Red, red wine

I'm feeling better now. Thanks for your concern.

A big, hearty thanks to Kristine for her suggestion of red wine to break the streak. I took your advice over & over this weekend & today wasn't so bad.

I know the photo is blush wine, not red, but it was a darned interesting photo, so I rewarded the creativity with more publicity.

Time heals all wounds, they say, but it is also a good teacher. I know I learned some things by dwelling on the string of bad days.
1) Dweling on the bad doesn't make things better, but it forces the thought train onto the track of fixing or changing what caused the bad.
2) Punk kids are just that: punk kids. They cannot help themselves from punk kid behavior.
3) It is not necessary to rehash any of the bad days or events. Show up on the doorstep (or caller ID these days) of someone you know and trust & just BE with him/her/them. Kudos to Paul and Meghan. You were instrumental in my healing.

Mamachristy, if you're reading, I haven't given up on the spa idea. Far from...

The opposite

Why don't we notice a string of particularly good days?

Perhaps I should spend more time concentrating on the good things in my life.

A list:
I have a family. They love me.
I have a boyfriend. He loves me.
I have friends in Chicago and in many other places. They love me.
I have a home. I love it.
I am not unemployed.
I am not allergic to chocolate.
I am (relatively) young and healthy.
My faith guides me.
I got paid today.
I like to exercise.
I can read and write. Many people helped to teach me how.
I'm getting better at the technical side of blogging.
My computer hasn't crashed in almost a year now.
Spring Break is coming soon.
It's Friday.
The sun is shining.

I'm sure there's plenty more for which I should be thankful. That will have to do for now. I'm going to bake some chocolate chip cookies and drink red wine while I do so. (Thank you, Kristine.) Maybe tomorrow I'll go to the spa (Thank you, Mamachristy.)

Bad days?

A question for my readers (both of you)...How do you deal with not one, but a series of bad days? What can you do to get out of the slump? I am anxious to read your home remedies for a string of everything coming up whatever-the-opposite-of-roses is.
I promise to try just about anything within reason and let you know how it worked out.
Before you get carried away, though, I must say that I don't like to shop. Many women would tell me to go blow a wad of cash on myself, but I don't enjoy shopping, so that won't work. Any other ideas?

I wonder...

Ever wondered how streets get their names? Yeah, me, too.

I don't have any answers. I just find it a little curious that some street names are very popular; nearly every town has a Main Street or a Third Street. How many Flournoy Streets are there? There's a Flournoy Street in Chicago, but I never saw it anywhere before or since.

Always around December we get all mushy and talk about the joy of giving. Yes, true, it is a season of giving, but how about a little giving in a non-holiday sort of way? Support your favorite charity year-round, please. They need all the help they can get.
I made a special family recipe and brought it to my physical therapist and her receptionist/office manager. What a hit! They were genuinely pleased and grateful. How nice. It didn't cost me anything but a little time. I had all the ingredients in my home so it didn't mean a special trip to the grocery store. I didn't really go out of my way to make it, but the payoff was grand. Smiles all around: the real kind. (Thanks to Stolie, funkybrownchick, for the link.)

I hate Toys 'R' Us

It's been a long-standing hatred. In fact, I think it may be genetic. My mother despises Toys 'R' Us, too. Her story is funnier, so I'll tell that.

My mom is 12 years older than her sister, who had Bridget at age 40 (I think). So, mom is an older aunt, very out-of-touch with the hot toys of the day. Bridget was turning three and wanted a Barney doll.

Mom went to Toys 'R' Us quite unwillingly. She begged her sister to suggest another gift, perhaps clothing or college tuition for Bridget. Anything but Toys 'R' Us. Mom lost.

So, she was on a mad dash, trying to locate a Barney doll and get the Sam Heck out of that store. Unfortunately, mom's kids were young in another era. She was searching the aisles for the doll that would be a companion to Fred Flintstone. (Ha!)

Having no luck, she flagged down an employee who seemed more interested in popping the zits on his face than helping her find the item she needed. Desperately, she relayed her need for a Barney doll. The kid took her to aisle 9 where they usually stocked purple dinosaur Barney dolls. No stock today, lady. But, he explained that if Bridget liked Barney, she'd probably also like a doll they did have in stock, Baby Bop.

My mom called the young man several nasty names under her breath and stormed out of the store. On her way out, though, she caught a glimpse of a Barney video cover, with a photo of Barney and Baby Bop together. Boy did she feel, uh, foolish.

My trip to Toys 'R' Us today wasn't quite that bad, but I did need help from an employee who wasn't much interested in the notion. Then, as I paid for my nephew's gift, a man came up to the counter equally as perplexed and confused as my mom had been on the infamous no-Barney trip. Poor guy.

Let's clarify: I'm Irish-American.

This time of year, especially in my beloved Chicago, it's fashionable to be Irish. Tracing my own bloodlines, all roads lead directly to the Emerald Isle. However, I don't claim to be Irish. I'm Irish-American. I've never been to Ireland, but I hope to go someday. Soon.
Those lucky ones who made it out of Ireland, back in the potato famine times or more recently, were those willing to take risks, be bold. Therefore, my own sociological reasoning leads me to the conclusion that Irish-Americans are so much bolder, louder and more obnoxious than our roots. My parents have been to Ireland, and they say the Irish pubs are not raucous houses of debauchery. Patrons sit quietly and enjoy live music and talk only between numbers. They clap calmly to appreciate the musical talents of the performers.
Americans love to hang out in pubs, but the music is merely something to shout over. They may or may not pay any attention to dancers, singers or musicians. It's rude, but it's accepted behavior. Too bad.
Blessings to all in this time of St. Patrick. Could we possibly be a little more responsible and a little less drunk to celebrate this peaceful people's heritage?

Welcome in

I choose this title, math and a half, to keep out the mathphobes. You know the ones. You tell them you teach seventh grade math for a living and their immediate response is, "Ohmigosh. You have to teach area and stuff?! That must be hard!"

I have little sympathy.

Actually, that could be said about so many things; I guess I wouldn't say I'm a very sympathetic person. I live by the "too bad, so sad" rule. If part of your life is tough, you've got two choices: learn from it or change it. In most cases, that is easier said than done. Who said life was easy?

So, the photo I plan to post was taken in Australia in 2003. I hope I can figure that out technically. If I run into trouble, I will call upon the expertise of the funky brown chick. She's a friend of mine with an excellent, award-nominated blog. I aspire to such greatness. Little by little, I plan to learn how to blog. Lucky you who are getting in on the ground floor of such learning. You can come along for the ride. Welcome.