Zombies vs. Aliens

Last night Little Man and Bill were looking up movies to rent from Red Box. They debated between "Alien Apocalypse", "Zombie Apocalypse" and a few others.  Then a question arose of which would wipe us out first, aliens or zombies. So I said, "Duh. Everyone knows the zombie apocalypse will happen first." And here's my logic:

 There are tons of scientists conducting research on how to cure the diseases of the world. All we need is one who is evil has questionable morals and bam! Instant zombie virus. Let's not forget that a flesh eating bacteria already exists.

Anyway, once the zombie virus has infected everyone and we're all vulnerable and mindless the aliens will swoop down and attack us, thus creating the alien apocalypse.

However, if the aliens eat our brains they will become zombie aliens and if they can't defeat our mass zombie army and some escape without knowing that they are infected they could go out into space and create an Inter-galactic zombie alien apocalypse.

Yeah. I know. Crazy. And by crazy I'm talking about my brain and the unsettling thoughts that live there. I feel bad for whatever zombie eats it.

Oh and the boys finally decided against renting a movie and watched TV instead.

VS.

I don't control the weather, but I wish I did

It's been windy here for the past 3 days. Thursday to Friday it was scary windy. Not quite drop-a-house-on-you windy but still windy enough to push around patio furniture. I hate it. I'd rather have a good ol' thunderstorm. Claps of thunder and lightning bolts don't bother me. Watching to see if a tree will snap in half and come crashing down on the house...scary.

Every time it's windy here I feel responsible. Why? Because it was my idea to move out here and then my parents followed and my dad's best friend who we refer to as Uncle came soon after. So I feel like if the weather is less than stellar it's somehow my fault. I told Bill this and he said, "That's stupid. It's not like you can control the weather." I know, he's right. Although it would be cool.

I spoke with some of the resident lifers, those who have lived here all their lives. They said it never used to get so windy so often. I remember past vacations here and it was always warm and sunny which was a key selling point to us moving here. It's still warm and sunny 80% of the time. If only we could get rid of the stupid wind. Where is that dang Wind De-activator button?

Oh sleep, why hast thou forsaken me?

Sleep and I are sometimes like two ships passing in the night. I go to bed all ready to sleep and then, lay there totally wide awake. And yet a few short hours ago I was tired and could have gone to sleep right then but it was too early and would have messed up my already messed up sleep schedule even more.

I go to bed too late. I can't fall right asleep. Sometimes I can't stay asleep. I think I'm a partial insomniac. I'm like an insom because I do eventually fall asleep.

Full blown insomniacs hardly sleep at all. I wonder if they nap during the day? I can nap during the day without any problems. Maybe sleep thinks I'm cheating on it when I nap and that's why I'm having difficulty? I don't always nap, though. And I don't plan on it, it just happens. If you visit more often, sleep, I promise no more naps.

See you tonight.

Who's to say what's normal?

Yesterday for Mother's Day my guys took me out to dinner. Chris got the kid's menu with games and pictures to color, which just for the record is much more fun than the boring, plastic grown-up menus.

So we all placed our orders and looked to see what Little Man was busy drawing. There was lots of red and some blue. Then he explained his masterpiece.

Little Man: It's a murder scene and this is all blood. The guy got jumped by several ninjas and they cut his throat (mimics throat cutting) and his arms and legs and stabbed him (mimics stabbing and dying noises).

I looked at Bill and said, "It's scary that this is normal for us. I mean, most parents would be concerned." He replied, "Nah. He's fine." And then we started eating our food.

Reminds me of that scene in the Addam's Family movie where the teacher called  Morticia's attention to a drawing Wednesday did of an aunt who was burned for being a witch.

Sadly, I'm not able to post a picture of the drawing. It didn't fare so well during dinner.

A push to volunteer

For the last couple of years I've considered getting involved with some charity/organization and donating my time. I wasn't sure what or where but I knew the situation would present itself. And boy did it ever! God didn't just nudge me he pushed me into a specific direction when Christopher was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

I'm talking about JDRF-LV and how I am an now donating my time to a worthy cause.

In the beginning, Bill and I just attended the monthly meetings. We met new people and learned some information about the disease that we hadn't known before.

Then, two months ago, I decided to actively become a volunteer. Now I come to their office (which is very close to the house so yay!) about twice a week for 2-2 1/2 hours a day. I do everything from stuffing envelopes to helping with big charity events.

Sometimes I like the mindless stuff. Staple this flyer to that packet? Sure thing. They did have me use the paper cutter once, which might have been one time too many because of the way the postcardy things were cutting. In my defense, it was getting stuck on the downward cut and the postcardy things kept moving as I struggled. Not my fault!

