Lame-o

I have been so lame this week that I'm actually sick of myself.  Does that ever happen to you?  I only worked on Monday for half a day so I've been at home, alone with myself for three days which I usually enjoy, but not this week.  I work tomorrow (THANK GOD!) for one of the worst fourth grade classes I've ever seen, but oddly enough, I really enjoy working in that room. I get to bark out orders like Tommy Lee Jones does in every one of his movies

"Blah, blah blah, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse blah blah blah."

and that makes me feel good and important, because like all teachers, I only went in to this profession for the power it gives me over weak and helpless children; the money; and June, July and August!  Just kidding.  I should stop giving the anti-teacher movement ammunition.  They don't need it.

Although I have been lame, I have been kicking some major ass in Angry Birds! Now that I read that last sentence, I think that is just further evidence of my lameness.  But look at my progress!

And...

And...

In case you're not a player of Angry Birds (lame-o) those are a few of my score boards and if you'll notice they all have THREE STARS!  That's perfection, my friends. 

So what has been making me feel so bad about myself this week?  I feel bad that I lost the frog again.  He's in the house somewhere getting drier and drier, I can just feel it.  Either that or there is a thriving community of tree frogs in my house that are mostly really good at staying out of sight.  Who knows.  I never once saw that frog poop.  Isn't that weird?  And I am also getting anxious about traveling with my children across the country by myself.  Mitch has to stay here and work so I can afford to take the kids on fabulous vacations.  I'm pretty much ready for the trip, I think, but I keep thinking of the worst things that could happen, like losing a kid in an airport bathroom, or dying in a fiery plane crash.  That would suck.  But I have to get out there and do stuff or else I end up feeling lame for sitting around my house with my thumb up my butt.  (In my defense, I never actually had my thumb up my butt.)  

Freak

I just got home from Walmart which is the modern day version of the Ringling Brothers freak show, and I can't get the freaks out of my head.  I hate Walmart, but I go there because they have cases of Diet Coke for $5.  I know, I know, some 5 year old in a third world country had to stomp the Diet Coke grapes with his stumps for half a cent a day so I could get it this cheap, but I don't care.  I drink a lot of Diet Coke.  I shouldn't say I don't care.  I do.  I just care more about feeding myself cheap Diet Coke.

So anyway, back to Walmart.  To say it is full of freaks is obvious, we've all seen the pictures of the people of Walmart.  My question is, why do they all go to Walmart?  And why can't I ever go there when there aren't at least a couple of people who give me the total heebie jeebies?  Are they on the payroll?  It doesn't make me feel good to be creeped out by my fellow man. But when I see a four foot tall person who I can't tell is male or female, and that little person is made up of legs and a head and seemingly no torso, and he/she is walking along with giant, freakishly long strides, I get a little creeped out in spite of all my liberal, free-to-be-you-and-me beliefs.  I'm sure that person is perfectly nice and it's not his/her fault he/she was born without a torso and no gender-distinguishing characteristics, in fact I bet he/she wishes he/she had a torso and looks at my slightly freakishly long torso longingly and wishes he/she and I could trade a little more leg for a little more torso so we'd both be more normal (I couldn't give him/her enough torso to make him/her normal though.  Sorry.  I'm not giving up that much torso.)

Those of us born in the seventies grew up at a time when freakiness was at its height, thank you very much Sid and Marty Krofft.

Sweet Jesus...

But instead of normalizing freakiness, I think it made some of us more sensitive to it.  My brother in law is a professional, charming, confident man, but if he would have seen the episode of 20/20 that I saw last week, he'd still be crying in the fetal position in his bed.  The episode was about albinos in Africa and how some witch doctors have decided that albino limbs are valuable for potions and such.  They used to rob the graves of albinos, but now the demand has gone up so much that albinos are hunted down and their limbs are hacked off.  Horrifying huh?  Yeah, it's very sad.  They did a story on this albino woman whose arms were chopped off by these hunters so she was totally dependent on her family to take care of her because guess what guys, arms are important!  I'm using mine right this very second.  In fact, I've been using them all day.

