Most of you are probably looking a little confused at that sentence. Most people have anniversaries that are set on a certain date.

Tom and I are different.

This is not new information to me, or to a lot of people that were around us in our ‘early days’.

If we’re counting from when the actual wording was said out loud that we had decided we were truly a couple, it was shortly after the accident.

Before then, we were okay with being together without labeling it.

Ten years ago, though, when the census taker came to the door at our apartment at the barn, it became a part of the United States official history that we were living together. And, just a couple days ago, that information was concreted into history again.

Ten years? That’s a lot of years.

Especially since we’ve been post-accident for six and a half of those.

I’ve come to realize that Tom and I must be a special breed. A lot of people seem absolutely astonished that any relationship could last after such a life altering incident.

But, it never really crossed my mind to leave.

It only made us closer.

Here’s to us, Tom. We’ve made it ten years strong.

And, here’s to us filling out more censuses together in the future!

Not that I should continue to be surprised, but I am.

I wonder when the ability to not allow things to shock me will kick in.

The monetary goal for the ‘toy’ mentioned a couple posts down has been met, and exceeded.  I feel… at a loss.   There was over $1200 raised in literally a couple of days.  For an EFFING TOY!

The not-so-nice side of me wanted the total to sit for months and months, with little to no gain.  I knew it was a far fetched dream.  But, that’s what I really wanted to see.

The nicer side of me wants to not say anything more about the whole subject.

But, eh… whatever.  I’m not feeling especially nice at the moment.

I guess that’s the perk of having so many ‘readers’ on a blog.  People throw free crap at you all the time, and you get used to it.  Like, I dunno, you deserve all that free crap…

I still don’t get it.  Why not donate the money to someone in need?  Why not give it to a homeless shelter?  Why not feed some kids in Africa or something?  Why doesn’t she do it now that all the money has been collected?

I kind of hope he decides he’d rather give the money to charity.  I doubt it’ll happen.

Geez.

Just imagine if her power was used for good things instead of out of selfishness.

Gimme, gimme, gimme!!

Aaaand, it frustrates me that very few people are voicing their opinions to her about this on her blog.  Leave her a comment.  Tell her.  If you’re wanting it to be anonymous, fine…  create a fake email address or something.

I know.  I need to just get over it.  And I will.  It’ll all be old news and long forgotten in a matter of a week or two.

Just like many of the things I read; in one eye and out the other.

Hehe.

C’mon… that was funny, right?

It worked out well for both of us, in my opinion.

(Well, except I seem to be no further ahead in the whole bill department.  And, I’m out an Itouch.)

Do I miss it?  Sure I do.

Hello?!  It was super cool to be all slick, usin’ my wifi and crap, listenin’ to my def jamz while chillin’ on the back porch.

(Yeah, I really just wrote that sentence.)

I’ll definitely miss it when it comes to be the real and true Spring, where we can sit outside for hours.

But, it was only an Itouch.  It wasn’t vital to my existence.

(I keep repeating that to myself when I’m going through Itouch withdrawls, btw.)

(Tangent, here:  My spell check says that withdrawls should be two words… I always thought it was only one word.  Who’s right here?)

Anyway…

Tom’s got an old laptop that I’ve been attempting to wipe clean.  The poor thing is slower than snot, has no battery life, and doesn’t… for some reason… connect to our wifi.

I’ve managed to clear a lot of crap off of it, speeding it up quite a bit.  And, although having a battery that would hold a charge would be nice, there’s a plug-in outside.

But, the whole lack of wifi thing?  That might drive me nuts.

Think I can run an Ethernet cord all through my house and out my back door to connect to this old laptop?  I might give it a try in a couple of weeks when the weather finally turns nice.

Of course, I’d have to buy a flippin’ Ethernet cord that’ll reach from the router in the bedroom to out the back door.

Thaaaaat seems practical!

I’m not too proud to ask for help.  I’ve done it before.  I’ve done it here on my blog.  I’ve done in face to face with my friends and family.  Heck, I still have that little chip-in widget in my sidebar… which isn’t doing any good anyhow, so I might as well remove it.

