tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17349280134749086282024-03-13T21:12:51.172-04:00Life, love, and other dramaSherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.comBlogger398125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-6961220873299129432014-06-17T21:37:00.001-04:002014-06-17T21:37:46.765-04:00Crossing FingersIf you're into the whole crossing fingers thing, would you mind? Got my eye on a pretty little black lab mix that may be in need for a home. It may be that I'm in need of a furry roommate. This might the best match to date . . . . . .Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-4698035029440570452014-06-17T21:35:00.001-04:002014-06-17T21:35:11.229-04:00Fishing?<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last night I was in visiting my local magician, aka my
hairdresser, Susie, and we were catching up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She does a fantastic job of making me able to pass for being in my 20’s
(gray?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What gray?), and gives me time to
hear all the local news (ahem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gossip.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In discussing who is dating who, and who
isn’t dating who, she asked me who I was dating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Always a fun subject matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I told her about my first meet up thanks
to Tinder, and how that had played out, and she mentioned that several other
clients of hers had decent luck with Plenty of Fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Have I mentioned how dating is NOT for the faint of heart?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One thing that I liked about P of F is that
you can say what you are there for, and what you’re looking for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If in fishing you cast out lots of lines, might as well try a different
pond, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me tell you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
If fishing was like this in real life, no one would go hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within a couple of hours of signing up, I had
several messages and “likes”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of
them, just like in real life, thanks, but no thanks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you can’t be bothered to even include one
picture, I’m not interested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, there
were a couple of interesting prospects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now, to figure out the time to actually fit in a date . . . . . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-32704054042410783582014-06-17T21:33:00.002-04:002014-06-17T21:33:59.786-04:00<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I keep saying I’m going to write a book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dating is not for the faint of heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just read a really interesting article on
CNN today about childless women, and the fact that we aren’t all lonely cat
women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good grief, but I can relate to
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In being out and meeting people, I
had one message me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re a pretty
girl, you’re easy to talk to, and have a great sense of humor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why are you still single?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s wrong with you?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to respond, nothing, other than I’m
picky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I actually want someone who wants
to be a part of my life, and have me be a part of his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone who understands what commitment
means.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Someone who has shared interests
with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve met lots of nice
guys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve met some really great
jerks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve had sparks with some, no sparks
with others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I’ve become
something of an expert on what to do, what to expect on a first date.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, now that I’ve said that I’m going
to get thrown a great curve ball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I
think the purpose of dating is to find that person that you want to be with,
and I can usually tell within 1-3 dates if that’s even a possibility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I live in a teeny, tiny town, and that’s
located in a small county.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friends
have told me they’ve thought through their “eligible” guy friends and realized
that um, no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not a good idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s hard to meet someone, even harder as
your “fishing pond” shrinks in size.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just like that guy asked, “What’s wrong with you?”, there is usually a
good reason why guys in my age range are single.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided after J and I split up last year
that I was going to make sure that I was the happiest I could be with just
being me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I keep hearing people say “Oh,
you’ll find someone”, but the reality is, I may not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">done</i>
with waiting to meet him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the
advantages to no longer having a dog at home is that I can come and go just as
I please.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have had FUN, with getting
out, and seeing the world right here at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve lost 50 pounds since last July, and it’s amazing how much bigger
the world is as I’ve gotten smaller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I owe
a lot of my exploring time to my friend Laurel, who is teaching me that the
outside is a great place to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Minus,
of course, the ticks, and the snakes, and the spiders . . . . I’m still enough
of a girly girl that those freak me out!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I live in a beautiful part of the world, and I’m going to spend this
summer exploring every nook and cranny of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-46813674847558919892014-06-04T22:13:00.001-04:002014-06-04T22:13:08.617-04:00<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I haven’t written in a long, LONG, time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Been busy, been tired, pick an excuse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad used to tell me that if you’re looking
for an excuse, one is just as good as another.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The past year has been sent finding, and settling, me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guy I was dating and I broke up in
September.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had thought that I was
going to be spending the rest of my life with him, but ultimately, we couldn’t
reach a compromise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want to
move unless he was willing to commit to me (engagement, wedding date), and he
didn’t want to make that commitment until I was willing to move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Catch 22 much?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We broke up, and a week later he was “in a
