You never know what you'll find - humor, ramblings, rants, randomness- it's all me! |
Don't take it personal? Positively, one of the stupidest phrases used. First of all, it isn't even correct grammar which immediately makes me squirm - Don't take it personally! Personally being an adverb modifying how or in this case how not to 'take' it. Follows an action verb - all the clues are there. Anyway, besides grammatically-challenged, the very act of versing it is going to make me take it personally. I mean, you are speaking to me about something that was said or done to me (aka a person). How should I take it? All she said was she didn't like that color on you. Don't take it personal. Hmmmm. . . How should I take it? As a personal offense to the color? Perhaps a verbal attack on a particular color of our blessed spectrum of shades? Umm. . . and she did add the words 'on you'. So, I basically ruin that color? That's a lot of power to have, way too much responsibility. Besides, personally I think it was a bitchy thing to say. Unless of course, I asked - which I wouldn't. Or if she was my colorist - which I can't even fathom having. Anyway, enough of that. Am I the only one that has people in my life that I daily want to say 'Do you realize you really just said that aloud?" Well, there is one particular person that wins the prize for this in my life - I work with her, so it's not like I choose to see her everyday. Here are a few examples: (Upon hearing I was getting married - both my fiance' and I have been married before) "Oh, so you are the consolation bride." Lunchroom: "How can you eat cheese all the time? Don't you know it will stop you up?" (Seriously, no one has asked about my b.m.'s since my obsessive grandmother when i was about 4.) "Were you running late this morning? I mean did you have time to assess that blouse and skirt combination?" "Being a single mom must be sort of freeing. . . and saves money come to think of it - only 2 mouths to feed. You are so lucky." I could go on but I'm getting the urge to punch someone and I'm the only one here so that would be somewhat counterproductive. Bottom line: If you don't want me to take it personally - think before you speak or say something wonderful about me - I'll take that personally too. Personally, I love to write, Audra |
I could tell you about . . . Coughing so violently from bronchitis while driving that i peed my pants and puked on myself. Or getting my hand stuck in a vending machine Begging strangers for 10 cents Or even the healing power of crushed ice and orange jello I could tell you about.... A miniscule Christmas tree whose spirit engulfs the room About praying from the truest place that words elude you but your Spirit is comforted Or even losing a 100 dollar bill and not even caring though bills are stacked high Or being the strong one in a situation where you are usually the weak one Or i could tell you about liza . . . Well actually no i couldnt But what i want to share is... the feeling of holding your best friend's hand softly while he sleeps... resisting the urge to hold on tightly. The realization that you are at a beginning point of your life at a stage you thought the rest would just be coasting. I feel his heartbeat in the crease between his thumb and finger. It matches the pulse in his neck. His eyes are closed finally in restful sleep yet it feels like hes watching to make sure I understand life is still amazing and new. He smiles ... no he grins as if discovering a secret in his sleep. It became so clear to me that before me lay my past, present, and future all in one unbelievable person. I love you, Bruce. Merry Christmas. Audra |
Do me a favor, please. Come on, please - humor me - it's an audio thing. I'm pretending to have an interactive blog. Okay so here's the big favor: Read the following sentence out loud: What do I have to give? So how did you read it? Were you asking 'How much were you supposed to give? or "What talents do you have to contribute?" I think the emphasis is the word 'have' that changes it but it's kind of a pace thing too. I got this from a sermon at church - so I guess I'm guilty of stealing from my preacher. What do I have to give to make up for that? While the question itself is interesting to me - it is more the emphasis and interpretation that has been tickling my remaining brain cells. It's similar to the glass half-full vs. half-empty thing . . . but not really. Depending on how you say it is compelling to me. One way you are on the defensive because you feel as if you are losing part of yourself or possibly possessions, and in the other instance you are looking for something you have worth giving and contributing. It made me reflect personally. Do I put a wall up to keep a distance from others and what they might want? or Do I look within myself to see what I have to offer that would be worth taking the wall down brick by brick? Okay, so that was me just pretending to be deep and philosophical. Gosh, no wonder I hated my Philosophy class in college. On a lighter note, we had an assembly on 'sexting' today at the middle school. Tons of fun....needed I know and completely support, but you try getting kids back focused when they are thinking about one of the following: 1. Oh crap, is that picture mom posted on Facebook of me when I was two and mostly covered in bubbles in the bathtub going to make her have to register as a sex offender. 