Pseudotherapy

Thanks to Carolyn for this post’s inspiration.

I want to:
avoid the drama shitstorm polluting the blogiverse lately
have five pairs of pants that actually fit me properly
become a strong person, mentally and physically
read books aloud to my husband like we used to do
go on more photography-geared day trips

I want to think:
that I can change my mind without being accused of hypocrisy
that someday I will finish one of my novels (any one)
that people miss me when I’m not around
that I am not the failure I think I am
positively even when feeling negative

I want to learn:
to surf
to speak Spanish fluently
to think before I speak/write/publish
to make perfect pie crust
teleportation

I want to see:
my daughter in a healthy, loving, committed relationship
women treat their husbands with the same degree of respect and
M consideration they give their friends
smaller numbers when I’m standing on the scale
London in the fog, Dublin in the rain, Edinburgh in the gloaming
a sincere heart and a generous spirit in people I care about

I want to try:
to be less paranoid
going for a 30-minute walk daily
applying the basics of my work ethic to my personal life
getting a solid eight hours of sleep every night
living The Buddha’s teachings, not just knowing them

I want to tell:
my daughter not to fear getting hurt … because you do survive
my husband that he HAS to quit smoking
my niece how much I enjoy her companionship
my blog friends how much they all mean to me
someone what I suspect, and why … but I don’t trust anyone enough

I want to touch:
the rock-hard muscles in my husband’s arms
the souls of people who read my words
cool fresh sheets spread snugly over our new bed
anything with my right-hand fingers and feel it
the ground on Mars in this lifetime

I want to smell:
the scent of my daughter’s hair
the breeze coming off the ocean
almond-scented bubbles floating over my wet skin
the ink and paper of my own novels
the spiciness of wet eucalyptus after a rain

I want to feel:
my husband’s warm breath on the back of my neck
the firmness of muscle under my skin instead of marshmallowy fat
wet sand buffing my heels as I wade along the shoreline
the touch of my mother’s hand again … just once
like I matter in the world

I want to stop:
sabotaging my own efforts toward fitness
bleeding from cuts that should have healed long ago
staying up too late
being too lazy to do housework regularly
grieving for what might have been

I want to let go of:
my self-loathing
guilt about past mistakes
impossible dreams that will never become reality
my resentment for what I lost in the Georgia debacle
the need for approval

What do you want?

Crap! Forgot to include my sister’s birthday (August 6th) and COMIC-CON!!! [Note to self: No more graphics at midnight.]

Dave Diego artwork created by the legendary David Simmer II

Found this little meme somewhere …

The idea is to respond to each prompt by writing a short scenario that includes your answers.

The perfect outfit: I pulled a peasant blouse on over faded jeans, slipped into flip flops, and hung my favorite silver hoops in my ears. No makeup. He was mildly pleasant, but hardly mascara-worthy.
The perfect meal: I set a steaming plate of my made-from-scratch chicken enchiladas on the glass table, tinted peach by the vibrant sunset. Even the tumbler holding Bret’s Perfect Margarita was sweating, moisture trickling down its sides. The intoxicating aroma of Brenda’s Coconut-Pineapple Cake wafted out from the kitchen, teasing our tastebuds toward orgasm.
The perfect beverage: Wiping sweat from my sticky neck, I tilted my glass, spilling the minty crispness of Bret’s Perfect Mojito across my rejoicing tastebuds.
The perfect hangover cure: Cradling my throbbing head on my hand, I gulped down a B-Complex tablet with Alka-Seltzer fizzing in orange juice. It worked like a charm. Within minutes, I had emptied my guts into the toilet bowl — after which I felt remarkably better.
The perfect facial feature: Looking into Juli’s eyes, I see unconditional love reflected within the green depths. Mother and child — there is no stronger bond on earth.
The perfect song: He stubbed out his cigarette and swiveled toward me. As the smoothness of Rob Thomas’ voice drifted from the speakers, Bret held out his hand. I rose, moving into his arms in time to the sensual throb of All That I Am. His lips nuzzled my neck as I breathed in the scent of his skin.
The perfect sign of affection: We are walking, me a step behind, lost in our own thoughts. He reaches back with open hand seeking mine, clasping tightly as I slip my palm against his. No words, no glance, undeniable love.
The perfect weather: A hellacious thunderstorm raged outside, rattling windows and punching through the gloom with strobes of eyeball-impaling brightness. When the power flickered out, we grabbed beers from the fridge and adjourned to the breeze-cooled sunroom for a few rounds of Texas Hold-’Em by candlelight.
The perfect afternoon: The weak sunshine of late October angles through the window, kissing my cheek while I nap under a quilt, my book fallen from my grasp.
The perfect road trip: My camera captures each glorious vista as the serpentine curves of Pacific Coast Highway seduce us north to Big Sur and Bixby Bridge.

