tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89138387612572855352024-03-06T01:31:16.984-05:00povera stellamaggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-71358974754600800632010-02-25T14:43:00.001-05:002010-02-25T14:44:54.587-05:00The Almost Trip to England<a href="http://rugbytravels.blogspot.com/">This</a> really happened to my friend JM. All of it.maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-63328140537529622732010-02-25T10:53:00.005-05:002010-02-26T08:44:34.912-05:00Speeding because of SculpturesOn a recent trip to <a href="http://www.mollystarkbyway.org/">Vermont</a> for a sad but really worthwhile visit, I found myself driving near Platekill, NY. I like odd named things and also to find <a href="http://www.mollystarkbyway.org/town/bennington/">odditites while traveling</a>. But my timeline did not allow for stopping. So when I saw a field of metal sculptures that appeared to be brothers with the newest (er?) <a href="http://www.fpaa.org/Iroquois_dedicationJune07.html">giangator sculpture</a> along the ben franklin parway in Philly, I became distracted. In fact, I was so distracted that I failed to look for cops.<br /><br />I received a "conduct interfering with orderly/safe traffic flow" which I received due to my unfailing honesty (Yes, officer, I was probably speeding) but smart omission that I wasn't paying attention (It was because I was looking out the window trying to figure out what those <a href="http://www.2ndtimedesigns.com/gallery-78">brightly painted hunks of metal </a>are in the that field over there) and the impeccable driving record I have.<br /><br />Thank you Cornwell Township Policeman whereever you are for given me a semi-warning in lieu of the <a href="http://www.nysgtsc.state.ny.us/spee-ndx.htm#exceeding">many points </a>you could have instead bestowed. I will gladly pay my fine (worth a third of the total ticket) and penalties for court interaction (worth the other 2/3) once <a href="http://www.troopers.state.ny.us/FAQS/Traffic_Safety/Tickets/">you mail it back to me</a>.<br /><br />Turns out the sculpture farm is <a href="http://www.stormking.org/">Storm King</a>. I thought that was the name of the <a href="http://www.artsjournal.com/rockwell/2009/05/storm-king.html">horse</a>.<br /><br />post script: I have been following all speed limits religiously from that moment, much to the chagrin of the people following me thru Vermont and then NJ on the way back home.maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-22381053043479218892010-01-07T17:29:00.002-05:002010-01-07T19:37:40.963-05:00Funny That Unlucky #1 Should Mention the Passat...Yesterday, the main blogger to this site left town for a week. In an attempt to help out costs <a href="http://in-this-economy.com/">in this economy</a>, I volunteered to pick up the Passat in the Economy Lot of the airport so only a days worth of parking costs would accrue. I, Unlucky #2, work at the airport, so this seemed like a very easy/no stress kind of chore.<br /><br />After getting passed by 2 buses taking other passengers to lot, I decided to just walk to the car. Seeming to be an easy enough task, I began chatting with my mother to distract me from the fact that it was freezing as I <a href="http://maps.yahoo.com/#mvt=s&lat=39.886479&lon=-75.237671&zoom=17&q1=8500%20essington%20ave%20philadelphia%20pa%2019153">wandered through</a>. About 30 minutes later, a bus pulled up to me and the driver politely asked "Are you lost hunny?" And he gave me directions to walk over the nearest bus shelter and a bus was going to pick me up and take me to the section where Unlucky #1 had told me I would find the car. I quickly ran over to the shelter and told my mother I would call her back as I stepped onto the bus and slipped my phone in my pocket. This bus driver was not as polite but he could me to the correct bus shelter nonetheless. About 30 seconds later, bus driver #2 said "This is your stop ma'am. Watch your step." As I jumped off the bus he pointed to the sign that said G22 which of course was right near where I was standing at K10-ish.<br /><br />Once the bus pulled away, I began searching around section G22 for The Passat. I finally found it (the alarm was either very quiet or decided not to register that evening) and I unlocked it, sat down and proceeded to call my mother back to let her know the bus driver didn't kill me. I pat myself down and couldn't find my phone. I emptied my bag and couldn't find my phone. I started the car, turned on the lights (I forgot to mention this was around 10:30 pm) and searched the ground near the parking spot for my <a href="http://www.testfreaks.com/cellphones/nokia-6205/">Nokia 6205 </a>(which I never wish anyone to own). I traced my 1-minute journey from the first bus shelter to The Passat and found nothing. <br /><br />After 30 minutes of searching I gave up. I proceeded to the exit toll lanes to pay/ask if I had any chance of finding my phone again. The toll booth manager was surprisingly helpful. "Hunny just make a U-turn and drive to the other end of the lot to the bus depot. There's a trailer there with lights. Ask one of them if they've seen it." So I proceeded to drive to the depot. On the way, I passed bud driver #1 who pulled over to me and said "Hunny, are you lost again?!?" I explained what happened and he told me that the bus driver #2 had it and had been trying to find me and to wait there and in about 8 minutes I would have my phone back.<br /><br />By 11:45 pm, I was in my bed falling asleep...finally. Thank you to the Philly Airport Economy Lot <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/nottingham/content/image_galleries/naked_bus_drivers_gallery.shtml?3">Bus Drivers</a>.unlucky #2http://www.blogger.com/profile/01539106632357645516noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-36001994227755619192009-12-29T10:01:00.004-05:002009-12-29T11:36:20.742-05:00What a difference 2,007 miles makes...On Sunday evening, after an event that will take too long to blog right now, I found myself driving to the grocery store to replace groceries. When I came out, got into my car and started to drive away, I noticed people <a href="http://www.snopes.com/crime/gangs/lightsout.asp">flashing their high beams</a> at me. Startled, I checked my headlight dial which was on and chalked it up to my missing headlight. You see, my car had a headlight out and <a href="http://l.yimg.com/dv/izp/volkswagen_passat_wagon_komfort_2009_dashboard_instrumentcluster.jpg">had begun telling me this </a>Monday of last week. But when I turned onto the residential side streets, I noticed that both my headlights must be out. I go to work at 6AM. It is dark then. I knew Monday was about to become a day off.<br /><br />On Thursday evening (Christmas Eve) of last week, the check engine light came on. On Saturday morning (the day after Christmas), my windshield washer fluid light came on. Now I am all for Holiday <a href="http://www.snopes.com/photos/arts/xmaslights.asp">lightshows</a>, but this was ridiculous!<br /><br />Knowing that we have a trip to Boston planned, I decided to try to get the two things fixed at once and managed to schedule an appointment for Monday afternoon when I called on Monday morning.<br /><br />Why, you might ask, did I not <a href="http://www.mohea.com/mike/words/000735.html">change my light bulbs myself</a>? The answer is part bc you basically have to remove part of the engine to replace them in a Passat. (google it- you get 91,000 results) So $80 for headlights that cost around $8 a pop coupled with the check engine light automatic $98 "finder's fee" for figuring out what was wrong started off the trip to the repair shop. But when they checked the engine light and came up with a PCV Valve problem and the bill went up to $440, I thought great! I have a warranty! ONLY....