2. He he he . . . They said naked picture in the assembly. 3. They just don't realize how in love Johnny and I are. He would never show someone our conversations or pictures. 4. Holy hat - I'm screwed. Of course, it didn't help much that this assembly was after Home Ec where we were sewing and I made the mistake of saying . . . Watch what you are doing. You don't want to go in the wrong hole. You see anything you say to middle schoolers can be taken, well, as having to do with sex or poop. But you know, you just have to kind of go with it. Eventually you start thinking like them which can make family dinners during the holidays awkward. I mean there you sit, 45 years old, finally at the grown up table and you burst out laughing when your brother says: Let's just eat. You can never count on Becky (his wife) to do anything on time. It seems like I've spent my life waiting for her to come, and it's always at least 10 minutes later than I thought it would be. Pass me turkey. I've been craving some dark meat. Your parents and siblings look at you like your insane, but your nephews think you are pretty damn cool and welcome you back to the kid table. So there you have it. . . philosophy and dirty talk all in one blog. Keeping my reputation up, Audra |
Writing to Write or Writing to be Read? Why do I blog? Okay, let's just lay it out there - The main reason I blog is so I can procrastinate from doing something that needs to be done yet doesn't really appeal to me. I do write as a release . . . of what you ask? Hmmm. . . creativity, anxiety, confusion, outlet, sexual tension ~okay, okay, I threw that last one in just so this wasn't quite so boring and you might read on. But do I really write for me? Is that enough? Or does part of me want someone to read it? Is it the act of writing or communicating that appeals to me? This is seriously on topic though it might not seem so at first. We got new English books for my 8th grade class - they are kind of hokey and I rarely use a textbook anyway, but so the school board would feel justified I tried out the first chapter. At first, it appealed to me. It was about why writing is important and the different ways we use it. I believe this is important, because if you can't convince a 14 year old that they will use what they are learning and they might actually benefit somewhat from it, it's going to be a long year! But here is what it said: The Main Purposes to Write: 1. Entertain Others 2. Share Information 3. Persuade 4. Inform No personal fulfillment addressed? Are you kidding me? So, I decided to 'alter' the well-meaning author's list and turned Entertain Others to - To Enjoy: Not only can writing bring your reader enjoyment, it can be personally fulfilling too. It enables you to express your thoughts and feelings. For me, writing helps me escape from everyday life. Was this wrong of me? I don't think so. I mean I didn't mislead their entire English class venture by telling them that nouns are really verbs and they banned all adjectives when the higher ups decided Pluto was no longer a planet. Though, the mischievous side of me does see some fun in that. All I did was tell them it was okay to write for themselves -- despite what I've believed at times in my own life not everything we do has to benefit others or the world. Sometimes it is okay to just do something for yourself. That being said, why then do I check to see if I've had any views? Sometimes it is just for enjoyment - to see if I made someone smile or laugh. Curiosity - does anyone know Audra Ralls is out there? And those times I share something personal that I write because I know I'd never allow myself to say the words aloud - that would make them too real, maybe too much to handle, even if it seems like a small thing. And if I'm able to share that even with someone I've never met and I made it through 'talking' about it - maybe it is some sort of confirmation that I can handle it. Wow! How many times can I type 'maybe' in one confusing paragraph? And then there is that part of me that thinks that maybe something I've written, some little piece I don't even remember creating, has an impact on someone somewhere. Ahhhhh - the dreamer in me lives - shocker! Here's a little incidence from my Home Ec class; Kennadee loves to make me coffee. It's a tough thing to put up with having coffee prepared for you every school day and actually being able to say it relates to the curriculum, but I do what I can to make others happy. Kennadee makes the coffee. Emily puts it in my favorite mug that the best guy in the world bought for me. Haedyn wanting to be a part of it mentions there is some creamer in our