want for Christmas are the complete recordings of Pink Floyd.

Cooper says...
Granted but they are all on scratched 45s and you only have a Fisher-Price turntable to play them. All I want for Christmas is...


Got it? Good! Now let's hear those wishes and see them granted.

Da Count-Because I Really Need To

I'm still in a crap mood. Sorry. The two day migraine this week didn't help. I could go on but I won't. I tormented you all with my foul mood yesterday and to your credit you responded kindly. Thank you. This week I need to do Da Count as a matter of discipline, not to muster up holiday cheer that doesn't exist but just so I can get out of this funk and not drag everyone else into the vortex with me. So it's just going to be a list of stuff I can be grateful for.

1. All of you. That the comments left yesterday were kind and encouraging.
2. Flannel sheets and thick blankets to keep me warm.
3. Enough migraine meds to keep me from self-harm.
4. My kids are healthy.
5. I had enough money to get winter coats for 2 kids who had outgrown theirs.
6. Last weekend Mr. Lime and 2 limelets did some of the decorating.
7. A box of chocolates.
8. Finding a cheaper way to meet my continuing ed. requirements to maintain my teaching certificate (Got notification I need to get 60 hours in my June and thought it would run me about $600. I think I might be able to do it for half that now.)
9. I have a job. (I hate it. It increases my stress exponentially. I have fundamental disagreement with certain underlying principles related to it...but I have a job when so many don't.)
10. The patients who come into the practice. I like most of them, even the two totally grouchy guys who come in scowling (the parents who come in with screaming kids and let them grab fistfuls of lollipops while they demolish the waiting room, not so much). It's become a game to get the grouchy guys to crack a smile.
11. As one friend noted...I haven't killed anyone. This is always a good thing.
12. Another friend who made this grouchy girl laugh in spite of her attempts to wallow in misery. Being willing to stick around and bring out a better side of me when I am behaving in such an unlovable fashion...well, that's really something I don't take for granted.
13. That I have friends.
14. Clean, warm socks.
15. A hot shower.
16. A recent unexpected conversation with my mom.
17. A bowl of grape nuts, blueberries, and milk with a lil dab of raw honey all heated up in the microwave so it's warm in belly.

On that note it's time for some warm grape nuts.

Thank you all for bearing with me lately. Allow me to share a video that made me smile too. Thanks, Dragonfly!

Happy Whatever

Yeah, it's like that. Sorry to be a scrooge. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. I'm trying to muster up some sort of holiday cheer and I'm really not succeeding. Every time I think I am getting somewhere I have a few more curve balls thrown and me and it takes me back to square one.

The tree has been up for over a week and a half. It stood completely naked in the middle of the living room for a whole week. I've slowly been putting things on it and there are boxes of decorations sitting around. I think I don't care enough to put any more on the tree.

I have not sent out any cards. In my mind the list of people I'm willing to commit to card-wise is shrinking. If they are lucky they will get one by Valentine's Day at this point.

I have done no baking even though I have my totally rocking Kitchen-Aid mixer to help me this year. Usually, I do between 50 and 100 dozen cookies so I have a bunch to give away. I'm thinking this year I will make the standard baked gifts for my parents, stepparents, and brother. The rest of the world can be on a diet.

I have yet to finish getting the gifts necessary to be mailed to the southern portion of the clan. So obviously the mailing thing hasn't happened either.

I am trying to slowly whittle away at this stuff and making bits of progress. Then yesterday the pellet stove decided not to work, the pellet stove which is merely one year old. I fiddled with it. Mr. Lime fiddled with it. Neither of us had any degree of success in making it work. Mr. Lime called the folks who installed it. They told us to expect a repairman in 4 weeks. FOUR WEEKS. Four.Cold. Weeks. Well, Merry Friggin Christmas to you too and thanks for your outstanding customer service.

Right now my holiday spirit consists of burrowing into the ground, giving Punxatawny Phil a shove so I have some room, and taking a nap until Feb. 2.

It's Beginning to Look a Bit Disturbing

Christmas gets weirder and weirder every year. I was in a bookstore the other day and I found this Charlie Brown Christmas kit. Is it me or does the very notion of this run contrary to the whole point of that particular Christmas special?

I've you've ever visited the Cake Wrecks site you've seen some truly horrific excuses for professionally decorated cakes. This week I found examples in my own town. All three of these were from the same bakery. I warn you, this is not for the weak of heart...or stomach.

Rudolph the Moldy Moustached Icing Blob anyone? No takers? No wonder. Even the cake looks revolted by itself.

