Ok so somehow I missed the boat and didn't hear that this was delurking week. I don't know where I've been, really. Mostly being lazy I suppose. Mmmm I like being lazy.
SO, all ye who read and don't comment (and ye who read and DO comment!) I want you to say hello and answer me this:
What is the one song that you will forever stop and listen to whenever you hear it? (If you have more than one, please share!) Mine are "Needs" by Collective Soul and "Only You" by Yaz. Oh and "Pump Up the Volume" which I believe but can't guarantee is by M/A/R/R/S and I may or may not be embarrassed by.
According to my analytics, I know there are lots of you who never say hi so please do today! I heart my readers and I'd love to get to know you!!!
Have a thuper duper weekend!
Ta-Daa! Sticky!
Showing posts with label Mental Glitches. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mental Glitches. Show all posts
Friday, January 11, 2008
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
The Year of the Man
Well, it's happened. New Year's Day Matt finally decided to "take a stand" and has declared 2008 "The Year of the Man."
He has asked me to issue a warning of things to come, informing us all that January is "Prep Month" and he's been gracious enough to allow all of us women to get used to the idea before the change of power takes place on February 1st. He warns that it will be a year of sports, red meat, poorly acted (and written) action films and all foods deep fat fried.
Every time I try to suggest something he might not like he declares "Not during Man Year!"
Yeah right. We shall see, my man. We shall see.
He has asked me to issue a warning of things to come, informing us all that January is "Prep Month" and he's been gracious enough to allow all of us women to get used to the idea before the change of power takes place on February 1st. He warns that it will be a year of sports, red meat, poorly acted (and written) action films and all foods deep fat fried.
Every time I try to suggest something he might not like he declares "Not during Man Year!"
Yeah right. We shall see, my man. We shall see.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?
Hmmm, maybe I should change the title to "Where Have All the Gentlemen Gone?" because that's really what I mean. But that's neither here nor there. I like my title and it's staying.
I realize I'm not the only woman who asks this question, but I had an experience today that gave me pause and I couldn't resist writing about it.
In my office we have a soda fountain, similar to one found in a gas station. It has about six varieties of soda, the most popular of which is the Diet Coke. I may have mentioned my addiction to this amazing beverage of life - and it's true. I'm totally addicted, but I'm trying to cut back to one a day. So, at about 2:00 this afternoon, I wandered into the break room to serve myself up my one delicious Diet Coke, and whattaya know . . . the machine is out.
This is fairly typical in my office. I seem to work with a giant group of helpless idiots. If there are no more cups on the counter, they will wander off, dejected, rather than reaching on top of the fridge to grab a new sleeve of paper cups. If the coffee is out, they will walk to the Starbucks two blocks away rather than make a new pot of coffee. You see what I'm getting at, right? Naturally, when the Diet Coke is out, people just wander away rather than doing the fairly difficult job of switching out the syrup (because the box of syrup weighs about thirty pounds).
But not me. Oh no not me. I need my Diet Coke.
Today, switching out the box was more complicated than usual because the Diet Coke was buried under the orange soda and the Dr. Pepper. And the space we have the boxes of syrup in is pretty tight so I had to move the other two boxes completely out of the space and into the middle of the floor in order to get the Diet Coke out. To add even more detail you probably don't care about, today I was wearing these boots:
Needless to say, my balance wasn't quite what it normally is. As I was trying to grab the Diet Coke box by the flimsy cardboard handle, the handle broke and my feet slid out from under me and I fell flat on my back. Splat. Ow. Laughter.
Right about as I helped myself back up, wondering if our security cameras caught my moment of glory, two of our developers walked into the kitchen to get coffee. Now, lest you forget, I had two boxes of soda syrup spread out on the floor and another box I was trying to lift into the cupboard where we hook it up to the life giving veins of the soda fountain.
The two guys saw, and basically sat at watched me, in my pointy black heels and nice dress pants, struggling to lift the Diet Coke into the cupboard, then continued to watch as I attempted (in vain a couple of times almost causing the damage of the cute pointy toe of my right boot) to lift the other boxes back into their tight space. They just SAT and WATCHED. And it made me so mad!
Now, I am a pretty independent, tough kind of gal. I don't mind lifting boxes, I don't mind taking care of things like that myself. I grew up in a house without a father and until my brothers were bigger, Mom and I had to take care of a lot of that stuff ourselves. I can tile, operate a saw, a drill and other small power tools. I can do a lot of that stuff myself and I don't profess to "need a man" to help me with things like that.
