$50.91

Yesterday, I spent exactly $50.91 on food at the grocery store. This is a wonderful thing.

If you spend $50 on groceries, you get 10 cents off per gallon of gas the next time I fill up the Jeep. This, you see, is pretty much a goldmine, in my book.

You should know by now that I hate gas prices. I like gas. I hate paying for it. Especially paying a LOT for it.

Obviously, the catch to this 10 cents off deal is that you have to spend $50 to get it. This obviously makes people, more often than not, spend at least $50 in the store.

Why not? It's like free gas, people.

But, quite frankly, I don't always need $50 worth of stuff at the grocery store as often as I need gas in my car.

So, if I know I don't need $50 worth of stuff, I'll focus on buying as little as possible. I don't want to even get close to $50 if I can't go ahead and spend $50 to get that 10 cents worth of gas.

But, if I'm pretty sure I can spend $50, I'll go ahead and make sure that I do. However, I'll try to keep it as close to just $50 as possible.

I don't want to spend $75 and still only get the $10 cent benefit that I get for spending just $50.

So, I was pretty excited when everything that I collected in my cart yesterday added up to $50.91.

I mean, that's pretty much geniusly accurate.

It was a lucky combination of salad stuff, Hot Pockets, cheese, salsa, chips, tiny oranges, and Fig Newtons.

The final touch? Two packs of Orbit gum.

Without those two packs I would have landed at $49-something.

I didn't even plan it to be that close, y'all. It was just meant to be.

C.T.

I figured out why they make you wear your glasses for a few days before eye surgery.

It's so that you get so frustrated by how blind you are without your contacts that no matter what happens after your LASIK, you are just thankful you don't have to wear your glasses anymore.

I've worn my glasses for the past two days, and let me just tell you. I can't see a doggone thing.

Who made all of these spreadsheets so tiny and full of so many numbers????

Why are street signs so small???

Why are headlights and stoplights so blurry?

I can barely even see my TV screen, which is really the biggest problem of them all.

Only two more days of glasses. If it wasn't going to be SO awesome on the other side of this, I'd be freaking out about my ridiculous blindness.

Let me know if I just typed a bunch of garbled nonsense. I can't really see anything.

C.T.

Today is the last day I will ever wear contacts.

I am four days away from LASIK Wonderland. And for the next four days, I have to wear my glasses.

I won't ever have to try to get those floppy soft contacts in my eyeballs again.

I won't ever tear another contact again.

I won't ever have to travel with contact solution, glasses, and a contact case again.

I pretty much won't be able to see much for the next four days with my glasses. But after that, my world will suddenly be clearer than it has ever been before.

Except I could probably see pretty clear for those first few months of my life.

But after that, it's been pretty much downhill with that whole blindness thing.

I just hope the LASIK works. Otherwise I'll have to delete this blog post, since my eyesight would be worse and all.

C.T.

I'm wearing everything I own.

I'm not sure who thought it was a good idea to go to Chicago in late November, but I'm here now and . . .

IT. IS. FREEZING.

I had to walk about eight blocks or so this morning (in heels, mind you), and it was miserably cold and windy. I'm pretty sure my feet hurt after our brisk, yet icy jaunt, but my feet were so cold that I couldn't tell how bad they hurt until they thawed out about an hour later.

Who is crazy enough to live here???

For dinner tonight, I put on pretty much everything I brought with me before venturing back out into the cold.

My new rule is that I don't venture north of the Texas border between October and May.

I am fragile and unable to handle the cold.

C.T.

Hip and Protected from Germs

Don't worry. I am blogging using protection.


I mean, they've just got boxes and boxes of these free gloves everywhere in this hospital. Someone's gotta use them so that they don't go to waste.

C.T.

Hip, Hip, Hooray

My dad's hospital room comes with a precaution. But it's not to be confused with a precaution for the fall season.


I like to think it is for all of us, not just for him and his new hip.

You know, because safety first and all.

Watch for falling objects. And also, don't fall down.

Precaution First.

C.T.

More hip blogging

Get it? The blog is hip, and it's about a hip?

I'm hilarious when I've been up since 5:30am.

Now we are watching Martha Stewart. She put clothes on dogs. For the holidays.


Then the nurse did something.


Then my mom fed my dad some ice chips WHILE she watched Martha Stewart. It's called multitasking, people.


Also, so far no one notices that I'm taking these pictures with my phone. That's fun for me.

Next Up: I might wander around and look for McDreamy and/or Meredith Grey.

C.T.

My Hip Dad, Part Deux: The Second Hip

For the next step in my Dad's quest to one day be entirely bionic, today we are at the hospital for the replacement of his second hip.

