Archive for July, 2009

@driveafastercar awesome, than…

Friday, July 31st, 2009

@driveafastercar awesome, thanks!

Roiling the Waters

Friday, July 31st, 2009

I find it scary, the way that my brain works. I woke up this morning, after having some really wild dreams. Dreams with people I haven’t seen in years, mixed in with my friends and family of today. How can my subconscious dig up things that I had dealt with and forgotten years ago, and switch them all around into some crazy movie slash horror film in my head? Brain, you don’t even get all of the details right. And yet, here I sit today, feeling a little shell-shocked, and a lot sad, and really melancholy. It rains outside, and thunders, and I listen to music that wasn’t even part of the soundtrack of that past landscape. I try to figure out why I am feeling down, and I realize it is because I made myself feel this way, by dreaming things that never happened.

What is it that I am trying to work out? Because I wasn’t even aware there was anything to work out.

Dream Annie, go to hell for roiling the waters and making me sad. I am fine. Why can’t you leave it be?

Just wondering . . .

Thursday, July 30th, 2009

I would love to know why it will cost $110 dollars for my six-year-old to play Fall t-ball. I mean, really. . . what the hell? Do they give them golden gloves?

A Place To Call One’s Own

Wednesday, July 29th, 2009

I love, love, love this website. What a cool idea! It also makes me jealous of all of these folks with designated work spaces.

I want the coffee table book. Fascinating.

I need me a Lady’s sitting room. A parlour. A library. An office. Whatever you call it. A place of my own, to shut the door and lock out the world.


Beater: A Creepy Childhood Memory

Tuesday, July 28th, 2009

So, not sure how this came up last night, but it is scary and funny all at the same time. Growing up, we had this guy living with his parents down the street from us. He was probably somewhere from 18 to 25 and he was ultra strange. He had an arm that didn’t work, and it would just hang at his side as he walked down the street past our house. I never saw him drive. He would just walk down the street back to his house from where ever he had been, carrying a brown paper bag in the good arm. Never knew what was in the bag.

So, we always thought he was scary, and he rarely talked to us kids. We never talked to him. If anything, we moved away from the street edge of the yard when we saw him coming. Even at ten years old, a kid senses when someone just ain’t right. Turns out we were right on the money.

A little girl was selling girl scout cookies one day. She rang the guy’s doorbell. He came to the door wearing nothing but a towel. He stood there and stared at her, then dropped the towel. Eeewww.

Then, another time, he got caught playing with himself while watching kids play at the pool! Double eww.

My memory is fuzzy, but I want to say that there was another time when he may have asked us kids about the girl that lived next door to us. As in, “who is that blond girl?” Creepy!

All in all, I am surprised that there was no parental outpouring of hatred for this guy. I tell you what, though. Kids are mean as all get out. What did we call him?


I don’t know why that makes me laugh now, but Todd thinks it is funny, too. (So, maybe there is something wrong with both of us.) Also not sure why i had to write about this, but it is part of the landscape of my suburban Atlanta childhood and I didn’t want to forget it.

What? No Dixie Cups??

Monday, July 27th, 2009

Another sign that we made the right choice when we picked a new neighborhood . . . we stopped by a real live lemonade stand on the way back from our picnic at the park. Two freckle-faced red-headed kids were running it. They even said, “Yes, M’am” and “You’re welcome.” When questioned on what they would do with the funds, they said they were “saving for college.”

Are you kidding me?!

Rollie was like, “I’d buy hot wheels!”

Oh, and the going rate for a pink lemonade, in about a 6 oz cup, is fifty cents. They even put a slice of lemon on the edge of the cup. I am so not kidding.

What? No Dixie Cups for ten cents? I kinda miss the Dixie cup.

In case you are in the area and want to help out the enterprising young chaps, they are located between the park and my house.

No children

Saturday, July 25th, 2009

We were supposed to camp out tonight. I got my period. (TMI? Don’t read my blog, then. Yes, I am grumpy.) I bailed on camping. Todd and kids went anyway.


Little Gems for the Nerds

Thursday, July 23rd, 2009

So, if you don’t read the Chunklet blog, you should. Love the little gems that Henry and friends come across. Two recent posts caught my eye, and brought me back. Yeah!