<br /><br />My warranty ends at 50K- my car has 52,007. I am almost certain that Karma is out there laughing hysterically right now.maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-53661568329009336872009-10-25T21:15:00.006-04:002009-10-25T22:41:17.082-04:00Operation AguaI began my attempts to install the waterline from my basement to my in-<a href="http://www.geekologie.com/2008/08/beep_boop_beep_ultrarare_r2d2.php">fridge</a> ice and water dispenser about two months ago. By begin, I mean I made my dad <a href="http://media.rd.com/rd/images/rdc/family-handyman/2001/09/Hole-Saw-Basics-af.jpg">hole saw</a> thru the floor and then I randomly purchased accoutrements when I remembered in various trips to the store. Last Thursday, I decided enough is enough and in anticipation of Halloween and potential ice needs, I began anew with a trip to Home Depot. (Normally I am Lowe's but we have a gift card.) Operation Agua commence!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWrUVedvyfre1WMbKpG7GKVK4X98zW7yMTbrnx3fNBxUwqpnncnFJcnhZG8DyVRMUY2HY5-800JsJlEyI6x25rC6duExooxoudg7CARH-aIilMipt3WvlY7ENQyfwqUWugeaFBqhFwcYY/s1600-h/PA252684.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWrUVedvyfre1WMbKpG7GKVK4X98zW7yMTbrnx3fNBxUwqpnncnFJcnhZG8DyVRMUY2HY5-800JsJlEyI6x25rC6duExooxoudg7CARH-aIilMipt3WvlY7ENQyfwqUWugeaFBqhFwcYY/s400/PA252684.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396713591398385570" border="0" /></a><br />My home has a <a href="http://www.vanguard.ca/mbloc.html">water manifold system</a> and all I wanted on Thursday was:<br />1) A plastic connector to make the 1/2" <a href="http://www.ppfahome.org/pex/faqpex.html">pex</a> pipe ($16) that I bought on one of my previous trips for Halloween supplies in order to attach the pex to the port.<br />2) A reducer/connector to go from 1/2" pex pipe to 1/4" line on the back of my fridge.<br /><br />Instead, twenty minutes later, I came home with standard plumbing items of the following:<br />1) 5/8" <a href="http://www.homedepot.com/h_d1/N-5yc1vZ1xgy/R-100638289/h_d2/ProductDisplay?langId=-1&storeId=10051&catalogId=10053">compression nut</a> with insert $2.77<br />2) 1/4" compression nut with insert $1.52<br />3) 5/8" compression nut x 3/8" compression nut both with inserts $4.70<br />4) 25' of 1/4" poly pipe $6-something<br /><br />Now, I blame myself partially for not having rechecked the sizes but when he hands me each package after a detailed discussion of what I needed, I left the store and came home full of vim and vigor. Only 3/8" inserts don't fit in 1/4" tubing.<br /><br />So, I proceed to spend Sunday with the plumbing apprentice aka BS, my boyfriend and every tool we have in the house. Turns out the standard size 5/8" compression nut doesn't actually screw on to the port when you insert the pex into the compression fitting and as we realized this we proceeded to drop it onto the floor and break the nut so I find myself taking a trip to Home Depot to replace the two headed nut and we take the $2.77 loss plus our time plus more gas from my already low tank.<br /><br />At Home Depot, I return my 5/8"x 3/8" part for store credit and head back to the plumbing aisle. I stare into the boxes of PEX related parts until the man using the threading station notices my bewilderment and proceeds to come to my rescue. Standing there with hands full of all the appropriate parts, I couldn't figure out how I was going to crimp the pipe back at the house..<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Ft9S3lNxcD_Si9ZwfgBOJUrOhkGrtapDqVNpdVWm5jW_Wvv1dYo8VkP86_JCVDVU1OflB61y4rru7ui0zFWNu2ezgbFWUzGnpWnX7RnVTgkW_qcM2rr8o5dsEgwHx2BZua5mrHyCc67_/s1600-h/PA252685.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Ft9S3lNxcD_Si9ZwfgBOJUrOhkGrtapDqVNpdVWm5jW_Wvv1dYo8VkP86_JCVDVU1OflB61y4rru7ui0zFWNu2ezgbFWUzGnpWnX7RnVTgkW_qcM2rr8o5dsEgwHx2BZua5mrHyCc67_/s400/PA252685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396713599204457234" border="0" /></a><br />And lo and behold, Rich, the Home Depot <a href="http://www.di.net/articles/archive/aquarium_as_urban_savior_it/">savior,</a> pulls out the crimper..to "show me how it works in theory" and with a wink, continues to make the above, a 1/2" PEX compression fitting (the one on the left) crimped copper ring, PEX pipe link, crimped copper ring to 1/2" male adaptor... swipe the bags and grab a bag of<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5LZbZn79zlRMu_RG9Qe-k26HQFf7vwhdhiFQIexmXhsQRmqhwm5leWsqcdxU4QniQfBNCK6Xfs7DXrIzFjECr-JMvORVZmwLmhkKXwAnRW5fcBhJIThI_oDa8SZY2ikyFMuLJixPzYye/s320/Sour+Patch+Kids.jpg"> Sour Patch Kids</a> for my mental stress and I am out $9.30 less the $4.70 credit but am a solid hour ahead in work.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyYRKNaDwCtdMnsBGSyCNEMD-Fo_jB286u1pvhzh09lCvulD3HxOZ21vTo2_z54neqFmWSuRUGfORqtY9DD3ZlrEdAZ8A1obxqF8W2zxXhx1BjZ0_V12RP62-40NARTuA9W_BIpGigM7RK/s1600-h/PA252686.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyYRKNaDwCtdMnsBGSyCNEMD-Fo_jB286u1pvhzh09lCvulD3HxOZ21vTo2_z54neqFmWSuRUGfORqtY9DD3ZlrEdAZ8A1obxqF8W2zxXhx1BjZ0_V12RP62-40NARTuA9W_BIpGigM7RK/s400/PA252686.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396713603769076242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">We chisel out the wood to fit our new reducer onto the manifold and turn the water on... <a href="http://www.jokeroo.com/pictures/funny/french-gymnast-springs-leak.html">LEAK</a>! Guess who forgot pipe tape?? So out to Sears Hardware for $1.05 and back to re-connect the pipes and turn the water on.... <a href="http://www.gizmodiva.com/home_improvement/leak_frog_saves_your_money_from_drowning.php">LEAK!</a> Turns out the 1/4" compression fitting has some sort of issue in the nut that is allowing water thru coupled with my shrinking patience and I find myself holding three pieces for what is a two piece component. Off I go again, back to Sears for a new compression nut and nylon sleeve with insert ($2.63).<br />It is now 4:00. I have missed the Steelers game, I have installed a new compression fitting and we turn the water back on....<br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpu9nCO9A-pXbZ5LbMFS5UvB-EOIBUbNMY4gGaL_3ZSm74qA_1VVW8MMzDaeo7qS63sR_pp8yGq9cO7AI9J3eOJhNYyNYH49-iGa0TVPIBat3b20YsW3OaDs4_as-hhAC_xMFlF0qKC-9/s1600-h/PA252694.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpu9nCO9A-pXbZ5LbMFS5UvB-EOIBUbNMY4gGaL_3ZSm74qA_1VVW8MMzDaeo7qS63sR_pp8yGq9cO7AI9J3eOJhNYyNYH49-iGa0TVPIBat3b20YsW3OaDs4_as-hhAC_xMFlF0qKC-9/s400/PA252694.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396729411024337490" border="0" /></a>SUCCESS! <span style="font-size:78%;"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Total Spent:<br />6 hours including driving time and $39.37 not counting gas but I will never need a Brita again.<br /></span><br /></span>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-85550589708587213592009-10-25T20:52:00.002-04:002009-10-25T20:58:17.167-04:00Nightmare on ELM AVE..<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzqmrr2QjAFAxP5PrXZCgnUpnL9fMv1lLnR-9_JmU35WJ8QBmKN8l5N9hBNhaQBlysIBuW82hmp8f-87vgyow' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-72467164492166910852009-10-15T14:50:00.003-04:002009-10-15T15:20:10.402-04:00Bike AccidentMy friend GB of stolen bag fame has had yet another run in with bad karma... <div><div><div></div><div> </div><div>Yesterday while riding in DC, GB was hit by a woman who the cops referred to as "<a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQhlWFTuvVs">ancient</a>". He was riding in Washington Circle and thus had the right of way. The ancient (and potentially <a href="http://allnurses.com/nursing-humor-share/elderly-bad-eyesight-95763.html">blind</a>) woman failed to yield and instead hit him, knocking the bike and GB several yards away skipping across the pavement like a stone across a lake.</div><br /><div>He emerged unscathed due to proper helmet, long pants, long-sleeved shirt and other bike accessories. The bike, however, did not.