"Someone Told Me There's a Girl Out There, With Love in Her Eyes and Flowers in Her Hair..."

My 'Muskogee' crepe myrtle is shedding.



Yay for exfoliating bark!

I'm glad something's going right with it. It doesn't seem to want to bloom for me. Last year I thought it wouldn't bloom at all, and it finally coughed out two panicles in August. This year, I don't even think it has a sniffle.

I have bloom envy! All I get is sparse flowering and everyone else's tree is loaded with blooms. I guess that's what a balding man feels like.




Speaking of bald...

I started losing my hair once. It was not too long after I moved down to North Carolina.

It was making me really sad and self-conscious. It was all thin around my temples, and on the top...

Luckily my hair was short-ish at the time, so I could cover it up better than if it was long.



No, not with a comb-over!

Sillies.

Coincidentally...this was around the same time that Chuck was going through intense rounds of chemo. He had to go 4 times, once every 3 weeks or so. They'd hook him up for 5 hours at a time.

Each time he'd feel all right that day (and snarf down dinner at the Kentucky Fried Chicken near the hospital), then wake up in the morning in terrible pain (which was not the fault of the KFC). He didn't start feeling nauseous until near the last chemo treatment, but his joint pain was colossal throughout the whole thing.

I'd never seen someone in so much pain before dealing with this cancer shit. It was horrible. And I couldn't do anything for him. The person I loved more than anything. Look up 'helpless' in the dictionary. It grew me up in a hurry.

After 3 or so days of his joints feeling like ground glass, Chuck would start to feel a bit better. After a week or two, he'd feel almost normal again. Then it would begin all over again with the next treatment.

His hair started falling out a couple of weeks after the first treatment. I shaved his head in the garage when we knew that it was time to do so. That was surreal, let me tell you.

Chuck had pretty long hair when he went into all this. I think the chemo nurses were a little sad to see it go. I told ya, Chuck's a charmer! :)

We took this after he got his staples out, before his hair started going.



And this was taken a few minutes after I shaved his head. His younger daughter was over for a visit, and I think she was really freaked out. I was freaked out.




Now, I have a lot of common sense. It's one of the things I take pride in. Why would I not put two and two together in why I was losing my own hair?

During Chuck's chemo treatments.

Oncologist never warned us. Guess she underestimated his level of friskiness. He was a 44-year-old man who'd just had his lung removed a month earlier, undergoing intense chemo whilst worrying about whether he was going to live or not.

Chuckles was also a sexually healthy 44-year-old man who hadn't been with his [*cough*gorgeous*cough*] 24-year-old Canadian girlfriend in 3 months. And then had his lung out, like I said....so add on another month.

Hey, even I underestimated his level of friskiness.



Interesting, huh? You can 'catch' chemo. Which makes sense, because after all, chemo is poison and doesn't discriminate.

Here's my public service announcement for the year:


Sex with a chemo patient will cause hair loss. Use protection. Oh, and don't smoke. You'll lose a lung.




Did I really start this conversation off with crepe myrtles?

Wow.

Blog Feature Friday~ I'd Like To Hold a Tarantula

Look at me. I actually have a meme!

I think.

Once in awhile when I get into doing something new on the internet, I'll see words thrown around that I've got to look up to make sure I'm understanding properly. Meme is one of those.

I used to write Lord of the Rings fanfiction, and when I first got into it, I had to look up slash fiction. I was in for a whole world of delicious.

Yep, I was into gay Hobbit porn.



I've been a fan of Tolkien since I was a kid. Some girls have a 'tramp stamp' tattoo on their lower backs. I have a 'nerd stamp':



I designed it myself, which I'm kind of proud of. When I tell people I have an Elvish tattoo, they always give me incredulous looks.

"You have an Elvis tattoo on your back???" O_O



I'm not good with this meme thing, so I'm proud that this is my third Blog Feature Friday in a row!

You MUST check out Bub @ I'd Like To Hold a Tarantula.

She hails from England, and has a very cool point of view on life and the people that move through hers.

She's up front about everything, and has a sense of humour that floats my goat.




