Mission: Happiness, Route: Muck

“What happened…how did I wind up here?” she wanted to know.

“Uh, I think you’re being kinda melodramatic here.” She laughed. That’s one of the things I love about her.

“I mean, yeah. You got shit to deal with. This is life, and some stretches are crappy. We all have our turns. You’re having your turn of shit to wade through, that’s all. If you’re not happy, then it’s your job to figure out what would make you happy. Your job is to find your way out.”

I’ll cheer her on, though.

My Life as The Crazy Cat Lady

I like to describe myself as “an eccentric genius.” People always laugh, because they think I’m joking. I always laugh, because they think I’m joking.

An astrologer once titled a reading for me, “If she’s not crazy, there’s no end to the good she can do you!” I laughed for a solid week, because I’d never heard myself described better.

Continue reading My Life as The Crazy Cat Lady

The Census to Dixie: “We’ll get the information somehow!”

They came back. After I saw myself described as “paranoid and reclusive” for acknowledging how I don’t trust the census and it bugs me how much the government is over-reaching into our personal lives, the good ol’ US of A’s main man, Uncle Sam, is back at it.

Geez Loiuse. This makes FOUR in-person visits from the Census to my house. For one form that was sent in already.

Continue reading The Census to Dixie: “We’ll get the information somehow!”

Gifts in Ugly Wrapping Paper: Goals that Work

When you put energy out there, what are your expectations on a return?

There was a time, whatever I did, I had a clear picture of what I thought I’d get in return. I worked at a job, started a business, created websites, went to school, whatever it was, with clear, specific expectations on exactly where the path was going to take me. I “knew” just how each action was going to impact my life and make it better.

Except for one, especially pesky little issue: I was almost always wrong.

Continue reading Gifts in Ugly Wrapping Paper: Goals that Work

Dixie vs. the US Census

I have no doubt people think I’m nuts. Well-meaning, but nuts. I try not to let that bother me. (Often, I succeed.) But sometimes, it’s just a bit much and I get tired of keeping my mouth shut. It may surprise some of you I do actually keep my mouth shut at times, but it’s true.

I’m not a fan of the Census. Now, before anybody starts spouting off about the importance of new roads and how will the government be able to accurately gauge Congressional representation, stop right there. I’ve seen the commercials, okay? I’m aware of all the nifty little “benefits” touted by the $340 million dollars spent on just marketing the census. I am willing to go so far as provide a headcount for my household–in other words, I’m perfect willing to provide the information that’s constitutionally allowable for my government to ask.

Continue reading Dixie vs. the US Census

Checking Out

I recently found out a client of mine–and her husband–committed suicide. It made the news, but the story wasn’t accurate. It had the couple’s ages reversed, said they were from California instead of Oklahoma, and failed to mention that the wife survived only one additional  day after being retrieved from the hotel room. They were in their fifties.

When you read an email with news like that, you just say, “Wow.” It slaps you upside the head and you can’t just shake it off. Continue reading Checking Out

Holy Socks, Sherlock.

New Year’s, I generally eschew resolutions. There’s so often more an excuse to pretend we can solve every problem we have in two and half weeks, or maybe just another opportunity to feel bad about ourselves. It’s usually a better idea to make changes day-to-day, as you see the need. While there’s perhaps some value in the ritualization or symbolic significance of new year/new you thing, still… We’re usually not reasonable or kind with ourselves that way.

But this year, I did make a resolution: I am getting rid of all the holey socks.

Continue reading Holy Socks, Sherlock.

Hideous Hyperbole Hides Hidden Agendas

Hyperbole annoys the living Hell out of me. Why do folks feel the need to drama-queen it up, anyway? When you yell “Fire” in absence of smoke, when you declare emergency without actual crisis, or in general overreact in ways that can be construed as nothing beyond performance, I get cranky. Seriously…’cause if you don’t think I’m going to notice, you’re dumber than you take me for.

Continue reading Hideous Hyperbole Hides Hidden Agendas