relationship” a week later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gotta love
Facebook, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the next few weeks,
I took off to visit one of my best friends in Seattle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I call him Seattle, since the first time he
called and it said “Seattle calling”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While there, my beloved furry delight, Britney, died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had not been doing well over the week
prior to my leaving, and even the night before, I laid there and stroked her
and said my goodbyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Best case scenario
I would be taking her to the vet when I came back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve questioned my leaving her many times,
but ultimately, it worked out the very best that it could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friend Andi and I trade animal care, and
she called me Wed. morning to let me know that Britney was really bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In turn, I called Karey, since she said her
son was getting out of school early, to get him to take her to the vet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time A. could get to my house, Britney
had died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Karey, who on a good day is a
force to be reckoned with, left work, and between Austin, Ronnie, and herself,
took my puppy to her vet and arranged to have her cremated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Austin and Ronnie cleaned my house for
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was nothing for me to deal
with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Karey even tracked down Seattle
and had him on his way home<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>before she
even called me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he pointed out – I am
not one to ask for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This way, not
only did I not have to deal with the aftermath of my puppy passing away, but I
was able to appreciate the amazing and giving friends that I have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got back on Sunday, Carolyn even
offered to meet me at the house so I didn’t have to go in alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I did see Karey again a few days later, she already had
picked Britney up for me, and her son and husband had made a beautiful cedar
box for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, not a single detail
left for me to deal with or to handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re the family that
we get to pick for ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t start out to write about any of that, but
obviously, I needed to .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I need to
put some more time and thought into this whole writing thing. <br />
<br />
Wonder Gal, I don’t know who you are, but thank you for your comments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were the kick in the back side that I
needed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>:D<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-30633597334753123252013-11-05T21:51:00.000-05:002013-11-05T21:51:29.184-05:00Fire and EMS Bullet<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: background1;">It’s
been AGES since I wrote on here. And, I’ve actually started another blog,
so if you are actually reading this one, comment and I’ll let you know where
the new one is. But, I had thoughts for today, and I really wanted to
share them. <br />
<br />
In the most recent Advocate (a local monthly “news” paper), there’s an article
about “The Fire and Rescue Bullet”. It talks about the things working
against volunteers: Competition for free time, aging population, increased
training requirements, employers not letting employees off to answer calls,
greater expectations from citizens, and of course, money. There are other
problems with answering calls as well. The biggest one for me? The
BS calls. I’m sorry, but when someone calls 911 morning after morning
after morning, for the same complaint, you know what? I’m going to stay
right here and eat my lucky charms, thank you very much. How about the
person who complained that their “Lungs were full of air” and wanted to go to
the ER? Unfortunately, you want to go to the ER? We cannot
refuse to take you. People also complain about how long it takes an
ambulance to get there. My answer? First, is your house easy to
locate? Let’s start with a house number, that is CLEARLY visible from the
road. I had a family member berate us for driving up and down past his
house. “But the number is there!” “Yes sir, and it’s black letters
on a flat black mailbox. We can’t see that in the middle of the
night.” Second, when you choose to have the house that has an AMAZING
view and no one around for miles . . . that also includes an
ambulance. <br />
<br />
In this same article, it brings up statistics. Yes, my squad has missed a
LOT of calls. And the article talks about how there are other departments
that have no calls missed. But, there are lots of details missing, not
just hard and fast numbers. For instance. Was the call missed
because we were already on another call? WHO was the call for?
Several of our “missed” calls were for another agency that we were second due
on. And, before we could answer that call for that first due agency, they
got a truck on the road so we weren’t needed. Yes, the Fire Department
might have 100% of calls answered, but if they only have 15 calls for the month
. . . . . whoo hoo! We usually have 60-90 calls a month. I’d like
to see what happens to those other departments numbers when they start having
that kind of volume. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: background1;">The
reality is, we need daytime help. We need paid staff to be at our
buildings, to answer the calls, while the volunteers are working. Even
now, we struggle in the evenings. I’m one of the “lucky”? ones, in that I
don’t have a spouse, kids, and responsibilities at home, and I’m available to
answer more than the average person. The top 2 call answering
associates? Retired. #3? The Captain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: background1;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: background1;">There
are agencies where drama is an issue. Mine isn’t one of those.
While we’ve had our differences with the Fire Department, the reality is, those
people have been there for me when I need them. I might laugh and joke
about big dumb firefighters running into a burning building, but the reality
is, there isn’t anyone else I’d want, or trust, to have my back in an
emergency. When push comes to shove, we work to get the job done.
When the call goes off for a person unresponsive, or an injured child, you bet
your backside that we will drop anything and everything to get the call
answered. I’m not going to apologize for not doing the same thing for the
person with the stubbed toe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: background1;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: background1;">I’d
love to see more people volunteer. Even if you don’t want to get into the
nitty gritty, blood and puke that can accompany a call, there is ALWAYS
something to do. There’s trash to be put out, ambulances to be washed,
buildings to be straightened. And, for the record? In 10 years, I
can count on both hands the number of times I’ve dealt with really really
gross/ewwww calls. It’s not what the television series makes it out to
be. Daddy used to tell me, when you get down on yourself, do something
for someone else. Volunteering with the squad has been the most rewarding
opportunity of my life. I wish more people would sign up for those same
