Society of Stampaholics

Sheep For Brains

I have sheep for brains.

And like the immortal Bo-Peep, I've lost my sheep and don't know where to find them.

I've been known to have scatter-brained moments (like the time I put the deli wrapper into my backpack and threw my sandwich into the trash - man, was I an unhappy camper when it came time for lunch). But last week I think I logged a personal best and broke the record for the greatest number of mental lapses in a seven-day period.

Exhibit A: the revelation of top-secret stamps before their scheduled release date.

If you recall, I was a Guest Designer at The Craft's Meow last week and contributed to their first birthday festivities - which included daily posts using stamps from the Spring Release... which wasn't scheduled to be revealed to the general public until the end of the week. Guess who unthinkingly posted a picture of the set she was using on Monday? (Actually, I did it for each of my daily posts - all had been drafted and scheduled in advance - but, luckily, Julie discovered my lunacy before I let the craft out of the bag and I was able to remove the images.)

Exhibit B: the pizza on Friday night. 

Although I've not made a pizza in twenty+ years, I do have some understanding of gravity as applied to cooking. For instance, I know that if one is building on a flexible foundation, weighty ingredients will slide right off onto one's favorite white shirt unless one has provided an appropriate binder. I know that cheese is an exceptional binder - as long as you lay it on before and not after the mushrooms, black olives and pepperoni. When added before the mushrooms, black olives and pepperoni, one has a powerful glue anchoring said ingredients to their foundation (thereby protecting one's favorite white shirt). When added after the mushrooms, black olives and pepperoni, one has a powerful glue bonding said ingredients to one another, forming a highly transient mass (thereby dooming one's favorite shirt to the rag bag).

And yet I proceeded to put the cheese on last. 

Exhibit C: I can't remember.

Seriously, I know I had a really dumb moment last week, (before the pizza, after the premature publication). I remember Spouse rolling his eyes when I did it. But now I can't even remember what it was.

In my defense, he can't either! (But I suspect this is because the poor man has suffered one-too-many "eye-rolling" incidents and simply can't keep track of them any longer. Or perhaps he's in denial - I know I am.) 

Exhibit D: My posts on Friday for Lily Pad and here.

I do many things for Lily Pad Cards, and two of my duties involve the scheduling of events and the writing of posts. The last Friday of every month is the technique/product challenge sponsored by Simon Says Stamp - this has been going on for the better part of a year now. This month was no different except that instead of only having four Fridays, it has five. To me, this was a gleeful event - as good as getting an extra paycheck - because it meant that I had more time to make my card (if needed).

I tend to draft the challenge posts in two sittings: one to provide all the information, upload the cards and sponsor info, etc, because that takes awhile. Then I come back and do the easy part: adding in the InLinkz linking tool and the InLinkz Manager for the products we used in our cards. 

I rarely have my challenge posts written a whole week in advance of their scheduled publication, and I was feeling mighty smug last Thursday when I finished Part 1 of this month's technique/challenge post and smartly calendared Part 2 for this coming Wednesday. My feelings of self-satisfaction grew even as I scheduled the date for the post to go live: March 23.

Heck, I was feeling so dang proud of myself for being a whole week ahead of schedule, I wrote my post here and scheduled it to go live on March 23rd, too.

And all of this done on the heels of taking part in a five-day promo for The Craft's Meow! I'm telling you, I was smirking I was so pleased with myself - just call me Super Stamper!!!

(I mean, my poo didn't need any perfume, if you get my drift.)

Now, just in case you haven't had your coffee yet, let me draw your attention to the dates. Last Thursday (my date of self-celebration) was March 22nd. I was supposed to complete the challenge post on Wednesday, March 28th, and the thing was supposed to go live on Friday, March 30th.

So why I selected Friday, March 23rd, as the appropriate publication date defies all logic. And I didn't commit this error on one blog but on TWO. 

I'm not supposed to go near the Internet on the weekends, (Family Time and all that) so I didn't learn the error of my ways until this morning. I've also learned that I gave our Dream Team a collective heart attack because they're supposed to make coordinating posts at their personal blogs on challenge days (which is kind of hard to do when Writer Woman goes rogue with the calendar.) And, of course, the people who made cards over the weekend were bereft to find there was no place to sign up (because it isn't Wednesday yet, so I hadn't gotten around to adding that bit yet). And poor Vicky's card wasn't even published (she usually will add it herself - not an option when your partner jumps the gun, though.)

Sheesh!

My apologies to everyone - please take pity on a once-great mind that's fallen low. (Okay, the "once-great" part is an obvious exaggeration, but I had something up there at one point, and it's traditional to speak well of the deceased.)

Now, I don't know how Bo-Peep lost her sheep, but I suspect mine have scattered to the winds as a result of acute sleep-deprivation. I've been suffering from insomnia for a few months now - and please don't tell me to count sheep because I think we've already established that mine are clearly AWOL....

Stupid Monday

Well, my morning's been shot to snap beans and back, which led to a busted afternoon, so I'm officially giving up and calling it.

