Oh the quizzes! Somebody stop me!

Your Personality Profile

You are dependable, popular, and observant. Deep and thoughtful, you are prone to moodiness. In fact, your emotions tend to influence everything you do. You are unique, creative, and expressive. You don't mind waving your freak flag every once and a while. And lucky for you, most people find your weird ways charming!

The World's Shortest Personality Test

From my friend at Underwater Light, B!

You Are Scary

You even scare scary people sometimes!

How Scary Are You?

Building a House

Sometimes I look at my soft pink hands and wonder where the calluses would be if I did real work. I know that supposedly with education comes the benefit of doing work that is less physically demanding. A move up to white collar, so to speak. But at the end of a day, or week, or year, I've punched on a keyboard and talked my voice hoarse over a phone. That's it. I don't even create very much paper. My paycheck is direct deposited and the stub is online. I use a debit card if I need it--for almost everything. There's no real feeling of doing a job, seeing a big pile turn into a little one or watching bricks become a wall. There's no cash in hand to signify work done. I feel very disconnected from the world around me.

Now, this week has been different. I am on vacation, and for the first few days I was by myself so I went shopping. Shopping therapy can do wonders for the old self-esteem, especially the day I bought a new pair of pants that were two sizes smaller than the ones I wore in. I've been working on losing weight all year and it was finally time to go buy new fall clothes. Yay! But then on Thursday and Friday, Sweetie was on vacation with me. So we had work to do.

In the spring, a friend of his had decided to retire. They were closing shop on a family run greenhouse business that had been in west Louisville for more than sixty years. During that time, the neighborhood surrounding the business had changed, and they were spending as much time and money on repairs from vandalism as they were making from produce. So the man sold most of the modern greenhouses, and planned to tear down the really old original buildings--except for the parts he gave to Sweetie. So all summer we have had a stack of lumber and panes of glass in the back yard, waiting for the chance to be assembled again in our little corner of the world. We got started Thursday.

It helps to know how Sweetie and I approach an issue. I see parts and I might read the directions, but I want to see pieces stuck together, and soon. Sweetie reads the instructions, lays out all the pieces, measures everything, surveys the site, measures again, makes a template...to the point where I have gone back in the house to check my email. I am not complaining--if he didn't have patience there would be a lot more broken stuff around the house. But I have enjoyed being the hammer holder, and the putty scraper, and the old nail puller outer. He is the designer and assembler. We understand our roles and there is no friction. We worked together the better part of Thursday without any complaints and very little conversation. We had a job to do.

It's now Saturday night. Tomorrow I have been promised brunch at the Bristol (never leave Louisville without having Sunday brunch at the Bristol) and then we will come home, change into our scrappy jeans, and assemble the roof. After that, it's painting. Then we put in the glass and glaze. I am going to have a vintage, wood and glass greenhouse in the backyard. And if I can't grow anything after a few years, I am going to move for a hot tub. But until then I will try some herbs and petunias and ferns and maybe some lemon thyme for the ground in front between the paver stones. Then we will have a pleasant place to sip tea and eat crumpets and be very Victorian. Sweetie likes Victorian.

It won't be finished for weeks, but we have started. I got a real splinter, and my fingertips are tough and a bit scratchy. I know, the soft little girl actually did some work. But I loved it.

How Big a Kid Am I?

