Ultranormal

UPDATE: And I’m back! That wasn’t so bad…

I’m switching hosts again. It was an offer I just couldn’t refuse. So, expect some bumpiness as the domain transfer goes through. If you see a “Be back soon” message, please e-mail me at wacky-ala-webica.com, because that means it’s gone through and I can get everything back up and running.

Thanks to Jodi for passing on this beautiful article on faith. I’ve got more to say about it, but I just can’t find the words at the moment. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

I came to a little self-realization last week that’s been troubling me. I always thought I was outgoing. I realized this week, that there’s a huge difference between being friendly and being outgoing. I went to this dessert party at a friend’s house a couple weeks ago where there were a bunch of people I didn’t know. I ended up playing with all the little kids (a gaggle of three and four year-olds in a basement filled with little musical instruments is a joy – you have never heard a more exuberant version of Old McDonald in your life), instead of socializing with the adults.

That got me thinking, and I started reviewing my life in my head. I’m the life of the party, where the party is fairly small and I know everyone, or I hit it off with folks. In larger parties, or ones where I don’t know everyone, I withdraw and usually end up doing what I did the other night, play with the kids.

I did plays all through high school, but I never played to the audience. I always played for the people in the cast, because we were relatively small compared to the audience. I think the only reason I did it what that you can’t really see the audience while you’re on stage. If I could have, I’m not sure I would have been able to.

Why all this silly introspection? I have a fairly new calling at church (Ok, for all the non-Mormons out there – we’re an all-volunteer outfit pretty much, no one in the congregation gets paid for their service, and the Bishop asks or “calls” people to “callings” or jobs). I’m the new Executive Secretary, which means I have to talk to folks I don’t know all the time, because I keep the Bishop’s schedule (I am Kevin “Boy Friday” Lawver). When I accepted the calling, I had no idea it would be so hard for me to call people the Bishop wants to see, or get phone calls from folks I don’t know.

It’s terrifying, and I don’t know why. I am doing it though, which I’m pretty proud of. The friendly me comes out, and I don’t think I’ve run away from anyone yet. Oh well, this navel-gazing has gone on long enough.

Oh yeah, if you didn’t know, Max turns four next week. I can’t believe he’s already a little boy!

Excuse me while I go boil me some water. I don’t know what it is, but boiled water doesn’t taste very good. I don’t recommend it.

Isabel was a tease. Yeah, we have to boil our water until they tell us we can go back to gargling willy nilly. But, last night actually wasn’t bad. Granted, we live in the sainted little corridor that got the least rain and wind in the DC area. Plus, we live on a hill, so flooding isn’t really a worry. The only thing that gave us pause was all the trees that back up to our yard, but they’re fine too.

Work is closed today, but yes, I still have to work. So, it’s dial-up, TiVo and caffeine for me while I try to work while sitting on the couch.

It was so “not bad” here that our DirecTV never went out. Not once while I was watching. Yeah… Isabel was a tease.

We have lots and lots of D batteries we can put in socks and swing wildly if the terrorists decide that now is the best time to attack our house. I feel a lot better with that out in the open.

I got a message from my doctor that the CAT scan of my head is completely normal. So, no polyps, but still no explanation for The Sinus Infection That Ate Northern Virginia (starting Tyrone Power).

Today is Hurricane Day. It’s’ supposed to start raining this afternoon, and well, I’m OK with that. We were prepared for the chemical attacks that didn’t happen this spring, so we’re ready for a hurricane. We’ve got water, plastic sheeting and duct tape, so if all else fails, we can jury-rig a Slip N’ Slide. We are so prepared that we went to the grocery story after dinner last night, and left with the following important hurricane supplies:

• two decks of playing cards (when mother-in-law comes, must have good cards)
• two bags of potato chips
• jujyfruits
• almond M&M’s
• Hershey Kisses

As you can see, we are ready to weather almost any natural disaster that might befall us.

As good as yesterday was, today is that bad. I didn’t sleep well, woke up too early from a nightmare that refused to leave my head after waking. The horrible thoughts meant I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I got up, showered, dressed, medicated, stumbled out of the door and drove to work, two hours early for no good reason.

The impending hurricane’s pressure (increased or decreased, don’t really care) is torturing my sinuses. It feels like my face might pop and run down my skull any minute, leaving me with gaping holes in my skull, and a lot of goo to explain to the housekeeping people when they come to clean tonight. My eyes are sandpaper on the inside of my eyelids, and the rest of my head is no better.

Today, everyone sucks. Really. I still love you, I do, but you all suck. You suck because your faces don’t hurt, and you’re all so damn smiley. Stop smiling. There’s nothing to smile about. We’re going to get a million feet of rain in the next seventy-two hours, DQ no longer makes cherry Dilly Bars, my face hurts, George W. Bush is still the President, people still go to bed hungry, there’s another worm exploiting yet another hole in Windows, an asteroid might crash into earth any day now and destroy us all, did I mention my face hurts, they freakin’ cancelled Homicide, Firefly and Sports Night but somehow 7th Heaven and Charmed are still on the air, Mark Sandman died so there will be no more Morphine albums but there will be more Britney Spears albums, no one makes good noir anymore, and my face is killing me. You all suck.