rewards. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-58748869874229086522012-02-08T22:27:00.002-05:002012-02-08T22:35:02.685-05:00Stuff<div align="justify">Wow. This week has . . . rocked me emotionally. I thought my life was going one way, and while I admittedly wasn't headed there quickly, it's where I thought I was going. Suddenly, I find myself at a dead end. And, even writing this is making me feel all weepy again, so, instead, let me tell you about the adventure I had last week.<br /><br />While driving into work, I saw a small dark spot scurry out from under my feet, and up under my dash. Fortunately, I'm not the kind of girl to COMPLETELY freak out, so instead, I called work and informed them that I would be late. I had to purchase mouse traps! I placed out several different kinds, humane, and quick kill, along with D Con. I'm sorry, but mice do serious damage to cars! I saw the little bugger on my way home, and the next day. He ate nearly a whole box of the D Con! Finally, on Thursday, I saw that he had worked himself into the commercial trap from work, and was sitting there wiggling his nose at me while he was on the glue trap!!! I've never felt so horrible. If he hadn't eaten so much poison, I would have certainly tried to free him. He was actually a cute little guy, when he wasn't running around my feet! Still, it was an adventure. Maybe later this week I'll post about my critter filled year last year.<br /><br />I'm struggling with how much to share on here. I feel like I want to write, I want to talk about everything that's in my head, but I don't know of the right place to put it. There are some that I really want to hear what I have to say, and others that . . . I don't want to share. I don't want to seem weak, or needy, or overly emotional, or not emotional enough, and . . . I get so tired of editing my thoughts, what I say. These filters are getting harder and harder to maintain. I was told, "You're so drama free." Well, for the most part. But, there are times I wish I could just let loose and say what I have to say. I've been emailing those things to myself and dumping them in a folder, but it's just not the same. </div><br /><div align="left">Suggestions?</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-67849942816534700272011-09-08T21:42:00.004-04:002011-09-08T22:00:57.957-04:0010 Years and more.<div align="justify"><br /></div><br /><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmTb9UMLCE18p2Ok9kvyGD-Tvc7d-5QHAU90Yi0KbsrNnmGZhe5o9IxKEcGxnRpqelby7RHmPoSROfkn_Q_vwOW7bgFzFktRmYs4QGATV1wdvDdHi0mXjMkmKwSvxF4lq9pNGWUGPY7nh9/s1600/sherimsh1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650172129297073986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 197px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmTb9UMLCE18p2Ok9kvyGD-Tvc7d-5QHAU90Yi0KbsrNnmGZhe5o9IxKEcGxnRpqelby7RHmPoSROfkn_Q_vwOW7bgFzFktRmYs4QGATV1wdvDdHi0mXjMkmKwSvxF4lq9pNGWUGPY7nh9/s320/sherimsh1.jpg" border="0" /></a> I'm not going to write about 9/11. That almost seems cliche. I am, however, going to talk about where I was 10 years ago. I was getting ready to watch my best friend, marry the man of her dreams (or so she thought). She was supposed to get married on 09/15, which she did. The marriage didn't quite last a year, but that's another story. When the news of the events of 9/11 started filtering in, the first thing I thought of was Msh. I was still too broke, and not quite the gadget girl that I am today, for a cell phone. I tried and tried to get in touch with her, finally reaching her early afternoon. As soon as she answered, and realized it was me, she burst into tears. "I planned for everything to go wrong except this!" How do you plan for something like that? She had been evacuated from her building in D.C. at gunpoint and snarling dog, as the various forces tried to get people to safety. <br /><br />After lots of deep breaths, scampering around, routing a bridesmaid from one airport to another, and jumping through the various hoops, the wedding did happen. And the thing that I didn't realize then, that I'm just realizing now, is that was the first day that I knew that life goes on. As it does today. It's hard to keep things in perspective, what with getting a bad mystery shop, and people being so unhappy with me, but there are bigger and more important things in life. I'm grateful for a friendship like the one I have with Msh. We have gone from whispering in dorm rooms into the middle of the night to figuring out that if we want to have a conversation without interruption, sometimes the best time is 745 in the morning. Relationships take work, trust, hope, and love, and I'm grateful to have a friend that I can go through all of that with. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650172132854692626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 218px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7IB1NN3WMw0Nxee6pI5NAo1CorexKLYmejwgOEfiqzd9ckh_WAAH8Jo2tpe3FcZkUJlwvVPIivS991UA8rDu3ZKnpfN_5ukAyuyhwQ6J5jzD2WwM2c2yslQ85bAihBeV7mYCsqlqZv13/s320/Sherimsh2.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><p align="justify">PS - I should mention that while the second wedding didn't have quite the "Who's Who" and flair of the first, the second one got her the man who adores her, and the beautiful Savannah. Msh, ya done good. :)</p>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-75795527324400149012011-09-01T22:58:00.002-04:002011-09-01T23:05:35.025-04:00What to write?<div align="justify">I get stuck on what to write. Or not write. I think of great things while I'm at work (with no blog access), but then have lost it before I come home. I need to do something about this. But, for right now, here's how my week started.
<br />
<br />Mom had made new curtains for me. She dropped them in the mail with a couple of other things. The box showed up on Monday, ripped on one side. Inside was a towel and potholder from their Alaska trip, a cute journal idea, and an external hard drive. I was a bit confused, but figured that maybe the curtains weren't done yet, so I called her. "Mom, how am I supposed to access this hard drive? You didn't send me any cords." "What hard drive?" "The one in the box." "We didn't send you a hard drive."</div>
<br /><div align="justify"></div>
<br /><div align="justify">Turns out at some point, the box got ripped open, and someone else's box got ripped open. Whoever discovered it didn't know what went where, so they just put it in the box. Someone got my curtains, and I got their hard drive. Isn't this how the movies start? Random piece of electronic gadget shows up and then big men in black with big guns show up to retrieve it. Uh, big men? I didn't access it. I gave it back to the USPS. And my curtains are MIA. Mom said she's remaking them.
<br />
<br />In the words of my co-worker. Bummer, dood. </div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-13103716256143354632011-08-21T12:53:00.002-04:002011-08-21T12:57:47.299-04:00Public Behavior<div align="justify">Last night, while I was at work at the track, I noticed a couple of the guys looking at something behind me. I turned around, and saw a girl, straddling a guy who was laying in the grass. She was . . . wiggly, and her jeans were down. WAY down. Like, a couple of more inches and we would have REALLY had a show. One of the guys, laughing, took a picture. The girls friend, who was standing beside them, pointed out the picture taker. The girl then came over and said, "You need to delete that. I'm a teenager." Now. First of all, yes. As soon as the guy realized she was a teenager, the photo was deleted. But still. Where the heck were her parents? If I had acted like that . . . ??? She came over again and was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">indignant</span>. "No one should be taking my picture." If you're going to put on a show, you better believe someone is going to watch. I don't care how old you are. If you act like that, you are going to get the results of that behavior.