BUT - it's really nice sometimes to have the help or at least the OFFER of help and there are jobs that I simply cannot do by myself. I lack the arm strength, despite my bulging biceps, and it seems less and less guys are being gentlemen in these types of situations.
I once worked for a man who once handed me a huge heavy box to take to his car and then walked in front of me all the way out to the parking lot talking on the phone, not even pausing to hold the doors open for me as I struggled to walk behind him.
Another man I worked for had me clean out a large room in his house and basically watched and directed me as I loaded heavy things into a truck then sent me off to the dump and storage units to unload the same stuff by myself.
I dated a guy for a very long time who had me do everything and would sit around watching. I did the cooking followed by the dishes. I would have to be with him when he went to the doctor and he'd have me fill out his paperwork for him.
Part of the problem is that I have a hard time asking for help and I'm a huge enabler . . . but I guarantee that if I really need the help, and someone offers, I won't say no. However, in some cases, I really shouldn't have to wait for an offer. There are situations where a manly man just needs to stop what he is or is not doing, or help.
Now, in contrast to the above, my husband is a great guy who always offers to do the "manlier" jobs himself, or to at least help me. I may not always take him up on that, but it's SO great to have the offer of help with heavy boxes, hard jobs, etc. My Father and brothers would rather die before letting my Mom, Stepmother, sister or myself pick up a heavy box or whatever job they consider "manly."
But, as you can see from my other examples above, in my life, guys like my husband, Dad and brothers, seem few and far between. Don't get me wrong, I know they still exist. One of them opened the door for me today coming out of a restaurant. Another picked up some papers that had fallen out of my briefcase. But overall, it feels like men have stopped being Gentlemen.
Trust me, I don't want to go back to the days where men walked on the road side to prevent the women from getting dirty but didn't allow the women to vote and I don't want to turn back time to the days when men were "true gentlemen" and a woman's "place" was in the kitchen (extreme examples, I know, but I hope you know what I'm getting at), but, I would really appreciate more men being more respectful. I would appreciate two strong men offering to help me lift thirty pound boxes rather than standing around staring. I would love to have more doors opened for me and not feel like I have to cause a hernia lifting heavy boxes or furniture. I like feeling girly!! I like pink and ruffles and roses and all of those girly things. But even if I didn't, myself and every other woman I know deserves a little more respect from the general man population.
I wish I had a solution. I know my son(s) will be raised to behave like his/their father. The men in my family will be gentlemen, but I obviously can't be the one to influence the world.
I just hope that my generation can help bring some of that chivalrous attitude back, because chaps and Wranglers or not, cowboys knew how to treat a lady.* Yipeeeai, Yipeeeay
------------------
*For the record I am aware that not all cowboys were or even ARE gentlemen and some of them are/were disgusting. I'm purposely making generalizations here, mostly to tie my ridiculous title into the post. No judging. Thanks. Kisses.
I realize I'm not the only woman who asks this question, but I had an experience today that gave me pause and I couldn't resist writing about it.
In my office we have a soda fountain, similar to one found in a gas station. It has about six varieties of soda, the most popular of which is the Diet Coke. I may have mentioned my addiction to this amazing beverage of life - and it's true. I'm totally addicted, but I'm trying to cut back to one a day. So, at about 2:00 this afternoon, I wandered into the break room to serve myself up my one delicious Diet Coke, and whattaya know . . . the machine is out.
This is fairly typical in my office. I seem to work with a giant group of helpless idiots. If there are no more cups on the counter, they will wander off, dejected, rather than reaching on top of the fridge to grab a new sleeve of paper cups. If the coffee is out, they will walk to the Starbucks two blocks away rather than make a new pot of coffee. You see what I'm getting at, right? Naturally, when the Diet Coke is out, people just wander away rather than doing the fairly difficult job of switching out the syrup (because the box of syrup weighs about thirty pounds).
But not me. Oh no not me. I need my Diet Coke.