Anyway, some western agency heard about her so they decided to set her up with some prostheses.  She was thrilled, of course.  They moved her to the States and she lived with a family while they were doing all the fittings.  There was a lot of footage of this poor legally blind (like a lot of albinos are), tiny, albino, black woman, with her crossed eyes and her white afro and her no arms singing songs in Swahili. She was very sweet and affectionate as well because there was also a lot of footage of her hugging people with her stumps.  I was wrapped up in the story because hey, I have a heart, but watching her rocking and singing, and giving no-armed hugs creeped me out which made me hate myself a little bit.  And then I thought, come on producer, any idiot can see that that is creepy, why so much footage of it?  Is that all she does?  I doubt it.  Those 20/20 producers were trying to make me feel bad and guilty.  NICE!  Mission accomplished, 20/20!

She eventually got her arms and got them fitted correctly so they wouldn't pinch or hurt or anything and she was so happy that she was jumping and screaming and dancing, hook-hands akimbo; and I actually had to change the channel for a few minutes because her unbridled joy and hook-waving was too much for me to handle.  I was simultaneously happy for her and her new found independence, and almost in a panic because of her paleness, and crossed eyes and hooks.  What's wrong with me?  And then I thought of my BIL and about how I was handling it SO much better than he would and I felt a little better about myself, because hey, at least I'm a bigger person than he is.  There is something about all of us that would totally creep somebody out so I think we should all just suck it up and like each other, warts and all (unless they have warts. Ew! Yuck! Warts! Gross!)

RAAAAAARRRRR!!!!

Wow, I just re-read a few of my recent posts and all I have to say is RAAARRRR! (cat sound).  I'm so sorry, my internet friends, for being such a humongous bitch.  I'm also sorry for being so snide to Krista Tippet.  Keep doing what you're doing, Krista.  I don't like it, but who cares!  I can just SHUT IT.

And Charlaine Harris, I'm sorry for ripping your terrible book to shreds, especially since I'm only half done with it.  And I read it while I was tired and in pain and Mitch was snoring in my ear.  Not the best environment for reading your very successful, award-winning first novel.  I am just jealous of your ambition and recognition.  I still don't like it very much, but that's no reason to be a snot.  Sorry.

I promise to be a ray of sunshine from now on, internet.  You can count on me.

******************************

BTW, the cartoon is by Natalie Dee.  I found her a few days ago and I love her stuff.  I'll probably be using it a lot.  Thanks, Natalie!

Jill's Inconvenient Labor

I had the weirdest, most vivid dream last night. I was with my friend Jill (Hi Jill!) and we were shopping at the dollar store in Virginia, MN. She was immensely pregnant and ready to pop any second. We went up to the checkout to pay for our stuff, Jill went first, and after she was rung up, but before she paid, her water broke and she ran out of the store to the car. The cashier looked at me like, "Well, are you going to pay for her stuff?" and I told her I would pay half because I was sure Jill would be right back to pay because how inconsiderate of her to run out after she was rung up but before she paid. Strangely, this was fine with the cashier and after I paid (half) I went to the car to check on Jill.

It was her car, a suburban and she was in the back panting. At that point I was a little bit mad at myself for letting her drive because now, obviously, I was stuck with her until the baby was born and I had other stuff I had to get done. I told her to move over so I could put our packages in and then she told me to drive her to my house. Yeah, that's right MY house. (WTF, Jill, ever hear of a hospital?) But she said that her husband/father (who was neither her real-life husband or father) was waiting for her at my house. So we went to my house and the guy was there. In the dream he was mostly her father, but sometimes he was her husband, (you know how dreams are.) So anyway, she was uncomfortable and her father kept checking her cervix, which even in the dream I thought was a little weird. Eventually she wanted to go lay on a bed so she went to my room. I was happy to see her go because with all the panting and moaning I couldn't hear the TV.