mini fridge. We have the class in my English classroom. We work with what we have. You know, budget cuts and all. I'm helping Cole look up a recipe, so I just give Haedyn a nod and said that would be great, just to check the date. Approaching with smiles are Haedyn with English Toffee Creamer and Emily with my coffee. Life is good! Haedyn tells me to tell her when to stop pouring it in; she wants to make it just right. What a sweetheart! Suddenly, there is more excitement and tension than a fire drill during a 9 weeks test, as I shriek, "Stop! Stop!" I'm a little unclear on this next thing but I'm pretty sure I gagged for at least fifteen seconds. "Haedyn, did you check the date?!" "Yes, Ms. Ralls. It's October 17th." I look at the bottle for an expiration date that no doubt will be too small for me to read. The creamer should be fine. "Cole, what does that say?" "September 29th." His voice is bland, factual. Apparently, the fact that I almost drank English Toffee chunks of spoiled creamer isn't a top priority in his life. "Haedyn, I told you to check the date!" I'm not 'mad', but coffee receiving usually is the high-point of my school day. "I'm sorry, I thought you meant the date on the board." I start to ask why today's date on the board would matter about her putting creamer in my coffee, but I stop myself remembering these are teenagers. Their minds 'work' differently. All I know is I won't run out of things to teach them this year in Home Ec. Monday's lesson: The importance of checking and respecting expiration dates on food products, medications, and household products. Winging Life, Ralls
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What Would Life be Like if Our Past & Future Were Joined. .. Now, I know some of you are going to say they are because of what happens in the past becomes a part of who we are. And while that was my initial response too, I think my mind may be changing or I'm meaning something different by the notion of past meeting future. Maybe I've stumbled on my idea of utopia. What would I want to bring from my past into the future? This is off the cuff so it may be a little rough ~ ha, a rhyme! No charge, it's a freebie. 1. My fitness and energy 2. My naivety - that may seem a strange one to miss, but I do. I miss not knowing that bad things happen to all people. And pain, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual - can change you forever and make you wish for things that perhaps you shouldn't. I miss only seeing rainbows, not being touched by the storm. 3. My faith that I could and would impact the world around me in incredible ways. That dreaming and sheer determination were all it took. 4. - I have to come up with a fourth - This is another one that may seem odd. I miss the selfishness - that's not the right word, but hey, it's Friday - my brain is tired. I guess it's basically putting myself first or at least in the top four. Focusing on what I need and want. Obviously, I can't make a list of what I have in the future that would collide with past me since . . . well, it's in the future; and one thing I've learned: The future is never certain. Therefore, I will list four from the present ~ of course, four; when did this passion for a number even begin?~ 1. The realization and knowing first hand that you can love others much more deeply than you love yourself. That when you allow that love to develop and embrace it, your life is enriched more than you could ever have alone. 2. Mistakes and failure aren't the same thing - and neither define you as a person. They are results of actions, not characteristics. And, no matter how long you hide under your covers in the fetal position denying it, you will in fact learn something from them. 3. You don't get to travel back in time - life isn't a dress rehearsal, as they say - but sometimes you get do-overs. Accept them for what they are - a gift for the future. Looking back is fine as a pastime, but looking forward paves the road for the impossible. 4. I wish I had the strength I have now and the ability to take care of myself and others. Though this isn't necessarily the factor in my life that I am 'proudest' of, it is something I lacked in my past. Something I didn't even want. I was quite content being taken care of. That's the baby of the family for you ~ all those psychological studies can't be totally incorrect. I'm not sure where I'm even going with this. Maybe I'm having a mini mid-life crisis and I'm too poor to have plastic surgery or buy my dream car. I just look back and wonder where that girl went. . . and I look forward with anticipation of the life I have yet to experience. I have so much to be thankful for in my past and present - overall, life has been kind to me. Even at forty-five-years old, the future feels promising. Promising of new adventures, changes, adaptation, decisions, occurrences that will quickly turn into treasured memories. I don't want to change the past; I just want to channel a little bit to the future. Final Realization: I think these steroids the doc put me on for an ear problem may be affecting a little more than my ear. Off to google 'side effects of 6 steroid pills in a day, Audra love
