Exploring Aravis

I've been watching It Takes a Thief on Discovery Channel for some time now; Randy and I really enjoy it.  The premise is that two former thieves who have turned their lives around now find homes or businesses whose security is sadly lacking.  They get the homeowners' permission to rob the place within 2 weeks.  The producers outfit the house and property with cameras to catch everything when it goes down.  Jon cases the place until he's ready to break in.  Matt observes from a van, where the footage from the cameras inside the house is being recorded.  After the robbery, Matt meets with the homeowners when they discover what's happened.  They watch the footage together, then meet Jon as he returns their stuff.  Once their vulnerability has been hammered home, a security guard is posted overnight, and then Matt comes back the next day and has state-of-the-art security measures tailor-made for the homeowners' needs installed at no cost.  Finally, Jon and Matt come back once more within a couple of weeks after the place is secured, and Jon tries to get in again, to see if the owners are actually using the security measures put in place for them.

It's a great show, but it has engendered some interesting dreams and a little paranoia.  It's about what you'd expect: people breaking into my house, often Jon and Matt themselves.  Nothing original.

Except for last night.

I dreamt that Matt was my prom date. 

He spiffed up nicely, was a lot of fun and we had a great time.

Go figure.

I keep bumping into things and getting bruised lately.  But here's the thing: I'm not getting the bruises where I'm getting bumped!  For example, I knocked my elbow, but there's a bruise on my leg.

Are the bruises lost?

They must be using MapQuest.

There was a nasty ball of remains on the floor.  I don't know if it was entrails.  I don't know if it was a regurgitated corpse.

I didn't look that closely.

The point is: one of my cats has discovered that mice are not only great playthings, but edible as well.

Oh dear.

I have no idea which one is responsible.  Wheezy went to sit by it when I got up.  I don't know, though, whether that means that she did it and was showing off, or if she was sitting there saying "Now look what Patches has done!"  Or maybe she was responsible for the kill, but was trying to make me think that Patches had done it so he'd get in trouble for her foul deed.

Who knows the inner workings of a cat's mind?

Now if only I didn't know the contents of its stomach.

I was speaking with an AA friend yesterday, and we got around to talking about our days as bar drinkers.  She said that she was always a lightweight, and I told her that I was a heavy-hitter.  I used to drink most of the men under the table as I downed shots of tequila.

For what it's worth, I don't recommend doing that, even if you're not an alcoholic.  Oh the pain of the next day!

My friend was surprised by my revelation.  "I can't see that at all.  It's the total opposite of how you are now!  You're so feminine."

It was my turn to be surprised.

She's not the first one to comment on how ladylike I am, how feminine I am.  But that's not how I see myself at all.  I'm used to thinking of myself as a tomboy; I know I was one growing up.  Skinned knees, dirty clothes, messy hair and bruises were normal for me.  I'd rather be playing ball with the boys than playing with Barbie or having tea parties.  I couldn't stand the thought of being girly and have always tried to be tough, like the guys; I was scornful of girly-girls.  The only way you'd get me in a dress would be to force me, and even then you'd have one heck of a fight on your hands!  First you'd have to be able to climb to the top of the tree to get me, then figure out how to get me out of it without either of us breaking a limb or two.  And I don't mean branches!

I'm not quite sure when this changed.  I know that in college I began to care more about how I looked, how my hair was styled and that my make-up was ok.  I never wore much make-up; I liked to look natural.  I still do, though now you can tell when I am (or am not) wearing it.

As I my drinking progressed, though, I couldn't be bothered to take a bath very often.  Clothes?  I would wear the same things day after day sometimes.  Make-up?  Maybe,but probably not.  It depended more on how much money I had.  If I had enough money to pay for my own drinks then I wouldn't be too bothered about how I looked.  But if I was low on cash, I'd make more of an effort. That way I could "cute" my way into getting guys to buy me drinks.  Naturally this was before I met Randy.

I don't think anyone would have called me "girly" during that time period.  They had other names for me.

Once I got sober I started to take better care of myself, much to the relief of everyone around me.  Still, you'd almost never see me dressy.  I feel self-conscious to this day when I look nice.  Not that I look sloppy (except in the privacy of my own home, where I'm usually wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top), but I'm more of a jeans and t-shirt type of woman.

That's how I think of myself: I'd still rather be barefoot, kicking a ball around.  I can't climb trees anymore because of my wrist.  And let's be real: I never actually do kick a ball around, and I'm rarely outside.  I hate the bugs.  I'm not sure when they began to bother me so much, but they do.  As a kid I used to love camping; I haven' t been in about 20 years.

I still wear jeans and t-shirts, but usually at work.  When I go out, if I'm wearing jeans I usually dress them up with a nice top and shoes.  Even at my most casual, I have to look nice. 

And I wear skirts and dresses.  Sometimes.

When did the feminization fairies pay me a visit?  And what did they slip me so that they could take over my mind and body, and not remember their visit? 

Because, as it turns out my friends are right and I'm wrong.  I may think like a tomboy, but somewhere along the way, I became a woman.

At least they haven't taken away my ability to swear like a sailor when the mood strikes, so I'm still in there somewhere.

Somebody ordered Looking for Alaska today.

I didn't realize it was lost.