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<br />Your thoughts?</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-39855278766961897632011-08-10T22:53:00.003-04:002011-08-10T22:56:04.749-04:00Puppy Update<div align="justify">After ducking out of work just a little early, and rushing over the mountain, I was able to pick up my Britney dog. She's groggy, a little confused as to which paw goes where, but is otherwise quite happy to be home. And me? I'm going to sleep so much better now that I just have my same old 6" of bed back. Welcome home, Britney!</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-36514619822981642352011-08-09T22:47:00.002-04:002011-08-09T22:54:23.598-04:00Britney Surgery<div align="justify">It's a well known fact that I love my puppy. I've had her since she was 4 weeks old, and she's now 10 years old. She had ACL surgery when she was 5, and has progressively gotten more and more gimpy. Last night I noticed that she was even more "off", and once we got home, I noticed that she had a large jelly-bean size mass in the middle of her paw pads. I called my vet this morning, and they worked her in, not only for the appointment, but also for the surgery they did today.
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<br />While right now I am sitting here missing the sound of her ticking toe nails, and her growling over a bone, I am so grateful for a vet that is sensitive to the limits of my finances, respectful of my time (it's a 40 minute drive, so they try to do as much as they can in one visit), and who calls to let me know the results of the surgery even as my dog is just waking up.
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<br />I've been advised that one of her kidney levels was slightly elevated, but liver and other levels were normal. The message said that she sailed through surgery, and that the mass didn't seem to go into her toe, and no amputation was needed. The other mass on her stomach had very shallow roots as well. Thank you, <a href="http://www.myvetonline.com/bedfordanimal/general-information.html">Bedford Animal Hospital</a>, for taking care of my baby girl. </div>
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<br /><div align="justify">And, Britney? Hurry home. My bed is WAY too big for just me!!</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-49410477665496755532011-08-07T15:38:00.003-04:002011-08-07T15:45:11.737-04:00Saturday Night Observations<div align="justify">As you may or may not be aware, on Friday and Saturday nights, I work at our local drag and dirt tracks. Weather puts a serious damper on these, and last night called for a 60% chance of rain. Just as we were going to open our gates, showers started. We waited it out, and eventually got underway. The drag strip, right behind us, wasn't able to get the track dry, and shut down. By the time the dirt track was rolled in, the sun was setting. The opening prayer was offered, and the National Anthem started. As it was playing, I was struck by how quiet it was. Normally the drag strip is running, and people keep talking. But this time, none of that. And, you could hear the anthem sounding off of the hills. People stood at attention, kids stopped playing, and the world seemed perfect. I thought about the Navy SEALS that were killed this weekend, and thought about how grateful I am that there are men and women like them, that allow us to enjoy our weekends and days as we choose. <br /><br />Thank you, each and every one of you, for your service. </div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-56461965346370052642011-07-27T22:44:00.002-04:002011-07-27T22:52:28.358-04:00Bzz Bzz Bzz<div align="justify">The title of my blog is Life, Love, and other Drama. I chose that when I was dealing with some drama, but fortunately lately I haven't had a lot of that. Still, life goes on, as evidenced last night.<br /><br />I was getting ready for bed (read: very scant clothing. Sorry, but it's important for the story) when I noticed some weird shavings/debris on the floor. I grabbed the vacuum, and figured I'd suck it all up quickly. Did I mention it was about 11:45p? Anyway, I got that up in about 10 seconds, and noticed more debris on the window sill. Weird. I have an A/C Unit there and figured there was some critter getting in and I'd spray it with bug spray. Then I noticed, at the top of my window, MORE debris. As I was running the vacuum over the spot, the wand went right through the now-paint-only wall, and BEES started pouring out of the wall. Like, black and yellow stingy creatures. Being the mature female I am, I high tailed it out of there, grabbing my dog and leaving the vacuum running. Deep breath, deep breath, call the landlord. Phone? Oh. Heh. Yeah. That's in the bedroom. So, I sucked in a deep breath, grabbed the broom and headed back in. My pretty iphone was covered in bees. Wasps. Hornets. Whatever. They were TICKED. I knocked it to the floor with the broom, brushed the critters off, and called my landlord. At midnight. <br /><br />See, this is why I rent. Who else could I have called at midnight and let it be someone else's problem? I warned them that I was less than adequately dressed (a short bathrobe that was in the bathroom), and after making sure I was ok, they promised they'd be right over. And they were. Lord love them, they sucked up all the buzzing critters, and got the hole in the wall sealed up with cardboard and duct tape. And got me to more adequate clothing. So for now, my bedroom only has the occasional bzz'ing in it, and hopefully they'll get the nest removed this week. My dog and I survived with only a couple of minor stings. Considering the exposed skin, I'll take it. <br /><br />Life. Enjoy it, right?</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-83071070325996502762011-07-14T22:27:00.003-04:002011-07-14T22:34:44.436-04:00Thursday<div align="justify">Look! Another post! Already! I had forgotten how nice it is to just sit and type. Sometimes you get fluff. Sometimes not. I'm still not sure how this one is going to go. <br /><br />I watched Big Brother tonight. Meh. Whatev. The show I've really enjoyed this past spring? Coming Home. Guaranteed tears every time, but so worth it. Lifetime, you now have me for 2 hours a week. I was telling my dad about it tonight, and about the woman in Texas who <em>every day</em> meets troops at the airport to welcome them home and thank them for their service. He told me about the Vietnam time, and soldiers being cursed, spit at, threatened, and belittled. I have talked to MANY people who have said that while they don't support the war, they do support our troops. I think that is so important. My friends son is in the Reserves, and he said that while he didn't like being over there, he and his companions wished that we could at least finish what we have started so that they don't ever have to go back.