Today, switching out the box was more complicated than usual because the Diet Coke was buried under the orange soda and the Dr. Pepper. And the space we have the boxes of syrup in is pretty tight so I had to move the other two boxes completely out of the space and into the middle of the floor in order to get the Diet Coke out. To add even more detail you probably don't care about, today I was wearing these boots:
Needless to say, my balance wasn't quite what it normally is. As I was trying to grab the Diet Coke box by the flimsy cardboard handle, the handle broke and my feet slid out from under me and I fell flat on my back. Splat. Ow. Laughter.Right about as I helped myself back up, wondering if our security cameras caught my moment of glory, two of our developers walked into the kitchen to get coffee. Now, lest you forget, I had two boxes of soda syrup spread out on the floor and another box I was trying to lift into the cupboard where we hook it up to the life giving veins of the soda fountain.
The two guys saw, and basically sat at watched me, in my pointy black heels and nice dress pants, struggling to lift the Diet Coke into the cupboard, then continued to watch as I attempted (in vain a couple of times almost causing the damage of the cute pointy toe of my right boot) to lift the other boxes back into their tight space. They just SAT and WATCHED. And it made me so mad!
Now, I am a pretty independent, tough kind of gal. I don't mind lifting boxes, I don't mind taking care of things like that myself. I grew up in a house without a father and until my brothers were bigger, Mom and I had to take care of a lot of that stuff ourselves. I can tile, operate a saw, a drill and other small power tools. I can do a lot of that stuff myself and I don't profess to "need a man" to help me with things like that.
BUT - it's really nice sometimes to have the help or at least the OFFER of help and there are jobs that I simply cannot do by myself. I lack the arm strength, despite my bulging biceps, and it seems less and less guys are being gentlemen in these types of situations.
I once worked for a man who once handed me a huge heavy box to take to his car and then walked in front of me all the way out to the parking lot talking on the phone, not even pausing to hold the doors open for me as I struggled to walk behind him.
Another man I worked for had me clean out a large room in his house and basically watched and directed me as I loaded heavy things into a truck then sent me off to the dump and storage units to unload the same stuff by myself.
I dated a guy for a very long time who had me do everything and would sit around watching. I did the cooking followed by the dishes. I would have to be with him when he went to the doctor and he'd have me fill out his paperwork for him.
Part of the problem is that I have a hard time asking for help and I'm a huge enabler . . . but I guarantee that if I really need the help, and someone offers, I won't say no. However, in some cases, I really shouldn't have to wait for an offer. There are situations where a manly man just needs to stop what he is or is not doing, or help.
Now, in contrast to the above, my husband is a great guy who always offers to do the "manlier" jobs himself, or to at least help me. I may not always take him up on that, but it's SO great to have the offer of help with heavy boxes, hard jobs, etc. My Father and brothers would rather die before letting my Mom, Stepmother, sister or myself pick up a heavy box or whatever job they consider "manly."
But, as you can see from my other examples above, in my life, guys like my husband, Dad and brothers, seem few and far between. Don't get me wrong, I know they still exist. One of them opened the door for me today coming out of a restaurant. Another picked up some papers that had fallen out of my briefcase. But overall, it feels like men have stopped being Gentlemen.
Trust me, I don't want to go back to the days where men walked on the road side to prevent the women from getting dirty but didn't allow the women to vote and I don't want to turn back time to the days when men were "true gentlemen" and a woman's "place" was in the kitchen (extreme examples, I know, but I hope you know what I'm getting at), but, I would really appreciate more men being more respectful. I would appreciate two strong men offering to help me lift thirty pound boxes rather than standing around staring. I would love to have more doors opened for me and not feel like I have to cause a hernia lifting heavy boxes or furniture. I like feeling girly!! I like pink and ruffles and roses and all of those girly things. But even if I didn't, myself and every other woman I know deserves a little more respect from the general man population.
I wish I had a solution. I know my son(s) will be raised to behave like his/their father. The men in my family will be gentlemen, but I obviously can't be the one to influence the world.
I just hope that my generation can help bring some of that chivalrous attitude back, because chaps and Wranglers or not, cowboys knew how to treat a lady.* Yipeeeai, Yipeeeay
------------------
*For the record I am aware that not all cowboys were or even ARE gentlemen and some of them are/were disgusting. I'm purposely making generalizations here, mostly to tie my ridiculous title into the post. No judging. Thanks. Kisses.
Monday, July 16, 2007
I'm actually terribly timid
There is a song called "Shy" from a not-so-famous musical called "Once Upon a Mattress" in which the lead character dances and belts at the top of her lungs that she's
"just as embarrassed as you
And I can understand your point of view
I've always been SHY
I confess that I'm SHY
Can't you guess that this confident air
Is a mask that I wear 'cause I'm SHYYYY"
And it's basically a mockery of shyness. It's a great song, though slightly obnoxious if you don't like a purely belted song.