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According to Recent Studies . . . Okay, okay, maybe just one study. Well, more like a survey . . . with no independent/dependent, placebo/non-placebo, secret-pinkie-swear group. Though this may lack supporting scientific evidence, I pretty much trust it . . . at least given that all factors are the same, such as town population, mood of the participants, arguments on the way to school, and who looked at them strangely in the hall between classes. As a teacher, I look for every opportunity to get to know my students. I'd like to say it helps with their instruction - and it might - but it is more correct to say that I'm just nosyinterested. Therefore, when I call attendance they are given a daily question they must answer. They can lie, because I really don't care about what their favorite fast food restaurant is . . . it's not like I can afford to go there. It's less boring than 'here' or the occasional 'present'. Plus, I figure if they can't make the small decisions in life, the big ones are going to hit them hard. But I have learned some interesting information about parenting this week. Monday's question was: What is one thing you like about one of your parents/guardians? They HAD to come up with one. Well, the secret is out! Apparently, I have been trying waaaaayyy too hard, because according to roughly 80 percent of my 8th graders the number one things they like in an adult that has at least minimal control over them is 1. that they feed them and 2. they are nice. Smile and food? That's it? I read a braziallian inside joke - I know that's not a real number - parenting books when I was pregnant and really all I need to do is slap some peanut butter on some bread and sometimes fake a good mood. ASTOUNDING! However, there is more to this study. Yesterday, I asked them on a scale from 1 - 10 how strict are their parents, with 10 being they are in lock down prison and 1 being their parents may have forgotten who the adult is supposed to be. Well, those answers were allllll over the place, but it got me thinking so I added another question. What is the ideal number for parental strictness? Now, there were some 1's but majority ruled at 5.5. Strangely, there were no 10's. And to think, I crave lock down prison at times. My son is a Senior, so I thought I would ask him. He's pretty honest, though he is smart enough to fudge the truth a little too to keep the peace. When asked what are two things he liked about me, his response was, "You cook for me from time to time and you brought me doughnuts for breakfast." Apparently, the food answer continues on through high school. When asked about strictness at first he said a 7 which surprised me quite a bit. I asked him why and he said, "Well, I didn't want to give you a low number because that would make it seem like you don't care and you do. You let me do my own things, but your expectations are clear. So, I guess more like a 5.' There you have it - I'm the perfect parent. I've decided to quit worrying about making sure there are clean clothes, planning activities, buying him things. I'm just stocking up on Ramen Noodles! I'm a little hungry myself. I wonder if my mom is busy. Researching the teenage brain I use that term lightly, Audra
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I've Decided to Retire . . . from Adulthood Don't get me wrong, I know there are some advantages to being a grown up, but tonight I would trade the ability to legally drink, drive a car, - not at the same time, of course - and . . . well, at the moment I'm drawing a blank. Anyway, I would trade those two things for any of the following, or if I won the 'be a kid again' lottery, all of them: 1. Being able to stay in the bathtub for two hours and no one even missing you, much less coming in to ask you to do something or if you know where the milk is. 2. Being described as "That girl has more energy than she knows what to do with" 3. Being MADE to go to bed early or you might be cranky in the morning I think adulthood has proven that point. 4. Opening your dresser drawer with never a thought that there might not be clean underwear in it. 5. Heck, I'd even go back to the age where my clothes were laid out for me no matter how dorky and my mom did my hair 6. When a scraped knee was the worse pain you ever felt 7. When you innocently dreamed of being a teacher so you only had to work until 3:00 and got the summers off and No Child left Behind meant every kid in the class was invited to the birthday party. 8. When the phrase "back in YOUR day' was never directed at me in a conversation. 9. When curling up in the fetal position was expected not cause for alarm 10. When everyone you met immediately became your friend because you hadn't developed pet peeves or the realization that some people are plain weird. 