Day: March 22, 2006

I sure do appreciate everyone’s patience with me, especially this week. I think my blog-identity is as multifaceted as the chart in Sybil’s file at the shrink. Supposedly, this blog’s about knitting. Which I do, every day! Sporadic crafting, which I do, sporadically! But I seem to write more about everything that irritates me, along with all my misty-colored memories. And then sometimes I have to search my blog to make sure I’m not getting all golden-years hazy on you and telling you the same old story about how my daddy taught me to handle the wild dogs of Northern Iowa.

Right now, I’m burning the candle at both ends, work-wise. When I get home from work, I collapse in a heap, grab some knitting & watch TV. My life right now doesn’t exactly make for a spectacular blog entry: Woke up, went to work, screamed at stupid drivers (I do! Every day.) Worked. Came home. Ate meal, played with dog, watched tv, did dishes. Woohoo! I mean, in the end, I don’t think having a blog is about having a glamorous life and writing about it. I like to expound on my ideas, my philosophies of life, what I’ve learned, what makes me tick & what makes me crazy (Bad drivers! Always!) & I know that through blogging, I’ve made some great friends, entertained current ones, and oddly enough, sparked a flurry of comments on the topic of bonnets.

I’m going to take Friday & Monday off, so I stay out of Two Rivers Psychiatric Hospital. It’s more of a public service & workplace safety decision, I’d say. Tomorrow is a big new biz day, and when I get home? I’m pouring myself Patron on ice, and saying “Hello, Four-Day weekend. You look GOOD.” And before I can even leer like a fifty-year old man at the titty bars, I’ll fall face-first into bed to, hopefully, sleep uninterrupted for at least 12 hours.

OoooooOOO! I could just slap somebody!

Let’s see. I won’t. But I sure could! OOOOO! Even an impartial viewer said it was a diss. But there wasn’t any graceful way to handle it except to Miss Manners Rise Above It, and good goddamn sometimes, I sure would like to just get my scrappy-do out and out-bitch the bitch. But, reason must prevail…. and don’t worry, I’m not goin’ soft or nuthin’. I once got a little lecture at the old place that I could cut to the core with my sharp tongue, and I about fell off my chair, considering the lecturer was the KING of tongue-lashings, not to mention, I had been biting mine. Not that I wouldn’t love to see the reaction, especially now that I SEEM to be a pacifist. MY ASS. Pacifist of my underpants. Bite my big-ass peace treaty RIGHT HERE, beyotch. So when the lesser person lets loose with their little barbs or observations, I try to just inhale, and remind myself that just because I have a tart sharp tongue does not mean I get to use it, or that it would ultimately further MY interests to do so, and that’s really the bottom line.

Some days, though, it’s like having a motherfuckin’ bazooka mounted on your car and it would only take one little punch of a button to blow the offending car in front of you right out of your way. Yet you don’t. Because bazookas are not street legal. Nor, really, is my mouth. This should be filed under “potty-mouth blogging”. I’m going to bed now. It’s not good to watch the Shield and then blog. I get all Vic Mackey and pit-bullish.