Too Much Perfection?

I hate clowns. But this is kinda how I'm feeling today.

Whatever DH had, that he claimed was allergies, was contagious. The wutz is sick, he's been running a low grade fever for a couple days. He also has pinkeye. And I am sick, too. Sore throat, headache, cough. Just ick ick ick.


I'll blog more tomorrow, hopefully.

This song is so so me...

For the second day, we are finally receiving rain! I am so grateful for it. Hopefully the thick yellow coating of pollen will be washed away to a near-manageable level. I don't know for certain if it has been particularly bad this year, or if I'm simply more aware of it since I've had to listen to DH's sniffling and snuffling and generally looking like he picked up a heroin addiction sometime around the beginning of spring. Either way, I want the icky shit gone.

Not because it bothers me, mind you, simply because the whole allergy thing with DH is akin to a mancold that never gets any better. No, I do not have allergies. After years and years as a child of hearing the doctor declare, "It's just her allergies." every freaking time I had a sniffle or a headache, I finally broke down and made an appointment with an Allergist a few years ago, despite my fear of needles.

For those that don't know of my many quirks, one of them is being touched on the underside of my forearm. It absolutely fuhreaks me out and makes me feel like I could rocket through the ceiling in attempt to escape the touch. It is that bad. And the forearm is exactly where they administer the test punctures to check for allergies. It was a horrible experience, but I was desperate for a solution to my headaches and since I'd heard over and over and over how my allergies were the true culprit, I knew I had to be tested if I were ever going to find relief.

So I was.

And I found out that I am allergic to...





Nothing.



Yep, that's right. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing.

I wasn't sure whom to strangle first, the nurse that administered the useless test, the allergist that ordered the test, or all of the doctors that had declared me to have allergies. Fortunately for them, I couldn't decide so I've put it off. I am a procrastinator, you know.

But their day is coming. Eventually.

Alright, gang. I've finally joined the masses and started tweeting on Twitter. Yeah, really. I have. My friends dragged me kicking and screaming after ages of rebellion to finally join Facebook and I still do not remotely find that little hellhole appealing. That may be because Facebook hates me or maybe I hate it. Probably a bit of both.

Now I'm rambling...

Anywho, I am sure some of you noticed the little Twitter gadgetmathingabob over there ----------->

So, if you Twitter, follow me and I'll return the favor! I'm surprised I like it, since I loathe FB (see above) but I really do. It is like Facebook lite, which is plenty for me!

Sometime this weekend half of a Bounce dryer sheet migrated into our shower. I'd be willing to wager that it hitched a ride on the back of one of the towels that gets unceremoniously slung over the shower door. No matter how it found its way into the floor of the shower, it has been there for nearly a week.

One might think that I, being the dutiful wifey that I am, would have picked it up by now. However, if you think that, you obviously do not know me well. Oh no, I have spent my hour-long showers each night pretending not to see this little vermin looking thing that was sopping wet by the time the hour was up and the water had grown cold.

I have surreptitiously avoided the thing in hopes that dear ole DH would finally cave and slog the nasty thing to the trash can. A girl can dream, right? Not surprisingly, though, that has not happened.

Fast forward to yesterday evening when the wutz and I showered together...

He looked down and his eagle eyes zeroed in on the abandoned Bounce sheet. Immediately, he swooped down upon it, gripping his prey in his little talon and holding it up like he'd found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

"What's that?" he asked in his inquisitive little voice.

"Trash." I replied.

"Oh." he said as the little cogs in his brain began to work. Then he nodded sagely.

"White trash." he declared.





Yes, little grasshopper, you may never know just how right you are.









Seriously.

Dear Readers,

I don't know about you, but I feel like I have just been beaten to death with sadness and grief the past week or so. Therefore, I wish this post was one of lightheartedness and cheer, but I don't have to tell you that is not the case today. I'm sure many already know.

A darling little boy, Stellan, is in the hospital because the doctors are unable to slow down his abnormally rapid heartbeat. The longer this issue continues, the more damage will be done to this poor poor baby's heart.

So please, fall on your face and send up a prayer if you feel led to do so. I know I am.

Today, my friend Kellie, her husband Mark, and their entire family remain in my prayers. As does Cole, the 20 month little boy that underwent a liver transplant yesterday. I pray healing for both these families.





These are the days of Elijah
Declaring the word of the Lord
And these are the days of Your servant, Moses
Righteousness being restored

And these are the days of great trial
Of famine and darkness and sword
Still, we are the voice in the desert crying
'Prepare ye the way of the Lord!'