<br /><br />I've been following the trending topic #40thingsaboutme. I started with my first one tonight - "I'm adopted, and I don't care about finding my 'real' mother. I've always felt like I'm right where I belong." That's usually the first question I'm asked, "Do you want to find your real mother?" Why? Is she lost? My real mother is the one that has dealt with me and my joys, heartaches, drama, and successes for the past 35 years. And, last I checked she's in California. I'm curious about my biological mother, simply for medical history reasons, but nothing more. I've been told as I get older I'll get curious but it simply hasn't happened yet. My adoption was never a secret. My grandmother has told me that once while in a sandbox, I asked another child, "Did your mother have you or did she get you?" It's just something I've grown up knowing. If you've stumbled across this somehow because of my tag, I'm happy to discuss my feelings and thoughts on the subject. Otherwise, it's time for a little WoW. 'Cause I'm something of a geek like that. </div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-27120112036051537562011-07-13T21:14:00.004-04:002011-07-13T21:24:56.970-04:00Wednesday and Hellgrammites<div align="justify">Welcome back to my spot. The thing tonight is I want to vent about certain issues, but given the fact that anyone could stumble on this or point certain other people to it, leads me to edit my thoughts. I'm leaning more and more towards an anonymous blog, but then, how could my friends see what I have to say?<br /><br />Instead, let me share this little gem from a week or so ago. I was on a structure fire call, working rehab. Firefighters HATE rehab. They make up every excuse in the world to avoid having their vitals checked, but we're persistent, and had several guys hanging around cooling off. There had been several sightings of <a href="http://insects.tamu.edu/fieldguide/bimg121.html">Hellgrammites</a>. Oh, you haven't seen one? Let me enlighten you. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><p align="justify"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629011636479355698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWR2KaFMggIMbnmQAyrMqwzjMpdiiuW0MtNEtN2RblaGEmpFhZMoEQMhXJ8R1U6BP2k7n34xU62f_4EpryuoF1Xcs46l7BQW1NuoNh90QUSQGLbAHmPHYdFwm9JTFMqPlKQ9V8y6Z9CJ3U/s320/dobsonfly.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="justify">In finding that picture, I learned that the babies are Hellgrammites, and the adults are actually dobsonflies. Either way, they are a scary looking critter. And, that picture is NOT life size. When I stretched my thumb and pinky out, I couldn't cover the thing. That's well over 5". And those antler things? They pinch. Hard. And it hurts. Anyway, this critter was flitting around, and just as I pointed it out so people could watch for it, the stupid thing flies up and lands on, well, my girl chest-y parts. <em>Deep breath, deep breath, don't freak out. </em>I gritted my teeth and begged one of these big, tough firefighters to PLEASE get this thing off of me! Wanna guess how many immediately jumped up and volunteered? <em>None. </em>Not one. I had to beg and plead to get one of them to finally very carefully pinch its wings and get it off me. <br /><br />Blood? Guts? Trauma? Not a problem. But the Hellgrammites could very well end up being the end of my volunteering days!!!</p>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-68883435264808171412011-07-06T23:26:00.004-04:002011-07-06T23:35:52.194-04:00Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop<div align="justify">Thank you Glenn, for the kick in the tail to get me to writing again. Such changes in my life, in the past month or so. One of my co-workers left in May to pursue a different career path within our company. Unfortunately, he was also our manager. Then, one of my other co-workers left to assist another branch that was lacking in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">experience</span>. Yesterday, another of my co-workers left to fill a full time position. All good things for them, but scary things for me. Selfish, aren't I? I've been on a cleaning tangent lately, and now my house is mom-clean, my yard clean, and my freezer clean. On top of that, the dentist that I have been madly in love with (for professional reasons only, I assure you) is leaving for family reasons. I can't take anyone else leaving my life!!! So, yeah. There have been things to write about. But tonight, let's tackle one of Mama Kat's suggestions, since it directly correlates with the previous.<br /><br />"How are you becoming your mother?"<br /><br />Cindy would tell you rather quickly it's because I'll cry at the drop of the hat. That's my Mama. But, what's been more interesting, and what she would have NEVER guessed when I was 15, that I am becoming quite happy with things being clean, and organized. I like that everything has a happy place, and I like simple. Not a lot of clutter being out, or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">knick</span>-knacks out everywhere. Who would have thunk it?<br /><br />Regarding previous dentist. I had, prior to him, bad dental work. I had a root canal and a crown done with no post, so that crown is put into place every day with fix-o-dent. The same tooth, on the opposite side, the bad dentist did a partial root canal and then a filling. Needless to say, that didn't last long and the tooth broke at the gum line. For <em>years</em> I simply made a wax tooth every day out of orthodontic wax to cover the hole at the edge of my smile line. This new dentist moved into the area and assured me he could fix it. He worked with my insurance and my budget, and $3500 later, I had an implant completed. You <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">shoulda</span> seen the smile . . . for 4 weeks. Then, one day, that new tooth moved. Bad. Bad bad. So, into the dentists office I went, dental implant removed, and healing began. Did I mention this dentist warranties his work? Yesterday, his replacement started MY replacement. This time, it has been more painful, by about 10 x. This post has been brought to you courtesy of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Percocet</span>. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">How's that for rambling?</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-48788321520726772662011-06-26T15:09:00.002-04:002011-06-26T15:20:35.748-04:00Couple of words<div align="justify">I can't comment on Facebook on this one, because that's what my gripe is. And, yes, before you say anything, I realize that autocorrect is most likely the cause. But, still. Here's a couple of examples.