But, this leads me to the point of my post.
There was a time, or actually a very long time basically spreading from the moment of my birth until about five years ago, when I was not shy in any way, shape or form. My mother tells stories of me hanging out of shopping carts at the grocery store screaming "Hi! Hi! Hi. HIIIIIII" until the person I was speaking to had no choice but to respond. I'd wander off all the time and find the nearest stranger and strike up a conversation. I remember TELLING my mother, after we saw "Cats" for the first time that I could sing just like Grizabelle the Glamour Cat in her rendition of "Memory." And I truly believed it. I could do anything. I could BE anything. Looking back I can't believe what a self-assured, confident little person I was.
Honestly, I blame/thank my mother. My birthday is New Year's Eve, and until I was about five, I was told, and honestly believed that the fireworks and parties and hoop-la was for MY birthday. I was convinced that the whole world was celebrating ME. I was devastated when I discovered that New Year's Eve was a world-wide celebration of THE NEW YEAR, but I think that it truly helped form the confident person I became.
Then something happened . . . I guess it crept up slowly through the years. A bit of self consciousness here and there slowly oozed it's way into my life. I found myself becoming shy in the weirdest situations. For example, I am a trained Broadway style singer (thus the "Once Upon a Mattress" reference). I have years and years of voice training and acting and all of that under my belt. Yet, I am terrified to sing in front of small crowds, especially when they are filled with people I know. I have NO problem singing to a huge auditorium, but put me in a room with my family and ask me to sing a Christmas song and I FREAK OUT. I myself readily admit it is the weirdest thing.
I now find myself hiding in my shell more, hiding from confrontation and not wanting to "put myself out there" and meet tons of new people. And it's SO STRANGE to me! Because I know how I used to be!
I am trying to figure out how to get some of my carefree, non-shy self back. I liked that person! I liked the girl who truly believed she could do anything. Who tried to make friends with everyone she encountered. Who didn't understand and had to fix it when someone didn't like her. I am also trying to find this person for the new responsibilities in my job. I am now responsible for lead generation for our sales team. This is going to require my "putting myself out there" a lot more. And I'm scared. Hold me.
I guess I have two questions for the bloggy world. First, does this happen to everyone? Do we all become more and more shy and reserved as we become adults? Second, do you have advice on how to overcome it when necessary? Truly, I'm dying to know. Spill!
"just as embarrassed as you
And I can understand your point of view
I've always been SHY
I confess that I'm SHY
Can't you guess that this confident air
Is a mask that I wear 'cause I'm SHYYYY"
And it's basically a mockery of shyness. It's a great song, though slightly obnoxious if you don't like a purely belted song.
But, this leads me to the point of my post.
There was a time, or actually a very long time basically spreading from the moment of my birth until about five years ago, when I was not shy in any way, shape or form. My mother tells stories of me hanging out of shopping carts at the grocery store screaming "Hi! Hi! Hi. HIIIIIII" until the person I was speaking to had no choice but to respond. I'd wander off all the time and find the nearest stranger and strike up a conversation. I remember TELLING my mother, after we saw "Cats" for the first time that I could sing just like Grizabelle the Glamour Cat in her rendition of "Memory." And I truly believed it. I could do anything. I could BE anything. Looking back I can't believe what a self-assured, confident little person I was.
Honestly, I blame/thank my mother. My birthday is New Year's Eve, and until I was about five, I was told, and honestly believed that the fireworks and parties and hoop-la was for MY birthday. I was convinced that the whole world was celebrating ME. I was devastated when I discovered that New Year's Eve was a world-wide celebration of THE NEW YEAR, but I think that it truly helped form the confident person I became.
Then something happened . . . I guess it crept up slowly through the years. A bit of self consciousness here and there slowly oozed it's way into my life. I found myself becoming shy in the weirdest situations. For example, I am a trained Broadway style singer (thus the "Once Upon a Mattress" reference). I have years and years of voice training and acting and all of that under my belt. Yet, I am terrified to sing in front of small crowds, especially when they are filled with people I know. I have NO problem singing to a huge auditorium, but put me in a room with my family and ask me to sing a Christmas song and I FREAK OUT. I myself readily admit it is the weirdest thing.