How about this charming cake?
You're a foul one, Mr. Wreck.
You're a nasty wasty cake.
You're as pretty as some roadkill, you're as yummy as it too.
You're a slimy icky pile of green and red poo.

Lest we think the wrecks are limited to full-sized cake allow me to present some disastrous donuts. I'm not sure what is more upsetting, the snow white faces, the leaves for noses, the oddly swirly "hair," or the skewed smiles indicating a general sense of nausea.

Ok, I have poked fun at the bizarre ideas others have made available for Christmas, it's time to turn the tables on myself. Our office had the staff Christmas party this week. I presented this cushy handmade pillow to one of my coworkers who is known for laying her head on the ample bosom of another coworker and remarking on how comfortable a place it is to rest her head. I figure now she has a set of hooters to lay on any time she needs it.

Yes, I really made this and really gave it as a gift to a coworker in a place where I've only been working for about 3 months. I am just that twisted. Apparently, my coworkers are equally twisted. They thought it was fantastic.

Yeah, yeah, next you'll find the pillow on Regretsy.com. Just remember I've done an annual skewering of Etsy crafts just in time for various holidays for the past couple of years.

Here's my evidence.
Last minute Valentine gifts
Weird Gifts
Creativity Gone Awry

The Scarf

There once was a twelve year old girl who was required to find an activity club in Junior High school. She had some rather specific criteria about what sorts of activities she would join. She had zero interest in anything sports related because she had already demonstrated a decided lack of skill in that area. She didn't really want to join any of the clubs the popular girls joined either because they weren't particularly nice to her.

The girl looked through the list and her eyes fell on the knitting club. Her interest was piqued. Her grandmother could knit and crochet. Her mother could knit. Over her life the girl had enjoyed lots of different items her mother and grandmother had each knit for her. She thought it would be nice to be able to make her own items too. She asked her mother for the required materials to take to school and was presented with a skein of red yarn and a set of blue needles.

On the first day of the club the instructor patiently showed the girls how to cast on, how to do a simple knit stitch, and how to add yarn when a skein ran out. Everyone got to work. Some took to it quickly and others needed more help but everyone was encouraged and soon producing several rows of stitches. The girl enjoyed watching her rows add up and spread across her lap as the rippled and ridged surface of the red scarf she was knitting grew.

After a few weeks the scarf was several feet long and ready to be finished. The instructor showed the girl how to cast off and add fringe. The girl noted she had a big mistake in the middle of the scarf. The instructor said it was only a small one and not anything that would make the scarf unravel. She said the girl should wear her new scarf proudly because she had made it herself.

The girl took the advice and brought the scarf home to show her mother and grandmother who both admired the finished product. It made the girl smile to herself every time she wore it because of what the instructor said and the praise her family gave her. She liked it much better than the store bought scarf she had. She wore it even when it wasn't cold.

Soon it would be Christmas and the girl wanted to give her brother something but she had no money. Even if she had money there wasn't really any place nearby which she could get to secretly to keep any shopping a surprise. She thought long and hard about what to give her brother and had no ideas. Then an early snow came. As her brother was getting all suited up to go play in the snow it became evident he had no scarf. The girl knew what she could give her brother. She had two scarves and he had none. She could give him the one she didn't use....except that one was kind of ratty. A ratty old scarf would not be a very nice present. That meant she'd be giving him the new red scarf she had made. For a minute she was a little disappointed about that but she brightened when she realized she knew how to knit so she could make herself another one after Christmas since there wasn't really time to do it before the holiday. She wrapped up the scarf, put her brother's name on it and put it under the tree. she felt good knowing she'd be giving him something he really needed and that she had made by herself.

On Christmas morning she and her brother had opened all the presents from their mother and then it was time for the girl to give her gifts. Her brother opened the box with the scarf in it and smiled as he wrapped it around his neck. Her mother welled up and wiped a tear away. The girl couldn't understand why her mother was crying but the hug from her mom with the comment, "Now that's the spirit of Christmas," soon explained it. The girl felt a warmth in her heart.

Many years later, the girl is a grown woman with three children of her own. She is struggling to get excited about the holidays because it all seems like more trouble than it's worth sometimes with expectations and demands placed upon her and less time than ever. She sits at her desk waiting for the next set of demands to be foisted upon her. A four year old boy bounds giggling into the waiting room of the office where the woman works. From around his neck a red scarf trails with the telltale ripples and ridges of a hand knit texture.

I smile, I remember, I feel the spirit of a Christmas long past alight on a weary soul.

Friday 55 & Da Count-Update and Growing Up

The picture above is from one of the other 55ers, Clean and Crazy, who asked the rest of us to post it today.

