Just Another Day

We wrestled the other night with TurboTax, and I am happy to say that I finally pinned it in the third round. No, really, it wasn't too bad, and I give Intuit, the company that makes the software, props for very promptly correcting what turned out to be corrupted software. Of course, we would be the ones to grab the box with the corrupted disc in it. So, have you done your taxes yet? And, are you giving the government a check, or are they sending one to you ?

I went grocery shopping today BY MYSELF after I dropped Mr. P off at school. I was indeed contemplating my purchases as I strolled the aisles, so perhaps there is something to the theory of a more pleasant shopping experience without a four year old in tow. I enjoy my Vons, and it has recently been remodeled. They did it up nice and fancy, with marble floors, a hearth oven for baking bread, and even a gourmet olive bar. I'm not sure where they got the idea for that one, and so far I think I have seen all of one person standing at it. And even then, I didn't even see her purchasing any olives, just looking. I was pushing my cart and having a rather heated mental debate with myself on buying Baked Lay's or Rice Cakes. Then, a song came on over the new, concert quality speakers of the PA system and I almost broke out into the chorus. Oh Gina, you are thinking, it must have been some sort of rockin' 80's song, because we all know the time warp you are stuck in. W

Hubba-hubba assumes that I don't like taking Mr. Personality shopping because I prefer to spend my time in the aisles alone, contemplating my purchases without the distracting presence of a somewhat hyper four year old. You see, whenever I could, I would go shopping without Mr. P, leaving him with Hubba-hubba, or Hubba-hubba would offer to take him shopping whenever he went. I have never really told him the real reason, and as it looks like Mr. P is going to be my shadow from now on, Hubba-hubba will probably be discovering the truth as soon as the next credit card bill comes in the mail. I consider myself to be a strict parent. Certain behaviors are simply not tolerated, whether at home or out. When I discipline, I always follow through, and he always knows that I mean what I say. By golly, if I say that he will get his Lightning McQueen toy taken away if he doesn't go put X away, then Lightning McQueen fails to see the light of day for a while. But, all children are on a

Well, today was the first day of the rest of my life. I dare you to tell me I lack melodrama. Anyhoo, today Hubba-hubba started a new position at work. He will no longer be out in the field with his bullet-proof vest and badge. Let's just say that if there is ever a disaster in the city he works in, he's your man. Need some MRE's and bottled water after the next earthquake? He'll have you covered. So far, it is considered a lateral promotion, but that could change in the near future. Probably depending on if he can pass training, which is usually a good first step for future success. With his change in position comes a change in his working hours, and there lies the rub. You see, I have been spoiled rotten for almost three years. He would leave for work at 1pm after spending the morning with both Mr. Personality and me. I would get to see him for a good solid three hours, and then basically have the night to myself. And, he also worked what is called a 4-10 shi

I know that it doesn't take much for me to have a crush on a guy. Hello, can anyone say Mickey Dolenz of the Monkees? Hey, I like a guy with a sense of humor, ok? I was reading the LA Times one day, and I read a column by this man who claimed to be a historian, as if historians even exist in this day and age, or some such thing. I liked the column, and began to keep an eye out for it. He wrote about fascinating things, effortlessly tying things like the Peloponnesian War and the Fed raising the interest rates. Well, maybe not those two things exactly, but he had a flair for being able to pull just the right example from ancient times into relevancy. Then, the Times began listing a photo of their columnists on the website. I was picturing this fussy old man with bushy eyebrows and I would have bet money that he wore some sort of dorky bow tie as his "signarure" quirk. That's when I looked and saw this: Now yes, there are more handsome men that populate the plane

So with all this talk of hair, surely you could guess today's question. Is your hair long, short, or somewhere in between? And what color?

Do you remember the few episodes of Bugs Bunny that featured a cackling, crazy haired witch? Her name was Witch Hazel, and the episodes were all about her trying to obtain Bugs Bunny parts to use as spell components. The two things I remember the most about her were her voice and her hair. Her hair would crack me up, because as she flew on her broomstick, her hair would be crazy all over the place, and every time she moved, little pins and hairs would fly out of her head. As I grow older, I am quite dismayed to notice that suddenly, she and I have the same hair. It didn't used to be this way. My hair is fine, but I have lots of it. It has never been stick straight, but it doesn't qualify as wavy, either. It has usually been quite obedient, and I have never spent the morning cursing my hair and it's lack of ability to do what I wanted. But lately, it has been turning into an entirely different animal, if you will. It is frizzy looking, and full of tiny flyaway hairs th

Uh, it's called "exercising our perogative," not "being flaky." Right? No move as of this moment. The market is not as we thought, and the time we would spend at my parent's home would be more indefinite than we would prefer. When homes dip to a certain point, then we will move, regardless of what we get for our current property. It sucks when something big that you were excited for and you thought for sure was going to happen, doesn't. Seriously, we're not flakes. I swear.