You know how in the olden days, you couldn't use your cell phones in a hospital for fear of setting off all of the live-saving equipment? Well, this is no longer true. I am wireless and in full cellphone use today.

Apparently patient safety is less of a concern now? Oh well. I'm online and that's all that really matters. Which means this time I can blog from the hospital. Play-by-play, minute-by-minute.

Here are the highlights so far:

• Here is my mom. We are in the surgery waiting room. She is watching Regis and Kelly.

• This is the sign that greeted me when I first arrived at the hospital at 6:00am this morning. It was right by the coffee pot where I got my coffee. It made me feel better to know that no spitting had taken place near my coffee.
  

I've also already found a good stash of blue doctor-y gloves. I enjoy snagging a pair here and there so that I have a good stash at home. You know, for fun.

And I might blog in a pair of blue gloves later. You know, for fun. And because there are germs in hospitals. So I probably shouldn't touch anything without the protective blue gloves.

It might also be fun later to make blue balloon animals out of the gloves for my dad as he is waking up from his drug-induced nap.

That's kinda it for now.

My weekend Airborne experiment

I'm a fan of Airborne. I didn't used to be, but I am now.

I don't do over-the-counter medication for colds and the like. All of that stuff makes me feel grody and drowsy, which to me is worse than just suffering through a cold.

That's one thing I like about Airborne. People can ask me if I'm taking anything for my cold, and I can say that I'm taking Airborne (whether I believe it's doing anything to help me or not) and that usually makes people leave me alone. You know, rather than trying to push their crazy drugs on me.

On my last client trip, my boss took me up to the Admiral's Club where they hand out Airborne for free. The idea here is that you take it before you get on the plane, then you don't get any of the diseases that are waiting for you on the plane.

The flaw in this plan is that unless they are handing it out to EVERYONE on the plane (including us disease-carrying peons in the back of the plane who can't get in to the Admiral's Club where the free Airborne is), the free Airborne is only going to be minimally effective.

My problem is that I usually wait too long before I start taking the Airborne for it to really work like it's supposed to work. I usually argue with myself for a day or so trying to figure out if I do or if I don't really have a cold.

It goes something like this:

"I don't feel good."
"Yes you do."
"No, I think my throat hurts."
"No, it doesn't."
"Ok, I just sneezed. And I think I wheezed."
"No you didn't."
"My snot is green."
"You are fine."
"I just coughed up a lung."
"Ok, maybe you'd better start taking some Airborne."

I've been feeling really run down and tired lately. Working anywhere from 50-70 hours a week lately has worn me out, and has left little time for exercise, eating properly, or even sleeping.

I've been able to get some good sleep during these four days that I've had off for Thanksgiving. And I've been feeling better. It's amazing what some good sleep can do for your health.

So, I decided that since I'm already feeling good and all I am doing this weekend is sitting around and resting, maybe it's a good idea to get a headstart on the Airborne for a change. That way if a cold (or even tuberculosis) is thinking about coming to get me any time soon, it will be deterred by my Airborne forcefield.

I have totally loaded up on the Airborne and I feel better than I have in a long time. In fact, I feel so good right now that I could probably just breathe on some sick people and my Airborne breath alone would start to boost their immune systems.

I hope that there are no detrimental side effects to overdosing on Airborne. That would ruin my whole experiment.

I wonder what you take if you are sick from too much Airborne . . .

C.T.

I am completely useless today.

And I am loving it.

I've intentionally not let myself do much of anything today. It's been a great day.

I don't even care that it's been a totally unproductive, wasted day. There is not a single thing that I need to get done today, and I'm making sure that happens.

I haven't cleaned anything.
I haven't done any laundry.
And I have certainly not showered.

Of course, I did all of my cleaning and laundry (and showering) over the last couple of days so that I would not have to do a single thing today. Is it a little bit sad that I have to plan to be unproductive to make sure I get in a solid day of rest and relaxation?

I even decided against a project or activity for today. It is cold and rainy outside, which means it is the perfect day to snuggle on the couch in my sweatpants, watch bad TV and movies, play Scrabulous all the livelong day, and just otherwise be useless.

It's genius.

All of it goes right back out the window tomorrow when it's time for work again. But for now, I am useless.

C.T.

Post 1,093 demanded a recount

It turns out that post 1,093 was really post 1,094.

This is post 1,097.

We apologize for any confusion. But we are very excited about posts 1,093, 1,094, and 1,097 just the same.

C.T.

Well, here's what came of my creative inspiration.

It's a family affair.

Duke reserved the right not to participate.

C.T.