OK. I guess I am a bit advanced in years for the whole dressing up for Halloween thing. But I work in a cube farm where it's about the only fun thing we have right now. So I was stuck for a costume idea until last week. I caught sight of a poster I have above my computer here at home, and inspiration struck! I got Sweetie to help me a bit, and now I have been on Ebay searching for the props I'll need. I have my lunchbox, my welding goggles, my Army sweetheart pin, and soon my coveralls will arrive in the mail. Then with the red fabric with white polka dots that Mom found for me at Hobby Lobby, I will become...Rosie The Riveter!
Talk about dressing up like your hero, or in this case, heroine. As a lifelong student of history and the wife of a WWII memorabilia collector, I suppose it's a natural choice. Rosie embodies the spirit that I want to possess--the "We Can Do It!" attitude that puts rivets in ships and planes in the air. When she went to work, she WORKED! All those blow up films from the 60's make it seem like the gallant man's fight, but WWII put men in the Army and women in the supply line. It wasn't all equal rights but it was a big leap forward. Interesting to see the changes that have taken place since then. I'd like to know Rosie's take on it all.
There were real Rosies you know. There are many alive today, although the number gets smaller as the generation passes on into history. There is a Rosie The Riveter Museum dedicated to the women who built the Armed Forces, kept production lines running, then went home and boomed out a few million babies. Bless their hearts.
Anyway, on Halloween I will try and pull off my best Rosie. Then I can put my costume into Sweetie's collection of memorabilia--and pay homage to veterans of the home front, who served not for valor or medals, but for the men and boys they cared about. Thanks, ladies.

Sharing a Forward

OK: I promise not to make a habit of this but I received a forward today which I thought was pretty good. Not complete, so I'll add my notes to it.
Subject: Identifying a Stroke

A neurologist says that if he can get to a stroke victim within 3 hours he can totally reverse the effects of a stroke...totally. He said the trick was getting a stroke recognized, diagnosed and getting to the patient within 3 hours which is tough.


RECOGNIZING A STROKE - A true story [I didn't verify this--take it as a parable]: Susie is recouping at an incredible pace for someone with a massive stroke all because Sherry saw Susie stumble- - that is the key that isn't mentioned below - and then she asked Susie 3 questions. So simple - - this literally saved Susie's life - - Someone sent it to Suzie's friend and they did just what it said to do. Suzie failed all three so 911 was called. Even though she had normal blood pressure readings and did not appear to be a stroke as she could converse to some extent with the Paramedics they took her to the hospital right away.
Thank God for the sense to remember the 3 questions!
Read and Learn! Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to identify.

Unfortunately, the lack of awareness spells disaster. The stroke victim may suffer brain damage when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of a stroke. Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a stroke by asking three simple questions:

1.. *Ask the individual to SMILE. [This can reveal facial muscle failure which can signal a stroke.]

2.. *Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS. [Signs of a stroke include loss of control for one side of the body.]

3.. *Ask the person to SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE (Coherently) (ie. It is sunny out today)[Often during a stroke, a victim loses the ability to get their thoughts out by speech--their efforts are interrupted.]

If he or she has trouble with any of these tasks, call 9-1-1 immediately and describe the symptoms to the dispatcher.



After discovering that a group of non-medical volunteers could identify facial weakness, arm weakness and speech problems, researchers urged the general public to learn the three questions. They presented their conclusions at the American Stroke Association's annual meeting last February. Widespread use of this test could result in prompt diagnosis and treatment of the stroke and prevent brain damage. A cardiologist says if everyone who gets this e-mail sends it to 10 people, you can bet that at
least one life will be saved.
BE A FRIEND AND SHARE THIS ARTICLE WITH AS MANY FRIENDS AS POSSIBLE, it could save their lives.

[Thanks for your patience, and I hope you never need this information.]

A Challenge

My best friend B has a cool blog, Underwater Light, and she recently did a post called Seven Things... which was pretty interesting. But then she challenged me to do it and I don't think I can even come up with 7 things in these categories. But here goes.

Seven things to do before I die:
1. Take another vacation that involves an overnight stay somewhere besides my parents' house.
2. Clean out my parents' attic.
3. Go on a road trip.
4. Visit the Smithsonian Museum. All of it.
5. Geesh. 7 things? Um, get a kid turned on to reading.
6. Cook a pancake. No scorch marks.
7. See my toes without leaning over to get past my belly.

