f8hasit

Yesterday I felt the need to make a pie.

I participate with the local Freecycle program.

My daughter was given an assignment to complete from school.























Out of the mouths of babes...

Fall has arrived.

The trees are turning their yearly gorgeous shades of golds, reds and browns.

Pumpkins and cornstalks are on display. The sound of children screaming with delight as they jump into the piles of leaves raked high in the lawn resonates throughout the neighborhood.

It's a happy time of year. I love the crisp air that comes as the temperatures drop. Bringing out all the cozy sweaters and cashmere peacoats.

And then, there's the down side of fall.
As the cool weather creeps in, so does the flu...

We've been eating Vitamin C and B12's in this house like they're candy. I've been making mugs of my mothers 'cure all' citrus tea. Trying desperately to stave off the inevitable.

Even with all these precautions, I got it.

No, not the H1N1. Although just the thought of that scares me, but just the flu.
Regular ol' beat you to a pulp...flu.

My daughter had a physical about a week ago. Our doctor asked whether we'd like to have a flu shot. This was the basic flu shot, not the H1N1. That hasn't become available as of yet. I had her vaccinated but declined one for myself. The last time I had a flu shot, I was the sickest I've ever been in my life. So I politely declined his offer. It was tempting though, the idea of staying in bed, sweating and puking for a week. to make me stay in bed and puke for week.

I was working downtown the other day and a security guard came into the store to chat as he usually does. He informed us that they were giving out flu shots downstairs. Free.

I really wish he hadn't said that.
That damn 'Free' word...

I can't pass up free stuff. Even though I know that I'll pay for it in the end. Many times over.

And guess what? I got it. The shot.

And then I got it. The flu.
And boy, have I been paying for it in the end. The rear end.

Because not only am I sick, but I had to go to the doctor to treat me. Since my resistance was down, I got a virus on top of it which required a shot. In the arse.

Perfect.

Yesterday was a dreary day.

Okay.
Okay already!
I get the hint. I'm not dense, you know...

If I tell you, will you stop bugging me?

There has been an overwhelming amount of you that have contacted me over the last week and said, "Yeah, great post about the stars aligning, the good luck, winning that award, all the new followers and stuff...but what the hell is going on with Mr. Handsome Moving Sale Man with Two Sisters"?

As Jen from The Brook Would Have No Music said,"Is that a Native American name you gave him?" Like Dancing with Wolves, Stands with a fist, or in my case, Stands with Martini Glass. Or Strong Like Bull Drinking Red Bull. Or even Stands Precariously Upright in UberHot Heels?

Yes.

I did meet Mr. Handsome Moving Sale Man with Two Sisters; or Patrick, as he calls himself.

And yes, he's quite...intriguing. And handsome. And charming.

Of course, it was quick. Too quick. Go figure that my stars have decided to align themselves for someone else's schedule. Directly caused by my ex-husbands travel schedule to be exact. But that's okay. I can work around it.

One thing that I've enjoyed most about having an ex-husband is that I have 'designated nights out'. The nights that my daughter stays with her dad; those are the evenings when I plan to spend time with my friends; to go out. She really hasn't been much with babysitters, because I've always had one built in with my ex.

However, I think I may have to change some things if I plan on entering into the dating pool.

I had made plans to meet for a cocktail early evening. I knew that Boo's dad would be picking her up at 5:30, so 6:00 seemed a good time. Unfortunately her dad called and said that he was going to have to go out of town, could he switch nights? It's already 4:00. Should I cancel? Should I go? What to do!

I called Chrissy.

"Argh! What do I do?", I asked her.
"GO."
"But..."
"No buts. GO. Now..."

So I quickly checked my hair. Of course, it had been lightly raining all day which does not usually make for a good hair day. Not to obsess, but I would like to make a good first impression. I thought the rain did make my hair seem a little on the limp side, but the upside is it made my skin look nice and dewy. I reapplied some lipstick, de-dogged* myself and out the door I went.

*De-dogging- vb. To desperately try to de-fur your clothing before going out in public.
Synonym: De-cat.