</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392908089241361874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhWG8LJavDHyketJtmZxqfee45Qq0kKaLqatQWW5ebcnchbiDv8-_U6gVpfAkTr_w995p1cYIrfhi4f2lHTJQM468BgnPcNoti9S5r2uNPiMX_-wbD89FqjCdIVhqi8dYEhTNyiX2sLFV/s400/bike2.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392908082003874210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvN-eN0M7Szx73T1s-uoC4k3wQM-14F3mXvBG9_0i8gCG8vF3m2Sl0jt0G63t4A_TvwWvMc30QvSl8-P7DUoRMrixufoxkmK8A2XulWEkhKR7IZTPzIVypdnnAurRG9OUOulVWIZu0CYD/s400/bike1.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>handlebars- check the handlebars.. </p>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-79486402852132612132009-10-14T16:20:00.007-04:002009-10-14T17:03:30.835-04:00This is Maggie, not Dana... aka the Mix-upIf you have ever had <a href="http://www.bostonherald.com/news/regional/view/20091013blind_abandoned_chihuahua_puppy_preparing_for_surgery/srvc=home&position=recent">surgery</a>, you know that they repeatedly ask which body part they are to be cutting and mark it several times with <a href="http://indelibleink.org/rosco_gallery.html">indelible ink</a>. I assume it is to make sure that there are no screw-ups in the surgery process. They also confirm and re-confirm your <a href="http://www.meaning-of-names.com/irish-names/maggie.asp">name</a> and other items about you.<br />I have come to believe this is common practice among all health related trades.<br /><br />See my most recent trip to the <a href="http://kempton.files.wordpress.com/2006/08/opthalmologist.jpg">eye doctor</a>..<br /><br />Receptionist: "Maggie, Could you come to the window?"<br />Me: <em>walks to window</em> "Yes?"<br />Receptionist: "Ok, just making sure. The doctor will be with you shortly."<br />Me: <em>sits back down</em><br />A few minutes elapse..<br />Doctor: "Maggie?"<br />Me: <em>looking up hesistantly</em><br />Doctor: "Are you Maggie Reed? Ok, come on back."<br /><br />So on to the topic at hand...<br /><br />On Monday, I went to work like any other day only to remember at 7AM as I was unlocking the trailer door that I had a <a href="http://www.popular-pics.com/PPImages/funny_masks_dentist_1.jpg">dentist</a> appointment at 10AM in the city. So... I was supposed to be in the city today. <strong>And</strong> it was for a dentist appointment. When I go to the dentist, I make a good show of it. I blame my mom and her <a href="http://www.softdental.com/houston_dentist/Disclosing_Tablets.html">tablets</a>..<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392557714401152802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 190px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAu_DMGu8ZmR2co7jdIGbWSi95f0hc8w_LcVjTQdvdTWjTz6EMDeXgTNptL4Qm61EkgnWu-H_63hJogESUMUQ5UtdP3Ub0w7OCial3QQLlyagCGyf2pf20Nv8ujSRSSQRky2uhd8ApAY-k/s400/plaque.bmp" border="0" />that show plaque where you missed it when brushing. Having done a poor imitation of brushing that morning, I found myself searching for a drugstore open at 7 AM near my jobsite. I wound up driving to a supermarket I knew was open, purchasing a toothbrush and toothpaste and brushing my teeth in the ACME bathroom. </p><p>I then traveled into the city where there was no traffic (IMPOSSIBLE on any other day when I didnt have nearly 3 hours to kill!!) and found myself next to my old apartment listening to my audiobook and creeping out the families taking their kids to school by sitting in my warm car waiting for the next thirty-two minutes. In an effort to avoid <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/16/business/worldbusiness/16iht-taint.4.6680232.html">raising uneccessary alarm </a>in people, I wandered to a nearby coffeeshop in an effort to waste the remaining 1 hour and 53 minutes left until my appointment. </p><p>It took me 57 minutes to drink one cup of tea. I thoroughly creeped out the guy working beside me as I sat listening to <a href="http://sookiestackhouse.com/">Sookie Stackhouse </a>on my ipod and watching the people as they walked on past. It took another 15 minutes to throw my cup away and leave the shop and another 10 to walk back to my car because I took the long way. I sat in my car again for another 20 odd minutes and then walked to the dentist who was a half a block away. </p><p>When I arrived, the xray machine was in pieces and standing in the receptionists area. The receptionist looked like people had been bothering her and when she asked if I was Dana upon being given a chance to talk to someone who wasn't the phone, the dentist or the technicians, I told her no. I was Maggie. She commented that I was really early (22 minutes... ) and to have a seat.</p><p>Given my <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deferred_gratification">ability to wait </a>at this point, I put on my ipod and flipped thru a people magazine. I became aware about 12 minutes later that a technician was trying to get my attention. I stood up, took out my headphones, and followed her back. She would proceed to say nothing to me while I sat in the chair until after she had put the bib on at which point she asked me if I had any health changes. I responded that I was on new medication and that was the last word we would say to each other for the next couple of minutes.</p><p>She was a butcher. </p><p>Let me say: I like getting my teeth cleaned. I like the scraping and the smooth feeling you have for the next couple of days without really trying. But I do not like feeling like someone has jammed stuff in between your teeth and that someone has done needlepoint on my gums. Normally, also, when you cringe or tighten fists or go tense, people stop and ask if you are ok. Not the "Meat Chopper".... I had to talk with utensils in mouth to get her to notice that I was wildly uncomfortable to which she responded she would floss them and then it would feel better. </p><p>At about this point, I became aware of footsteps and the receptionist said to "Miss pokey sticks":</p><p>"Just so you know, you are working on Maggie. (<em>audible pause during which I am guessing the butcher made some sort of gesture or face) </em>Dana didn't show. So you are working on Maggie. <strong>It's been that kind of a morning.</strong>"</p><p>I would like to know what kind of a morning makes it ok to confuse one patient with another and not figure it out until the cleaning was almost finished. Obviously one worthy of this blog.<br /></p>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-80974649165307043472009-10-14T16:17:00.002-04:002009-10-14T16:19:57.671-04:00Buttonless Remote<div>Manny spent an awful lot of time sitting under the bed the other night... Here's why...</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392552989799031730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUW_jAfpCv_ktdtKGs1WaoCA-XrDe5f6OdE7wpw7DloeQ-94W_L4JIwN7JF2wu0mz9geT120UY0tuGXtBH8zhbjUzVVI9g6FonGithkyVCcP6W97_4hS6CDtdqe5pFTlakWDwiPKdIKAI/s400/guinea+chew.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-61344378944906528912009-09-08T09:53:00.004-04:002009-09-08T10:06:55.745-04:00DC Revenge<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3iLQvwb4PAfn5n_5s8sgxeTk4hEmpr33QaOonMkVs5_7zIb7OqgGz9n75GdfnD-aMKYocZ1nZKxivgX_PGECySYpGPdmOsSbshLLd-1HWtYMknsQO3WEsJutDXd6GnFzF1kE_Do_pK2K/s1600-h/joedavid.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379094623305626738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3iLQvwb4PAfn5n_5s8sgxeTk4hEmpr33QaOonMkVs5_7zIb7OqgGz9n75GdfnD-aMKYocZ1nZKxivgX_PGECySYpGPdmOsSbshLLd-1HWtYMknsQO3WEsJutDXd6GnFzF1kE_Do_pK2K/s400/joedavid.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>In retailiation for my office, I ordered this kit for the assailant roughly two months ago. It arrived today... I can't wait for him to start getting the David cassidy Newsletter!