Behold He comes, riding on the clouds
Shining like the sun at the trumpet call
Lift your voice, it's the year of jubilee
And out of Zion's hill salvation comes

And these are the days of Ezekiel
The dry bones becoming as flesh
And these are the days of Your servant, David
Rebuilding a temple of praise

And these are the days of the harvest
The fields are as white in Your world
And we are the laborers in Your vineyard
Declaring the word of the Lord

There's no god like Jehovah!
There's no god like Jehovah!

I know I have discussed this before. I've discussed it with anyone that will listen. Not that anyone listens to me anymore. Hm. Maybe no one has ever listened to me. That would explain a lot. Really. A lot.

What was I discussing again? Oh, right right. These damned migraines. I am sick of them. And I don't mean sick as in I am lacking in patience and tolerance. No, sick of them as in I am tired of hanging my head over the porcelain god or driving the white school bus, or whatever the fuck nauseated lushes call it these days. That kind of sick. But I'm also sick of it in a way that makes me want to take a skillsaw to my skull and perform a shakey-handed lobotomy until I heave a sigh of relief and say, "Ahhhhhhhhh. All gone."

Yes. Gone. I want it all gone. I want the headaches gone. I want the nausea gone. Hell, at this point, I think I would like the upper half of my head gone. That should be enough to be able to scrape out my pea-sized brain with a melon baller.

Yep. That'd help.

Now where the hell is my melon baller?

This week has been at least three weeks long. Like Ground Hog Day, it has resisted coming to a close. But now as the sun sets on a Friday, I can finally say it. Thank fuck it is Friday!

The week started out, as many of you know, with news that a friend's husband is dying of a brain tumor. My heart breaks for them. I wish I could conjure up a miracle and take it all away from that beautiful family. The one bright shining star of hope is the amazing people that I call friends that have converged together to pray and help this family.

Shortly after that grim news, my DH was involved in trying to save a man from a single car accident. DH spent twenty minutes trying to get the fire in the engine under control, all the while waiting for the emergency crew to crawl to the scene. By they time they meandered in, the man had been burned to the point it took until today to positively identify his remains. Rest easy, though, dear reader. Even though the rescue units did not arrive in time to be of any damned help, they did get most of the squad and also an unneeded helicopter on the scene just in time for the news crews to arrive -- because who needs to save a life when putting on a show is so much more important.

Fast forward to the wee hours of this morning, where my mother had to call 911 (which, fortunately, arrived on the scene a touch quicker this time) because my father was unresponsive. When paramedics arrived, his blood sugar was 34. *sigh* Fortunately, they were able to administer IVs and he did not need to go to the hospital. Or if he did, he refused it anyways. Nevertheless, he is okay now.

There's more to my week, but that's all I'm up to talking about. Oh, and DH still hasn't found work. That fact continues to hang over our heads like a giant cloud of doom and doubt.



But, by damned, it is Friday!

Dear Heavenly Father,
We thank you for being our Sovereign Lord. El Elyon - The Lord MOST HIGH. We praise you for always have our best interests at heart. Thank You for being You.
And Father God, we are coming together to lift up Mark, Kellie and family in prayer - according to You, Lord. We lift them up to the Throne of Grace, Mercy, Peace and ask that Your hand is always upon this family. Lord, we ask for physical healing for Mark. You are the God of Miracles. Please touch him, Lord. We ask for wisdom for his drs, Kellie and himself on how to proceed. Kellie really needs YOUR strength Lord. and Your Word says that "those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength" - well, she needs that renewal. and Lord we want the Perfect Peace, the peace that is only obtained thru Jesus, to overflow into and out of this family. so that they know, no matter what happens - that You have great love for them.
There are probably many things that we are forgetting in this prayer but we are confident that YOU know and have their greastest need and desire at heart. We ask for godly men and women to come into their lives and touch them during this time of need. men and women who will help and walk beside them.
We ask all these things thru the precious Name of Your Son, Jesus. Thank You for hearing our prayer(s).

Amen.

I spent the day shopping with my mom, my sister, and my niece. We helped my niece find a beautiful dress for an upcoming 8th grade dance. She chose a gorgeous short blue satin dress with a beaded halter neckline. Very pretty. I wish I'd have thought to snap a picture.

But now, I am exhausted. More tomorrow.


Promise.

Alright, my pushy dear readers, as requested, I am posting a picture of my new 'do. I must apologize in advance for the poor pic quality, I took it with my cell phone, and also for the 1970's background that is my office.