Last Friday I lost my wedding ring. About 11 a.m. I became aware that it wasn’t on my finger. Assuming I’d simply left it on the sink edge when I’d last washed my hands, I didn’t panic. My office has its own private restroom, so I immediately stepped inside fully expecting to see my ring in the soap tray. It wasn’t there.

It also wasn’t on the shelves, or in the cupboard where I keep my toiletries. It wasn’t on top of the soap dispenser or the paper-towel dispenser or the seat cover dispenser. It wasn’t anywhere on the floor. Getting frantic, I took every single thing out of the trash bin, shaking each paper towel in case my ring was wadded up in one. Nothing.

I moved the search to my office itself, systematically giving each section a thorough search. Drawers were emptied, furniture moved, papers shaken, trash bin examined. No luck. Not in the office kitchen either, despite numerous officemates and me working the premises like a crime scene. That’s when I broke.

Oh, I’d been weepy and sniffling for some time,?yet still harboring expectations of locating the missing band.?But I’d run out of possibilities, and my heart broke?with the acknowledgement that my wedding ring was gone. Alone in my disheveled office, I cried myself sick.

This is not my original wedding ring. My first one is a white gold eternity band with channel-set diamonds. About two years into our marriage, I developed an allergy to all metals except stainless/surgical steel. My finger beneath my wedding band became itchy and red, then puckered up in tiny, painful blisters. I tried only wearing the ring for limited times, but soon discovered even one hour would produce the reaction. For several months, I was forced to go ringless. Then my sister sent me a link to Accessory Row, which carries a selection of stainless steel rings. I?hoped that would be?safe because?I could still wear surgical-steel-wired earrings. We ordered a plain band that exactly matches Bret’s wedding band, and I’ve never had a problem wearing it. Because we’re mushy that way, we even?made a private little ceremony out of Bret putting it on my finger and saying vows he’d made up specifically for the occasion. So yes, while not the original wedding ring, the one I lost Friday has actually been on my finger longer ? and is deeply precious to me.

I cried off and on throughout Friday, and this was not the first time I’ve been grateful to have such a secluded office location. I pretty much dragged myself through the day, heavy-hearted and angry that I’d been so careless. By the time 4:00 rolled around and I started prepping to leave the office, I was functioning under a black cloud of gloom. Even though I’d continued re-searching all day, I found myself checking again as I shuffled papers and put things away. Nada. I stepped into the bathroom for a quick pre-departure pee, pulled down my panties and … plink! I jumped up to look, and there in the bottom of the toilet bowl was my ring! It had, inexplicably, been in my underwear the whole time. I have no idea how it got there.

After the ring had been rescued, thoroughly washed and was safely back on my finger, I rushed out into the hallway and announced joyfully, “I found my ring!!!” Everyone ran over, exclaiming, “Yay! Where was it?” “It was in my underwear!”

I guarantee you cannot fully imagine the hysteric hilarity that ensued. Not to mention the jokes.

?

?

When Bret was playing “Max Payne,” I spent hours sitting on the bed just watching. I don’t have fast enough reflexes to play FPS games, but it mesmerized me nonetheless.

Now they’ve made a movie of it. CAN’T WAIT.

I am exhausted and feeling mildly braindead. That’s my excuse for resurrecting a week-old meme for today’s post, which I wrote last night when I was even more tired than I am now.

Accent: I loved it on popcorn when I was a kid! Who knew it could kill us?

Breakfast or no breakfast: I seldom voluntarily skip ANY meal. (SHUT. UP.) I love big breakfasts with bacon, eggs, fried potatoes and biscuits.

Chore I don’t care for: When I come up with a chore I DO care for, Bret will announce it on a billboard along I-5.

Dog or Cat: Bret often declares that he’s a dick in a houseful of pussies. He’s half-right.

Essential Electronics: My cameras. I am never without one.

Favorite Cologne: J.Lo Glow. Hate the name, LOVE the scent.

Gold or Silver: The only metal I can wear is steel. Everything else gives my skin a blistery rash.

Handbag I carry most often: My own.

Insomnia: I have narcolepsy. I can fall asleep while talking to you.

Job Title: Legal assistant/Gatekeeper.

Kids: I made more mistakes being a mom than in anything else I’ve done. Oddly, she turned out great.

Living Arrangements: Not here, so what does it matter?

Most Admirable Trait: I have a wildly vivid imagination.

Naughtiest Childhood Behavior: Sex in the family pool.

Overnight hospital stays: Three: Major surgery, childbirth, severe sleep-deprivation.

Phobias: The Dark. And birds. Raise your hand if that’s news to you.