I now find myself hiding in my shell more, hiding from confrontation and not wanting to "put myself out there" and meet tons of new people. And it's SO STRANGE to me! Because I know how I used to be!
I am trying to figure out how to get some of my carefree, non-shy self back. I liked that person! I liked the girl who truly believed she could do anything. Who tried to make friends with everyone she encountered. Who didn't understand and had to fix it when someone didn't like her. I am also trying to find this person for the new responsibilities in my job. I am now responsible for lead generation for our sales team. This is going to require my "putting myself out there" a lot more. And I'm scared. Hold me.
I guess I have two questions for the bloggy world. First, does this happen to everyone? Do we all become more and more shy and reserved as we become adults? Second, do you have advice on how to overcome it when necessary? Truly, I'm dying to know. Spill!
Friday, April 27, 2007
Kate = Stupid
Sorry to any of you coming to see the A-listed post. I realized this morning that I posted my ADDRESS for the WHOLE WORLD TO SEE.
I am an idiot.
I am an idiot.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Oops
So Petey (my favorite techy) and I spent like an hour creating my cool new banner today.
Then I realized we misspelled "Kateastrophe" -- well, at least according to my blogger URL AND the URL that I've purchased.
I guess I have to reset my "days since the last Kateatsrophe" back to zero. It was at 11.
I was doing so great.
Then I realized we misspelled "Kateastrophe" -- well, at least according to my blogger URL AND the URL that I've purchased.
I guess I have to reset my "days since the last Kateatsrophe" back to zero. It was at 11.
I was doing so great.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
I can't feel my legs
Yesterday, I got new boots. I love new boots. Especially THESE BOOTS
Currently I have no feeling in my pinkie or big toes and I have jimmy-rigged a way to stretch out part of the left leather strap that involves a cell phone and a highlighter . . .
BUT I LOOK HOT.
Today Matt and I are finally celebrating Valentine's Day, so I got all dressed up this morning, just in case I had to leave for dinner right after work. I'm wearing fish-net esque tights (bought on sale and inspired by a hostess at Los Hermanos in Provo, Utah) a knee length skirt and my favorite t-shirt of all time designed by the amazing Gwen Stefani.
As soon as I got to work I had the distinct feeling that what I thought was "hot" may give the sex starved developers at my work the impression that I was "for sale."
Currently I have no feeling in my pinkie or big toes and I have jimmy-rigged a way to stretch out part of the left leather strap that involves a cell phone and a highlighter . . .
BUT I LOOK HOT.
Today Matt and I are finally celebrating Valentine's Day, so I got all dressed up this morning, just in case I had to leave for dinner right after work. I'm wearing fish-net esque tights (bought on sale and inspired by a hostess at Los Hermanos in Provo, Utah) a knee length skirt and my favorite t-shirt of all time designed by the amazing Gwen Stefani.
As soon as I got to work I had the distinct feeling that what I thought was "hot" may give the sex starved developers at my work the impression that I was "for sale."
Monday, February 26, 2007
Annoyances
Has it ever annoyed anyone else that they are one of the "lower" paid employees on staff at their office, yet they seem to be the only one capable of doing the easy things . . . like, say, COPYING?? Or more specifically pushing a button on the copier?
Apparently a larger salary decreases your brain size.
Apparently a larger salary decreases your brain size.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
I gotta learn to keep my big mouth shut
I heard the funniest thing today . . . an old friend of my husband's family said "my feet are big so they fit in my big mouth."
That is my new sentence to live by. Because I have incredibly large feet. And a significantly bigger mouth.
I have been pondering myself lately. I was raised to first criticize myself, then decide how harshly to judge others. I also carry this into situations of conflict, whether they be mine or other's conflicts. I do this to the point of annoyance and hatred sometimes, especially when others come to me with their problems. I always look for what the complainer (whether that's me or someone else) did to aggravate the situation before I judge the other person or situation with bad behaviour. It is both a strength and a weakness, I acknowledge it and I am trying so hard not to do it at inappropriate times, yet I swear it's ingrained in my DNA and it will never go away.
Not keeping my mouth shut is my other HUGE. GLARING. PROBLEM. I am good at keeping secrets . . . my problem is I pick and choose which ones are juicier and more fun to share and just make myself feel better by saying "DON'T TELL ANYONE." Yeah right. It's really a girl thing I guess . . . but for me it's more than that.