11. Awwww. . . to hear the words "Would you like some ice cream since you cleaned your plate" instead of thinking "oh shit, I ate EVERYTHING on my plate . .. I can't eat again until Thursday . . . way too many carbs" 12. when I was filled with excitement at the sound of the phone ringing instead of having to pep talk myself up to look at the caller id to see what bill I have forgotten to pay. 13. when the biggest and only decision I had to make that day was what card to ask for in Go Fish. 14. when receiving money for a birthday was fun because you actually might get to spend it how you want 15. and there was a certain age when you always smelled good no matter if you had been sweating in the sun all day 16. when after you had a bad dream it was acceptable to crawl in bed with a family member instead of awkward and just plain wrong for all those involved 17. oh yes, and you NEVER had to wear a bra! How could I have almost forgotten that one? 18. there were always Popsicles in the freezer 19. hearing the phrase "you are too young to know about or worry yourself about that" 20. you got to sit in the backseat and color in your Muppets coloring book no matter how short of time you were in the car Wouldn't it be nice? Just for a day or two? . . . until you remembered how wonderful a glass of wine was? or you screwed it up by being a kid and saying those silly words of "I can't wait to grow up and do what I want.. Pity Party or Wishful Thinking? Audra
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Epiphany or Common Sense? In retrospect, I'm not honestly sure. Maybe they are one in the same - synonyms - one sounding like I have a little intelligence and one stating clearly what is meant. This is a continuation from my last blog so you might want to peruse it if this doesn't make sense . . . or it could just be that I don't make sense. Here's the last two paragraphs from the previous post, maybe that will help the segue. I received a Facebook comment from a friend I had gone to kindergarten through high school graduation. I hadn't talked to him since the night we received our diplomas. We were both in such a hurry to conquer the world and reach the goals that we thought would bring us happiness and perhaps a little glory . . . and contentment, maybe? Two words on Facebook - prayers, please - have changed my life in the last six months in ways I never even allowed myself to dream could happen to me or even should happen to me. Bruce, the friend from high school - the Facebook comment-er, took the time to respond to my request for prayers. I was having health issues. A few days later, I responded with thanks. We began talking, and I was saddened to hear that he too was dealing with things in life that are impossible to understand, come to terms with, or even believe are real when the pain is so raw. To put it mildly, we were a mixed up pair. This is not the post to share the whole story . . . maybe there never will be such a post . . . but just to get you up to speed - Bruce is the best friend I have ever had. That friendship has grown to love in so many ways. Through our ever-growing relationship I have learned to accept and give of myself, to allow myself to feel and even welcome emotions. But really, this post isn't about him . . . except that he is beyond belief wonderful . . . it's about the fact that he invited me to church. Two years ago, I had told God I would go if someone asked me. To be honest, when Bruce first mentioned the subject I wasn't exactly doing back flips of excitement. First of all, the church was a different denomination than what I had grown up in. It was also a large church - I was used to a congregation of 150 on a good Sunday. But as I got to know Bruce better, and I allowed myself to think about it . . . even research it. But in Bruce, I could see a light; a light I missed in myself. So . . . to church I went. Any nerves that were twittering in me dissipated when Bruce put my hand in his. The church was huge. The bulletin stated that between the two services last week, they had over 2000 people in attendance. This was definitely not my hometown church. In new situations, I either seek to take in as much knowledge about my surroundings as I can or make jokes to cover any insecurities I might feel. Well, this was church, not exactly the time for my barrage of blonde jokes. I was paying attention to the service, but my mind was multitasking. There were so many different types of people - all ages, all races, various cultures. . . and it felt so amazingly right. At first, I was surprised some people had their phones out. Growing up, I had received many disapproving taps on my shoulder for attempting to play hangman with my brother during service. A gentleman was a few rows ahead of us. Again, I was surprised at his actions. He was drinking coffee and had a bagel. This is church, not Starbucks was my initial reaction. However, somewhere between the welcome and the ending hymn, I realized the epiphany that who was I to judge? Why was my way of worshiping the 'correct' way? I did a self-check