They also had me measure some paintings for size to be displayed on a wall at our big, gala event. What the heck were they thinking? Me and numbers? Never a good combination. Not to mention it was art and so it was hard to tell how it would hang. I only hope I looked at some of them correctly, otherwise the length was measured as the width and vice versa. This is what happens when you let a non-artsy person use a tape measure.

Anyway, I like going to the office. The women are all very nice. And I like knowing that I am helping out in some way. I do what I can to combat this disease. I do it because it's the least I can do. I do it for Christopher.

However, the next time I'm looking for some guidance, I hope to get a more gentle prodding.

Not all teas are made equal

This past Friday we took Little Man to see the Avengers movie at one of the hotel/casinos nearby. While Bill and Chris were waiting on line to buy tickets I wandered over to Starbucks to buy a hot tea and something sweet to nosh on.

When the young barista guy asked to take my order I started out fine and then we somehow took a sharp left and ended up in Confusion Land. Here's what happened:

Barista guy: Can I take your order?
Me: Yes, I'd like a Tall ( their version of a small) tea.

So far, so good.

Barista guy: What kind of tea would you like?

And this is where the road gets bumpy. You see, I couldn't remember the name of the tea I prefer.

Me: What is your version of a plain black tea?

Barista guy: Well, we have Earl Grey, Chai,  Chamomile.
Me: No, none of those. What do you have that's like plain old Lipton?
Barista guy: Um, Earl Grey, Chai, Cham-.
Me: No, no.
Barista guy: I have no idea.
(Then he looks at Barista girl standing there)
Barista guy: Do you know which one?
Barista girl: I have no clue.
Me: Straining to look over the counter and read the box labels.

Then my eyes spot it. Awake!

Me: The Tazo Awake, that's the one.
Barista guy: Tazo Awake? Okay.
Me: And a piece of Cinnamon swirl pound cake.

Thankfully there was no one waiting behind me.

Now, I realize my lack of knowledge of Starbucks tea brands was part of the problem. But, shouldn't these purveyors of expensive coffees served in cookie-cutter boutique cafes with fancy-schmancy titles know their own products? 

Then again, maybe I expect too much.

In the future if I decide to buy a hot beverage I'll stick to a simple establishment like Dunkin Donuts, where coffee is just coffee and tea is just tea. With a little milk. And two sugars.                  

Don't call me, I'll call you

I'm not a fan of talking on the phone. Gabbing, gossiping, catching up on life, blah blah blah. I really don't enjoy it. Business calls are the worst but that's usually because I don't like dealing with crappy customer service and bureaucratic nonsense.

Thank God for social media or I'd never communicate with my friends or the outside world. People would think I'm a recluse and avoid my house for fear of disturbing "the un-communicative woman who lives there".

I'm not even sure where this dislike of phone calls came from. As a teen-age girl I was always on the phone with my girlfriends. So much that my dad got me my own private phone line so that "other people in the house could use the telephone".

These days I have to be in the mood to make a phone call. Almost like a doctor having to block out some time for an appointment. Once I'm on the phone, I'm fine. I can talk for a while. And I shamefully confess that sometimes I do other things while on the phone like, paint my toenails, straighten up my desk area or the ever popular doodling. Oh come on, I'm not the only one. Don't judge!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not unsociable and I love my friends. I would just rather we email, text, message one another or tweet than talk on the phone.

Maybe I'm being unreasonable, or silly or unreasonably silly. But to me the phone is a necessary evil. That I try to avoid.

Diabetes is no laughing matter

I love to laugh and consider myself to have a pretty good sense of humor. I even laugh at things that are inappropriate. Show me a video of a dad getting hit in the groin by a ball his child kicked and I'm hysterical. And any joke that starts off with...A priest, a rabbi and a plumber are in a boat... is bound to be funny and have me in tears.

So I'm confused with myself as to why a joke about diabetes left me annoyed rather than rolling. Here's the joke: John has 32 candy bars. He eats 28. What does he have now? Diabetes. John has diabetes.

Um, no, he doesn't.

Maybe it's because this hits way too close to home for me since Little Man was diagnosed. Maybe because it also promotes ignorance and misconceptions. I mean, if you're going to be funny, at least have some truth to what you're saying. I get tired of having to explain that he got this disease by an unlucky roll of the dice and not because he ate too much chocolate. And yes, he can eat candy. Of course I moderate how much, just like I did back before he was diagnosed.

Eating candy or sugar based foods does NOT give you diabetes any more than standing next to an idiot makes you stupid. Although there is that whole concept of the company you keep but I'm speaking generally.

In all honesty, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have laughed at this diabetes joke even if Little Man didn't have the disease. Because it's just not funny.

Although this did rub me the wrong way I still laugh and joke around and with me there's always something funny going on. Maybe in time I'll find this and other diabetic funnies to be humorous.

And maybe not.