I haven't been to Africa

I think I have a sleeping sickness. Sleep is a coping mechanism for me when I am depressed. My whole family is like that actually. Most people toss and turn, I sleep like a baby. And keep on sleeping. But I am not depressed right now. My kids are doing great, I just got a new position at work, the BF is wonderful as usual, I am downright giddy! And yet, I sleep.

I come home from work most days in a hurry to take a nap. Can't wait, love it, actually. But I am not one of those lay my head down, snooze for a half hour and wake up refreshed people. I sleep about three hours, sometimes more. When I wake up I am awake for a couple of hours and then it is back to bed for the night.

I am a night person by nature. If given the chance my hours would probably be reversed from most of the rest of the world. I struggle with getting up in the morning and frequently will try to make sure I get to bed early to make sure I have plenty of sleep and wake up feeling good in the morning. But it seems that no matter what time I go to bed the night before, I have trouble getting out of bed in the morning. Or in the afternoon which the case may be on the weekend.

Today was not unusual. I got home from work at about 5:45, and by 6:15 I was laying down on the couch for a nap. I woke up about 8:00pm, got up to go to the bathroom and then it was right back down in a groggy heap on the couch where I fell right back to sleep until 10:30.

I know the best thing I can do is to keep a regular schedule. Get up at the same time every day, go to bed at the same time every night, and no napping. Somehow I am never able to achieve that, the call of the nap is so tempting and I am so weak willed. But as a result I can sleep hours upon hours and am never fully refreshed. Plus, on the weekend, it's not unusual for me to sleep past noon and get very little done during the day. And to make matters worse, if I allowed myself to do it - I could sleep past noon, get up, be awake for a couple of hours and be ready to sleep again. I rarely allow myself to do that, but when I have - I have slept away whole days.

I haven't been to Africa, haven't picked up any funky little parasites lately, yet I seem to just want to sleep. A lot. And really, I'm not depressed! I promise! I have thyroid meds but really the doctor says they are practically unnecessary so I suspect he is just placating me. The last time I went to see him I handed him a list of all my complaints and told him I was tired of it, pun not intended, and told him to fix it. I also told him it was his fault, just for good measure.

I guess his Honey-do list is longer than I thought cause it sure isn't fixed yet.

I would like to feel awake like most people do, have energy and get things done. It's a vicious circle, because I know exercise would help. But who can exercise when they are napping? Okay, this is turning into whining and I don't want to do that. But I really would like to feel normal. I know doggone well that I'm not suddenly going to discover more hours in the day, or wake up one day to discover that morning has been moved to later on in the day. It's always going to be early. Sigh-h-h.

Time to go to bed. Nite y'all!

*Just a thought; is it possible I am morphing into a cat? Just askin'.

A little late ..

Wednesday's Hero

by Indian Chris

Sgt. Frank T. Carvill
51 years old from Carlstadt, New Jersey
3rd Battalion, 112th Field Artillery
June 04, 2004



When Frank T. Carvill told his sister he had been called up to go to Iraq, she was stunned. "Gee, Frank, are you going to be part of the AARP battalion?" she teased.

Carvill joined the Guard in the 80's out of a sense of patriotism. He was a devoted big brother to Peggy Liguori, who still remembers how as kids, he took her to see “Blue Hawaii” and “Born Free” at the movies. He was the longtime pal to Rick Rancitelli who admired Carvill’s “million-dollar vocabulary” and his writing and public speaking skills. In 1993. Sgt. Carvill was working in the WTC as a paralegal when it was attacked. He helped a co-worker down 54 floors to safety. In 2001, he was still working at the WTC. He had just left the North Tower moments before the first plane hit.

Sgt. Carvill was killed when his convoy was attacked outside of Baghdad.

These brave men and women sacrifice so much in their lives so that others may enjoy the freedoms we get to enjoy everyday. For that, I am proud to call them Hero.
We Should Not Only Mourn These Men And Women Who Died, We Should Also Thank God That Such People Lived

This post is part of the Wednesday Hero Blogroll. For more information about Wednesday Hero, or if you would like to post it on your blog, you can go here.
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I LOVE this Mom!

DES MOINES, Iowa - Jane Hambleton has dubbed herself the "meanest mom on the planet."

After finding alcohol in her son's car, she decided to sell the car and share her 19-year-old's misdeed with everyone - by placing an ad in the local newspaper.

The ad reads: "OLDS 1999 Intrigue. Totally uncool parents who obviously don't love teenage son, selling his car. Only driven for three weeks before snoopy mom who needs to get a life found booze under front seat. $3,700/offer. Call meanest mom on the planet."

Hambleton has heard from people besides interested buyers since recently placing the ad in The Des Moines Register.

The 48-year-old from Fort Dodge says she has fielded more than 70 telephone calls from emergency room technicians, nurses, school counselors and even a Georgia man who wanted to congratulate her."

The ad cost a fortune, but you know what? I'm telling people what happened here," Hambleton says. "I'm not just gonna put the car for resale when there's nothing wrong with it, except the driver made a dumb decision."

It's overwhelming the number of calls I've gotten from people saying 'Thank you, it's nice to see a responsible parent.' So far there are no calls from anyone saying, 'You're really strict. You're real overboard, lady."'