UPDATE IN 55

Thanks to all who sent prayers, positive thoughts, or encouragement to Gman yesterday. the surgeons gave him a reprieve since he is responding to antibiotics. He will have surgery in a few weeks but he'll be more mentally prepared for it, will feel stronger, and it WON'T be on his birthday.

Good news all around!

DA COUNT

Diana also has a birthday this week. This strong-willed child of mine will be another year older and is soon to finish her first semester of college.

About a month ago already Diana did her Christmas shopping. She called me one day very excited to report what she had chosen for everyone. I was impressed at the thoughtfulness, creativity, and bargain hunting she had displayed. Her excitement brought back memories of my first Christmas in college and how delighted I was to be able to give gifts I had chosen and paid for by myself.

She also asked for help with an idea for my brother. He has been published in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine twice and recently sold them a third story, which is a count all by itself. I suggested since Diana enjoys writing poetry she ought to share some of her work with him. She was unnerved by the idea because she very much looks up to him in a literary manner and was afraid he'd find her efforts sophomoric at best. I assured her he'd be honored to receive such a gift and reminded her he knows what rejection letters feel like and would be gentle with her, though she really wouldn't need charity, she agreed and asked me to help polish one of her pieces for him.

I'm not sure she realizes what a gift it was that she'd also trust me to help her go through that process. In the past, when she asked me to edit papers for school, it was not always a pleasant exchange of ideas. This was a sweet give and take as we worked together on a gift for my brother. As you know from an earlier post, I don't take for granted that he's even a part of my life.

Earlier this week, Diana and I exchanged a series of text messages wherein she made one final request for Christmas. She told me her dad and I are not to get her any presents because our gift to her is sending her to college. Excuse me, I seem to have a lump in my throat.

So this week I am counting a daughter who is not only having a birthday this week and thus advancing chronologically, but a daughter who is really growing up in some lovely ways.

Slice of Lime-Favor for a Friend

A little over 2 years ago I had the pleasure of meeting Gman, Signgurl, and Roximoon during a long layover in Detroit's Metro airport. Signgurl made a bunch of goodies to eat and all three of them drove out to share lunch with me. I was touched by the way they all came out of their way for my sake. (If he looks like he's blushing that would be because Signgurl and I goosed him in stereo when the picture was snapped.)

Today I'm going to ask you to go just a little out of your way to leave a note of cheer for Gman, who is having surgery today. As if it isn't bad enough to go into the doctor's office and be told you need a surgical goosing (so to speak) ASAP, Gman is having this today, on his 60th birthday. I'm pretty certain it's bound to be far less amusing than what occurred in the airport. I'd be grateful to those of you who take a minute to give him best wishes today and say a prayer, send some good thoughts, or some positive mojo.

Happy Birthday, my friend, and my best wishes for a speedy recovery.

This is my brain.

This is my brain after yesterday.

Any questions?

I'll be back tomorrow, I hope.

Tormenting Myself by Applying Logic and Tormenting Others With...

From Friday through today I am completely consumed by work since I am covering a girl on vacation and we have even more activities going on at the office than usual. So, today just some random thoughts on life at the office....no great insights I admit.

• I don't think I will ever understand why the people who do not ever seem to discipline their children and who seemed completely annoyed by them continue to spawn. This is not an indictment of large families, I know several of those who have well-mannered children. I'm talking about the "parents" who come into the office screaming at their kids and making idle threats the kids know will never be followed through. The kids are terrors and try to run the place.


• Likewise, the coworkers who indulge this crap. Sorry, I don't take orders from preschoolers. I will not reward kids who run behind the desk and demand snacks by screaming and crying. Ask politely and we can do business. That goes if you are 3 or 83.


• If the boss doesn't eat sugar because it's bad for you why does she always have candy, cookies, danish, donuts for everyone else?


• How is it that the lady who is always making sure we see her most recently acquired piece of expensive jewelry is always short on money and can't swing her relatively small copay? Wait, I think that one just answered itself...


• I was told the boss will "love" me if I some in on days off, do extra work, and stay extra hours. I laughed before responded that earning her "love" was roughly #7,398,614 on my list of life goals, priorities, and motivations. (Never mind the entirely incongruous notion of "earning" love...) I do my job to the best of my ability, with integrity, and as efficiently as possible while being respectful to the boss, cooperative with coworkers, and welcoming to the patients. If that ain't satisfactory I'm not the one with the problem.


• Of course, I was given that pearl of wisdom after I was criticized for "doing the bare minimum of work to get by," which came after I had repeatedly asked to be trained in a few other procedures so I could help pick up slack when the other girls are running like crazy. I was told I wasn't allowed to perform those particular activities.