Every time I pick a book that has to do with guns- and we have more than a few- I make sure that the book I give them is in as pristine condition as I can find.  I don't want to upset a gun-toting reader!

Today someone ordered a Blue Book of gun values, and also a book on 10 Minute face lifts you can perform at home.

I now have a mental image of a man holding a gun on his wife, demanding that she look 10 years younger or else.  

Or perhaps a woman wants to look younger to attract a certain man but, if the face lift doesn't work, she'll always have the gun for persuasion.

Either way you look at it, face lifts and guns don't mix.

Randy says thanks for the Hatch Day wishes!

I had an interesting day at work.  I was called upstairs to the office, and I was a little apprehensive.  I couldn't think of anything I'd done wrong, but you never know.  My supervisor told me it was nothing bad, but I've never been called up there before, or heard that anyone else had been.

As it turns out, it was an informal job interview.

They need someone to enter orders into the computers, do confirmations, that sort of thing.  Since no one person so far has the availability to cover the hours needed, they're asking a few of us if we'd be interested/willing to work a couple of days in the office to make up the job that would normally fall to one person; this saves from having to hire someone new.  They're talking to a couple more people to see how they can best schedule things, but it seems that a couple of days a week I'll be doing data entry.  This is actually a good thing, I think.  My wrist has been bothering me a lot lately, and being able to put in my hours in a less physical way is probably a good idea.  Besides, it shakes things up a little from the usual routine.

But ask me again once I've done it a few times.  I might hate it.

I'll let you know how things turn out.

My husband likes to say that he wasn't born, he was hatched.  It's his excuse for not celebrating his birthday.

Which is today.

Happy Hatch Day honey!  You're one egg I'm glad your mother laid.

*G*

The next day, after the Slumber Party party, I had to go to a party being thrown by my SIL's future in-laws.  It was a combination engagement party, birthday party (for the father), college graduation for their 2nd son, and high school graduation for their third; Regina's marrying their oldest boy.

Busy day for them.

It was fun at first, especially after the party the night before, a party which was to be kept secret from Regina's family.  It was one of those "I know something you don't know" times, enjoyable in a juvenile sort of way.  But after awhile, I started to feel sick- a stomach/GI thing this time- and couldn't wait to get home.  I was sick the rest of the weekend, and am still not quite up to snuff yet.  I'm rapidly getting better, though, so no worries.  I still went to work for a few hours.

Now I just want to curl up here on the couch, read (The Expected One) and veg until the season openers of The Closer and Saving Grace tonight.  Finally something to look forward to on t.v. again!

Warning- this entry discusses "romance enhancing" products.  It isn't really graphic, but I thought some of you would like a little warning.  Consider yourself warned.

I went to my SIL's Slumber Party tonight.  Though I only knew Randy's sister, I was able to relax after getting to know a couple of her friends.  It was fun except, of course, for the fact that I had to bite my tongue a lot, not wanting to give anything away about my love life with her brother.

A love life which appears to be better than those of the 20-somethings present at the party.  The presenter made all sorts of comments about men's incompetence to hit the right spots or take time, lack of consideration, etc.  Now, it was all jokingly said, but the young women (I was by far the oldest there) all nodded and laughed their agreement.  I kept thinking that if a woman isn't happy with what her lover is doing- or not doing- why doesn't she just tell him what she likes, teach him how to make her happy, rather than simply lying there bored and mentally categorizing him as a bad lover?  It wouldn't hurt to find out some of the things he likes as well.  Just a thought.  Anyway, as she listed the ways in which a man lets a woman down in bed, I was thinking "No.  Nope, don't have that problem.  Nope, he's got that covered..." etc. No worries, I'm not going to go into details.  I'm just saying that even though those girls were laughing at me for being old, it appears that I have by far the best sex life.

I guess some things really do improve with age.

Anyway, some of the toys were scary looking (do I really want something that looks like a cactus coming at me?) and some were funny.  One was flashing a variety of colored lights, circling, extending and contracting while another part of it, resembling antennae, wiggled back and forth.  It was hysterical!   I considered buying it for the laugh factor alone.

I didn't.  Just for the record.

What I did buy was pretty boring for the most part, things like massage oil, body lotion.   Nothing exciting really. 

Except...

You know those blow-up dolls, those Inflatable Suzy dolls?  Well, I bought an inflatable sheep. *

Yes, a sheep.

And I announced it loudly, with a big grin on my face.

"If my SIL is going to put me on the spot by dragging me to one of these things," I thought to myself, "I'm going to make this interesting."

It's something they sell as a gag gift, and I bought it in that spirit.  I have an idea of who I want to give it to, a certain friend whose real name begins with "L" and who occasionally reads my blog.  He knows who he is, and if he likes, I'll drop it off for him the next time I'm out in his neck of the woods.  Not that he has a thing for sheep, mind you, just that this would tickle his sense of humor.

Unless, of course, one of you want it... ?

*G*

*You'll be brought to a page that requires confirmation that you're 18 by clicking on the "Yes I'm over 18" button.  At that point, you can either refresh the link or look under "Novelties and Gag gifts" to find the sheep (or anything else for that matter) if the refresh doesn't work.  Look around anyway.  It could be fun.

Or not. :0)