</div>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-22387166715458042612009-08-10T09:06:00.003-04:002009-08-10T09:41:33.769-04:00Personal Health Ass-essment<div>Today I took my company's mandated Personal Health <a href="http://www.experiencelifemag.com/issues/november-2006/fit-body/anatomy-of-a-potbelly.html?ht=">Assessmen</a>t. I must take this in order to receive the "discounted" <a href="http://www.dogatemyfinances.com/2009/07/health-insurance-is-rip-off.html">health insurance </a>rate. What they failed to tell me was that I might also have to take a mental health day when I get the report back due to my <a href="http://thegreatfitnessexperiment.blogspot.com/2008/02/bmi-bad-measurement-index.html">BMI</a> results. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368326815881810338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 479px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 328px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGKOxJ6vn6XCNishXo34WJz2T6tFmQqXfyUAs7pAOPgxjoY2RWAwPuoJm3R8V9x6ljVgL27n49uq0RQOGDAcaSbqVtd6OdBpW1IKkUg57HArD2mFulWsQ5z58U3rWzd9ttgPpw5EYrEb1w/s320/overweight.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div>**Editor's note: This bears a striking resemblance to a report I received in college from a nutrionist who told me the bod pod measuring my <a href="http://www.healthstatus.com/calculate/bfb">body fat </a>percentage must be off because if my <a href="http://health.msn.com/fitness/articlepage.aspx?cp-documentid=100141543">BMI</a> is 25 (which made me overweight), then my body fat couldn't be less than 20%. (It was.)</div><br /><div>At the time, my coach was trying to convince me to gain ten pounds of muscle bc it would make me a better athlete. That would have made my BMI 26. </div>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-17063744020064524212009-07-02T14:53:00.004-04:002009-07-02T16:38:54.667-04:00Hendrika and the House<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-dqzs25foj1A2m1n1OCsxO1KJ2YRfzEnyyGZgLicwJX23HiMjqTiXenwOjbysa_H6aVr7HgY5PC8oXE_05V-QiQY3Tu2-i8UJeK3_y9Zu2-kTe2HTvgVULv1RkNLqTVBmKqV7nBuBzsJ/s1600-h/hendrika.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353965021972548162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 387px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-dqzs25foj1A2m1n1OCsxO1KJ2YRfzEnyyGZgLicwJX23HiMjqTiXenwOjbysa_H6aVr7HgY5PC8oXE_05V-QiQY3Tu2-i8UJeK3_y9Zu2-kTe2HTvgVULv1RkNLqTVBmKqV7nBuBzsJ/s400/hendrika.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>No, this isn't the title of my new children's book.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This is the story of my friend MC who sent me an email about his recently lost house:</div><br /><div><br /><em>"Ms. Reed,<br />Do you remember back when you had some <a href="http://askville.amazon.com/Closing-horror-stories-bought-house/AnswerViewer.do?requestId=7458937">issues closing on the house </a>because <a href="http://matthom.com/archive/2007/01/28/hr-block-you-got-people">you're 'people' </a>had screwed up and it caused some delays and some headaches, but ultimately it worked out because you got the house? And I told you that I thought I was good that my guys had already covered some of the issues you had. I felt confident that I would have a smooth settlement. You should be thankful. At least you got the house. At least your 'owner' (I assume this was the builder) was in the same zip code. Hell, at least they were in the same <a href="http://www.nanpa.com/area_code_maps/ac_map_static.html">area code</a>. Shit! At least you knew where they were! I cannot claim to know any information as it relates to the location of my seller except to say I don't know where she is. That's right. My seller has been <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AWOL_(disambiguation)">AWOL</a> since Friday, June 26. There was no settlement. There is no house in Prospect Park. I am waiting to receive my deposit back but I can't expect to get my appraisal fee and home inspection money back. Oh yeah. I'm not sure if you'll consider this happening <a href="http://www.blogworthy.com/">blog-worthy</a>, but at the very least it should be considered for two reasons. The first is that as far as closing on houses go, you have a better track record than someone else you know. The second is that there could be an argument that the reason for my bad luck closing on a house is similar to the bad luck experienced by so many of your friends: my association with you. While I really believe it has more to do with some crazy, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5X1VIyZe3Ws">Dutch</a> woman whose name may be Hendrika*, I cannot eliminate the obvious connection between my recent bad luck and your usually . . . challenging (right word?) karma.</em></div><br /><div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>*On a humorous note, instead of moping around yesterday we went out and looked at 16 houses. Yes, 16 in one day. And we spoke with one realtor and our issue came up. We said, "We had a bad experience with a deal in Prospect that fell through today when the seller left town." She responded, "By chance, was this person's name Hendrika?" We answered, "Yes! How do you know her?" She replied, "I was her agent when she bought that house." Funny how <a href="http://www.asmallworld.net/about/">small of a world </a>it is.</em></span></div><br /><div><br /><em>Getting back to business, we have decided not to tell anyone (except the absolute must knows like our realtor, mortgage guy, and parents) when the next house will close. We've decided that there's a possibility that someone else's bad karma jinxed us. (And that is not a jab at you. Please note, I have had nothing but generally good luck since I've known you so I think your bad karma thing is a load of <a href="http://www.galleryone.com/images/bullas/bullas_-_hogwash.JPG">hogwash</a>.) In the future, we will send out a note, call, whatever, when we are physically standing in the house with all papers signed and checks cashed. Only then will I feel confident enough to say "I am a homeowner."</em></div><br /><div><br /><em>Have a wonderful holiday weekend! I'm off to Alaska to get my head clear and start my future. </em></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>MC, we wish you the best of luck. Buon viaggio!</div>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-85418853422845060212009-07-02T13:17:00.004-04:002009-07-02T16:47:56.445-04:00David Cassidy and my daily life<div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrg3IstSHNbfjNIP_m1jl2gmFGdQzJ_g_ZCgnJEbKnLFUS6PtgvOLnQIvyzHmylMRCZjEs4n_ewxFf8yT1H43LoUHPUkT34YPCcwBynxwsZ1bpipgeLbUeBFT2UF-uhFjnd0elFI5r-U4K/s1600-h/david.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353914522781979490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrg3IstSHNbfjNIP_m1jl2gmFGdQzJ_g_ZCgnJEbKnLFUS6PtgvOLnQIvyzHmylMRCZjEs4n_ewxFf8yT1H43LoUHPUkT34YPCcwBynxwsZ1bpipgeLbUeBFT2UF-uhFjnd0elFI5r-U4K/s400/david.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>My coworkers stayed an extra 30-60 minutes on Tuesday night just to decorate my office, hardhat, laptop and files with pictures of <a href="http://www.davidcassidyfansite.com/FansPages/FanClubHistory.html">David Cassidy </a>all because I requested very loudly in what might be considered an angry voice that they stop signing <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIuKtp3yCTw">"I think I love you"</a> for the fortieth time in two days. </div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353966742414313010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCGrrhgzcs1rC95FjKCxMyK3gD_v5XHke8Yn4FM2D11SnErDnXn_aP7hkEQJOnrgugwcrPCLw_fLBe06iBes4r_x9b0RTiTBR05gY9APHbRF6d8nfYgW9VdcinAs9XhXYW5y8Fmxxdk3p/s320/100_6078.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div>david flowers- scientific name <em>davidus cassidius</em><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353966729210528130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJcGBodY5DY0tN3f_UFa84BV25k4eKLjLtPQZNCR8Z15mseE6uuQCIj9hd_-qtn8bggX45Zmu_PsQGl21w-CHNJaH_ulDo8B-Pjky_L7MB3jnZ_sEJOsmqZdJ4-I3XYnAUGzRocBDFt9N/s320/100_6068.JPG" border="0" /></div><div>my hard hat </div><div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353966739002382434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwh6LrLvnuZn5O7GUZWnHJh8tEm2VYX0wEZoZQLWJDx0AnsdWy-mP6XscRodkzq7a7aiA24AdAY-7aQ3lsGdmRzgKzIPP-AsN6b1FUz5mt9LN5oZafF-lSQI72vktFr_97gaQ6bdm_H6BI/s320/100_6070.