Welcome to the Tuesday morning edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter! That's right, just like the fact that although my mind tells me it's 11:00pm, my body tells me it's only 10! Thus making for a tired, crabby Gina! But then again, I should tell you something you didn't already know... According to Mayan mythology, the earth is situated on the back of an animal. Which?

Well, interestingly enough, I was Party 1 in the conversation below, and Hubba-hubba was the unwilling giver-upper of the bougainvilla. I like to think of myself as a realist. Hubba-hubba would label me a negativist. A thousand points to me if I just coined a new word. I'm too lazy to Google it right now, so a grand it is! I tend to always see the down side of things, I suppose. I can, for short periods, get caught up in a nice gauzy fantasy of how things should be, and then it all comes crashing down. Usually on my head and in a painful manner. It seems to be genetically inherited, my mother is exactly the same way, but much worse. She has a completely maddening way of arriving at her negatives in a totally roundabout, inductive manner. At least my pessimism follows a fairly logical path. You may not agree with my path, but you can see it. My mom's path is more like the hedge maze in Harry Potter, replete with things ready to whomp you at any moment. My dear Hubba-hub

So this is a conversation that is typical of my life in the past week. I am not going to say who is who, I am going to let you guess. Party 1: You know, I think we are going to have to rip out that bougainvilla in the planter. Party 2: But I like that bougainvilla! P1: I know, but since we had to cut it back for the termite guys, and then the freezing temperatures we had, it just hasn't looked the same. It just doesn't look good anymore. P2: It's coming back, it doesn't look so bad. P3: (snorting) Really? Stop thinking with your emotions! This is going to be a business deal! Just because it's the bougainvilla you personally picked out at the nursery is the only reason you want to keep it! The buyers are just going to look at it and wonder which one of us has the black thumb! Sigh. And really, there is nothing earth-shattering that is prompting our move. We have wanted to move out of here and into a place that had a backyard ever since Mr. P was born. Bu

Selling a house without an agent- suicide move or money-saver? And, a bonus question.... Interior paint- white or the lightest shade of taupe to show off the custom moulding and baseboards?

I borrowed this from Ginger . There are a lot of book memes that float around, but I don't really remember seeing this one. 1. Hardback or trade paperback or mass market paperback? I prefer paperbacks, because I like to lounge in different ways while reading, and that is just easier to do with a paperback. I do read hardbacks as well, though. 2. Amazon or brick and mortar? Brick and mortar. I like being surrounded by books and things related to books. It is a tactile experience. 3. Barnes & Noble or Borders? I'm going to say B&N, just because they are usually a lot bigger. But, the Borders around here have cuter "gifty" things. 4. Bookmark or dogear? Neither, I always memorize the page number. 5. Alphabetize by author or alphabetize by title or random? By author. 6. Keep, throw away, or sell? Other than used college school books, I have never gotten rid of a book that I have owned. Otherwise, I wouldn't own it. 7. Keep dustjac

No, not that 700 Club, although monetary donations are most surely welcome. Read my blog and be saved! Hmmm, my tagline may be in need of updating... Actually, I am writing my 700th blog post. Either I am very pathetic, or very prolific. I missed my Blogiversary last November, so I figured I would at least recognize my 700th post. It is probably going to be quite lame, actually. I might have mentioned a couple of times that I am a child of the 80's. Just a couple. Anyhoo, the other day I saw a guy walking down the street and my eyes popped out of my head. Does anyone remember when it was the epitome of cool to roll your pants up at the cuffs? Not like, all the way to your knees, but I think two or three rolls was the preferred number. I think the jeans in this picture have the jeans rolled up a bit too high, but you get the idea: This guy, he was wearing his pants rolled up, just like the good old days! Now he may have been just hot and looking to convert his pants into m

Ahhh, nothing like being lazy and posting a video from YouTube, now is there? This one is a special shout-out to Sonia , who is a big 80's fan like myself, and today just so happens to be her birthday! We have discussed our rather inappropriate passion for 80's music, and it came out that she really likes The Fixx. Aside from the odd spelling, The Fixx didn't do a whole lot to distinguish themselves against all the super-popular bands. My personal theory is that they just didn't have any cute members. I could be wrong. While the lead singer has a certain appeal, he just can't be compared to someone like Simon Le Bon. I also happen to really like The Fixx, they had maybe one song I didn't care for too much. I proudly own the original album "Reach the Beach." Even though Google took off a lot of the good videos they had on YouTube, a couple remain, such as "Stand or Fall."

Yesterday, we bought the tickets that ensured our trip to SF. Airline tickets, you say? No, baseball tickets. You see, I have explained before that Hubba-hubba is a die-hard Yankees fan. Not the johnny-come-lately fan when they were winning in the late nineties, but since he was a young boy of 12. Which is even more interesting because he has absolutely no ties to New York and is a California native. Go figure the ways of the universe. The SF Giants are playing the NY Yankees for the first time since their meeting in the World Series in 1950-something. And as AT&T Park is probably THE most beautiful place to watch a ballgame in the world, we just had to to go. And factor in that we haven't had a vacation in a looooong time, and that made it seem like a really good idea as well. Oh, and did I mention that unless I somehow had a bad dream, we decided to sell our place ASAP? Don't ask.