and wondered if someone looking at me would see my actions as disrespectful, though not my intent. After all, I had worn slacks instead of a dress. I was holding hands in church. I'm sure to someone my actions would seem out of the ordinary. I began to wonder what it would be like if we allowed ourselves to see past the distractions and actually see the person behind them. How many times do we discount someone because of first impressions that are more our own doing than theirs? How many times have our personal perceptions kept us from possibly gaining insight or friendship from someone different than ourselves? This spurred more thoughts about societal priorities. Or at least my priorities. Had this been an invitation to a football game, I wouldn't have cared who was playing or felt the need to research the teams. Also, at a football game people are standing and cheering the majority of the game. Yet at church, we wait to be instructed as to when to stand. Is it reverence, habit, or following? I'm not sure. As I contemplated this - why we love God so thoroughly but praise and honor him so differently - I had an 'aha' moment and those thoughts didn't matter any more. I had spent the last twenty-five years searching for a church for me - one like the one I grew up in, that I was accustom to. And that was the problem - me, I. This would never be MY church, no matter how at home I felt. A place of worship is God's church. I had searched for what I needed not what God needed from me. I had embraced differences and distractions rather than the purpose of gathering together in His name. I had claimed to have searched for the right church. . . finally, my eyes were opened that there are no wrong churches. Sure, some are better fits to different people, but as I sat there with Bruce's fingers intertwined in mine, mouthing the words to an unfamiliar hymn, while secretly wishing I had thought to bring coffee - I felt. No that isn't a typo. For the first time in so long, I felt. I wasn't numb; I wasn't hiding; I wasn't looking for an opportunity to run. I felt emotions - some amazing, others slightly terrifying, but it was such a relief to know that I still had the capacity to actually feel. My hand tightened around Bruce's; I smiled at the man with his cell phone out, and it was clear to me that though different, God had made us all - none better than the other. And if I chose to let those differences put me off, the only thing I was doing was cheating myself of life's experiences. I don't remember the preacher's final prayer. My head was bowed; my eyes closed, but my thoughts and prayer were my own. Through Bruce, God had brought me home to the church. I thanked Him. I thanked God for showing me their was more life to live and it was long past time for me to live again, not merely exist. Not only was my heart opened, but my eyes saw the blessings before me. This happened several weeks ago, and I recognize that it is a journey not a mere occurrence. Tomorrow, I will return to God's church and praise Him while holding Bruce's hand - I might go out on a limb and wear a dress though, who knows - but I will be open, my walls torn down, and I will live, feel, and love. I will never have all the answers, but I will know where to search and that I am worthy of God's answers. Love, Audra |
This is a 2-fold, 2 issue whatever you want to call blog today because I was a slacker last week. But hey, both are important, so here goes! Topic 1 I Got Better at Screwing Last Week Why are your minds always in the gutter when you visit my blog? Okay, okay, I admit maybe I lead you there just a tad, but honestly do you think I would blog about IMPROVING in sex? That would imply I haven't done it right; and I'm pretty sure - wellllll, never mind - on to the real screwing. My son wanted a window air conditioning unit in his room, because our house is pretty old and doesn't do a great job circulating the cold. Well, I couldn't really deny him since I have one. So we got one. Buying it was the easy part. See I didn't install mine; I had a couple of high school kids do it, but they are off having real jobs or something now. Besides if they could do it, my son and I could too, right? Well, my dad strongly implied we would NOT be able.... So that just made me completely determined. I remember last year they had to go get a drill, so I borrowed a drill - actually I'm pretty sure it was the mother of all drills - a de walt or something like that. Keep in mind neither of us have used a drill or for that matter many tools at all. I had to get a couple of bit thingies for them. One to put holes in the window frame and one to screw the screws in. Well, the first night I figured the guy must have sold me the wrong size because those holes were not matching up (mind gutter alert). So the next morning, I saw a small independently owned hardware store on my way to Lowes (which is pretty much in my world as much hell as going to the zoo and Wal-Mart in the same day). I carry the drill in. The guy by the register