But, when I ask for help, its for something important.  Like, groceries.  Or, filling my propane tank.  Even helping make a payment on Tom’s van.

I’d never have the nerve to ask anyone for help buying a toy.  Ever.  That’s just … unnecessary.  A toy is exactly that.  Its not essential to ones daily life.  Its not a ‘make it or break it’ situation.

I’m not saying that the toy is not worth purchasing.  Hell, go ahead.  If I had the cash to buy something like that, I just might.

But, to put it out there to ask your readers to donate their hard earned money for a toy?

Tacky.

Rude.

Inappropriate.

If you need help keeping your electricity on?  Post about it.  Ask for help.

Do you need help from getting your only form of transportation from being repossessed?  Blog about it.  Add a widget to your blog.

Are you trying to find a way to make it across the country to see your mother before she passes away from her terminal cancer?  Please, ask the world for a hand!

But, a toy?  An expensive toy?  An unnecessary, costly toy?

Don’t ever ask me for a donation regarding a toy.

Its just inconsiderate.

There are people struggling today.  And, I mean STRUGGLING.  People are loosing their houses.  People can’t buy groceries.  People can’t buy new shoes for their kids.  People are having to get rid of any luxury they own to help make ends meet.

I am not even struggling so badly that I’ve had to give up a luxury, yet.

And, I’ve not asked the blogging world in the longest time to throw me their spare change.  I know that this isn’t the time to ask for help.  Most everyone is looking for help.  A lot of people are struggling.

And, I’m definitely not asking you to help fund a completely ridiculous request, either.

If you feel the need to donate somewhere, consider these links:

Christopher Reeves Foundation – help research a cure for Spinal Cord Injuries

Harvesters

The Salvation Army

American Cancer Society

Sometimes I avoid the phone calls from collectors – they gotta know that caller ID hinders their ability to talk to a real person.  Rarely I answer the calls and basically ask them how to get blood out of a stone.

Sometimes it works out for the better – like my Discover card;  I’ve got a payment plan worked out with their collections department which is a smaller amount than the original monthly bill.  Sometimes, when I do answer the phone, by the time I’m done talking I want to scream.

I know I’m to blame for some of this.  I’ve not been notorious for keeping a beautiful checkbook register… or even keeping a messy checkbook register.  I’m very guilty of relying on my no-where-close-to-perfect checkbook register in my head only, and checking my online banking only once in a while.  Honestly, I used to be pretty good at this game… I rarely had trouble keeping things in the black.  Of course, there used to be a little more money in the account to play with… not oodles, mind you, but enough that a minor miscalculation wouldn’t of pushed me over the edge into the red.

Here recently, I’ve bounced some checks.  Only one was bounced knowingly, sadly.  Most happened because my ‘perfect recall’ of my balance (which is never ‘perfect’, mind you) is less than what is really in the bank – my mind has yet to make the adjustment for the lesser amount of money being deposited, I’ve decided.  Whether or not that is true doesn’t matter to me.

Why did I allow myself to go through this mess for several months before finally breaking out a brand new check register, literally just yesterday, and recommit myself to doing banking the old fashion way… that has worked for most people for eons now.

I’m making sure to collect my receipts from my debit card, and transferring them into my register.  Okay, okay… I’ve only done it once.  But, I’ve only used my debit card once since I’ve turned over this new leaf.

I’m ready to start taking charge of my financial life again.  I’m ready to make sure I know where I’m at every moment of every day with my money.  I’m ready to see the scary numbers dwindle downward, and wait (hopefully somewhat patiently) to see the numbers go up again.

I’m ready to have my phone stop ringing, and not because its been disconnected.

It’ll take a little time to get completely caught up.  Hopefully with my tax return, which is not very big at all, I’ll be able to turn the corner.

If not, I’ll keep chugging away at it.  Its not like the amount of money that is owed just disappears, yanno.  Sadly.