1) You have not let me sign into the regular format of gmail now for two entire days. I keep having to settle for what is called the "Basic HTML" version. You keep blaming my computer connection, but every other site is loading just fine, thank you. 2) You also will not set a cookie for my computer so I do not have to sign into the Dashboard every single freaking time I want to log in. Each time, I check the "remember me" box, hoping that this time, it will not be in vain. 3) I am having to sign in to comment on people's blogs, even when I just signed in two minutes ago. 4) The "test" blog you made me get when I switched over to the improved Google is for crap. I thought I could copy and paste the changes onto my regular blog. Nope. I had to redo the entire thing twice. I could do that with my old one, so what is the point? 5) Why will you not add more templates to the "Google approved" list? Or at least take off the least downloade

I decided to change things around here a bit, and Sunshine, I know you are going to think I copied you, but I have been fiddling with this template for about three weeks! On to the real story! Do you remember this post ? Well, I got it for Christmas. Isn't it amazing how much smaller it looks on my wall than the one in the ad? And it is a sad, sad statment on my life that I am only getting around to posting about this today. Well, actually the most accurate statement would be that I am lazy, but let's just forget about that for now. Here it is: It impresses me to no end that I have this, and I do indeed feel as if the heavens opened up and sang to me when I first saw it up on my wall. We will also pretend that we do not see the annoying exposed chunk of white plaster, where Hubba-hubba chipped some paint off and failed to remedy it. We will do it for his sake, of course. But, my real focus is the bear hanging from the chalkboard. Let's look a little closer, shall we?

Speaking of changing my name, today's question is: Do you like your name? Did you ever wish you had another name?

My good buddy Py had a post not too long ago that asked, "Are You an Asshole?" or for the more faint of heart among us, "Are You a Huge Weenie?" There is a handy dandy link " here " to take a test just for that specific purpose. As if you didn't already know the results. But then again, did you? I mean, there are lots of polls out there that ask people if they are good drivers. Somthing like 85% of the respondents claim that they are great drivers, it's everybody else who sucks the big one. And we all know that statistically, that just isn't possible. Averages exist for a reason, and not everyone can be above average. So I wonder, do people who truly qualify as Huge Weenies, and we all know at least one, walk around thinking they are great and everyone loves them? That they think people avoid them because they can't stand to be in the presence of such briliance, instead of a genuine loathing? Do they fool themselves into believing t

Welcome to the late night/early morning (depending on where you live) edition of Pointless Points Trivia, where the points don't matter! That's right, just like me trying to remember what it felt like to sleep past 7am, they just don't matter! The Valley is the capital of what country?

Today, I didn't slog home from my endocrinologist visit, paltry prescription in hand. No, today I met with a new doctor. I was so frustrated with my old one, who showed no concern at all for my consternation at being "uncured" for a year and a half. People, that is a long time, especially for this condition. To say that he was on the conservative side of treatment would be a complete understatement. My new doctor is around my age. She is a woman. And at the end of the visit, I wanted to throw my arms around her and tell her that I loved her. She listened to me and my frustration, she talked to me, not at me. I told her that I was supposed to have had a baby, like, a year and a half ago, and what my concerns were about my thyroid function levels and their effects on fetal development. She gave me a very thorough and detailed explanation of the situation, based on the latest medical studies, and we determined that I need to be at least one point lower. You don&#

Well, for the most part, anyway. But let me ask you a question, as the seven of you are sitting down around the table, and your child takes a (resistant) bite of mashed potatoes, which of the following would you rather have happen to you when said child loudly proclaims "Yuck!" for all to very clearly hear? a) that lightning strike you b) that the earth swallow you whole c) that there was a large pit of sand in which you could stick your head or, like me... d) all of the above.

Tomorrow we are going to a BBQ. Great, you say, Gina's life is so boring that a regular old BBQ gets a blog mention. Well, not quite. You see, I don't know the family in question all that well. The husband is a good work-friend of Hubba-hubba's. His wife I am friendly with, but not someone I would call my friend. You get the difference, right? We have met up with them a couple of times prior, but always "out" and not at one of our houses. Tomorrow we are going to their house, and in the spirit of "guestliness" (I must copyright and trademark that this instant) I called up the wife and asked what we could contribute to the BBQ. I was equally fine with appetizer, side dish, or dessert. She told me the menu, and then she chose dessert. I asked if there was anything specific that anyone in her family of four could not eat, or would not want in a dessert. Affirmative, strawberries make the youngest daughter break out in a rash. Good, glad I asked. Bu

I suppose this would have been a better question around Valentine's Day, but really, when is love not a good topic? Do you believe there is such a thing as love at first sight?