De-dogging or de-catting yourself is a ritual at my home. On the back counter you can usually find several de-linting type products to use. Most of them do not work very well on Stuey hair; short, stiff white hair that manages to work it's way into the weave of your clothes. Why don't I have a penchant for black clothes if I own white haired animals? Fur is not enVogue. And especially not high fashion to be covered in Stuey hair...

I can't begin to tell you how many times I'd be standing a chatting with a friend and they start picking the hairs out of my sweater...usually unconsciously. They must think, "Geez, you'd think she could afford a lint brush!"

When we were at Cedar Point on Sunday, one ride was indoors and had black lighting. Boo loves black lighting. Her shoe laces and teeth glow. As do my fingernails and...what! I just spent an hour de-dogging this jacket!
White specks everywhere on my jacket! Everywhere!

Oh.
Sorry.
Now back to the original story...

I ran out the back door in my black sweater as dog free as I could possibly get it. I hoped the wine bar didn't have black lighting. But I do know he has a dog, so maybe he'd be a little forgiving on the excess hair on clothes thang.

"Hi Patrick!" (He was already there when I arrived. Nice. Prompt.)
"Hey sister..." (Big smile on his face, leans in for a cheek kiss and quick hug.)

I explained my predicament that I couldn't stay long, however I didn't want to cancel. He seemed amused by my flustered apology.

"No problem at all Nancy. There will be other times."

At which I had the teenage flutters. Does he see that I'm blushing? God, I'm such a putz.
You know the worst part?
When I get nervous, I have to go to the bathroom...

Some people sweat, some people giggle.
I have to go #1.
Alot.

The guy must think I have a bladder infection or something. I sure do hope he thinks it's 'adorable', 'cuz right now...I don't.

I texted him this morning to let him know that the dogs, Sienna and Stuey (pictured above) love the new loveseat. They just sprawl on it like I bought it for them. The $250 dog bed.

He responded back: Is it me or Alfred they r looking 4

I think it may be both.
Those dogs have good taste. And you know that dogs can tell about a human. So if they like his smell...then perhaps, he really is a good guy.

I'll let you know.
It does look very promising that he is...

:-)

One of my favorite movies is "The Jerk" with Steve Martin.

Today was "Pick Up Un-Needed Furniture" day.
No, it's not a holiday listed on any calenders. Nor do I work for Purple Heart or the Veterans.

But YOU knew that already, didn't you?

It wasn't printed in any of the papers, it was posted here.
YOU are the only one that knows. And you didn't try to stop me, you urged me to do it...

At least 92 of you did.

You wanted me to go back to the moving sale. To spend unnecessary money for unneeded furniture. One of you even told me to buy the piano, or a car if needed. And I concur...

I woke earlier than usual to make sure I had enough time to make myself 'moving day' presentable. I mean, he wasn't there on the day of return when my hair looked fantastic. I needed to make sure that I was looking okay, not the 'mommy was rushed this morning to get the kiddie to school on time' which is the norm on Tuesdays.

When I spoke to Mr. 'Handsome Moving Sale Campaign Man' on Sunday we had set up a time this morning that I could "swing by and pick up the love seat'.

I borrowed a friends pick-up truck for the move and drove over. I called on the way to confirm, just to make sure that I wasn't mistaken on time and date. I'm normally pretty good schedule wise, but this has turned my brain into mush. He said, "Wait for me! Don't leave" rather emphatically. He'd be there in 10 minutes.

As if I would leave....please.

He drove up in a black Cadillac Escalade. Why am I not surprised? It fits him well.

When I got out of the truck I felt like I was 15 years old.
Butterflies. Nervous. A little nauseous too.

I knew that I'd say something stupid and end up going back to the borrowed pickup and beat my head on the dashboard again. I thought 'I'm going to end up with a dent above my eyebrows' if this keeps up.

Questions keep popping into my skull. How much do I talk? What do I say? Do I keep this on the down low or let him know that I really don't need a love seat, it's just my way of seeing him again?