My poor husband doesn't understand it. He doesn't yet understand that he has to threaten me with a large steak knife and say "DO NOT TELL OTHER PEOPLE WE HAD THIS DISCUSSION" before I'll actually get that it's not something I should blab to everyone.
The other day a close friend said "please don't do what you usually do and say you won't tell anyone and then go ahead and tell them all. This is something I want to keep quiet." I'm proud to say that I have not slipped once with that one. I am making progress, see?!?!
I do try to be sensitive, I do try not to share very personal things. I try so hard. Sometimes they just slip out! They just do. It's all with good intent . . . or to get a good laugh. But not usually. I have a good heart, that fact I know. I'm not cruel and I'd never share someones secret to hurt them on purpose. But sometimes I know it does and I feel SO BAD about it.
I know a lot of the people who's feelings I hurt don't read this here blog. But to those who do, I do apologize if I've ever said too much about you and hurt your feelings. I'm trying to work on it, I really truly am. I really only tell my closest girlfriends this kind of stuff anyway. I swear. There just happens to be like, ten of them. But I'm trying not to. I'm doing better. Baby steps are being taken in the right direction!
I think I did it again today though. Not to any of you who read this blog. I did it to someone who truly annoys me and drives me BONKERS and who I may someday go into a full on rant about ON this blog. . . but it may just come back to bite me in the butt. It wasn't a big secret or anything, just stupid, funny gossip. But I still may hear about it later. If I do, I'll man up and apologize, but the damage may be done because I blabbed to someone who has a bigger blabber than me.
Memo to me: try to tell gossipy stories to someone who talks LESS than you, not more.
Memo to you: Hit me with a large post after you tell me a secret. And aim well, so you hit the memory part of my brain. Wherever that is.
That is my new sentence to live by. Because I have incredibly large feet. And a significantly bigger mouth.
I have been pondering myself lately. I was raised to first criticize myself, then decide how harshly to judge others. I also carry this into situations of conflict, whether they be mine or other's conflicts. I do this to the point of annoyance and hatred sometimes, especially when others come to me with their problems. I always look for what the complainer (whether that's me or someone else) did to aggravate the situation before I judge the other person or situation with bad behaviour. It is both a strength and a weakness, I acknowledge it and I am trying so hard not to do it at inappropriate times, yet I swear it's ingrained in my DNA and it will never go away.
Not keeping my mouth shut is my other HUGE. GLARING. PROBLEM. I am good at keeping secrets . . . my problem is I pick and choose which ones are juicier and more fun to share and just make myself feel better by saying "DON'T TELL ANYONE." Yeah right. It's really a girl thing I guess . . . but for me it's more than that.
My poor husband doesn't understand it. He doesn't yet understand that he has to threaten me with a large steak knife and say "DO NOT TELL OTHER PEOPLE WE HAD THIS DISCUSSION" before I'll actually get that it's not something I should blab to everyone.
The other day a close friend said "please don't do what you usually do and say you won't tell anyone and then go ahead and tell them all. This is something I want to keep quiet." I'm proud to say that I have not slipped once with that one. I am making progress, see?!?!
I do try to be sensitive, I do try not to share very personal things. I try so hard. Sometimes they just slip out! They just do. It's all with good intent . . . or to get a good laugh. But not usually. I have a good heart, that fact I know. I'm not cruel and I'd never share someones secret to hurt them on purpose. But sometimes I know it does and I feel SO BAD about it.
I know a lot of the people who's feelings I hurt don't read this here blog. But to those who do, I do apologize if I've ever said too much about you and hurt your feelings. I'm trying to work on it, I really truly am. I really only tell my closest girlfriends this kind of stuff anyway. I swear. There just happens to be like, ten of them. But I'm trying not to. I'm doing better. Baby steps are being taken in the right direction!
I think I did it again today though. Not to any of you who read this blog. I did it to someone who truly annoys me and drives me BONKERS and who I may someday go into a full on rant about ON this blog. . . but it may just come back to bite me in the butt. It wasn't a big secret or anything, just stupid, funny gossip. But I still may hear about it later. If I do, I'll man up and apologize, but the damage may be done because I blabbed to someone who has a bigger blabber than me.
Memo to me: try to tell gossipy stories to someone who talks LESS than you, not more.
Memo to you: Hit me with a large post after you tell me a secret. And aim well, so you hit the memory part of my brain. Wherever that is.
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