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div><br />even my desk drawers..maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-34564391214038577062009-06-29T14:34:00.005-04:002009-06-30T12:03:15.015-04:00Stealing is the new black- Updated!<a href="http://www.psu.edu/courses/arch/arch497_g9c/finalprojectexamples.html">GB</a> corrections are noted in red. They really add a level of flair that the post alone was missing. Thanks for the additions..<br /><br />So apparently there has been a <a href="http://roadrashblog.blogspot.com/">rash</a> of stolen cars recently. My friend GB lives a horrifying similiar cell phone life to my friend DB (no relation). While DB once lost three phones in three seperate but contigious trips to chicago all in taxi cabs, GB once lost three phones in <a href="http://techpuddle.com/how-to/how-to-save-a-wet-cell-phone/">puddles</a> and also drove over a cell phone in what I swear was a weeks worth of time .<br /><br />Most recently, however, GB lost his cellphone, along with all other <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSR92lxwZPN0snDi733BVM6YVZHrJUkkuhnEIIq3hl3Pt4lSmzIqZ-qZBYK8tDJ2wQIv_6Jrza6vSUmxNgeyq594vkAmsAVSIfYS9JJA4iQ-cvwfjMhimz2lUyr1SX6rGvaF4xVJ1gvH8/s1600-h/possessions.jpg">worldly possessions</a> in a car in a yacht club parking lot. Like most people, the words <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YfBuaRgos1o">yacht</a> and yacht club enspire visions of granduer and <a href="http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Caddyshack">exclusivity</a>, or at least of security cameras. However, there are apparently a myriad of empty yacht club parking lots around, since my google search turned up photos like <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/brianauer/3532968793/">this</a>. But he was in Anapolis, home of the <a href="http://www.zimbio.com/NCAA+Football+Games/articles/851/Penn+State+Women+Rugby+Final+Four">Naval Academy</a> and fancy houses so you would think at least someone would be looking out for <a href="http://www.caribbeancompass.com/yacht_crimes.htm">Yacht Crime</a>. <span style="color:#ff0000;">Keep in mind being so close to Baltimore, Annapolis does have a burgeoning </span><a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="http://www.dumbcriminals.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color:#ff0000;">crime scene</span></a><span style="color:#ff0000;">.<br /></span><br />But still the car was taken in the thirty minutes it took to walk back into the clubhouse get a drink and head back out. And so was a bookbag <span style="color:#ff0000;">(actually an advanced trans alpine biking backpack allowing for air circulation during quick descents from extreme altitudes - epitome of German engineering. this pack does not compare to a bookbag which will dump your lunch while riding sending apples rolling down the street) </span>and keys and mp3 players and wallets. Unfortunate you might say, but unlucky? It's just a <a href="http://www.nbcmiami.com/news/local/Daddys-Little-Car-Thief.html">little car theft</a>.<br /><br />Only his roommate had just left for a week in Florida. So no back-up keys were to be found. Only a <a href="http://www.findalocksmith.com/">locksmith</a> and two week's worth of new card acquistions and mp3 mourning was to be had.<br /><br />The car was found, top down, windows open after our most recent bout with six weeks straight of rain with nothing inside. I think you might need a <a href="http://jalopnik.com/248788/katrina-cars-flooding-used+vehicle-market">carfax </a>before you buy this one.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">To prove all is not lost and to end on a positive note, good fortune did shine on GB during a recent and related lapse of his intelligence. A bundle of important stuff including all new credit cards, id cards, new mailbox keys, and passport (only form of id he had at the time), was placed on the roof rack of his vehicle to free up his hands to load in his bike which had a flat tire due to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJAng0w1OAc">Obama's</a> motorcade - but thats a different story. He was lucky because there was traffic and he was not driving very fast. He was lucky to have realized in a tunnel under <a href="http://www.nikolasschiller.com/blog/index.php/archives/category/location/dc/washington-circle/">Washington Circle</a> that the important stuff was left on the roof. Shouting obscenities, he stopped, got out of the car in a sea of road-rage induced honking and exhaust fumes, and safely retrieved my important stuff... he could only imagine driving over the bridge, looking out the rear view mirror, seeing everything <a href="http://boundless.uoregon.edu/percent/image/579.jpg">flying</a> out into the river...<br /></span>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-23293620020612514552009-05-26T21:13:00.003-04:002009-05-26T21:39:08.710-04:00The Really Robbed Co-workerSo I have learned thru our unseen co-blogger MK that there is a <a href="http://content.techrepublic.com.com/2346-10877_11-31132-2.html">co-worker </a>of ours who deserves an unlucky and upsetting shout out...<br /><br />Turns out, LF, might have worse <a href="http://www.savebears.org/bear_news/bearkilledbreakins.htm">break-in </a>luck than I. In the last six months, LF has had:<br />1. Her apartment broken into and only her camera and laptop stolen. Nothing was taken that belonged to her roommate. Can anyone spell "<a href="http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fg-mexico-prison18-2009may18,0,4319828.story">Inside Job</a>?"<br /><br />2. Her boyfriend who lives in NYC was down for the weekend and managed to get his car <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEH8VE3Z9ro">stolen</a> from right outside her apartment.<br /><br />and if that's not enough,<br /><br />3. Apparently, when her family was out at <strong>her own father's</strong> <strong>FUNERAL(!!)</strong>, their house was broken into!!<br /><br />That, my friends, is truly unlucky and upsetting.<br /><br />LF, my heart and any good <a href="http://www.karmaex.com/about_karmaex.php">karma</a> I have built up goes out to you.maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-8942116328410946742009-05-21T08:15:00.000-04:002009-05-21T11:29:41.193-04:00Manny on a leashSo this post is mostly upsetting for Manny and mostly funny for me, but KM recently wrote about Manny's most recent harness experience.<br /><br /><a href="http://thepenguinfiles.blogspot.com/2009/05/manny-guinea-pig.html">Guinea pig on a leash!</a><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338298326046752738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpp9xC4BFAlakeau6ZvGqjx8a8GMDVQiRQDr7e3ZjMoN8L2MYbzDBsSxqSssWMti8hDfyKUkL8dSoOXhledpOgGyBOEbfa8Uhspp7V5rZ66E1mTVMtv4Akj97U5JYXiuQXguj3VFxykT4A/s400/pig.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;">Please note this is a pig on a leash, not a guinea pig. I just thought the picture was funny.</span>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-5845825082049426062009-05-12T12:26:00.004-04:002009-05-12T13:53:27.261-04:00My guinea pig bit my hair off<div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivaLE_fIcdt3OoQJWZch4spygp097cyrm4-KqB83up8CpU50U7_7dVqIrDPWfdOlFCT4T5bbK7oTPfqY4ADB8576lzeRu86kOHhY8q3CXwiFh_d2pbjtONJo5-8rNLUMlwtITkDpP_KGXe/s1600-h/0510091746.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334996041707469122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivaLE_fIcdt3OoQJWZch4spygp097cyrm4-KqB83up8CpU50U7_7dVqIrDPWfdOlFCT4T5bbK7oTPfqY4ADB8576lzeRu86kOHhY8q3CXwiFh_d2pbjtONJo5-8rNLUMlwtITkDpP_KGXe/s400/0510091746.