A moment of clarity

So this is what it's like to have had two whole days that were . . . dare I say . . . work-free.

I do some of my best thinking in the car, and today I had the thought that at the moment, I am not too tired (or preoccupied with the work that I can't seem to get caught up on) to do something creative with the two days left in my weekend.

I like feeling creative. It's been lost lately under piles of spreadsheets.

I don't know that I will actually do anything creative during the next two days (I'm also kind of enjoying the thought of not getting out of my pjs for the next two days).

But, sometimes I do my best creative work in my pjs.

I don't know. Do you ever get that feeling that you're on the verge of something? I am a creative-type by nature. My best creative work happens when I feel creative. I have to take advantage of those moments, and I'm not usually disappointed.

I could record a CD of my greatest hits. Earlier today, while I was singing loudly in the car, I kinda felt like I could write some songs, and then sing them. They would by default be my greatest hits, since I currently have no hits.

Maybe I'll work on my memoir. I've already got a good start on it.

I don't paint or draw, but maybe I'll crank out a masterpiece or two.

I could make a short film. Perhaps it could be about being in my pjs for the next 48 hours.

Even if I don't actually do something, the fact that I've felt like I could do something is a great thing for me right now.

How about if I type this sentence in a different color.

There. That's a little something creative.

I feel good.

C.T.

This is my 1,093rd post

Get excited, y'all!

You know, all the big post milestones get acknowledged. It occurred to me today that post #1,093 probably never gets recognized as an accomplishment.

And it certainly is an accomplishment.

Congratulations, post #1,093.

And congratulations to me, for writing it.

C.T.

The True Meaning of Thanksgiving

During this Thanksgiving holiday, I have discovered the true meaning of Thanksgiving.

It apparently means this: Strangers, please come knock on my door.

Yesterday (Thanksgiving Day), it was about 10:00am and my doorbell rings. I'm still in my pjs. I am not expecting anyone. My family isn't expecting me at their house until later in the afternoon.

Naturally, I am confused.

I creep up to my door to look through the peephole (I have to hunch over because the top of my door is a window, and I don't want to take the chance that whoever it outside of my door will see the top of my head approaching the door), and I see those two Jehovah's Witnesses that came by a couple of months ago.

They did mention at that time that they would like to come by again sometime. Um . . . why is Thanksgiving a good day for this??? And before noon???

When I saw who it was, I creeped backwards away from my door and went back to my bedroom. It is Thanksgiving, JWs. I am in no mood to talk with you about your weird religion.

Expecially before noon.

Then, it was today. Just a few minutes ago, in fact. I am sitting on my couch, snuggled underneath my blankets, typing a blog. The shades are open on my front window and I can see this guy walk slowly by the house, staring at the house, obviously realizing that someone is probably home.

He has a clipboard.

Then I see him walk past the window again and up to my door. Doorbell rings.

I stay on the couch, typing my blog. Completely ignoring the doorbell because I do not care who he is, and it is warm underneath my blankets. I'm not getting out.

Then he KNOCKS. Um, if I don't answer the doorbell, chances are I'm not going to answer your knock, either.

He eventually wanders away. A few minutes later I see him across the street, trying the same thing at my neighbors' houses.

Here's a tip: If I don't know you, I am not going to answer the door if you are at my door. I don't care if my window is wide open and it is completely obvious that I am sitting in here watching you ring my doorbell. I have no problem NOT opening my door to strangers.

I don't want what you are trying to sell me.
I don't care if you have an "official" clipboard.
I don't want you to attempt to convert me to your religion.
I don't care if you are a boy scout.

I am not going to answer the door if I don't know who you are.

(I really did refuse to answer the door a month or so ago when I knew it was a boyscout out there trying to sell me one of those tiny $17 tins of popcorn. He might have been cute, but not cute enough for me to spend $17 on, like, three kernels of popcorn.)

My one exception to this rule is if you are the Fire Department and my house is on fire or something. Then I will answer the door, if, of course, the door is not on fire.

But not if you are the fake Fire Department. So don't even try.

Safety First.

C.T.

This is why I hate Radio Shack

I've been in a Radio Shack maybe five times in my entire life, and most of those trips have been within the last four years. There is one near my house, which makes for convenience when I need something like a cable for my TV or something and I don't want to trek up the road to Best Buy.

But I don't like Radio Shack. And I don't understand why or how Radio Shack survives.

I make it a rule to not shop the day after Thanksgiving. This is tough, being the huge bargain-hunter that I am. I enjoy any opportunity to find a good deal. But I'm not crazy enough to wait in line at 3am to save 10% on a Wii.

I don't even want a Wii.