It also brought back memories of my now ex-husband. When we were dating he was going to buy a new car. He sold his old car to me. I found out later that his buddy, who was a car dealer, told him he'd best sell it directly or find a buyer because he was buried in this car. What he owed was more than the book value. So to pass if off to me, unsuspecting, trusting girlfriend...that was a genius move on his part.

But at the time of the transaction, he had no idea that he's end up falling in love with me and asking me to marry him. Wherein he got his old 'I'm buried in this car' back as part of his property.

Funny the twists life has. If this works out, there is a possibility that he'd end up with his love seat again. How interesting.

I did manage to make a few seemingly intelligent sentences and find out that he is indeed single. Thank God. The reason behind the 'feminine touches' I saw is because he is currently sharing his home with his divorced sister. She brought most of her furniture with her.

Have you seen the Simpson's movie? Remember the scene when Lisa meets the Irish boy and can't speak? She pretty much makes a fool of herself?

Yeah.
I was like Lisa Simpson. Sexy, huh?
I believe I even snorted once when he said something funny. Geez, Nancy. Keep it together.

We loaded the love seat into the back of the borrowed pickup, scanning the darkening skies for impending rain and he asked, "How are you going to unload this?"

I have been remodeling the back breezeway mudroom in my home. Adding some cabinets to store all the unsightly stuff that we need most everyday, but I don't necessarily want to see everyday. Because of that, George has become a fixture in my home. He's like a handy husband that I get to send home. So George was going to help me when I returned.

Patrick told me that he was disappointed. That he had secretly hoped that I would ask him for his help. Kudos to Nancy that he was impressed I wasn't afraid to chip my manicure by carrying the couch. "Wow. Your strong."

Yeah, baby. I'm like Bob Villa meets Martha Stewart at Victoria's Secret.

I just let you in on a secret. Did you notice? Mr.'Handsome Campaign Man with sisters' name is Patrick.

His name fits him like the Escalade.

Not to bore you with the details, but Nancy is being a bit diva. She got the handshake going in and the slight hug with a kiss on the cheek going out. AND the promise of drinks tomorrow. Notice plural...drinks.

Meow.

I received the following text this afternoon." ur 2 cute"

I think this is going quite well.
Did I mention that I have a love seat that I didn't need?

Actually it fits perfectly in my office. Looks like I had it custom made.
I love it when things come perfectly together.

It's almost like I planned this.
:-)

I'm not a gambler.

There was the overwhelming adrenaline from having the Blog of Note bestowed on me. Watching the world widget on my page spin and show the flashing red beacons of where the people are that are on the site real time is mesmerizing. Watching it turn and turn, around and around constantly flashing...

THAT blew me away.

When I did eventually get to bed, my two large dogs had decided that they wanted a little more space than normal. I'd shue them off only to wake later all contorted into the small space left for me; a huge American Bulldog head on my shoulder and a large Labradoodle pinning down my feet. This happened no less than 4 times. Add into the mix a cat who decided that I needed a fur collar whilst I slept, well...lets just suffice it say it wasn't the best sleep I've ever had.

But finally...sleep. Peaceful, blissful sleep.

And then the realization that I had forgotten to turn off the alarm. It was a Saturday for God's sake. The only one real day that I have no responsibilities to wake for, and I've ruined it by the damn static beeping of my alarm.

"You've got to be kidding me...", is the only thing my overly tired mind could muster. Why. Why. Why.

And then I remembered in my sleep deprived brain that I was BoN for the day Friday. So I went down to my office to check on the stats on my computer. Do you realize that overnight while I slept there were 4,000 hits on the blog? 4,000! All over the world. That's amazing.

And so very cool.

I didn't dream it. It really did happen. ME! The not unlucky, but not particular golden girl. And to make my early morning ever more wonderful when I retrieved my cell phone from it's charging dock there was a message from Mr. 'Handsome Moving Sale Campaign Man'.

I got to thinking that it was a fluke. These kind of things don't just happen to me. Maybe the stars were aligned just so to allow me a glimpse into that other world. The one whose lives these things DO happen to. Just a little taste of the sweet life. The easy life. Of those that are golden.

There are days that come around every so often where you feel invincible. That's it quite feasible that events could continue to drift in the general direction of 'good'. That your mindset should enable pushing the envelope, to test your luck. Stretch it to the limit. Because it is quite plausible that you could win.