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />On Sunday, after running in the <a href="http://www.komenphiladelphia.org/">Komen Race for the Cure</a> with my friend SM, I decided to shower and hang out with Manny. I recently changed <a href="http://www.shampoopoetry.com/ShampooThirtysix/36issue.htm">shampoo</a> and apparently it must smell like strawberries, Manny's favorite food.<br /><br /><br />Manny is sitting on my shoulder while my hair is down and chirping away when all of a sudden I see a <a href="http://www.dclxvi.org/chunk/">chunk</a> of hair fall onto my t-shirt. Turns out, Manny was chirping while nibbling through my hair.<br /><br /><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334996045247477218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhur3_0OaN_JdFXhQ3ddqu51HsWmx-sz3V_CE0Lm-w5cb1eHb04DOG8l1efKL90mI_dvQagKeVrRUcSeioKfSWYMawbYpb-NcksXahPLmcLi6pHzVOhvzI7to7m57tKXyarXkpZVGzSt1jS/s400/0510091748.jpg" border="0" /></p>(Me with my new "face framing layer")<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-78157197728186156322009-05-07T08:06:00.002-04:002009-05-07T08:11:42.989-04:00Spilled plants<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxDwk6lec5sIuv6nw49XrZBpiHMhXF0ZcqFdmqrgrrvQy89pOljo0wt3tq-Broua_im3fIcKyMP3qon2XySS0IGbKVQw51HL69uwd3mdT4OBGnyy_gZiEYG-HI3IGg3oOuJWIxU4OYSvw/s1600-h/plant+on+desk.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333053412941070322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxDwk6lec5sIuv6nw49XrZBpiHMhXF0ZcqFdmqrgrrvQy89pOljo0wt3tq-Broua_im3fIcKyMP3qon2XySS0IGbKVQw51HL69uwd3mdT4OBGnyy_gZiEYG-HI3IGg3oOuJWIxU4OYSvw/s400/plant+on+desk.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>Today, each time I type in my number keypad, my phone keypad or move my mouse, something goes crunch. When I lift my radio to call someone in the field, tiny rocks fall out. I just took a sip of water out of my mug and got a gritty feeling in my mouth. I guess that is the price you pay when you try to save a little green space by keeping a plant in your office and trying to open your window one handed. It makes the plant take a nosedive onto your desk and cover everything with a fine layer of green roof dirt.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-21514650337343445522009-05-04T07:59:00.001-04:002009-05-04T17:22:55.640-04:00Free Hampster CouponTwo weeks ago, I bought a guinea pig. I have been a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamster">hampster</a> owner since I was 3 so the switch to a slightly larger fuzzy creature isn't a huge leap. He was so cute and reminded me of Manny the Mammoth from Ice Age so I bought him.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328241515443842386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclOf7TxoD0mL3fi4_9GZqO6TiwcVIbdjMrvhcmXD4QKxgYzZl-TBpvY-2iTuC-BLNeQ3p4g2CPKcxvSXXFdZOhaGunh7xXVWqZFSQMmFdAdEjghKVYdU3_j4cCDHvH_mvf3TSS2gZ6E9k/s400/manny.bmp" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;">( I know you see the resemblance)</span><br /><br /><br /><br />However, in contemplating my new edition to our family, I was reminded of all the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hampster_Dance">hampsters</a> gone past.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.angelfire.com/ak2/intelligencerreport/page50.index.html">Hampsters</a> live short little lives, in comparison to other pets, so I have had opportunities to have more of them than, let's say, dogs.<br />It all started with Peaches, a pinkish orange and creme <a href="http://www.repticzone.net/images/47783/IMAG0044.JPG">hampster</a> who ate <a href="http://hamsterhideout.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=3425">onions</a> when I was 6 but managed to survive and lived at least 3 years despite having her(?) <a href="http://weblogs.baltimoresun.com/features/mutts/blog/paws%20posies%20-%20before.jpg">paws</a> put in paint and being forced to run on my mom's casio keyboard to write music.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">**I don't think there was anyone between Peaches and Cinnamon. Please note that I have always had cute little dwarf hampsters not those big long rat looking hampsters. Fat hampsters are always acceptable. Long hampsters are wierd looking.**</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><a href="http://fotosa.ru/stock_photo/Animals/p_77644.jpg">Cinnamon</a> was the mousiest of the bunch and had less tolerance for being caged. Cinnamon escaped several times, along with two hermit crabs who were never recovered. Cinnamon also lived for a solid three years at a minimum. Cinnamon also ate plastic like nobody's business. He(?) chewed the crap out of his <a href="http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://kimberlychapman.com/Kali/ball.jpg&imgrefurl=http://kimberlychapman.com/Kali/kali.html&usg=__okBTQgstx59_AJMtbTdZqdcA9Jc=&h=504&w=601&sz=24&hl=en&start=5&um=1&tbnid=-1Njo32rYFqEAM:&tbnh=113&tbnw=135&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dhampster%2Beating%2Bplastic%26hl%3Den%26um%3D1">ball</a> lid connection and it was often a source of his escapes.<br /><br />I went hampsterless for a solid period of time, having school and dogs to take up my time, but in college, my mom decided to bring me a surprise.<br /><br />It was a warm day, in late fall and she had come to watch me <a href="http://www.psurugby.org/s/785/start.aspx?sid=785&gid=1&pgid=61">play rugby</a>. I was still the proud owner of a 1973 <a href="http://www.superbeetles.com/faq.htm">SuperBeetle</a> which was parked at the field and she had brought along a little gift for me. Leaving it in the car as she left after the first half, the little gift in a cage with some water, proceeded to die.<br />As SG, my aussie friend put it, "Oh, Mag! You have a hampster <a href="http://thumbs.fragg.me/200903/hamster-aplati.jpg">puddle</a>!" (read that in an aussie accent and you will laugh for days!)<br /><br />In tears over my new but dead pet, SG and I drove, in a dramatic fashion, back to the pet store where my mom had purchased said hampster.<br /><br />When we walked in, the owner clearly had never encountered a sobbing American and a peeved Australian with a puddle of hampster before and in minutes found himself handing over, written on a <a href="http://automotiveforms.net/images/stock_forms/crb117.jpg">cash receipt slip</a>, a coupon for a free hampster as this one had been one of the last ones in the store and he was officially out.<br /><br />Two weeks later, I received a call that hampsters had arrived and purchased Dirk Digger*, a legend in the architecture school and a true <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnYLrPpLwOXOZVUHfGDqDHbPvl11yttHJf-4mwZpghVLwDzYm4LhUy0w2sUBF62HqFe5y0vcUeyja299vOA0wqAVTAWkSq0pqn5iDDBJJcFVfNrZ2x9KCRWYUDqqOyq-BgUTzYqICQUF4/s240/pocket-ham.JPG">pocket hampster</a>. The best hampster coupon story EVER!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*Dirk would one year later be killed by a few children responsible for keeping him while I was away in the summer. He was survived by a hampster whose name shall remain unsaid who bit, a lot, like I had canvas gloves for people to pick him up. I think my roommates fed him vodka before I moved to Rome. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">** Author's note: Mom, if this is the first time you have ever heard of this story, don't worry. Dirk ended up being the best hampster a college architecture class could ever ask for.</span>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-22736283862225702562009-04-20T17:33:00.001-04:002009-04-24T08:02:00.195-04:00I got stuck in an elevator- at Christmas timeSo I found this started blog post that I apparently got distracted and never finished (surprised anyone?)... and thought, "Why not share this doozy with the world?" Merry Christmas in April, folks.