But I ventured out of the house today to get gas. I figured that was safe enough.

It was.

On my way home, I decided to stop in Radio Shack to look at headphone options for my ipod. I've worn out the ones I currently have. I figured Radio Shack would not be too crowded or crazy today, and it's on the way home anyway.

As I walked in the door of Radio Shack, I remembered that there is just nothing appealing about this store. Why are all Radio Shacks the size of a shoe box?

I guess they were expecting a big crowd today, because in this shoebox-of-a-store there were seven employees. And there were exactly four customers in the store, which is actually the most customers I've ever seen in a Radio Shack at one time.

They have rearranged this particular store since the last time I was in it. You would think there aren't a lot of options when it comes to a store the size of a shoebox, but whatever. Maybe they were bored one day and they decided to move the ipod accessories where the cell phones used to be, and vice versa.

I found the headphones, then in the span of 60 seconds I was accosted by four of the six employees asking me if I needed help, assistance, or if I had any questions.

One after the other.

Seriously, all of you are within earshot of me saying no to each of you because none of us is more than two feet away from anyone else in the store.

If there is one thing I hate when I am shopping, it is for employees to come find me and ask how they can help me. Much less for ALL of the employees to take turns asking me if I need help. If I need help, I will come get you. Otherwise, leave me alone.

If I can't find what I am looking for in a tiny shoebox-of-a-store, then I probably need help that you can't give me. Because I'm an idiot.

The other thing about Radio Shack is that nothing is cheap. And there isn't a large selection.

It's just a peculiar store.

I hate Radio Shack.

C.T.

This is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen

Seriously.

I almost lost my Thanksgiving appetite when I saw this last night. I'm not kidding.

I can't even put the picture on here, it's that disgusting.

But I have to share it. It's one of those that you just can't look away. And I need everyone else to suffer with me.

Check it out, but don't say I didn't warn you . . .

It is seriously grody.

C.T.

My house is now winterized

• Heater turned on without it exploding . . . check
• Electric blanket on bed and plugged in . . . check
• Washed snuggly blankets for couch . . . check
• Space heater plugged in near bathroom door for cold mornings . . . check
• Washed jackets and coats . . . check

I am now all set to hibernate until it warms up again in the spring.

C.T.

I sometimes love a parade

I'm not going to lie. I enjoy a good parade. Especially when I can watch one in the comfort of my own home, in my flannel pjs, with a good cup of coffee.

We went to the Cotton Bowl Parade one year back when that parade still existed. But all I remember about it was that I was so cold that I made my sister sit on my feet for most of the parade. Therefore, parades are sometimes better when you aren't too cold to enjoy them.

Having been in my fair share of marching bands throughout my years, I've been in quite a few parades of my own. A couple in highschool. Several in college, including George Bush's inaugural parade when he was governor of Texas (he shook my hand that day and sometimes I can't help but wonder if that is what ultimately led to his troubled presidency years later).

Sorry, everyone. My bad. I will not shake the hands of any more future Presidents of our country.

Anyway, my favorite part of parades is the marching bands. And maybe that's because I'm most familiar with that part of a parade. But when you're in a band that is in a parade, you don't get to see much of the rest of the parade. The marching band usually brings up the rear.

And you have to walk a long time. Parade's are long, y'all.

I don't sit and watch parades on TV every year when it comes time for parade season, but I'm watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade this morning. Mostly because I was awakened early this morning by a "Happy Thanksgiving" text message, so I just happened to be awake early enough to catch the parade.

Just FYI, my Thanksgiving will be a lot happier if you wait until, say . . . maybe noon-ish to text me about it.

I also enjoy the Rose Bowl Parade. But that one is not on today, since it is not time for the Rose Bowl.

Makes sense.

Also, parade is a weird word, now that I've typed it a few times.

I also enjoy when the balloons in the Macy's parade are sort of deflating. I just saw Scooby Doo's floppy face. It's funny.

Parade.

C.T.

For the Record: Cold Pizza

For the record, I am going to be very clear about one very important thing:

Cold Pizza is not okay

I don't care if you like it.
I don't care if it is convenient.
I don't care if you have an entire pizza but no way to heat it.

It would be better to not eat the pizza and let the whole thing go to waste, rather than eat it cold.

There is nothing okay about cold pizza.

I consider myself (as should you) a Subject Matter Expert when it comes to pizza. To eat pizza in the form of cold is pretty much blasphemous and sacriligious to what is a very sacred and holy food.

Cold pizza literally steals the essence of pizza. It is soul-less. It is offensive. I don't think I can be friends with you if you are pro-cold pizza.

I feel very strongly about this.

Done and done.

C.T.