A little something for the Athens/REM collecting nerds (Jason B.): Limbo District

And for my boys in Chapel Hill this week: Henry on Merge’s 20th.


(Thanks, Chunklet, for doing what you do.)


Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009

Feeling kind of ill after stomach dropped out upon hearing shrieks, screaming, and crying from Rollie in the backyard. He got stung by a yellow jacket. First bee sting in six years. Hasn’t swollen up yet, thank god. Always worry about that, since my Grandma was deathly allergic. Amazing that I knew IMMEDIATELY that it was not a normal Tiller-pissed-me-off scream.

Going Gray

Tuesday, July 21st, 2009

So, in the course of any given day, I have about five to ten main things I want to get done. I am terrible at completing tasks. TERRIBLE. I get very overwhelmed by a pile of tasks at hand, and if I don’t just concentrate on only my top priority, I will make myself crazy. Things that I stress about include:

Making doctor’s appointments for me, the kids.
I need to start taking a multivitamin.
I did not write a word today.
I have not been keeping up with my blog.
I feel like posting about anything on my blog other than the things I am REALLY preoccupied with is “false.”
I have not worked out today.
I have not called the doctor about my ankle, and if my ankle is going to get better, I need to do that.
If my ankle isn’t better, how will I run?
I am fat.
I need to eat better.
I need a new composting solution.
I need to check work email.
I need to do work.
Facebook is the devil.
I need to stop drinking so much during the week.
I need to clean litter box.
I need to trim shrubbery.
I need to work more in yard.
We never finished renovations on house.
There is cat puke on the bedspread and i haven’t cleaned it up yet.
I need to help my mom and dad.
I need to help my sister.
I haven’t worked on my family history files in ages. What if I die? They will never get done.
What if I die?
Do i have anxiety?
I have anxiety.
I have never had anxiety before.
I need to get the oil changed.
I wish I was more like Todd when it comes to laundry.
I hate laundry.
I hate putting away laundry.
I hate feeling guilty about doing laundry.
Do you think today is the day todd will divorce me over the laundry?
I need more large pots for my patio.
I should go to yard sales to find them for cheap.
Don’t forget to pick up a cushion for the lounge chair at the lake.
On clearance.
The kids need to turn off the tv and get more exercise.
I haven’t finished the dates for the damn school newsletter schedule yet, or i’d take them to the pool. No, I wouldn’t because I need to start dinner.
I am going to let down 500 elementary school kids who won’t have a newsletter.
I am going to let down my family
I am going to let down myself.

You get the idea. So, any time that I can take one thing off my plate, i am for it.

Which is why I have decided that I am going to stop dyeing my hair.

I have been going gray since college. I guess it is God’s way of punishing me for all the dyeing and crazy hair colors of my youth that now i am doomed to the albatross of dyeing my hair twice a month. As it is, I dye it at home. When I say, “I,” I mean Todd. Yes, Todd dons the plastic gloves, which are way too small for his manly hands, and he dyes my hair like a pro. Sort of. Having the salon dye my hair is not an option: It is too expensive and time-consuming to have it done, and at the rate that my hair grows out, and with the amount of gray that I have, it needs to be done about every two weeks.

Whatever. I am over it. I am chucking the outdated, Loving Care Loreal ideal of beauty in a box. I am embracing my gray. Now, you probably have some questions about this process. Hopefully, the following will help answer those:

    Yes, Todd has been notified. And by “notified,” I mean that I stared at him without a trace of a smile, and told him what I was going to do and he was too scared to laugh, show disbelief, or protest in any manner.
    Yes, when it all grows out, my head will probably look like I am wearing a hat made solely of gray pubic hair.
    Yes, I will probably be wearing a lot of hats and scarves this fall.
    Yes, I will probably break down and dye it again by this time next year. It’s nice to keep options open.
    Yes, I’m going to document this in photos and post them on my blog; Just think of the self-embarrassment potential! It’s, like, photojournalism. I’m pretty sure that Oprah will pick it up, or I will get book offers in the coming months.

Okay! Who’s with me? Hello? Hellooo! Whatever. Screw you fancy dye-job, black-rooted, broke-ass, slave-to-fashion bitches!

I already feel better about having one less damn thing to worry about. FTW!