Has you ever experienced a feeling of regret? A really big regret?

One that made you want to bang your head on a dashboard because you knew, at that very moment, that you missed a golden opportunity?

I'm not talking about the run of the mill 'Blue Light Special' kind of missed opportunity, but the life altering kind?
I'm pretty damn sure I had one of those yesterday. And it has lurked in my subconscious filling me with regret ever since then.

I dreamt about it last evening wondering if the opportunity really did exist. Or was I imagining things. Did I misinterpret the signals? Can I do something today to make up for my obvious bad timing? And lack of response?

Yesterday afternoon I went to the movies with a good friend.

She loves movies. And we used to do this periodically when our kids were attending the same school. We'd meet at noon and watch a flick and still have enough time to go pick up the kiddies. Yesterday we managed to work it back into our schedule and planned to meet at the local cinema to see 'The Invention of Lying' with Ricky Gervais.

(BTW - I would highly going to this movie if you want to be entertained. Very, very good movie.)
On the way to the theater I saw a Moving Sale sign. Something inside me urged to me to stop, even though I knew that by stopping there was a sure chance I would be little late. But my instinct told me to go, so I turned the car around and went.

By that time in the late morning many of the big items had sold tags on them waiting for the purchasers to come back to retrieve them. Too bad, there were some things that would've worked great in my home. But, oh well.

I was greeted in the driveway by a beautiful golden retriever, Alfred, who obviously picked up the scent of my own dogs and the fact that I love dogs. He was following me everywhere. The owners, a man and woman whom I assumed were married, were very friendly as well and we made the obligatory conversation that dog owners have.

"I used to have a golden."
"Oh, how old was he?"
"I had to put him down at 14, he was bigger than yours. 120lbs in his heyday."
"Max is only 3."

...you get the picture. I thought to myself, "what nice people". They kept telling Max to "leave the lady alone". It really wasn't any trouble, I love dogs.

The woman told me there were more things inside on the sale as well, so I proceeded to go take a look. There were some beautiful items and in the typical Nancy fashion, I asked where they were moving.

Now really. Did it matter where they were moving? Why would I bother to ask such a thing. I don't know these people, what would I do with that information? But I asked and she obviously also being made of the same cloth as me, told me.

I had been perusing the stuff staged in the family room whilst this conversation took place. As she was answering my question I turned to look at her. At which point she told me, "You've got beautiful eyes."

I'm not used to compliments. I don't do well with them. I give compliments, but I'm usually not on the receiving end, so it set me a little of kilter...

I thanked her for her kind words and then took leave into the front rooms to see what they had to offer over there. They had some nice items if I had room for a grand piano or a full dining set complete with curio, but otherwise there wasn't anything that I could use in my own home.

And then on a table mixed in with linens was a framed document.

I picked it up to take a closer look. It was the invitation and admission ticket for the 2001 Inaugural Ball for George W. Bush and Dick Cheney. I'm not a very political person, but my past political standings are more on the right. I have always liked the Bush family, politics aside. My dad is a staunch republican and I thought that if this were indeed for sale, it might be a great present for him.

So I inquired if this piece of history WAS for sale. She said, "Let me ask my brother. He worked on the campaign, you know."

*Ding!*

I could hear the chimes in my head. Oooh, that good looking man is her brother? Not her husband? Is he married? Is he moving because of a divorce? All the furniture and trimmings have a woman's touch to them, but it is a moving sale. There is no other woman here. And he is very handsome, but doesn't look gay...so hmmm.

The thoughts running through my head were interrupted by them both answering, "Oh, that? No. That got mixed in by mistake."

Darn, I thought. But okay. I wouldn't have thought anyone would sell that anyway.

"Do you like George Bush?" Mr. 'I'm so handsome and I'm moving and this is my sister helping me' asked.
"Yes, I do."
"Come with me then. I have something you might like."

Um. You bet you do. You have no idea....

I followed him out of the house into the garage where is sifted through a box and pulled out an 11x14 framed photo of the Dub himself. It's a casual photo. Like someone took a snapshot of him driving a truck on the ranch from the passenger seat.