Shortly after she went to my room and I was finally able to hear my TV show, her father ran downstairs all worried and panicked and said, "Oh no, Jill is bleeding! Is that normal?" I thought a man who was comfortable with checking his daughter's cervix constantly should know if bleeding during labor is normal or not, and why does he have to bother me about it? Then I decided to go up and check on her myself because she was in my bed and I didn't want her bleeding all over everything. I was going to put some garbage bags down underneath her but she wasn't bleeding all that bad. I thought she and her father were being a little melodramatic about the whole thing and I was just about to confront her about her rudeness when the baby was born. It was her son Ethan (who has been born for 5 years) and he was a baby, but he had his five-year-old head. Jill and her father/husband were really happy and relieved. I was happy because now that it was over they could go home. Then I said, "Jill, you owe me $57.00 from the dollar store."

I'm a real bitch in my dreams.

Tomorrow will be better, (I hope)

You are going to be so sorry you read this post, I'm warning you right now. It's about my houseplants, for god's sake. I'm not kidding, scroll down and look, there are pictures. STOP READING THIS.

Okay, you asked for it. Don't say I didn't warn you. I got my plants ready for winter yesterday. I took the ones that were outside that I think can continue to "flourish?" indoors for the winter and now my house looks like a jungle of not-exactly-healthy plants, but they seem to have strong survival skills, having lived months and sometimes years in my care, so the least I can do is not let them freeze.

This one is a hibiscus that I bought a few years ago because it had gorgeous orange blossoms. It is not looking its best right now. I should probably cut it back, but are you supposed to do that in the spring? I don't know. This plant is a drama queen. If I move anywhere but where it is right now (actually it would prefer to be in front of the closet door instead of next to it), all the leaves turn yellow within a few days and fall off. And it hasn't bloomed in a long time. If it was a person it would be an impossible bitch. But it lives on despite its touchiness.

This is a Jerusalem Cherry bush? tree? My mom gave it to me last year for my birthday and I had it outside all summer. The leaves used to be really dark green, but now they are pale green and looking sickly, but it has lots of nice fruit. I aerated the soil today and fed it so hopefully it will start looking better. FYI: Jerusalem cherries look delicious but they are poisonous. I know, I didn't believe it either, so I tasted one once and my mouth got very tingly and then numb.

This is a rubber plant that I got in college. You had one too? No kidding! Everyone did! Is yours still alive though? Mine is still hanging on by a thread. It actually died last year so I cut it way back and then some leaves started sprouting again. I should put it out of its misery but I just can't make myself do it.

Why are you still reading? I can't believe I'm still writing this. It was either write about my plants or my longing for menopause so count yourself lucky I went the boring route instead of the horrifying-you-with-intimate-personal-details-about-my-uterus-that-nobody-wants-to-know route.

My Geekiness Revealed

As some of you may have noticed, I do not always use proper English when writing this blog. I know I know, you're saying, "But Sarah, you're an English major! Surely you know how to conjugate the verb lie as in lie in bed." Of course I do and I just tested myself by taking a quiz on this site and I got a perfect score. I am taking a stand against this irregular verb and using it in the regular fashion. Totally on purpose. I will not lie in a bed when I could much easier lay in a bed. I will not say I have lain anywhere. I simply refuse. It's too stupid. To lie means to tell an untruth, and to confuse it with laying on a bed is just asking for trouble.

Along the same lines, I will write tonite instead of tonight. It's more efficient and just makes more sense. I will not however confuse the words site and sight because they mean different things. See, I have my own rules so I'm not stupid or uneducated. I'm a rebel with a cause. A grammar cause.

So if you see a verb that isn't conjugated in the "proper" fashion, or if you see a more simplistic spelling of a word, know that I'm doing it on purpose to make this a better world for us all.

You're welcome.