Finally, I've been asked to provide a brief bio for the office website. The bosses know not what they ask.

Michelle was raised by Albanian gypsies. She has a degree in early 19th century Cameroonian poetry and East Asian astrology. For a few years after graduating she worked to build a herd of alpacas to supply extras for movies and to harvest their wool to knit custom outfits for pygmy acrobats. Unfortunately the herd was struck by a rare form of highly contagious mange so her dream of miniature woolly circus performers was cut short. Since the sight of bald alpacas and naked pygmies was so devastating she spent a few years in seclusion at a Himalayan convent where the nuns centered their contemplation and worship on determining which Brussels Sprout would ascend to the position as the next incarnation of Head Cabbage. In a moment of great clarity she received the call to chiropractic assistantship and thereafter began her period of employ in the service of the Grand Mistress of Chiropractic Wisdom. In her spare time Michelle enjoys confusing cats, creating mosaics of Fruit Loops depicting B-list celebrities reenacting religious scenes, and translating the works of Leo Tolstoy into Klingon.

Slice of Lime-Goofy Galore

First of all thank you all for your hilarious suggestions for names of rock bands. My sides still hurt from laughing. Hilary, your names were funny, but your symptoms are not. I hope you're feeling better soon.

Some time ago Suldog posted 15 goofy pictures of himself. I still haven't gotten the motivation to attack my computer to make it play nice with my good camera but I have a wealth of goofy pictures to share so I am shamelessly stealing his idea. I realize all you have to do is amble through my archives to discover no lack of goofiness but today I present never before seen examples of goofiness over the course of a lifetime.

Here we see early clues to my future lack of fashion sense and wild hair as well as my inclination to making faces at the camera.

More terrifying wardrobe choices. True confessions here, that shirt was my favorite in all the world. I can remember Mom asking me to put my hand on my baby brother to keep him from rolling off the changing table while Mom answered the phone. He was undiapered and the little squirt had a big squirt all over my favorite shirt. I wanted to roll him onto the floor myself. As for the slipper socks, well they were comfy. The hat? It wasn't mine. It belonged to the boy in the picture. I thought he was totally groovy. I mean look at his pants! I figured stealing his hat and wearing it would show him how groovy I was. Ah the course of love never did run smoothly...



Alas, even when I made like Napoleon Dynamite and caught him a delicious bass I couldn't catch his heart. Ok, so it was a sunny, not a bass. I did give his hat back and found my own.




Here's my brother and me one Easter with our chocolate bunnies and....bananas? What, did the Easter Monkey come visit our house or what?

This is what happens when you tell me I am not smiling enough. This face will come back to haunt you in later years.

I have no explanation for this picture. None.

Here is a bit of foreshadowing of gruesome zipline accidents to come. I'm the one in the blue coat; the one SQUATTING with my FEET in the rings from which normal people would hang by their hands. It's only the most deluded soul who has ever referred to me as normal. Upon further thought I wish I were still that flexible. If I attempted such a maneuver today and managed not to end up with bones poking out of my skin I'd be requiring extensive chiropractic work to be able to straighten up.

File this under "what was anyone thinking here?" This could sprain my synapses if I consider it too long. Who painted my face? Why does it look like they used a banana as a paint brush? What on earth made me consent to my mother's request for a picture and WHY did she want a picture of a child so awkwardly straddling the division between little girl who played with Baby dolls and tween who worshipped Andy Gibb? I'm pretty sure it had to do with blackmail plans so she could survive my teen years. The only thing I can look fondly upon in this picture are the cellulite free legs...which, by the way, would be an good name for a rock band.

File this under "why younger brothers should never be given cameras." This is nearly the last picture on a roll of ambush shots worthy of paparazzi being paid for unflattering pictures of celebrities for the front of the grocery store magazines which also publish pictures of Hilary Clinton's love child with Bat Boy. In fact, this may be one of those instead of a shot of me, now that I think about it.

Next, we have Lime as a giant panic-stricken carrot during a children's theater production. It was a moment of great personal identity crisis. Am I a fruit? Am I a vegetable? And how the hell did the costumer expect me to walk with my ankles bound by a drawstring?

Continuing my flare for drama and neurosis (another good rock band name too!) here I am after having a scratch attended to by the camp nurse when I worked as a counselor. The bandaid at my neckline was the only one really needed but I think the nurse and I were trying to make a point about aggressive campers and hypochondriac coworkers.