is reading the paper. The positive person I pretend to be, I smile and say hello. His response: I'm reading the paper. I wasn't sure how to respond to that since it was an obvious statement.So I just stuck with "Great". And waited. He looks over his paper, "Do you need help?" "Yes, please" (still minding my manners) "I need help finding the right size bit things to go in this." (I'm kind of proud, I'm holding this monster drill. - he didn't seem that impressed.) "Stay here, I'll go get them." I admit to be a hater of hardware stores, there is some pretty cool stuff in there. While I waited I got some of that white velcro strips you can stick pictures up on the wall with, a floatie for the pool, some sandpaper - life essentials, you know? He comes back with these tiny things. I'm thinking maybe he missed my drill. "I'm sure you know what you are doing, but those look way too small." "They'll fit." He grumbles ringing up my purchases. I secretly put a curse on him to have all the pvc pipe fall off the shelf as he walks by it. I'm sorry, but he should be nice. Okay, I'm not sorry - well, sorry that I didn't have time to stick around to see if it came true. I happened to be delivering some things to my friend, Larry G. He's a pretty handy guy - well, I mean I think he has tools. Anyway, he shows me how to adjust the size of the bit holder thing. So easy - could no one show me this? Now we are about to put in the window unit. Supplies - check instructions - check mountain dew - check. I start the drill just to make sure I got this thing, my 17 year old son jumped about 2 feet. Obviously, I will be the designated driller. I get it put together; he puts it in the window (it's kinda heavy). These were my instructions to him: Go outside and hold the air conditioner so it doesn't fall out while I get it put in. That is all you have to do. Hold the air conditioner the whole time. So he goes out and holds it. I'm ready to drill the first hole. Now my hands are shaking a little - either from nervousness or the mountain dew. So I take my other hand up to steady the drill. Makes sense, right? "Holy Mother of Drills and Berries!" I know that makes no sense but that's what I screamed as I dropped this drill that was having my skin for lunch. Lesson 1: Don't steady the thing by holding on to parts that spin while operating. I didn't cry though - really, I didn't. I get the holes in the window in the right places after a couple of well-intention-ed efforts. I told my son, I had to change the bit thing. I'm changing the bit, and I feel someone tap me on my shoulder. It's my son. "Why are you not holding the air conditioner!" At his age it is pretty amazing that he can still pull off the innocent look, but he kinda does. "I thought we were taking a break. It's hot out there." But he begins his sloth-like movements back outside with only a stare of impending doom from me. I got this screw ready. And I start screwing, drilling whatever you call it. Well, it falls. Surprisingly, I find it -- my son's room is a scary place. I pick it up and Son of a Turkey Leg! It is burning hot. The really stupid thing is, I couldn't figure out what was happening for a few seconds so I continued to hold it as hell's demons blistered my skin. But we got it in and it is awesome. I want my own drill now! What could there be more to learn -- don't touch the spinny parts or hot screws. Now that I'm writing this I realize gloves might not have been a bad idea. I'll have to get me some of those. Topic 2 I'm NOT Joking! I hope you are still with me, because I'm struggling with this one. My best friend left me a text challenge this morning. Actually, he's on WDC now - you should check his writing out Chivalry_lives . The challenge was to make up a joke. Sometimes, some people think I'm funny so this shouldn't be that hard, right? WRONG! I got nothin'. Therefore, I must not be funny - sigh. I mean if people say things I might be able to have a witty comeback or my mind does apparently work in somewhat humorous ways - or either people mean 'funny' like crazy not like ha ha. I tried "Why did the chicken cross the road", but for one I felt like a 1st grader and two I don't give a crap why he's crossing the road. Someone must have not built a very secure hen house (is that what it's called?), but I say if he's crossing the road he/she is fair game; so shoot it and let's have dinner. (wait, 'he' would be a rooster. . . .that doesn't even make sense - why are there tons more chickens than roosters. Why don't we have Rooster McNuggets? What happens to all the guy chickens? Are they killed at birth? Are they in an internment camp in California? Holy Hat! Where have all the roosters gone???) I'm sorry, Bruce. . . I'm just not a joker. . . or a stoker . . . or a real life toker. I don't even know what a stoker is :( To clarify today's blog: I'm not a joker, but I am an excellent screwer - even if I get hurt I just keep going until the job is done! Oh, that gives me an idea for tomorrow's blog! Love, Audra the Tool Expert |