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326885325670998226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqmZoe5jSoCM3JyieqeflR7tRwg89iIMY6qkKWy_tVu0jaxISmTxLOCtp9wo76DZPqf0vLKPq5EK4N0Ej4LxP70t0PSjNbDztzJXzkQp2yOXjH4NO5H1BNCBqtAT9js2V2Ntr0Abf-QTWT/s400/slinky+elevator.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br />This is not a big deal. I kind of like the thought of <a href="http://www.maniacworld.com/stuck-in-elevator-41-hours.html">wasting a day or two in an elevator</a>. But the elevator at our downtown office has never broken on me before. I am not personally claustrophobic so when the woman approached myself and MC, my co-worker, our reaction to her seemingly crazy question of "Does this elevator get stuck often?" was one of almost incredulous, "No... never happened to either of us and we ride it all the time."<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">**Please note that this was our company's Operation Santa Claus day and that MC was dressed as Santa and I as a too-tall elf (If I can find the picture, I will attach it..)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><p>No sooner did we pack Santa, myself and our new claustrophobic friend into our elevator, than four more ladies joined us. Now, this elevator is rather large and while I run the risk of sounding prejuidiced against the jolly, I have seen many large men pack into this elevator at closing time having apparently <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pseudopeach/3427356084/">eaten their desks</a> before entering. Note that I had not been stuck during these trips with the un-famished. So the 7 of us, ladies chattering away about the luncheon they were heading to, MC and I trying to not sweat to death and our claustrophobic friend headed upward. But between P1 (parking level one) and L (lobby for office), we skipped S (Store level). Dramatically panicking because it had skipped her level, our new friend pounded the buttons as the elevator came to a stop and the doors did not open. </p><p>MC has recently been in charge of an elevator contract and tried to begin to explain that it was not a big deal, that we deal with elevators all the time (althought I can see after our first incorrect statement that the elevator never gets stuck, why she might not believe us) and BAM! <a href="http://photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=6796451">Claustrophia</a> starts slamming buttons and pounding the door and shouting. </p><p>In true <a href="http://zonezero.com/magazine/essays/diegotime/time.html">time elapse</a>, we might have been stopped for three and a half whole minutes. The ladies all tried to calm her down while MC stood watch over the buttons so she couldn't do anymore damage and I spoke into the speaker. Thirty-five percieved minutes later, we were returning to the parking level where we explained to everyone to follow us and wandered out and around and up the stairs from P1 to S and then where they could find (insert place they were planning to go here). </p><p>Lesson learned: Don't allow the claustrophobic lady in the elevator with the bad-luck elf.<br /></p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-27140244509711508932009-04-10T11:16:00.004-04:002009-04-10T15:23:33.950-04:00Medical HistoryMy friend O (aka KS) has been complaining recently of <a href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/mba/lowres/mban1591l.jpg">shortness of breath </a>after athletic activity. Purely joking, her roommate LR suggested that O get herself checked for <a href="http://www.aanma.org/?gclid=CLr1juf-5pkCFeZL5QodqXa3RA">asthma</a>. A high level collegiate athlete, O has been playing <a href="http://www.psurugby.org/s/785/index.aspx?sid=785&gid=1&verbiagebuilder=1&pgid=259&cid=1202&ecid=1202&ciid=1164&crid=0">rugby</a> for 5 years at the <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNXElmEUIJo">fastest</a> pace in the women's collegiate game with little issue. However, last weekend, after playing against a women's clubside, O found herself almost vomiting due to her <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.coughsafe.com/media.html">lungs</a> hurting so much.<br /><br />Three hours later, while talking to her mom, O commented that her lungs had only just started to feel ok again. Her mom, very <a href="http://mymomisafob.com/">lovingly</a>, responded that maybe O should start taking her inhaler again because of her excerise-induced asthma.<br />O:"My what?"<br />Her mom:"Your inhaler. All three of you kids had asthma..."<br />O:"But only my brother and sister have inhalers!!"<br />Her mom: "Well, they needed them."<br /><br />She is now the proud owner of her brother's inhaler until after the national championship playoffs.<br /><br />Maybe someone should have filled out her <a href="http://themountainsarecalling.blogspot.com/2009/02/past-medical-history.html">medical history</a> form before she left for college five years ago.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323142336075598594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 360px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXQpLSaB2jqnE1tmjMPzzvG5TGQZvVSjYXb9HZMCuIGfTpwa7Env8vxpNDqUWLHjCkI2I6g4J5EdHrh5K8jiJ9N-npYgctkyQb8LtOrz6pLQ3pdars5LemR9hLis_gSfzyolK_5fec2ej/s400/untitled.bmp" border="0" />maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-46240940619652232812009-04-05T20:46:00.006-04:002009-04-05T21:05:36.136-04:00Twins seperated at birth, only 11 years apart...My cousin Brian was bar mitzvah'd on Saturday. The youngest of the three cousins in that family, Brian is probably the coolest kid of anyone I know. Who else would pose for the nine thousandth picture that day making the same face I would??<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfCkmTfsQPlBP1jo3SLqVuM7_jXvh1cfU13lKXRvFeK0NLHUhl4mlGFIQjm1LtphdqVNPfIPFmLW8euvwXtH-O37lkvMIaINzYUChmYin7dCVGQ_2oclTlBLyymB0qbeceOXwiUPXxN3S-/s1600-h/P4041799.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfCkmTfsQPlBP1jo3SLqVuM7_jXvh1cfU13lKXRvFeK0NLHUhl4mlGFIQjm1LtphdqVNPfIPFmLW8euvwXtH-O37lkvMIaINzYUChmYin7dCVGQ_2oclTlBLyymB0qbeceOXwiUPXxN3S-/s320/P4041799.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321374776635430114" border="0" /></a><br />But the big story of the day is that my cousin Lauren (same family..stick with me here) and I ended up at the <a href="http://www.allurbangossip.com/urban-gossip/09/02/23/same-night-same-event-same-dress">same event in the same dress.</a><br />Lauren has been compared physically to me since her birth and most people would agree that it is easy to see that we are cousins. In fact, some of our photos of us at the same age are a toss-up as to which belongs to who (unless someone made a note on the back or the fashions in the photos give it away). But when Lauren walked towards me in the middle of the Fellowship Hall wearing the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/hadesigns/3353909126/">EXACT SAME DRESS</a>, complete with matching shrug, we knew we had made everyone's dream of a face to face comparison a reality. Unplanned and purchased seperately and never before discussed, our matching outfits meant I was often refered to as Lauren's age (11 years my junior may I note?).<br /><br />Judge for yourself.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBkFE6UYAS-T_42xTUUf2VjTZBL17gYT9Iestx62Su1Misar4j4Xv44CsnoDu7tEmq3O-h9cQUjrfI6vu4yPQNLiOpu9kRjunV1M8Hq2mVtEi8hP1g0vqEh8fISN2HCZn9vKtbHId2iBqk/s1600-h/0404090959.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBkFE6UYAS-T_42xTUUf2VjTZBL17gYT9Iestx62Su1Misar4j4Xv44CsnoDu7tEmq3O-h9cQUjrfI6vu4yPQNLiOpu9kRjunV1M8Hq2mVtEi8hP1g0vqEh8fISN2HCZn9vKtbHId2iBqk/s400/0404090959.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321377291841686098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*at least we're both <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2008/jan/11/allegrastratton">girls.