In college I worked in a nursing home laundry. I sorted sheets, towels, and clothing soaked in all manner of excretion and secretion the human body could produce. I did so in a tiny room that reached over 100F every shift. I had to wear this vomitrocious pink uniform when I performed my duties. I came home bearing the unmistakable stench of human waste, industrial detergent, stale tobacco (from the break room that had smog like Los Angeles), and sweat. Someone decided this uniform needed to be captured on film. I am trying to smile even as I threaten to insert the hairbrush I'm holding into the least accessible orifice on the photographer.

So, that toothless grimace a couple picture back...I told you it would come back to haunt you. What happens when 30 cameras go off in different directions and someone tells me I am not smiling enough for their liking? This is the response they get wedding day or not. Either that or I was trying to poop out a cantaloupe. Oh what will Honeydew if we Cantaloupe?

Yes, folks, lest you think Mr. Lime is saner than I am I present this evidence to the contrary. Three of us doing our Monty Python Gumby pose, two of whom chose to marry and reproduce. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Yeah, here I am ready to spawn because when you've been on bed rest for nearly 5 weeks and your main form of entertainment has alternated between daytime TV and listening to your muscles atrophy the best pick me up is having your girth measured and the moment captured for all posterity. Oh and I was dressed ever so stylishly since I'd been laying on the couch at doctor's orders for weeks. I guess the ladies were lucky I had attended to hygiene that day. (In all truth I was completely surprised by the baby shower invasion. It was very lovely and thoughtful of all those ladies to bring the party to me since I wasn't allowed out. It was a good cheer up moment, but guess the girth? Yikes.)

Finally, I give you a shot demonstrating what happens when 2 former Gumbies procreate. This is our idea of a family moment in our Easter clothes.

The Game That's Sweeping the Nation

Ok, so I made that up but I am sure once you all join in here it will sweep through the minds of at least 50 people for maybe 10 seconds. It's a start. I've long enjoyed Dave Barry. His columns sort of seemed to work like my brain, which is to say, there was clear evidence of mental unbalance and defective wiring but in an amusing way (laugh dammit).

One of the quirks of his column I used to enjoy was when he'd come up with some odd phrase to describe something and parenthetically note how the phrase was not only apt in description but also a great name for a rock band. It's something I do on a regular basis myself much to the annoyance of some humorless folks but more for my own amusement.

Yesterday, at three different places, I read or left comments containing phrases suggesting great names for rock bands.

1. Dearth of Socks

2. Redbone Coonhound

3. Sprained Synapses

In the distant meme past I made some other suggestions:

4. Lime and the Shattered Ulnas (after I lost a battle with gravity)

5. Underwired (the acoustic band of buxom babes who face a different sort of loosing battle with gravity)

Now it's your turn. Describe your boss or job, or someone strange, or a weird habit, or strange animal, anything. Just make it a great name for a rock band.

Breathing Deeply

This is an asthma inhaler. You may or may not recall how I recounted in the beginning of this meme the argument necessary with the health insurance company to get coverage for this inhaler. It took many weeks before they relented and approved coverage because it was $5 more than the one they wanted us to use (we tried that one, the drug did not alleviate symptoms). Basically, I had to threaten to drag Isaac to the ER every time he so much as wheezed if they didn't get off their butts and give us the inhaler. Even with coverage it's not exactly a cheap thing but the price is somewhat less horrifying.

A month after procuring 2 of them, one for the football trainer's med kit and one for Isaac to carry around, the trainer called me to ask for a spare one since the med kit had been lost. I was less than pleased. So the med kit was eventually found. Football season ended. They have yet to return the inhaler. Call me a tightwad or whatever but these things are expensive and since they facilitate efficient oxygen/carbon dioxide exchange for my son I tend to regard them as fairly important to take good care of. Oh, did I mention he lost the first one I gave him at the beginning of the school year. Yeah, it disappeared less than a week after he came into possession of it. I told him if he lost another one he'd be working off the price of a replacement.

So last night he presented me with this. The verbal contract we entered into did not address the complete mutilation of an inhaler. For the purposes of that agreement I specified lost as meaning misplaced. After my brain registered the full scope of destruction, pondered the efficacy of superglue, and concluded the impossibility of successful reassembly (although I did actually put all the pieces back together and carefully manage to squeeze out a puff, one critical shard of plastic is completely gone), I asked the boy how exactly he managed to destroy his inhaler so thoroughly. He blinked innocently and said he had no idea. He just pulled it out of his pocket in pieces.

Today I invite, no I humbly request, your story accounting for one demolished inhaler. The struggle to obtain it had no basis in logic or reality so your explanation for its violent end need not be sensible.