"This is one of my favorite photos of him. You can have it."
"I can pay you for it.", I replied.
"No, no way. You can have it. Your so cute."

And at that point, looking at my watch knowing I was going to be late to meet my friend for the movie I thanked him for his kindness and walked down the driveway and left.

I never even looked to see if he had a wedding ring on.
I never introduced myself.
I never asked him his name.
I didn't ask him about the campaign.

All these openings!

I think I may have missed a stellar opportunity. And now what do I do. Would it seem to obvious if I stopped back this morning to "see if that love seat is still available?'

Perhaps I should just let it go. And think about 'what might have been' from time to time. It's been so long, perhaps I didn't 'get it'. By not reacting or responding I sent him the "yeah, no thanks' signal.

But it keeps creeping back into my brain. Was this the knight in shining armour?

Maybe I'll go back and buy that grand piano if it's still for sale.
That should definitely get his attention.

Now where will I put it? Damn.
I knew I should have kept up with those piano lessons...
:-)




Footnote: (11:00 am)

OKAY! Okay!
Upon the overwhelming response to me 'GO BACK!' I did drive by. I even made out a little note in the case that the sale was not continuing through today.

But it was, and I went.

Another sister was there today, but no "Good looking I worked on the campaign" guy. I did buy something small, inquired about the loveseat that now also had a SOLD sign on it and left my business card with a note of "Thanks for the picture, didn't get to thank you properly...in a rush to a meeting" on the back of it.

So I guess, I've done my part...outside of stalking. Who knows?
Too bad he wasn't there today. My hair looked fabulous.

Footnote, Part II: (6:00 pm)

So my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number so I let it ring into voicemail. Voicemail is my God, right next to the Internet and Cable...

Here it is Mr. 'Handsome with two sisters still don't know if he's married or single' calling me back. His message? "Thanks Nancy for leaving the note and your business card, very classy. The loveseat is still available, call me back. Maybe we can work something out."

So I waited a little while...I mean, I don't want to appear to eager. But don't want to wait too long, he might think I was the one unavailable.

Anyway. I just got off the phone with him. We talked for 20 minutes. I'm having drinks with him next week!!!!

But I bought a loveseat. Thank God the piano was sold.
:-)

Have you ever clicked on a link and immediately you knew you shouldn't have? And within moments you are scrambling to desperately fix your computer and back everything up...just in case?

Perhaps you've been there. When you see the minuscule fine print just as you are clicking your mouse?

That really, really, small print that informs your brain that "this page didn't originate where you thought it did and boy is this going to be bad please God don't let my computer crash because I forgot to back up my hard drive even though I promised myself that I would every week since the last time this happened to me oh please no...."

Yeah.
You might have heard me. Anywhere. Around. The. World.

I was the one screaming in slow motion, "Nooooooo.........!"

I bought an external hard drive for my laptop. About a year ago.
A very nice, cute, sleek little device that is supposed to be easy to use and would give me the peace of mind needed if my hard drive ever got corrupted.

Because, if my house caught on fire, I would try to save all my photos first. Right after the humans and animals, of course.

On my computer...it's the same. I'd want to save all the digital images I've been downloading there for years.

So, I ask myself, why would I buy this device, let it set on the bookshelf in my office and never use it? Probably for the same reason that my treadmill has become an iconic statue in my dressing room. Not used, just looks nice.

The other day I saw a tidbit on the news about a boy in Chicago who died due to a brutal beating. Supposedly, it had been caught on tape. A street gang fight that killed a teenage boy, an honor student who was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. It peaked my interest. Not due to the violence, but how could a bystander catch this footage and not help? I wanted to see it for myself, not just the few frames shown on the news.

I ask you, where would you expect to find the amateur footage of the fight?
Why, yes. The internet!

Thus the beginning of the long drawn out overuse of profanity and my vocal chords.

I clicked on a link that I claimed to have the uncut footage I was looking for. Voila! A window opened on my desktop claiming my computer was under viral attack. It looked like it was from Microsoft. I assumed it was from Microsoft. But it wasn't from Microsoft.