I already knew I was going to be late for work approximately a half hour before I needed to be there.  I hadn’t even made it into the shower yet.  So, I hurry my tush into the shower, get out and get dressed.

After hurrying to put on my shoes and socks, I say my goodbyes to Tom and walk out the front door…  to realize my car has a flat tire.

Niiiiice.

So, I walk back inside and tell Tom I’ve not got time to mess with my flat tire, and I’m going to take the van.  I walk back outside, get in the van, go to turn it on and…. nothing.  The battery is dead.  Again.

Superb.

Paul moves my car slowly over to in front of the van to jump start it, which it does with no issue.  I check over everything in the van and see that I’m nearly out of gas.

Really?

After talking to Tom about moving limited monies from one bank account to another, I drive the van to the nearest gas station, turn off the van and proceed to put every penny I can spare into the gas guzzler.  I get back into the van, call Tom to discuss whether or not to come back to the house and get the bad tire.  I turn the key… and its dead, again, already.

Honestly?

I tell Tom I’ll call him back, get out of the van, get the jumper cables out of the back of the van, pop the hood and look pitifully at the man filling his tank next to me.  He nods understandingly and, after he’s done pumping his gas, jump starts the van.

Thank God.

Once the van is started, it is decided that I should come back to the house and get the stupid tire because I know the shop I use will have to order one in anyhow.  I get home, leave the van RUNNING, and ask Paul to take the tire off the car.

Okay.

Except that I have a gravel drive way.  The foot of snow has finally melted making everything in my neighborhood the largest mud pie on the face of the Earth.  The jack sinks a smidge into the muck, but we’re able to get the car raised up enough to finagle the tire off the car – which, mind you, had no desire to come off the car.  I can see my car ever so gracefully sliding backwards.  As if in slow motion, the car sliiiiiides off the jack, allowing my car to come to rest on the driveway with a low thud.

Seriously?

Thankfully the car slid slowly, and the muck under the car allowed a nice cushioning for the frame.  We (by we, of course, I mean Paul) jack back up the car a little bit and slowly release it onto a 4×4 scrap piece of wood.

After inspecting the tire, which I was hoping only need a plug, it was immediately decided that the tire was not fixable.  This was made obvious by the lack of tread on the inner side of the tire.

Of course.

Finally, I take the (still running) van to the tire shop my dad told me to use years and years ago.  I drop the tire off, knowing the new one won’t be in until noon tomorrow.  I stop by my mom’s to pick up a check (because she loves me) to pay for a new tire because I am super duper broke.  I leave the van running while I go inside.

(Thank goodness for my mother, is all I have to say!)

Finally, 2 hours after I started out my door, I head in to work.  Aaaah.  Strange that I’m thankful to be at work, yes?  But, I am.

Work = money.

Money = need.

And, although my day sucked, it could of been so much worse.  This I know for fact.

I could of been on the highway before I realized my tire was flat.  I could of not been able to find anyone willing to jump start the van.  The driveway could of been dry, causing a hard landing for my car – and Paul was no where close to my car when it slid off the jack.

So, strangely, I’m thankful.

But, at the same time, I’m super irked.

Make sense to you?

There are my knitting needles.  I only have the know how to make a scarf.  Which, I don’t mind doing.  Yet, eh, how many scarves can one person make before they’re just over it.  And, lets not forget that yarn cost money.  Out of yarn + no money = no knitting.

I have a sewing machine.  I’m not fluent in sewing, by any means.  I have some patterns that I’d love to figure out.  But, again, these projects require money.  Blah.  No fabric, no thread… money money.

I have my camera, which I love.  But, its winter time.  And, honestly, how many pictures can I take of my cats and dog before I go crazy?  I’m pretty sure I’m over the whole camera aspect of my life until the weather turns nicer.

What else… what else…

Reading.  I love to read.  I’ve gone through the books at my house.  I know I should head to the library, but I hardly ever think about getting there.  And then I’m paranoid about returning the stupid things on time… I need to just get over that aspect of it.