Seven Things I can do:
1. Tell a funny story.
2. Clean my house enough to impress my Mom.
3. Drive in downtown traffic--this is truly amazing.
4. Create an ICS, doc the PBS flow, xfer to CIU and advise a refund. Thank you, English Lit degree! Piece of crap...
5. Get strangers talking to me in strange places like elevators or doctor's offices. I guess I have a listening face.
6. Talk to professionals on the phone. This used to intimidate me but now I just act like a Big Dog and it works. Cool.
7. Make up funny lyrics to real songs and sing them for my Sweetie to make him laugh.

Seven Things I can't do:
1. Swim.
2. Look at the ocean without getting depressed.
3. Tell my boss I am independently wealthy so screw this job and the horse it rode in on.
4. Watch that Prego commercial with violins and the little girl's sepia tone picture without getting a huge lump in my throat.
5. Tell my parents what I really think.
6. Live without Sweetie.
7. Lay on the couch all day watching war movies. Come on, for Pete's Sake! Let's go out to eat or to the grocery or on a drive or something!

Seven Things I say Most Often:
1. "Thank you for calling ****. This is Amy. In order to assist you, may I have your member ID?"
2. Wuv!
3. What do you want for supper?
4. Deo! (Dear with a lisp, I guess. I don't know where this started.)
5. I need something to snack on.
6. I wonder what-insert person's name-is doing right now?
7. You're a nut! (Said to the married nut I share this place with. Sometimes about myself for said sharing. Always in joking.)

Seven Things I never thought I would do but did:
1. Drive.
2. Get married.
3. Move away from Bowling Green.
4. Do something my parents said not to do.
5. Wear underwear that was brightly colored or with patterns. (I used to actually have to split a Granny pack from Walmart with Mom. And undies were folded on the kitchen table so everybody sees what you wear. Now where would my repressive tendencies come from?)
6. Take another job in insurance. Oi.
7. Not believe in the religion I was raised with.

Seven Cities I've Seen:
1. Indianapolis.
2. Atlanta.
3. Pensacola.
4. Dallas/Ft Worth.
5. Bagdad, KY
6. Olive Branch, MS
7. Paris, TN

Then I am supposed to list seven people to tag, but the person who tagged me is the only blogger I know who knows me. So. I guess that's the end of this exercise. Til next time.

Woah Nelly! The Excitement is About To Get Me!

Well, maybe not so much. It's the end of another Saturday, and unlike the last few weeks, I did absolutely nothing today. And I don't mean I didn't do anything fun. I mean I slept until 12:08. In the afternoon. Then I got up and bummed around in my pink and brown pajama pants and favorite jammy shirt from Mcguire's Irish Pub, sipping Diet Mt Dew and lighting a few candles. Oh, note to anyone who might ever buy me a candle--I am not a fan of those sickly sweet floral scented candles like the Yankee lilac one. It was a gift which was very kind but it's a bit much.
For a while, Sweetie and I watched decorating shows. They usually motivate me to clean something or throw away junk that has been left on the coffeetable/kitchen counter/dinner table. Not today. Today I got bored so around 7pm I took a two hour nap. Sweetie woke me up and asked if I wanted to go on a cheap date so I said sure. He said, I'll fix some pot pies and we'll pick a movie from On Demand so we don't have to go anywhere. Fine with me--that meant I was already dressed for the occasion.
Movies can't all be gems. We are probably the straightest people in the world who ever watched Pink Floyd: The Wall all the way through. Sweetie said afterwards, well that's three bucks and two hours I'll never get back. I told him, But at least now we'll understand all the social references in pop culture. We turned it to M*A*S*H*.

Happy Truckers' Day!

I don't know if it's official anywhere but today should be National Thank a Truck Driver Day. Just because we could always remember it by saying, 10/4, good buddy! This is a little joke I enjoy once a year, every year. heehee. Still we really should appreciate those mavericks of the road who get our goodies from A to B so we never have to go without the important things in life--like Honey BBQ twisty Fritos.