Quote: “Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything.” ~ Plato

Reason to smile: Ghost Hunters International returns tonight!!!

Siblings: Some.

Time I wake up: 3 a.m. every day, almost as if a 15-pound orange cat jumped onto my stomach at exactly that time every morning.

Unusual Talent or Skill: I can tell when it’s 3 a.m. without opening my eyes. Bizarre, huh?

Vegetable I Refuse to Eat: Okra. You absolutely cannot fry the slime out of it.

Worst Habit: Jumping to the worst possible conclusion.

X-rays: Of every part of my body, scalp to sole.

Yummy Stuff: Dark chocolate peanut clusters. Oatmeal raisin cookies. Macaroni and cheese. Shredded beef tacos. Peanut butter, pickle and ketchup sandwiches. And PIE.

Zoo Animal I Like Most: Ugh, NOT a fan of zoos. And most animals smell BAD. If I *must* pick, I’ll say iguanas.

I presented our neighborhood studmuffin Karl with a special token of love today, so come on over to Secondhand Tryptophan and share in the joy!

(Guestational badge generously provided by Dave2)

Today I’m going to address an issue which has been DRIVING ME INSANE around the blogiverse, and that is people using “I” when they should be using “me.” The pronouns, I mean. I’ve seen a total of five instances of this in the past week, and I can stay silent no longer. People! Remember your grammar rules, for the sweet love of God!!! It’s your blog, say what you want, but I’m begging you, please be kind to the innocent pronouns.

Quoting from the ever-helpful website English Rules:

The sentence in question is as follows:

Please plan on joining Jin and I at Frank?s house next Wednesday, May 28th, at 9:00 AM.
Or…
Please plan on joining Jin and me at Frank?s house next Wednesday, May 28th, at 9:00 AM.

My boss wanted the 2nd sentence to be sent, but Microsoft Auto Correct changed “me” to “I”. Can you explain why “me” in this situation was incorrect?

Answer: The second sentence is correct. The AutoCorrect feature was wrong. If you remove “Jin and,” it should be clear that “me” is the correct choice. … If you want to know the grammar rule, it’s that “I” is used as a subject and “me” is used as an object.

And from Grammar Puss:

I is the subject of the sentence. Me is the object.

Therefore: I do something, but something else is done to me.

She and I are going out, or
She came to see me.

The most common form of pronoun abuse occurs when there is more than one subject in a sentence:

She came to see my sister and I.

But there is one very easy way in which to avoid confusion: The pronoun doesn’t change just because there is more than one party involved. In other words, just ask yourself if you would ever say She came to see I.

Thank you. That is all.

And so we arrive at the final day of my week-long celebration of five years of blogging. It’s been a great week ? I hope you’ve all enjoyed it, too. Big thanks to everyone who stopped by to join the festivities. Let’s all get together and do this again in five years.

Congratulations to the Question Of The Day winners!

Day One: Eden, who correctly guessed that I’ve had a total of 13 blogs over the past five years.
Day Two: Bec and Kevin, who both recalled the incident in which Dave2 championed my honor.
Day Three: Hilly, who offered the best blogging advice.
Day Four: Suze, who remembered the name of the hosting service from hell, Glo*fucking*bat.

Oops, forgot to do a QOTD for Day Five. I suck.

You may have noticed I’ve refrained all week from specifying what people would actually be winning. This is because, honestly, I didn’t know. Prizes have been a hot topic around here for a week or so. Like many of my grandiose plans for this Big 5th, fantasy did not correlate to reality. Originally, I’d intended to give Pseudotherapy T-shirts as prizes. Originally, I’d intended to only have two contests. Since I ended up with (appropriately) five winners, T-shirts are out of the question, financially speaking. I pondered for a bit doing electronic gift certificates, but I wanted the prizes to be connected to me, not just some random store. Luckily, my financial advisor and I were able to agree on something just last night. I am pleased to announce that my five winners will each receive an official SJ’s Big 5th commemorative mug! I designed it myself, and it is produced through the wonder that is Zazzle. Mugs are cool, because you can use them for coffee, tea, hot cocoa, warm milk, Alka Seltzer, sporks, posies or even your cherished collection of Sharpies.

So winners, again, congratulations! Please email me your preferred mailing address at sj AT pseudotherapy DOT com ASAP, and I’ll ship your mug to you right away. (Suze and Bec, I’ve already confirmed that Zazzle does ship internationally.)

And everyone, thank you all for making this past week such fun!

Hey everyone, I’m taking the day off today for some water action, but don’t forget today is the FIRST anniversary celebration over at Buddha On The Road ? go on over and help John celebrate!

Tomorrow, some announcements and PRIZES!