Without further ado, my 'do:





BTW, this is exactly what my hair looked like when I woke up this morning! I didn't even have to touch it with a brush! Wow. Momma like!

I took a mommy break this afternoon and let my MIL keep the wutz. I drove to town at a snail's pace, enjoying the leisurely drive while listening to my tunes. I even chatted on the phone for a little bit to a good friend of mine. Then finally I arrived at the hair salon.

Yes, dear readers, I actually went to get the mop charading as my hair cut!

Fortunately, my hair stylist was a bit backed up, so I got a moment to grab one of those hair mags and flip through it to drink in the sight of all the hairstyles I wouldn't be caught dead in.

Posh Spice's hair? Pffftthh. As if.


Finally it is my turn to take the chair. I tell my favorite stylist in the entire world exactly what I want. In detail. Perhaps a little too much detail. Because sometime during the conversation, I think she went *ZZZZzzzzzzzZZZZZZ*

Needless to say, I believe our wires got crossed a wee bit.

Just a touch really.

Okay, maybe more than a touch.

All I really wanted was a much shorter version of the same haircut I already had. Instead, she snipped and she trimmed, and she cut. And cut. And cut.

Until I looked like....

Posh Spice.





Though I must be honest with myself, I don't look like Posh Spice (hahahasnorthahahah), but that's the shortest cut I can think of that my new style resembles!

And you know what? It ain't too bad. (Says she who hasn't tried to style it yet.)

I stole these pictures from a friends' facebook album, I hope he won't kill me, but I wanted to show y'all the damage that was done a couple weeks ago down here from the tornadoes

This school is literally a mile down the road from my parents' house!

One of these houses belongs to a friend of ours!

You can see the swath the tornado cut!

Again, this is sooo close to my parents' house! They were very fortunate.

Two more views of the damage. Where the grey areas are that is where the pine trees have been blown over or completely skinned.

I have finally put my Percheron mare into training. She's a big girl and I hope she doesn't squish me like a bug when I finally mount up. But for now I've gotten a saddle on her and she is doing great!

The other week a fun Bag Tag was going around the blogs. If you remember it, the task was to take a photo of the bag you were using that day and also of its contents. I don't carry a purse, so you got a shot of a cute little card case that I carry in my back pocket.

However, all of the photos of cute bags made me realize that maybe I was missing out on something. Maybe, just maybe, I should convert and carry a bag.

So I fired up my beloved laptop and began my quest to find the perfect bag for Tara. The possibilities, originally, seemed endless. Until I whittled my way through them to narrow down my choices that seemed more me.

Finally, I found exactly what suited. Though, I admit it isn't exactly designed for spring, but I do not care. It's a Coach bag. Vintage. And, of course, black leather. Yesssssss.

So here it is!

And now back to the bag tag idea -- to show you what is inside the bag:

I have begun working on a new project. Another blog. Yeah, yeah. I know, I need another one of those about like I need a hole in the head. But I couldn't shake the idea, so I decided to see if I could make it fly.

We'll see.

Anyways, it is called I Can Explain... It is dedicated for all those things that make you think, "WTF!??!"

So please, go take a look. And if you see anything that you think you'd like to see featured on my new blog, please email it!

Seriously? I've seen a rubber banana before...


...but this is the first time I've seen a banana rubber.


Yes! You read that right. Protection for your banana.
(They are sensitive, you know.)





Truly.

You just can't make this shit up:
The Banana Bunker

Lisa, the One-Hip-Mom very kindly honored me and six others with the Friendship Award. As always, that woman rocks.



The Friendship Award means:

These blogs are exceedingly charming.
These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends.
They are not interested in self-aggrandizement.
Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated.
Please give more attention to these writers.
Deliver this award to seven bloggers who must choose seven more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.

As always, a certain number of wonderful bloggers are to be awarded, but again I am unable to choose. So guess what?!?

Ready for this?!?

YOU have just been nominated!

YAY! Congrats. Now go on, thank the Academy!

I drove the Camaro to work today. DH normally drives it, therefore he is the one that keeps the disc changer stocked. I have to admit, I'm rather fond of cranking up the stereo (Yes, it has a 'system' in it) and listening to the tunes of his choice.

Here were two from this morning:

Child Containment System (patent pending)

The Child Containment System (CCS) is a wonderful way to keep your child safe, happy, comforted and contented. No need to worry about his whereabouts, just snap the lid and be at ease with the knowledge your child is safe from harm!

A look into my family:

Today's Cake Wrecks inspired my lazy blog: