You are what you choose

I sat down a little while ago to write a lighthearted post about something or other that's going on with me. And then an alert popped up on my phone that authorities had apprehended a local  man responsible for killing a 5-year old girl and wounding her mother. I clicked on the alert and saw that the named suspect shared a last name with a girl that I used to know and wondered if there was any connection.

The article stated that he had an extensive criminal record that included charges for domestic violence, felonious assault, unlawful restraint, telephone harassment, kidnapping and aggravated burglary. He had already served 4 years behind bars and was released in 2012. It said that he had a Facebook page but that it had been removed.

I still searched for the accused killer's name on Facebook and found an active page. The website must have been mistaken. This page had no privacy settings activated which meant I could read every post and see every photo.

Name: Geoffrey

Age: 33

Status: In a relationship

Works at: None of your damned business

He likes cars, money, tattoos, Boxer dogs and hanging with his friends. He has three children, two girls and a boy. Photos show little ones who love their Daddy, friends having a good time and a girlfriend that worships him. His page is populated with the stuff of life that you would find on the pages of any of my friends or myself.

But this man has a laundry list of convictions and is accused of murdering a little 5-year old girl.

 

A little girl not unlike one of  his own. A little girl that plays with dolls, sticks her fingers in the birthday cake and gives her Daddy kisses.

How the hell does this happen? We all have a history of "stuff", whether it's abuse or neglect or whatever. How is it that some of us rise above it and some of us keep falling down?

His page was laden with those captioned photos that you see on Facebook all the time. Some are silly animal pics with quotes, some were a little more off color and there were a surprising number of inspirational ones about changing his life and acknowledging  the mistakes of his past.

The comments on his photos revealed that he wasn't seeing his children but that he missed them and hoped to see them soon. But this was the same man who (allegedly) killed a 5-year old girl by shooting her in the head. It's incredibly tragic all the way around.

Interestingly, I just clicked on his Facebook page and it's gone. The photos of his cars, dogs, kids and memories of laughter with friends. All gone.

What an eerie window into his future.

Monday Morning Vinny and Dino

Three-ways just aren't what they used to be.

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


"You want me to do what??"

Original Post Date, June 11, 2009


I was watching this educational video posted by JB over at It's Gonna Take More Than a Hamburger to Make Me Happy, and it got me thinking about a personal grooming experience from my past.

The year was 1988, the summer I turned 22. Of course, at the forefront of my mind was how I looked (kind of like it is now) and I always tried to find the latest, greatest beauty products. We women of Armenian descent are hairy. We pluck and bleach and shave and then shave again at the end of the day. And we don't have baby fine, blonde hair. We have coarse, dark hair.



The hottest thing on the market that year was a hand held hair removal device called an Epilady. It consisted of intertwined coils that rotated at a high speed and RIPPED your hair out by the root.

It has to go down in marketing history as one of the cleverest campaigns out there. How else could you convince grown women to shell out over $75 for a weapon that would leave you wincing in pain but "hair free for days!" $75 for that luxury? I'll give ya a hundred! Finally, something to ease my hair removal woes.

I didn't mind shaving my legs or even my underarms but my biggest pet peeve was my bikini line. I never seemed to be able to get a nice, smooth shave and I didn't like waxing, either. Epilady to the rescue!

I remember hurrying home to try out my new deluxe, gold model Epilady. You had to be sure your skin was dry and that you pulled it taut as you glided it over the area you were concentrating on.




"Wow," I thought to myself, "this isn't as painful as I thought it would be."

I ran my fingers over the section I had completed and I was really impressed with the results. And then it happened.

Now, keep in mind, the year was 1988. Women were just starting to trim down there as bikinis got smaller. I can still remember getting ready to go out on a Friday night when my friend Debbie implored her cousin, Carla, who was changing her clothes to "trim that, for God's sake." It was the 80's. We didn't look like prepubescent teens. We looked more like what this guy is wearing on his head.



So there I was, buzzing along, pulling hair out by the roots, getting a smooth bikini line. I listened to the hum of my Epilady.

HUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

HUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

HUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

HUUU

You got it. Those rotating coils grabbed a hold of my errant Armenian bush and held on for dear life.

What the hell was I going to do? I tried sending my dog for help but Lassie he wasn't. He did come back with a squeaky toy that proved helpful as something to bite down on to ease the pain and muffle my screams.

I managed to make my way into another room, my Epilady dangling precariously between my legs. I found some sewing shears in the kitchen drawer and carefully snip snipped to release myself from its grip. I think I spent the rest of the night with a bag of frozen peas in my lap.

Thank God it's not the 80's anymore.

Who's a freeze baby?

Okay, so I wasn't going to post about the weather because you could just turn on the news and hear about it.

 

 

Polar vortex, smowmageddon, blah....blah...blah...

 

Well, then I woke up at 4am on Tuesday morning and I had no power. I'm not even sure why I woke up, but I looked over at the nightstand clock with the red lighted numbers and it was off. And the funny thing is, I haven't even plugged in for at least a month but for some reason, I decided to plug it in on Monday before I went to bed.

 

I thought maybe the plug had become loose so I turned on the lamp to check.

 

Nuthin'.

 

Oh shit, no power.

 

I pulled back the covers and it felt colder than usual so I grabbed my phone, turned it on to light my way and stepped out into the hallway to check the thermostat. It was 65 which wasn't too bad since I turn it down to 70 when I go to bed anyway. I honestly wasn't too concerned because I was sure it would be back on soon. I guess I must have had a temporary lapse of memory and forgot about the 18 hour power outage back in October.

 

I fell asleep for a little while and woke up to my neighbor texting me. "We have no power." Way ahead of ya, buddy.

 

One hour turned into two as I watched the temperature continue to fall. I texted my dog walking clients that I couldn't get my car out of my garage because of the power outage and I wasn't sure if it would be back on in time but that I would keep them posted. Honestly, I was hoping that it wouldn't be back on because with the wind chill, the temperature was -35 degrees.

 

A temperature that low is a danger to both us and our pets but if they wanted their dog walked, I would walk them to the front tree and back.

 

The night before I had gotten an automated call from the city that I live in stating that the community center would be open as a "warming center" the next day but I disregarded it, thinking I wouldn't be needing it. Whenever I hear the term "warming center", I think to myself, "Those are open in the inner city for homeless people." Then the temperature in the house dropped to 42 degrees and I could literally see my breath.

 

Okay, maybe we should head to the warming center.

 

I called the community center from my almost dead cell phone and they informed me that they had no heat so I called the next city over. They said they were open but when I asked if I could bring my dogs, they said they discouraged it but that I could bring them if they were in kennels. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen so I called my neighbor to see if he wanted to go to the community center to charge our phones. The funny thing is, we had both just gotten portable phone chargers for occasions just like this but both out chargers were dead. Duh.

 

I felt terrible leaving my babies home alone but I knew that I wasn't going to be gone long and I bundled them all up before I left. Even Vinny let me put a sweater around him!

We were thrilled to find that the power was on when we came back home but it was a loooong 12 hours.

Note to self: Buy a generator!

Monday Morning Vinny & Maddie

 

Now I lay me down to sleep...

Sunday start over

HELLOOOOO!!!!!

 

I know. I know....

 

I've been bad. I've neglected everyone. I haven't written a blog post and I haven't read any in almost a month. If it's any consolation, I've been an equal opportunity neglector, if that's even a word. I only saw one friend during the holidays and spent 15 minutes with another when I dropped off her children's presents on Christmas Eve.

 

There's so much to talk about and I've made notes along the way so I don't forget any of the details for you. I was ready to jump back in until around Christmas when I got sick. SUPER sick, like I was when I left my job at the hospital in the spring. The last of it is still hanging on but at least I'm able to sleep for 7 hours straight without feeling like I'm coughing up a lung.

 

I hope you all had wonderful holidays spent with family and friends and I'll be stopping by all your blogs to catch up during the winter blast that we're getting in the next few days!

 

Monday Morning Millie

"Oh, it's a secret? Right-o! Safe with me, babe!"

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


"Did I hear a bell?"

Original Post Date, August 7, 2009


I went vegan for a few months and even though I found it much easier to follow than I had anticipated, I was bored. There weren't many sources of protein other than beans and I inadvertently almost committed suicide by inhaling the noxious fumes that came out of my ass on a daily basis.

So I started eating fish and chicken a few weeks ago. Oh, and ice cream. Lots of ice cream. Needless to say, I've gained a little weight back but I've hesitated to introduce meat back into my diet. Until today, that is.

I've had a very productive 3 days off and since I'm tired of eating a pint of ice cream every night for dinner, I decided to treat myself to a steak.

A few years ago, I met this really great guy that I dated for about 4 months. We'll call him Sparky, since he was an electrician. Sparky and I didn't have a lot in common. He was into NASCAR, sports, working out and tanning, none of which I had any interest in. But we had fun together and there was a very strong physical attraction.

Eventually, we admitted that what we had would never turn into anything more so we decided to become "friends with benefits".

The code phrase was "Are you in the mood for Outback tonight?"

We would go have a nice, thick steak and then come home for a little boom-boom. I was like Pavlov's dog everytime I saw an Outback commercial or heard someone say G'day.

I haven't seen Sparky in about 6 months and I actually got a little nostalgic at the butcher counter today at the thought of eating steak without him.

Can I just tell you, eating that steak was like a religious experience for me? I had forgotten how much I missed it and how good it could be. I even got a little "tingly tingly" down there.

That got me thinking that maybe I was worshipping the wrong meat all that time. Maybe I was actually turned on by the beef and not Sparky?



I wonder if it's legal to marry a cow?

If so, I'll have to add this to the registry.

Monday Morning Dino

 

Christmas is coming? Wake me when it gets here.

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


"Itsy bitsy spider, my ass"

Original Post Date, September 10, 2009

I'm really glad that we're coming into my favorite season of the year. I love the colorful foliage, the crisp autumn air and the lull of crickets outside my window as I'm falling asleep.

What I don't love are the spiders. I am unreasonably afraid of spiders. I don't care if they keep the insects under control. And as far as singing this little ditty about it being bad luck to kill a spider in your house:


If you wish to live and thrive

Let the spider run alive


Rubbish! I need to kill them before they kill me. Hey, I saw Arachnophobia. I'm no fool.

I've been known to spend the night on the couch because a spider scurried under my bed and I couldn't find where it went. And I've almost killed myself from inhaling an entire can of bug spray fumes because there's a daddy long-legs in the shower. Who's your daddy now, sucker!




There are two spiders that live in the frame of my front door. Every day, they weave their webs, inviting innocent insects to stumble into their lair. And every day, I brush them away with a very long handled broom. I'm sure my mailman thinks that I don't care about my property because the front of my house looks like it belongs to the Addams Family every evening when I get home from work.




I'm reasonable enough to allow them to live if they are OUTSIDE of my home. I think that's a fair compromise.

However, I did catch a fleeting glimpse of a pretty large, scary looking one in the woods behind my house. So help me God, if I see it again...I'm getting my shovel.

C Cleveland - Portal Sculpture

The city of Cleveland has over 200 outdoor sculptures and monuments in the Greater Cleveland area, within Cuyahoga County alone. Today we'll focus on Isamu Noguchi's "Portal", which sits outside of the Justice Center in downtown Cleveland. The Justice Center has been my home for the past week and each day, I was able to gaze upon the sculpture when I realized that I don't really know the history of it.

 

Isamu Noguchi, a Japanese-American, is known as one of the twentieth century's most important and critically acclaimed sculptors.

 

 

He created gardens, ceramics, set designs, sculptures and even furniture. The Noguchi coffee table below was manufactured by Herman Miller in 1948 and is still in production today.

Noguchi had a strong belief in the social significance sculpture. The first sculpture that brought him recognition was a relief mural in stainless steel at the Associated Press building in Rockefeller Center, New York City. It symbolized the freedom of the press. (1940)

 



 

He was commissioned for Cleveland's Portal in 1976. It stands 36' high at its tallest and is painted steel.

 

 

 

Much like the Free stamp I've highlighted before, many don't "get" minimalist modern sculpture and at the time of the installation, many art critics weren't big fans, either. It was donated by the Gund Foundation and I think it gave people some solace knowing that their tax dollars didn't pay for this.

 

The modern Justice Center replaced the old courthouse in the background below and brought the Cleveland Police Headquarters Building, the Cuyahoga County and Cleveland Municipal Courts Tower and the Correction Center all to one location.

 

As I've mentioned before, I love public works because everyone can decide for themselves what they see. My interpretation is the intertwining of the departments and the strength of those departments as evidenced in the steel.

 



 

 

Noguchi actually named a number of his abstract sculptures Portal and they appear to change shape depending on the viewing angle. 

 

What do you see?

You have been summoned

Hope to be back next week!

Monday Morning Beagles

"Okay, let's get our stories straight. We never saw the peanut butter and we have no idea what she's talking about. Got that?"

Enter credit card here

I've always loved to shop but in recent years, I've become an uber online shopper. I like to be able to peruse store inventories from the comfort of my home instead of wandering around trying to figure out where the item is that I want.

 

Don't get me wrong, I still love to spend afternoons shopping for nothing with girlfriends and wandering around local resale shops to find that perfect item that I didn't know I couldn't live without.

 

But I do LOVE internet shopping. Some frown at the additional shipping costs but there are so many places online to find discount codes that I don't worry about it. We share online retailer discount codes the way our mothers used to share recipes.

 

Along with online shopping comes online marketing. Most of it ends up in my junk mail but I go through that box every few days because you never know when something (or someone) useful might be in that folder.

 

I was going through my junk mail tonight when I clicked on an email from the store Anthropologie. I love this store even though I'm probably older than their target demographic. It's one of those stores that draws you in with its beautifully merchandised interior and unique items. I usually avoid the clothing half of the store and head for the home side.

 

Tonight, the email announced a wedding collection.  I know, I know. I usually would have just deleted it but the most STUNNING dress was featured in the email. It's called the Harlow gown and it harkens back the glamour  of art deco in the '40's. I probably wore something like this in my former life because, as you know, I'm totally reincarnated from this glorious era.

 

And yes, I would lose the sash. Who belts a wedding dress??

Now, the chances are slim to none that I will ever wear a wedding dress other than if I choose to be the bride of Frankenstein for Halloween.  That being said, the $1600 that I would spend on this lovely dress would be better spent on other useful items in the store.

Like this $2500 resin and steel chair. I would so be tempted to lick it.

 

Or this $498 Argentinean candy machine. I'm sure I wouldn't put any silly gumballs in it. Picture this: black jelly beans!

 

Or this adorable $198 fox pillow. As if The Fox song isn't in my head enough already.

Now it can be in yours.

 As, yes, I'm embarrassed to say that I like this ridiculous song. It's just so darn catchy!

Hint...if you don't like it, dance to it and you can't help but love it. And I just found out that the brothers who created this video have a talk show in Norway and they did this as a goof. Well, here they are 194 million YouTube views later. Suck that, Kanye.

 

If I want to spend the entire $1600 that I would have spent on the gown, I can just buy 114 of these initial wall hooks.

You know. One for every guy I've ever dated.

 

Monday Morning Vinny

 

Your cat jumps on your dining room table? That's so gross.

 

 My Vinny never does that.

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


"For this, I showered?"

Original Post Date, January 25, 2010


I tried to convince my doctor that I had become F-A-T from the medication that she had prescribed for me in the spring. She concurred that it may have attributed to my weight gain and so, she agreed that we could try switching meds.

I waited patiently for my medication to come from my new mail order prescription company. It arrived a little over a week ago, just as I ran out of my other pills. I read through the handout that came with the prescription and it listed many of the same possible side effects that the other drug had.


*fatigue

*muscle weakness

*chest pain

*headache

*itching/rash

*nausea

*feeling light-headed

*death

You know, the usual CYA list that drug companies utilize.

I was happy to see that Anorgasmia wasn't on the list however, lack of sexual desire was. So it looks like I won't have any trouble actually having an orgasm, I just won't want to.

The first few days, I felt fine. The third day, I was feeling a little light-headed and nauseous. My sister told me to call the doctor but I was sure that I could work through the side effects like I had the last time. At least I didn't have that catatonic Stepford Wife thing going on again.

By Friday, I could barely move my head without feeling like I was going to fall down and I would intermittently get that head rush feeling while sitting at my desk. But I was gonna work through it because hello.....I might actually lose weight on this drug.


Saturday, I was too afraid to shower because I thought I might fall down in the tub. You people who live alone know what I'm talking about. That fear of falling and hitting our heads or choking on food and not being able to perform the Heimlich on ourselves. No one will find us until the rotting stench of our corpse alerts the mailman that something is wrong.

Sunday, I felt even worse and I decided to take a shower in case I had to call 911. Well, I didn't want be stinky when the hunky paramedics got here...

I dropped the soap but didn't want to bend over and pick it up so I just kept kicking it until it finally looped high enough off the side for me to catch it. I safely exited, put on my robe and decided to lay down on the couch.

What happens next could be titled, A Day in My Life..

My cell phone beeped that I had a text message but I was too lazy to get up and answer it. Then my home phone rang and since it was on the coffee table, I reached over to answer it.

"Hi Christine, it's Jim!" (only close friends like you guys call me Chrissy)

For those of you who don't know, Jim is my next door neighbor.

"Hi Jim. How are you?" the pounding in my head got worse.

"Good! I just wanted you to know that I'm officially divorced!"

Oh dear God, I thought to myself, but I managed a "congratulations" and we chatted for a few minutes. Inevitably, Jim wanted to come over and chat some more.

"Sorry, Jim, this isn't a good time."

And inevitably, he mentioned that "if I ever wanted to get together for dinner or something, that would be great."

Now I felt dizzy and I hadn't even stood up. I fumbled through an excuse to get off the phone and was lying there holding my head when the reminder beep on my cell went off again.

It was loud and annoying so I got up to see who it was. It was from my old boyfriend Sparky's brother's girlfriend, Carrie. We had never met while Sparky and I were dating.

She explained to me that she had moved here a few years back and still didn't really have many friends and Sparky had said what a great person I was and how much fun I was and would I like to get together sometime?

Wha?

I called a girlfriend and read her the text.

"Isn't this odd?"

"Yes, but aren't you curious?"

"If I'm so fun and great, why isn't he dating me? Why is he setting up a play date with his pseudo sister-in-law?"

"Because you have that special gift for dating only emotionally unavailable men. It doesn't mean that he doesn't think you're great, he just can't handle you, so he wants to vicariously experience you through her."

I haven't responded back to Carrie yet.

I decided to go to the drugstore armed with my list of alternate meds that my insurance company had sent me because the Stepford Wife drug has become "non-formulary" which means three times the co-pay. I needed to see what my options were to switch drugs again.

I was sitting patiently in a chair, waiting for my pharmacy consultation when I glanced over at the woman sitting next to me in the cramped waiting area. She seemed to be taking great pleasure in the newspaper article she was reading when all of sudden she let out a chuckle and looked over at me.

Oh God, here we go...

"My goodness, would you look at this?", she leaned over and turned the page toward me. "Doesn't she look like the happiest, nicest person?"

My eyes went to where her finger was pointing and I let out a maniacal laugh at this culmination of my goofy day. She grinned even larger.

"Wow. She sure does.", I said,"I would love to hang out with her!" Maybe Carrie could come along.







She was pointing to the photo of a dead woman in the obituaries.

But I'M the one who's on medication...