Her husband died of cancer recently, and much of her blog is centered around dealing with it. Her post "15 Things Not To Say" is very informative. If you've ever felt the urge to say any of these things to a bereaved person, get that foot out of your mouth right now and take these to heart.

Bub makes an every day event into an adventure. She juggles fending off the advances of the annoyingly persistant Widower...




...with the horrors of cleaning up her grown daughter's room, which she affectionately dubs The Pit.



There is even a post offering warning to anyone thinking of joining the Mile High Club.



She's an excellent storyteller. She candidly takes us through her life with hilarity, sadness, anger and not a little incredulity and profanity. Her blog is honest, and I respect that in a writer.

I started at the beginning and read all of her posts on one of my days off, but if you don't have the time right this moment, at least read the first few before you move on to the newer ones.

Awesomeness.

Guess Who Found The "Fireworks" Function On Her Camera?

You get one guess.


And if you say "Yer Mom", you get a shot to the kidneys.












Reminds me of those 'electricity globes', where if you put your fingers to the surface of the globe, the 'lightning' follows your fingers.



These were taken after a Kinston Indians baseball game. I feel like I've been mentioning them a lot in my last few blog posts.

Which is funny, because I wouldn't say I'm hugely into baseball. It's not really ingrained into Canadian society like it is in the States (if you're a Canadian that IS into baseball, my apologies, please don't hit me with your flaming bat).

But I always have a great time at these games. Stadium food that's deliciously bad for you, cheap tickets, and some REALLY fun people watching. There's always something happening, even when there's nothing going in on the field.

Examples?


A waitress dropped full tray of open soft drinks in the stands during this game...felt bad for her, but it was exciting nonetheless. I knew it was going to happen...the arm that was holding up the heavy tray was quivering like the heaving bosom of a romance novel heroine.




This was before she climbed up the 15 or so steps.

Aaaand..... *SPLOOSH!*

An old lady at the bottom's purse got totally soaked. You should have seen the disgusted look on her face. Sort of a Queen Victoria "We are NOT amused" face.



Gave us something to talk about in between pitches.

Even better, we were there with about 20 of Chuck's friends. One of which was trying to hit on the attractive local TV news anchorwoman, who was also attending the game. She was very nice, very cordial, she was there with her man and a few friends (and anchorpeople) from work.

Chuck (who I think has a tiny crush on her) got to speak to her whilst he was making a trip to the bathroom in between beers. When he came back 40 minutes later he had some 'splainin' to do. ;)




At the end of the game, as the attractive news anchorwoman was walking away to her car with her friends, Chuck's very hammered friend (who I think would have hit on a coat-stand at this point in the evening), leaned backwards and upside-down off a lamp post, his legs clamped around the pole stripper-style, and yelled, "Ditch the zero, and get with a hero!!"

Awesome. I live for moments like that.

Sex In A Loaf Pan

I'm really weird about my bananas (not that weird, get yer minds outta the gutter).

I like them really really unripened, they've gotta be a little green at the very least.

Which means I only buy 3 bananas at a time, because I can never eat them fast enough. After a couple of days I can't bear to eat them.

Overripe bananas = gack!!!



I know, I know, very wasteful. And I feel so horrible about it. There's all those starving teenagers in Hawaii.



Or was that Malawi? I get my 'wi's mixed up.

Here's the recipe I found for Sex Bread, er Banana Bread, which saved me from throwing out yet more banana casualties. One of my Facebook buddies asked for it, and I thought I'd share it with the masses.

INGREDIENTS
2 cups all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/4 teaspoons kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs, at room temperature
2 1/2 tbsp vegetable oil
2 1/2 tbsp room temperature butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 very ripe medium bananas, mashed (about 1 1/4 cups)
1/2 cup sour cream
1 cup toasted chopped walnut (optional)

INSTRUCTIONS
Heat the oven to 350°F and arrange a rack in the middle. Coat a 9-by-5-inch loaf pan with butter and dust it with flour, tapping out the excess. Whisk together 2 cups flour, baking powder, salt, baking soda, and cinnamon in a large bowl to aerate and break up any lumps. Set aside.