The only critic is her son, who Hambleton says is "very, very unhappy" with the ad and claims the alcohol was left by a passenger.

Hambleton believes her son but has decided mercy isn't the best policy in this case. She says she set two rules when she bought the car at Thanksgiving: No booze, and always keep it locked.

The car has been sold, but Hambleton says she will continue the ad for another week - just for the feedback.

We had imagination!

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When I was a kid messing around in school, there was always fun to be had with glue. We would lay a thin puddle of it on the inside of our desks and when it was dry cut it into fake fingernails. All you had to do was lick them and stick them on!

The other thing we would do – or maybe it was just me, was to make a fist so the skin on the back of our hands was tight and smooth and cover it with a barely there layer of glue. When it dried you could barely see it on your skin except for a slight sheen you wouldn’t ordinarily have. And best of all, when you straightened your hand – the skin on the back that was so smooth and taut – would look like the skin on the hand of an 80 year old. Amazing stuff!

Even more amazing? I don’t have to use glue to make my hands look like that anymore. Sigh-h-h.
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Are we related?

Yesterday my kids went to The Art Institute of Chicago, a membership to that institution was one of my son's requests for Christmas last year. The two of them when to see - I think they said - the Jasper Johns exhibit. Or was it the John Jasper exhibit? I wouldn't know.

Today the two of them drove up to Milwaukee to see another art exhibit, somewhere up there, yah hey dere.

I enjoy flea markets and art by anybody if I think it's nice. I have never taken any kind of art appreciation course and the art museum bores me silly. At least it did when I last went, I'm pretty sure I was about 18 years old and we really don't need to discuss how long ago that was. Okay, we are definitely talking decades. Multiple decades.
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I suppose what I am getting at is - are these my children? I mean, who taught them this stuff, guided them in this direction? I pushed both of my children in one direction, toward doing what would make them happy and getting the education behind them to do whatever that turned out to be.

I am incredibly proud of my kids but I am a little bewildered. They are turning out to be people who appreciate art and literature and things I know nothing about. It amazes me that both of them have this kind of bent, both tend to be more intellectual than not. More intellectual than I am, that is for sure. They are their own people, with opinions (oh my God the opinions) and tastes and likes and dislikes of their own. And they are very different from me and mine.

So for me the question becomes, where on earth did these kids come from?
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It's he-e-e-r-r-re.....!

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I don't know whether to be excited....or scared!

I find the most fascinating things when I don't look for them!

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So I was doing one of my many internet searches, I have no idea what I was looking for at this point. Somehow I stumbled upon a phenomenon I was totally unfamiliar with but couldn’t take my eyes off none-the-less. It would be pretty accurate to call it the Cult of the Moleskine.

Me neither!!!

A moleskine is a notebook that comes in several styles, ruled, not ruled, sketch book, watercolor, squared, and it has an elastic band to mark your page or keep it closed. Apparently a lot of people cram a lot of stuff into these moleskines. For some it is simply a notepad to keep to-do lists in, for some a complete art collection as well as some kind of muse for the artist. Somehow sketches are better drawn in a moleskine, and writing is more important somehow.

There is history behind the moleskine, it is a notebook that has been in use for 2 freakin’ centuries, and names like Vincent Van Gogh and Hemmingway are tossed around as they were said to be users.

I saw notebooks used as diaries, travel logs, sketch books and planners. Some people even call their moleskine their PDA. The correct pronunciation isn’t even moleskin like it looks, it is mo-leh-skeen-eh, although I doubt many Americans pronounce it that way.

The website I came across first is called Molskinerie, legends and other stories. I literally spent the better part of an evening just perusing this site, astonished by how many
stories there were about people’s relationships and their commitment to their notebooks.

There are pictures and links and there are videos of people simply turning the pages of their moleskine, showing mostly artwork and writing from page to page. There even seems to be a particular way these videos are shot. Place said notebook on a neutral background and video tape a pair of hands slowly turning the pages making sure not to block the drawings and writings and lists and doodles. At the end, close the book, remove hands. Some people wrap the elastic band around the notebook
and then, The End.

If you want to make your moleskine more user friendly to your specific needs, there are hacks to modify your notebook. Hacks! And all the while I was simply fascinated. I just kept looking and reading and then I searched and looked at more pictures and videos and read some more.

I came across something called The Moleskine Project, a catalog of moleskine’s and what they are filled with, submitted by users all over the world. I can actually spend time looking at all the notebooks but for the life of me I am baffled as to what attracts me.

After looking at all the ways devotees use their notebooks, and seeing all the art created between their covers, and considering the attachment users have to their notebooks, I decided I must have one. Why? I don’t have the slightest idea. There is discussion as to whether it is the fabulous writer or artist who chooses the moleskine or whether the moleskine makes the average writer or artist – fabulous. The chicken or the egg.

So I await my moleskine with curiosity more than anything. I am not a writer and certainly not an artist and will probably be intimidated by the very idea of this simple notebook when I get it. It is. a. notebook. Nothing more. I have a feeling that my using one will prove that. But we will see, won’t we?

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