Day 6 without the kids

Does this look like a flesh-eating-bacteria? I am pretty sure this tiny blemish on my pinky is from bacteria and I'm pretty sure it's flesh-eating. It's small, I know, but everything starts small. I think I caught something early and now I don't know if I should go to Urgent Care, or directly to the emergency room. Maybe I should just dig it out myself. Or maybe it's just a blister. I'd feel kind of stupid if the doctor laughed at me and said, "Go home idiot." But I bet people who have lost half their torsos to flesh eating bacteria would encourage me to GO! I think I'll do a little home-exploratory-surgery. While I'm at it, I have this thing on my leg.... I think if I had a blade sharp enough I could take care of it. But you don't have a license to practice medicine, you say? I've watched a LOT of ER and I know what I'm doing! I am going to go look up "medical supply stores" in the yellow pages and see where I can buy a scalpel. Wish me luck!

This makes me smile

I found this on Failblog a few days ago and I keep going back to it to look at it again because it tickles me. I picture some poor person in a wheelchair zinging down that ramp and going thirty miles an hour into the street.

When you think about it, it's not funny at all. Totally inappropriate to laugh at that.

Then I think of the poor wheelchair guy who tries to wheel up that incline (what would you say that is, about 45 degrees?) and then I chuckle again imagining him tipping over onto his back like a turtle, or almost getting to the top, after a lot of exertion, and not quite making it at the end and again, zinging into the street, only backwards this time.

Again, not really funny at all. INAPPROPRIATE TO LAUGH AT! This picture actually just makes me realize what a rotton person I am. (Then I laugh some more!)

Twidiot

I joined Twitter a while back but only two people I know are members, and they NEVER update their status, so it's kind of boring. I started following MPR's tweets and also Hugh Jackman's tweets (yes, they are called tweets, get with it!) and today I was bored at work so I read a series of posts right in a row. When I looked at myself in the frame of MPR/Hugh Jackman/me and our Twitter posts, I look like a total moron. Here's a little sample of the posts:

MPR: FDA takes issue with Cheerios health claims

Hugh Jackman: Just landed in Paris...

Sarah Lindahl: My hand smells weird.

MPR: Sugar and corn syrup battle for tastebuds

Hugh Jackman: Just landed in Rio... It is an incredible night!

Sarah Lindahl: Have I mentioned that constipation is no fun?

MPR: St. Lawrence Seaway turns 50

Hugh Jackman: Off to bed... Training at 5:00

Sarah Lindahl: Watchin' Biggest Loser, eatin' snacks

MPR: How is your local newspaper faring?

Hugh Jackman: My thoughts and prayers have been with all of those that have suffered directly or indirectly from the swine flu in Mexico.

Sarah Lindahl: I have no followers, kind of sad but kind of nice. I can say anything I want and nobody cares

MPR: Jury selection begins in Minneapolis police corruption trial

Sarah Lindahl: blah blah blah. pee, poop, boobs, farts


You get the idea... It was a little shocking to see what a loser I am compared to MPR and Hugh Jackman's public persona. Now I need to make a plan to mature and become an actual grownup. Ugh.

Question:

When your gawky adolescent son, who grows about an inch a day, comes out of his room wearing the only clean pants he has right now because his parents haven't done laundry in a week, and the pants are WAY too short; is it mean for one of the parents to ask him, "Where's the flood?" and the other parent to laugh hysterically?

We are terrible parents

Kira had an early release day at school today. She got home two hours early, so at 1:00 instead of 3:00. Was I here to greet her and give her a snack and ask her about her day? No. Was Mitch? No. We were out having lunch together. We totally forgot it was an early release day so we took off at about 12:30, had a long leisurely lunch at Erbert and Gerbert's, and then went our separate ways to run our respective errands. We got home about the same time (2:30ish) and she was here, sitting downstairs by the woodstove, watching cartoons and holding the bird; just waiting to show us how she did on her spelling test. I asked if she was worried and she said she was glad to have the place to herself for a while. But now I think she is sensing that I feel guilty so she's trying to make it worse. She just told me that she didn't get home at 1:00, she got home at noon. (she got home at 1:00) Pretty soon I am expecting to hear she never got to eat lunch, or that she felt like an orphan while she was here alone.