Place sugar, eggs, oil, butter, and vanilla in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment and beat on medium speed until thoroughly combined, about 2 minutes. Add bananas, sour cream and walnuts. Mix until just combined. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, add flour mixture, and mix until just combined.

Turn batter into the prepared loaf pan and bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, the top is golden brown, and the bread is pulling away from the sides of the pan, about 1 hour.

Transfer to a wire rack to cool for 10 minutes. Slide a knife around the perimeter of the pan, invert to release the bread, and cool completely on the wire rack before serving.

This banana bread was a lot heavier than some others I've eaten, but it was friggin' delicious.

I hope it looks that way to you. One of my friends saw that pic on FB and asked if it was meatloaf lol.

Life's A Beach And Then You Die

Whew!

Remember all that complaining I did about Music Changeover?

Ha! I'm such an idiot. I should never complain out loud. I thought I was tired then....

Remember in 'Crocodile Dundee' when he says, "That's not a knoife. THIS is a knoife."



My week of training was sorta like that.

"That's not toi-ahd. THIS is toi-ahd."




Paul Hogan should know tired. After three Crocodile Dundee movies, his acting is pretty weary. In fact, I think it's in a dead snooze, isn't it?



I was pretty overwhelmed by all the new information on Sunday and Monday. But today...I feel semi-comfortable. Ish.

I'm sore as a bastard though. There's more heavy lifting and running involved in a bookstore than you'd expect. Heavy mental lifting as well.



I want to laugh/cry when a customer/applicant comes up to me while I'm working my ass off and says one of these things:

"Oh, you're so lucky you work here. You get to read books all day long!"

or

"You're so lucky you work here. It must be sooooo relaxing."

or

"I wish I did what you do. Must be nice to have a job that's so EASY!"

*sigh*

Serenity now.


Serenity now.


SERENITY NOW!!!!!!!!!!





I am lucky I have a job I don't dread going to. In fact 98% of the time I really like it! But it's far from easy. Being the manager of a large chain bookstore is kind of like this:




...except I don't get to lie down on the job. Lucky bastard.

I did get some relaxation in before the week of training though. Last Saturday, Chuck took me out for Mexican food and margaritas. Then we sat on the beach for two hours watching the tourists go by.

I was fooling around with my camera, and I thought I'd post beautiful pictures of Emerald Isle beach in the evening.

Which of course evolved into taking silly pictures of myself.


Oh well. Here they are anyway.



Chuck was actually working by taking this phone call. Must be nice to work from the beach.



Smarmy bastard.



I always find the metal detector guys funny.

This dude can push it in my face all he wants if he finds a bag of pirate doubloons.

But that's not gonna happen. All he's gonna find are Bud Light caps and fishing lures. And maybe even the occasional chicken bone. And he doesn't even need a metal detector for that!



Too many margaritas, you ask?



Nah. I only had one.



Chuck had like, 20.



All right, all right. I did get one nice sky photo. I was hoping for a beautiful sunset like the last two times I was there and FORGOT MY CAMERA.

But it was cloudy for most of this particular evening. I'm glad this one turned out as nice as it did. Beautiful temperature outside.



I'm thinking I'll be used to managing the store in a couple of weeks.

And maybe I won't feel so much like a tranquilized hippopotamus after a long day at the office.

It's Much Easier To Buy Plants Than Pants

Went into Jacksonville yesterday to pay the cable bill and buy some pants. I'm starting a new job at the bookstore today, as sort of an acting Merchandising Manager. The current one will be on maternity leave during Christmas, so they want me to fill in whilst she's gone. I'm starting my training now, and I'll be doing this for about the next 5 or 6 months.

When I'm working a shift, I'll be in charge of the entire bookstore. Which is pretty cool! I'm very excited, and very happy to be receiving the training.

I feel like I'm only 3 degrees of separation away from the Executive Washroom!



But...

Or should I say Butt?

I really need to buy some new work pants. I'll be much more visible, and therefore I'd like to look more professional than usual.