I know I have more ‘hobbies’, but I can’t really think of any more this moment.

Anyhow – I need a new hobby.  Something entrancing.  Something to be excited about.  Something to do…

What’s your hobby?

Although Georgia appears to be recognizing her name better, I’m still not seeing the recognition I was expecting – turning her head, perking her ears.  Perhaps this will come with time, although I guess it doesn’t matter as long as she’s following her commands.

We’ve mastered ’sit’ from everyone who asks her.  Somewhere she’s learned ’stay’ as long as you point at her and make sure she’s given you eye contact.  ‘Stay’ works best when going in and outside.  If you’re commanding Georgia to stay in one room while you go to another, she really wants to follow you.

She follows ‘up’ when Tom says it most of the time.  She’ll even get ‘up’ on the edge of Tom’s bed with her front feet so Tom can give her some better one on one attention.

Georgia will lay ‘down’, and I can put a treat on her foot – telling her to ‘leave it’.  Rarely does she go after it until I say ‘get it’.  If she does, I just have to give her a little ‘eh eh’, and act like I’m going to block the treat with my hand.  She’ll normally leave it alone after that.  I don’t know if she truly understands ‘get it’ with the treat, or if I’ve just ended whatever game I’m playing with her… but I guess if it works, it works.  If I put the treat further away, she’s not nearly as apt to ‘get it’, although she keeps eye contact with the treat the whole time.

We’re still working on ’sit’ from a ‘down’ position, but we’ll be there soon.

She’s still not certain about ‘get it’ but seems to achieve it better with the new rope toy we bought her.  If she chooses not to take the rope toy, I can finagle it into her mouth without too much struggle.  ‘Get it’ with any other item still requires me opening her mouth and making her take the item.  ‘Release’ is no struggle with the rope toy or most anything in her mouth, except a ball.  She’ll give me the ball, but I have to get a good hold on it before she releases it.

I need to work her on the leash more… I’ve been putting it off, blaming the cool weather.  Of course, I’ll go out several times to smoke a cigarette.  I should leash her and go out front for a while.  We’ve gotten a couple different types of collars to work with, since she was accidentally slipping out of her purple one.  I’m sure one of these will be perfect.

Anyhow, Georgia is doing amazing.  Realizing that she’s only been in our home for a month is baffling.  She’s so smart.

I have confidence that, with the help of Patty of course, she’ll be exactly what Tom has been needing to gain more independence!

This was frustrating on several levels.  One being that the ceiling fan was fairly new.  Secondly, the fan is remote controlled.

Remote controls = easier life for Tom and Sheila.

With the remote, Tom can turn the fan on and off throughout the time he’s in bed and regulate his own temperature level.  Mucho easier than having to make Sheila get up several times through the night to adjust the fan levels.

Anyhow – at first we thought maybe just the battery in the remote had died.  So, I went to the grocery store to buy a battery.  But, of course its some crazy type of battery that not just any grocery store would carry… So, I have to stop by another store to find the flipping battery.  Go figure, when I get home and install the new battery, that doesn’t fix the fan.

No.  That would of been waaaay to easy.

So, we sit back and stare at the fan.  I google the fan to see if it has any known issues, with no real luck.  We contemplate the next step.

And we think, and we think… we don’t have the money to replace the fan.  We don’t have the funds to buy any replacement parts.  We don’t even know what to look at to see if it needs to be replaced.

Finally, Tom and I ask TNR to check out the fan and see if he notices any issues with it.  He looks it up and down, without taking it apart, and doesn’t see anything noticeably wrong with it.

He stares at it, and stares at it.  Tom stares.  I stare.

TNR walks over to the wall, and flips the light switch to the ‘on’ position.

Uhm.

Yeah.

Amazingly, the fan works now.  Someone had turned the switch off.  I don’t know who did it… since the fan is worked by remote, we never flip the switch anymore.

Go figure, huh?  We all felt incredibly stupid to the fact that none of us thought to check the switch sooner.

But, at least it was a cheap fix!