</a>.. </span>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-41209328124083064962009-03-25T12:04:00.003-04:002009-03-25T13:59:58.051-04:00inside out and upside down<div>Monday, at my company's regional dinner, I wore a new and fascinating piece of apparel. Formerly known as the <a href="http://www.movingcomfort.com/brafinder.phtml">sports bra</a>, it became the arb strops when, due to forgetting a "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brassiere">real bra</a>", I had to turn it upside down and wear it as sort of a halter. It was <a href="http://www.omiru.com/index.php/2008/09/07/spring-2009-fashion-week-trend-bright-orange/">bright orange </a>and typical of a sport bra and the shirt I brought to change into was a <a href="http://travel.webshots.com/photo/1481511227073809753PwqTdH">boatneck</a> in blue and white which would just really not allow for faking that I wore a tank underneath my shirt on purpose....So basically, for about four hours, I had a <a href="http://www.fiftyisthenew.com/2008/05/09/my-mother-my-shelf%E2%80%94thoughts-on-my-boobs/">shelf of boobs</a>.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><em>What not to wear,</em> Here I come.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317179748173282530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 255px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdsHm8Vk15E2tedZRkpR1momHts6Spd-_JUjKwZDWUYhOWpYKc4B_3Kwg7eBHybTp0TLjvAjdMUiiVaC4nVfrDon3lnF9ZDxIG_cUMdyTy9vZ5xM2XyyfW9qXfA7Hqk3Y0h6BrjiDM3QE/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></div>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-51075248518645650092009-03-23T08:13:00.005-04:002009-03-23T10:20:26.231-04:00Trippy<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKEmxzr4zBeycKZOcChpxRsM4Fu1ojtd47duya-Wqq0Sp5looxeznQVpEP0ubKkCjNd4RKJ-psPEx14UaZ0n3kFGOWB9vdMEj0zXuBGxSFwjXMMomDgbYOYcAY1m30NTDwA1RoIXlu5p9o/s1600-h/knees.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316356189995459378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKEmxzr4zBeycKZOcChpxRsM4Fu1ojtd47duya-Wqq0Sp5looxeznQVpEP0ubKkCjNd4RKJ-psPEx14UaZ0n3kFGOWB9vdMEj0zXuBGxSFwjXMMomDgbYOYcAY1m30NTDwA1RoIXlu5p9o/s320/knees.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">(these are not actually my knees but they look close.)</span></div><p>This past weekend I suffered several injuries. Anyone who has been around me for any length of time knows that graceful or agile is not exactly the words which quickly come tot he tongue when asked to describe me. Instead, in a National Championship game broadcast, I was once described as "<a href="http://www.helium.com/items/128778-sportscaster-chris-berman-reviewed">rumbling, bumbling, stumbling</a>". Nice.</p><p>So why I was suprised that I would suffer injury trying to be lithe and athletic on Sunday is a little beyond my own understanding of myself but the whole event was rather hilarious, so I thought it should be shared... </p><p>It all started Saturday when in a fit of fake <a href="http://blogs.usatoday.com/sky/2008/04/campbell-heathr.html">rage</a>, I threw a punch thru a doorway with my elbow. I honestly wasn't sure I <a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_2099680_diagnose-broken-elbow.html">didn't break it </a>until Sunday morning. I failed to recognize my surroundings and was much closer to edge of the closet than I realizes. When I threw said punch, I slammed my elbow into the reinforced edge of the closet causing my elbow to give since the reinforcing wouldn't and I collapsed in pain that didn't relent until I fell asleep that night. When I woke up, I still couldn't use it too well in terms of putting pressure on that arm but I was obviously not broken.*</p><p>It was a sunny Sunday so we decided to go running seperately (see above for descriptive terms of my athleticism and you'll understand why I often run with myself). I was enjoying the sunshine, listening to <a href="http://www.audible.com/adbl/site/products/ProductDetail.jsp?productID=BK_RECO_002791&BV_UseBVCookie=Yes">Sookie</a>, and running amongst the throngs of people in town for the regatta on Boathouse row, when I found myself suddenly airborne. With reaction time close to a blind deaf slug, it was helpless to try to react and instead I allowed myself to come to a heavy stop on my hands and knees. A man doing step-ups on a bench stopped and stared. No one managed to snicker until after I stood up, an event that made me look like a <a href="http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j110/abc-goatswebsite/Heidi/DSC08317.jpg&imgrefurl=http://goatkeeping101.blogspot.com/2008/02/managing-your-dairy-does-udder.html&usg=__r_wRLzhgkEJEx3foV0RA9A75C-M=&h=576&w=432&sz=65&hl=en&start=7&um=1&tbnid=hQq8z7gcoxYjzM:&tbnh=134&tbnw=101&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dlopsided%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26um%3D1">lop-sided </a>tripod due to my elbow injury from the previous night not allowing me to put weight on that arm. When the man recognized that I was able to walk, he went back to his step-ups on the bench. I wanted to throw a rock at him, but the pain streaming thru my hands was stopping me from doing anything besides blinking back tears of embarassment. I quickly started to run, toughing it out when I realized the blood streaming down my knee was probably pretty disgusting. </p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">(I should take this moment to comment on my running attire for the day. I choose to wear bright red shorts and an almost </span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/darylfurr/165349126/"><span style="font-size:85%;">hot yellow </span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">t-shirt. So assuming your friend missed my theatrics, you could quite easily remember and point out the girl you just totally saw bite it in the biggest way</span>.)</p><p>I managed to tough it out another half mile or so when I saw a bench and stopped to check out the damage. A man walked past my obvious attempt to <a href="http://musicvault.firestream.net/index.php?cat_id=19&go=showcat">stop the bleeding</a> and then doubled back, asking if I was ok, if I needed a ride anywhere or if not, that he had a bandaid in the car. Feeling a bit like a five-year old at the playground being asked if I would like some candy, I released my yellow shirt now stained with blood and told him I was fine and continued on my run. I made it home and washed the rocks out my knee and spent the rest of the day trying to not run into things or <a href="http://interiorseniorcare.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/elderly_fall.gif">fall</a> anywhere else. </p><p><span style="font-size:78%;">*(My elbow is currently the size of two elbows and rather blue in color, in case you were wondering).</span></p>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8913838761257285535.post-40836554762381289652009-02-27T08:15:00.003-05:002009-02-27T08:33:55.824-05:00Cats crossing my path<div>Last night I was watching "House" for a brief moment and the patient was sure he was cursed. He talked of being the most unlucky kid in the world (for full synopsis click <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cursed_(House_episode)">here</a>). I was intrigued by what he might have, being highly unlucky myself, until the first real diagnosis was <a href="http://www.ultimatemetal.com/forum/anthrax/19069-married-children-anthrax-episode.html">Anthrax</a> and Chase commented that Gabe might be the most unlucky kid ever. Off went the tv.</div><div></div><br /><div>This morning two black cats crossed my path, narrowly missing my tires as I drove to work. I sure hope I don't have Anthrax.... </div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307469552609774802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaVPPWMYDj8ekzE1LB6ytYcFuFV-eo8AUt9yA7tBRzw_4dtd3nyqZIcMKOuLBwbA8bX2B7Um2QR9CKoPXF_0bs0_2F9uGxeOXnl9MYmwa-wLGxyv2K6IBbhAtD-XNvKm-qJkIepg7cBWdB/s320/black-8.gif" border="0" /></div>maggiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08675851933966914798noreply@blogger.com0