I. Hate. Buying. Pants.

If you're English/British/Whatever The Heck You Like To Be Called, I'm sure you've guessed that I mean trousers and not underwear. Because why would customers care what my underwear looks like? I understand that's what you call 'pants' there.



A couple of days ago I devoted two hours to trying on pants. Two hours of misery and discouragement. Two hours standing under the harsh fluorescent lighting of tiny dressing rooms with funhouse mirrors. Two hours of insensitive clothing store clerks asking, 'None of them worked for you?'



My body is, shall we say...voluptuous? Rubenesque? Zaftig even?

Like Marilyn Monroe in this photo, but with red hair and a much less famous face (I'm working on that).



Very hard for me to find pants that fit and look good.

So what's a girl to do?



Make myself REALLY happy and buy plants instead!!

Why would I spend another two hours wasting my time? Might as well watch paint dry.




Most of my container plantings look really really sad. And I thought I'd take advantage of my last stress free day off until after Hell-mas, and plant some stuff :)

Speaking of other purchases....

I also went into town to buy a baby shower gift for the aforementioned pregnant Merch Manager.

As a rule, I don't do baby showers. Or bridal showers. Or any other sort of party that involves squealing women.

But I decided to stop being a baby pooper and celebrate a friend's pregnancy. Which turned into two. Which turned into three. (I feel like The Count on Sesame Street)

Three of my friends are pregnant at the same time. Due at the same time. How's that for coordination??



Luckily two of them are best friends and are having a joint baby shower.

I'm just so AWKWARD when it comes to these things. I don't feel at all squealy. My biological clock must have a short in it. I feel weird playing all the baby shower games.

When I walked into Babies R Us yesterday, I know I looked like a deer in the headlights. I didn't know where to start! When you walk in and the first thing you see are breast pumps, that's a little intimidating.



(btw, who looks lovingly at a breast pump? That woman's looking at it like it's her baby O_O)


I took a tentative few steps like I was walking into the Coliseum to fight a tiger. At least gladiators were given swords.

I hear, 'Kyna!!' from over to the right.

It was my friend Abby! (who is one of the Pregnant Three) She was also shopping for this particular baby shower, and was on the phone with the third woman of the Pregnant Three. 'Jenn, I gotta go, Kyna just walked in and she looks really freaked out!'



Abby was nice enough to help me through the process. I didn't even know how to use the gift registry thingy. I can't believe I've almost made it to 30 without doing any of this.

Actually I can. I work very hard in avoiding all-female gatherings.



Anyway, wish me luck in my new (albeit temporary) job! :)

Blog Feature Friday ~ "Here On The Prairies"

Over the last couple of weeks, I took some time to check out new blogs on Blotanical.

Most of the blogs I like have something in common with the way I write my own blog (duh, right?)

Be sure to follow Here On the Prairies by Prairie Chicken.

She's a hilarious and opinionated Canadian blogger, based out of Winnipeg. You've got to have a sense of humour to live in Winnpeg during the winter.

I've been there. In the winter. I got frostbite just thinking about it.



She has the ability to be funny with a single photo or single sentence. I'm convinced that Prairie Chicken is my sista from anotha mista.

This crafty lady's got balls. Figuratively and literally...she's had some crocheted! Check out her online embroidery shop on Etsy.

I totally want to order a "Make Me A Pie Bitch" tea towel.

She blogs about any subject. Gardening, her various projects, music, weird shit, life, etc. She peppers it with random photos and YouTube videos, which you know I enjoy. It's also peppered with Tales of rrrrrrrrrRibaldry!...



...so be warned if you're sensitive to profanity. But you're not sensitive, are you Dear Readers? Or you wouldn't be reading my blog. :)

If you have the time, it's worth it to skim through her past posts to get a picture of what I'm talking about. On my last day off, that's what I did. And I wasn't disappointed!

Speaking of great YouTube videos, I found a series of awesome ones yesterday that I'm sure lot of people have already seen. But I'm always late to the viral video party. So here's one of them (there are four). Almost spit some coffee out.



"No way!"

"Yaweh."

:D