Oh No! That can't be! A corrupted file? On my computer? *%^#@*!
*panic*

And then I did what you aren't supposed to do. Yes. I clicked the button that said "fix it".

I have now spent the majority of the last two days trying to get this bug off my laptop. SecureWarrior is the culprit. If you look at the small margin at the bottom left hand corner very closely, it identifies itself. But not until the damage has already been done.

It bogs down your system. It's collecting your data. It send pop ups every 4 seconds for you to "buy the full protection system".

I've removed the offensive program, however it doesn't fully erase it. It still sends pop-ups and is running in the background. It won't even allow me to restore my computer to a earlier date before the invasion of the warrior.

There are a slew of programs that claim to have the capabilities to remove SecureWarrior, but they want to download 12G's into your system and then charge you $30. I think not. I can do this. I'll figure it out.

"Damn, Nancy." I thought I was smarter than that.
I panicked.
I outright panicked when I saw that on my screen...

I might not have been smart at that very moment, but I am now.

I've donned my battle facepaint.
I got all Braveheart on the SecureWarrior.

I opened my sleek little exterior hard drive box. I plugged it in. I backed it ALL up. All my files. All my folders. All my photos. And now I'm getting viral on the virus.

Oh yeah.
They've not seen viral yet. I'm going to wipe them clean.

My daughter said to me yesterday as I was swearing (out of earshot and under my breath, thank you. I'm a good mommy...) at my computer screen as yet another try to restore did not work..."Mommy, it might be time to buy a new laptop."

Do I want one?
Sure.

My little Sony Vaio owes me nothing. It has served me well. Some of the letters are worn off the keys, but I know which ones are which, so it matters not to me. But it is a good little computer and I will not let it come to it's demise because of this trojan attack. I will succeed!

I will buy a new laptop when I choose to. Not when I have to due to brilliant people using their brains for, well, no good. Pissing people like me off.

I will buy a new laptop after I've extinguished the Warrior from my little Vaio.
And I did.

I'll be damned. I did it!
Now I can sell my own solution on the internet! I'll collect enough dosh to retire to Cabo. Maybe even enough to bring you all down to vacation with me.

Enough money to buy a new computer. I think I'll get a Mac.
They don't get hit by virus's, at least as often.

Now, how do I get this blue make-up off...
:-)

I can't begin to tell you how many times I start perusing my favorite blogs to find that my friend JennyMac over at Let's Have a Cocktail...is dressing in her finest for an awards show!

















5 more obsessions...
1. waking before the rest of the house. It allows me a little quiet time...
2. Cinzia Rocca coats. Overpriced but so well worth the money.
3. Walking the dogs at twilight. That way I can see where I'm going AND look into peoples houses as they turn their lights on!
4. My computers running smoothly. Had a little virus due to trying to open a video on that Chicago thing and have been trying to get it off the laptop ever since....Bah.
5. Lipstick. I don't even mow the lawn without it.

5 fabulous blogs?

1. Jules at A Hermit's Ranting Tantrums. She's got great wit, but doesn't post enough! More Jules, More!!!

2. Claire at A Little Piece of Me. She's really quite wonderful...put down your beverage BEFORE opening. Don't say I didn't warn you.

3. Pat at A View From the Edge. She's traveling right now and I'm living vicariously through her tire treads. Extremely witty woman...ah, if only.

4. Carma at Carma Sez becuase she is clever, witty and a wonderfully entertaining read! Go. Now!
and

5. Judearoo at Different Wiredly... She's got some beautiful writing and great images. She also deserves more people to see her stuff. The girls got talent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And finally,
A special shout-out to Matthew at AbodeOneThree. His writing blows me away. And the kind things he said about me on his own awards post really made me grateful to have found, by accident, his blog. One day I'll be perusing Borders Bookstore and find a novel with his name as the author. And then I can say, "I remember when...."

Thanks to everyone for sharing all these awards with me! I hope that I've given you some new leads on blogs to find and follow. It amazes me daily how many talented people there out in the blogosphere. Thanks!

High school reunions.