When I was a little girl I had an old radio with a real dial that let you hear static between stations, and at night I could pick up a national DJ who would talk to truckers from all over the country. I always liked to hear the weather reports; he would mix the weather with the lingo, so that you just knew the skies were threatening over the old double nickels. Someday I want to drive on I-55 and say, cool. Maybe it comes from growing up in the country, where on a humid summer night you could sit on the front porch and hear the sound of the big trucks gearing down as they headed for Nashville. The interstate was a good two miles away at the end of our country road but the sound was always there. Like some people get accustomed to train whistles, or ocean waves, or hoot owls, I always had the lull of the truck wheels rolling on that Kentucky asphalt in the distance, soothing me into dreams of far away places.

Where the Buffalo Party

Well all is right again in the Planoamy world. Sweetie is peachy keen again and nestled on the couch with a nice WWII book at present. I thought I would update you all on that so you could go back to the warm fuzzies normally associated with my little posts.

Oh, and Hooray! We went to the birthday party and took our present and he liked it best! He liked it better than the inflatable bouncy house! Heheh. Not that this is a big deal or anything.

Yes, Sunday was the big party, and let me say for a kid's birthday it was a lot of fun. We trekked over to Shelbyville--a pleasanter drive you couldn't have unless you had a vanilla coke from Sonic to sip along the way. Over hill, through dell, around raccoons who had seen better days, we made our way to the Buffalo Crossing Fun Ranch and Petting Zoo. We were slightly, well, disinclined to believe this would be much fun for us. Since we are of course culture snobs. Ha. But anyhow, the kid's parents must really love him because they rented a "Buffday" cabin for his party, and a bouncy house and we all got to go on a wagon ride to see the white buffalo and the camels and the goats (supposedly those narcoleptic goats too, although none of the grownups had the, um, nerve to make a loud noise and see if the goats really would stiffen up and fall over for a minute. Geesh!) The kids got to pick pumpkins, and they had a buffet lunch with real fried chicken and what they said were bufalo meat hamburger patties. I went poultry in this case. After all of this it was time for the presents, and again this year we came through with flying colors!

We don't know what is cool. I admit that right now because after watching him shred paper on a few boxes, I learned there is a show called Teen Titans, and some kind of Spongebob Squarepants doll that rips his pants, and a robot that turns into a car. We didn't even try to compete on that level. No we went stealth--low tech toy shoppers were we. We knew he liked animals so Sweetie picked out a jungle safari set that kind of looked like legos without the building feature. Well he got to that present and just decided to sit down and open it and play with that and let the kids go out to the bouncy house--and he still had a table full of gifts. Score for us! It was exciting, and fun, and a good time was had by all. After a round of cake and Happy Birthday, the kids were running around like they were on crack and the parents all looked like they could just stretch out on a picnic table and sleep for a few hours. We made a gracious exit and giggled to ourselves all the way home, holding hands and dodging raccoons.

It's So Hard To Admit

You know when you argue about something, and the other person is pretty much right, but you just hate to be that dog that lies on its back whimpering for you to pet its belly? Yeah. That's hard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyhow, although the issue is smoothed out and things are understood and it wasn't worth the argument in the first place, it still takes a while to get back into touchy feely mode. And I really want to get back. I mean, he still smells so good. And that spot where his hair parts at the very back of his head from his nap on the couch--it just needs kissing. But somehow it would be kind of awkward. I made his coffepot this morning and even fixed our little sandwiches for our Saturday afternoon lunch that we like. Ah, the bear takes a while to get over his growl.

This afternoon our task is to find the perfect birthday present for the four year old son of our friends. He is a rowdy great kid and we've been looking forward to his birthday party. But what does a four year old really yearn for in his heart? Remember when you were a kid and your relatives bought you considerate, useless presents that left you disappointed? Not because they weren't what you wanted, but because it meant that the people you loved didn't know you well enough to get the right thing. Maybe a four year old won't think like that. I was just a moody kid. But I really want to avoid that by buying the coolest present. Still, we are friends of the family so we can't outdo any of his official relatives. Oh the soap opera of a kid's birthday! I'll let you know how it turns out.

Sorry for the absence but due to my grumpy post-argument mood I didn't want to mouth off until I felt a bit more collected. You know.