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">"I'm trying to sale my car, if anyone is interested"</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">"I've been called an angle, but I think I have them fooled"</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">Sell, people, sell. And, ANGEL. Amazing what a difference the location of letters can make. <br /><br />On another note. Over the past couple of weeks, I have been spring cleaning my house. Floorboards, curtains washed (and starched), comforters cleaned. Once I got my house cleaned, I started in on cooking. Brownies, chicken salad, egg salad, homemade salsa. Then, when I ran out of things I wanted to cook, I started in on my flower beds. Re-mulched, new flowers put in, flowers actually put in to my pots, etc. Today I actually have clothes hanging out on the line. Nesting, I've been accused of. And, before anyone says it, no, I'm NOT pregnant. However, in the past month, I've had big change in my life. My manager left for a better position. One of my favorite co-workers is transferring to another branch. Heck, even my dentist is moving away. Lots of change. I feel like the only thing that I have any control over is my house, so it's going to be under control, dag-nab-it. It's not working. I have a friend who has suggested that now would be a fantastic time to re-evaluate my life as it is. Am I truly happy? I don't know that I have a solid answer for that. </div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-19737546815649935792011-03-07T23:18:00.003-05:002011-03-07T23:30:05.936-05:00Writer's Workshop<div align="justify">Choose a prompt, post it on your blog, and come back to add your name to the link list below. Be sure to sign up with the actual post URL and not just your basic blog URL (click on the title of your post for that URL). For good comment karma try to comment on the three blogs above your name!!<br />The Prompts:<br />1.) One pet peeve that shouldn’t drive you crazy, but does.<br />2.) Share 10 “Must Haves” this Spring!<br />3.) What were you blogging about last year at this time? What has changed?<br />4.) What inspired you this week?<br />5.) Perform a random act of service. And then tell us about it.<br /><br />I'm really trying to get back in this blogging spirit thing. I used to really enjoy writing, even if I have friends who are much better at picking the right words. So, I'm going to use some helps to get back in the swing of it, and maybe turn off a few of the filters along the way.<br /><br />3. What were you blogging about last year at this time? What has changed?<br /><br />The reason I chose this, was that the answer is actually *nothing*. And, the reason for that is filtering. What was going on in my personal life, dating life, was pretty rough. And, there's a very good chance that person could stumble on my blog, and I didn't think he would much care for me to have it out there. But, in the year that we were dating/talking/together (what DO we do in the 20 something year?) I discovered I filtered a lot of myself out, and that wasn't fair to me OR to him. I like McDonalds food. And I like country music. And I believe in God. And I have no problem with my dog sleeping in my bed. And if any of those are issues to the guy I'm dating, they are HIS issues. I can negotiate on brands of toothpaste, but there are some things that just are what they are. And I have spent the last year learning to like, and to be ok, with those things about myself. The strange thing is? There are people out there who like me just the way I am. Country music, french fries, and all.<br /><br />I've made a really good friend over the past year plus or so. He told me this week I'm a growth stock. Now, being a banker and all, I found that rather funny. He said he'd buy my stock. There are some days you might feel like you're losing your shirt, but if you stick with me long enough, you're going to come out ahead. I'll take that.</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-84826738150170375052011-03-02T23:04:00.001-05:002011-03-02T23:05:24.598-05:00Professional Responsibility?<div align="justify">I read an article today on CNN.com about too few doctors telling their patients they are overweight. Can I get a little amen? There’s no secret that I’m not a skinny girl. I don’t always eat right, and I don’t exercise every day. However, I’m working on it. And, I have a LONG way to go. But. I wonder if my trip might not have been shortened by a doctor 13 years ago saying, “Hey, you’ve gained 10 lbs since your last visit. What’s changed? You need to keep an eye on that.” Instead, you know how I realized how bad it was? When during one visit, the nurse left my chart in the room with me. There, in the doctor’s notes, it clearly stated, “Patient is obese.” And, I’d been seeing this doctor for a couple of years! Not once, in any check-ups, ‘I’m sick’ calls, or any other time, did this doctor mention it to me. The only way it got discussed was when I said, (after reading that), “Hey. I don’t like being fat. What do you recommend?” He then promptly put me on Meridia, and that was the end of it. When I have a client come into the bank and do a transaction, how upset is that client going to be if I don’t mention, “We didn’t receive your loan payment.” Or, “I see you got a service charge last month. Let’s do something about that.” If the professional that you are working with sees that there is a problem, don’t they have an obligation to SAY something about it? Yes, being overweight is a sensitive, touchy subject. But, that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be addressed. And, I would have much rather had 10 lbs to lose, than what I’m faced with today. So, yes, doctors. Please say something sooner, rather than later, to your patients! </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Oh, and yes. I’ve switched doctors. To one that regularly does blood work, takes the time to discuss my current personal situation, and keeps me in check as far as diet and exercise. Isn’t that what they are getting paid to do?</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-45082327498157399972010-09-28T23:25:00.002-04:002010-09-28T23:30:31.615-04:00Nothing much . . .<div align="justify">To say. See, here's my problem. I'll think of something during the day (where blogging is strictly forbidden), and by the time I get home, I've completely forgotten about it. <br /><br />I can tell you this. I'm tired. I was out late last night on a squad call, and up early this morning. Now, I don't mind calls, but when the patient gets to leave the hospital before I do? Fail. I was told when I started running calls the time would come when I wouldn't jump to answer everything. I laughed. I need to hunt that person down and tell them that <em>they were right. </em> Even now I'm listening to tones go off, and making no move to go answer them. The call? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">MVC</span>. Vehicle off the roadway, engine still running, no one around car. Now, before people jump to anything, we do have an assigned crew, so someone is going. It's just not going to be me. <br /><br />On another note. My poor Britney dog has had a heck of a time lately. Last week she suddenly wouldn't tolerate standing, and was "gimpy" as she walked. Fortunately, I have a totally awesome vet who saw here less than 12 hours after I called him, and she is now taking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Novox</span> every morning. The only problem? She now thinks she's a puppy again! Crazy thing.<br /><br />This weekend will be busy. Racing, BIG racing. If you're in the Southwest VA area, <a href="http://www.nbspeedway.com/">Natural Bridge Speedway</a> is going to be the place to be . . . come see us!</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Hey. At least it's a post. :-)</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-68522228125339794572010-07-26T23:32:00.003-04:002010-07-26T23:45:21.759-04:00Since January?<div align="justify">Wow. Just, wow. I used to love writing, daily, and I just . . . got away from it. I think in some ways I've forgotten how to be me. And what I want. In other ways, it's become far more clear, what is important. But, for now, can I tell you about the bracelet I'm wearing?<br /><br />This past week, I was on vacation. I was supposed to go see the Boy, but since that, well, fell through for various reasons, I found myself with a week with nothing to do. My friends, Karey and Laurie, and their respective families, had made plans to visit VA Beach. K. invited me to ride down with her sister, but her sister ended up leaving earlier than I could have left work. Bummer, but I was still flattered that they would even have invited me. I underestimated my friends. Karey and Laurie banded together to make sure that I had transportation there. Once I got myself to VA Beach (without a wrong turn!), Laurie let me bunk up with her family. The next two days were spent applying sunblock, chasing kids through waves, more sunblock, riding bikes, sunblock, eating yummy sushi and seafood, (did I mention sunblock?), and all in all, having a fantastic time with my friends. On Sunday, as Karey's mom was leaving, she tossed me the jelly bracelet they had given out at the hotel in case I needed it for something. I came home Monday evening, and spent the rest of the week contemplating and enjoying not having to be anywhere. <br /><br />Each time I look at that bracelet, I'm reminded of how much I have to be grateful for. I have incredible co-workers, who jumped in at the last second to watch Britney for me. I knew how much I liked my friends, how much I consider them my family, but I was overwhelmed by their show of friendship. It's exactly right - Friends are the family that you choose for yourself. I've chosen, . . . very well. </div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-61967785057193663442010-01-14T23:41:00.003-05:002010-01-14T23:49:41.578-05:00Idio-craty<div align="justify">Is that even a word? Along with most of the nation, I've been watching the news. My heart aches for those lost, people who have no idea if their family and friends are ok. I remember when Hurricane Ike went over Houston - my parents were on a mission there, and for about 24 hours, I couldn't get in touch with them. I knew they were ok. I mean, the Church is very good about notifying family and all that, but I was still worried. I can't imagine longer than that, and with the images we are seeing.<br /><br />I'm a Christian. I believe in helping anyone and everyone you can. As I told a friend the other night. I believe in being a productive member of society. Work as much as you are able, and make a difference. Give of yourself. Make the world a better place because you were here. I work (technically) 3 jobs. Volunteer with the Rescue Squad and Fire Dept. While I'm a clutz, and make more than my fair share of mistakes, I consider myself a decent person.<br /><br />When I see, and hear, idiots like Limbaugh making comments like he did, it just infuriates me. I remember Mama teaching me: If it isn't kind, necessary, and true, don't say it. It's not like Meatloaf sang. You can't have 2 out of 3. I overheard a person today saying, "What's the big deal? They were overcrowded anyway." Who says that??? Anyway. Sharing this response. I don't do politics, I don't do a lot of big, fancy words in a conversation, but I got this. What do you think?<br /><br />While I'm on it, in case you hadn't heard, you can text "Haiti" to the American Red Cross at 90999, and $10 will be donated that will show up on your cell phone bill. In the past 24 hours, over $5 million has been raised. Please don't let this stop you - it's a drop in the bucket when you look at what's going to be needed over time. Also, Ree, at <a href="http://www.thepioneerwoman.com/">www.thePioneerwoman.com</a> is doing a fundraiser. Leave a comment, and be entered to win a drawing for her to donate $500 to the Haitian charity of your choice. She's also donating $.10 per comment left, so go, help her do a good thing!<br /><br /><object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vbrhIpUN0Jc&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vbrhIpUN0Jc&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object></div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-68453328626001723952010-01-12T20:13:00.002-05:002010-01-12T20:22:10.636-05:00Seriously?<div align="justify"><a href="http://money.cnn.com/2010/01/11/news/economy/bank_tax/index.htm">Have y'all seen this article? </a> Let me back up. I work in the financial industry. Here's the dirty laundry you're not hearing. Not all the institutions that received bailout money wanted, or needed it. But, the government didn't want people to know which ones were hurting, so they grouped a bunch up and said, "Here's how much you're taking. Not an option." As soon as we could pay ours back, we did. With interest. And fees. And all the extra's. Now, it appears that AIG, GM, and others may not be able to pay there's back. So, Mr. Obama, your solution to recoup the costs are to levy taxes and other fees against everyone who took the money??? Hold up. How is that any different than said "Big Evil Banks" giving a loan to a person with all the fine print, etc., that goes with it. That person pays it back early, paying all the penalties, and fees associated with it. Then, the bank says, "Oh you know, Mr. X over there didn't pay his back, so uh, client? Fork over some more dough." What. the heck. Seriously? Why is it wrong for banks to make money? They are a FOR PROFIT industry. If you don't like paying overdraft fees, here's a novel concept. Don't spend money you don't have. Don't like late penalty rates, and over limit fees? Pay your bills on time, don't spend more than what you have. Realistically, the majority of people never overdraw their account. A few will do it once or twice a year. A handful will repeatedly overdraw their account. Guess who's making the most noise? Ugh. I'm so tired of hearing about this. When you make bad decisions, there are consequences. If those are bad business decisions, than your business would fail. Some of these badly-run institutions <em>need</em> to fail. There are plenty of good ones that are eager and waiting to help people be financially sound and successful. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Getting off soapbox now. Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts . . . . it's a pretty hot topic for a lot of people. <br /><br /></div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-24900157666113607542010-01-08T12:47:00.002-05:002010-01-08T12:53:24.986-05:00New Year<div align="justify">Wow. I haven't been on here since October? How did that happen? Oh, wait, I know. Life. And, lack of something cohesive/funny/etc. to write about. However, lately I've had things in the back of my mind, and I've thought, "Ooh! I could blog about that!" So, since I have this here laptop (borrowed) fired up while here at work, why not give it a shot?<br /><br />We had a major snowstorm blow through here about a month ago. In the past 3 years, we've had less than a total of 12" accumulation. It just doesn't snow. Evidently, Mother Nature didn't get the memo, because we got 24" at my house, in just under 24 hours. Snow! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Yay</span>! Fluffy white stuff! I'll try to get pics/video posted once I'm back on my own '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">puter</span>. <br /><br />However. Did you know that snow as a kid, and snow as an adult are two entirely <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">separate</span> things? Shoveling all that, by yourself, not so much fun, really. I have a new respect for people who suffer a heart attack while shoveling. Ugh. I got enough dug out for my car, then made snow angels so the dog could have a place to do her thing, and called it good.<br /><br />One thing I enjoyed (and benefited from) seeing was the people who were quick to help others out. We had well over 100 people stranded on the interstate. Fire and Rescue were doing what they could to take them food, water, and to shelter if they wanted it, but there were many ordinary citizens who made their way to incident command to see what they could do to take care of the rescuers. People were out shoveling out elderly people, or those who couldn't do it for themselves. Warms the heart, to know that there are still good people out there trying to take care of others, ya know?</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Really. I'm getting back into this whole blogging thing. Are there even any readers still out there? Drop me a comment, say hi and smack me around a bit. See you soon . . .</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1734928013474908628.post-58031338833891723182009-10-18T22:44:00.002-04:002009-10-18T22:54:40.534-04:00Part Deux<div align="justify">So, the next morning, woke up, thinking, "Wow, I need to get my oil changed before we head back to school." Then, "Oh my heck - I'm thinking about my oil being changed, rather than THAT." We went to Church, and I lasted through the main service before I was out of there. I couldn't take, not for another second, all the "oh poor Sheri" looks I felt like I was getting. I knew if one more person that I barely knew tried to hug me, I'd probably lose it. So <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Msh</span> and I headed home. That's when the food started to roll in. What is it with people bringing food? But, I have to say, the things I remember liking the most? Canned drinks, paper products, and the AMAZING deli meat tray. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Msh</span> ran interference as people came in . . . since she REALLY didn't know anyone, she'd introduce them, and then smoothly pass it off to me. Girl was GOOD. Monday was spent running errands, placing an obituary, and calling people/answering the phone. And, I was amazed at the things people asked. One lady: Is there a viewing? Me: No, we didn't feel like that was what we wanted. Her: Oh, was he messed up really bad and so you can't? Uh, no, lady, I just think that's rather morbid!!! And, I had to laugh when the paper called to verify that he really was dead . . . they said that people place fake obits all the time!! <br /><br />You know, I don't remember much about the service, except for a few things. One woman from my old work came, Bobby came, and Josh came. J., esp, I was amazed when he showed up. And, when I said that, he told me, "Baby girl, of course I was going to be here." <br /><br />The service was a fog, and while I'm sure I went to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">cemetery</span>, I don't remember that at all either. Not a single detail. Was it sunny? Cloudy? Isn't it funny how we block those things out? <br /><br />I became involved in EMS because I didn't ever want anyone else to wonder like I did. What if someone better, had gotten there faster? (The answer: Wouldn't have mattered) I remember getting a card from the State Trooper and being amazed that he would take the time to do that. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">This is scattered. It doesn't do justice to what I wanted to write. About 3 years ago, I went to NC with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Msh</span> for a meeting she had. I took her car and went to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">cemetery</span>. Once there, I did something I hadn't done over the year: I simply cried. I got mad, I got sad, I laughed, and I just sat, until there was no more crying to do. <br /><br />I didn't realize until this year, the 10 year anniversary, how cathartic that had been. And now, I'm being done with it and I'm going to go back to posting about funny things, trivial things, and that sort. <br /><br />Kind of like the GI-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">NORMOUS</span> deer that just scared the daylights out of me and my puppy. But, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">that'll</span> be for another day . . .</div>Sherihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04974411130819473433noreply@blogger.com0