Time of Death: Efficiency died at promptly 1:58 p.m. after a brief and painful battle with Monday Madness.

Efficiency is survived by her husband, Organization, and two children, Tidiness and Cleanliness (although they, too, have been battling Monday Madness and are expected to succomb momentarily).

Monday Madness crept into the household at approximately 4:00 a.m. when I awoke and then couldn't go back to sleep until finally passing out from sheer exhaustion at approximately 6:45 a.m. 

At 9:00 a.m. I awoke again, miserable and furious, and stomped off for a shower. Which was not forthcoming because no water came out of the spout. Nor was flushing the toilet an option. Getting a drink from the kitchen flew right out the wondow as well. Did I forget to pay the bill?

Quick, to the spreadsheet! Nope, bill paid promptly on January 4. But perhaps the miserable bank had not sent it properly? Nope. Online account showed payment sent and received.

Next move: Call the water company! Busy. Call again. Busy. Call 12 times. Busy, busy, busy. Look online for another phone number. Find one hidden away and get through... only to find myself #26 in the que. 

I am treated to agonizing muzak and assorted outdated water tips. (Did I know that I could water my lawn just once a week in the hot summer months?) As I look at the slushy, icy mess of my front lawn I am tempted to scream.

But I don't. 

I just might need that scream later, after all.

Finally, a human being answers the phone, and we do The Dance. She puts me on hold at one point, and I get five more minutes of recorded lecturing about saving water in the arid months of summer. Finally, she comes back and asks me how long has the water been off?

What a question. I assume it was working this morning as Spouse would have woken me up had it not been working. Now I have to let this woman know that I was still in bed at 9:00 a.m. And just when I think I can't be any more embarrassed....

Gigi comes sashaying around the corner.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you in school?" I shriek. (I'm not just surprised, I'm startled - I thought I was here with nothing but two cats.)

"I'm sick," she says in her very best I'm-a-pitiful-small-child voice. 

Great. Now the water company rep thinks that not only am I a lazy bum, but I am also a horrible mother who expects her small child to get herself off to school all by herself. And Gigi's teacher is probably wondering why this is the second week in a row that my child has not shown up on Monday (we were "sick" last week, too).

The water department lady realizes she has the upper hand and asks me to try my water. I've got her on speaker, so Gigi runs over to the sink, turns the handle and hollers, "There's nothing wrong with the water, mama! It works just fine!" 

Gee, thanks. Now I look like a total incompetent, plus my credibility is shot.

The water department lady tells me that next time I might want to check the water before I report an interruption in service, and I assure her that I DID check the water - several times, in fact - including while I was on hold, and - 

Dialtone.

Three hours of house-drought and it comes down to a dialtone.

I can feel that scream deep down inside just building....

Back to the kid. There is no temperature. There is no droopiness in her eyelids or flush to her cheeks. There is, however, an empty Doritos bag and a movie playing on her portable DVD player, as well as every toy she owns strewn about the room.

Sick, my Aunt Fanny! I give my truant child ten minutes to get herself dressed and out to the car. She complains that she has a stomach-ache, and I, being a Big Meanie, shoot back that she might want to rethink eating an entire bag of chips in the future. And it's off to school we go!

On my return, the world's longest train insinuates itself between me and my home. I am trapped with nothing to do as I left my cell phone on the table and my Kindle in the bedroom. I consider letting myself scream and decide this is a really great time and place to do it. 

Only I didn't realize the other drivers would be able to hear me.

But they could.

And they stared.

Despite my deep embarrassment, I was sustained by the knowledge that they were probably all just jealous of my ability to channel my inner child so easily. Seriously, who did they think they were kidding? Don't tell me they hadn't ever wanted to scream in their cars on a Monday! 

And now here it is - 2:49 p.m. Time to go back and get Gigi. 

I wonder if I have time for another satisfying scream before I leave?

The Importance of Stocking Light Bulbs

One should remember to buy lightbulbs so one can replace a burnt bulb immediately.

Case in point:

The light in Gigi's bathroom died yesterday. In all the excitement of her school Christmas pageant, we didn't remember to stop on the way home to pick up some lightbulbs. (Not that big a deal since she can always use our bathroom - which is what she did today.)

And while she was in our bathroom, I decided to answer the call to nature in hers. I mean, who needs a light to take a wee?

This can be a loaded question, it turns out, because my bottom didn't meet the anticipated toilet seat.

Instead, I sat on a bowl of dry Fruit Loops.

And now that I've gotten over having a sugar-coated hootie, I'm wondering exactly why there was a bowl of cereal sitting all by itself in the dark on the toilet lid....

What' I've Been Up To...

Hooo, boy - if I had time to tell you about what's been happening around here the last two weeks, I'd have done it here - lol! It's always frustrated me that when I have the time to blog I have no events to share, and when I have events to share I'm too busy to share them.

In a nutshell, I got back from the fabulous crafting weekend with just enough time to head out to the hospital and have my sinus surgery (shaved my turbinals and repaired my deviated septum). Then I got to be goofy on pain meds for the week.

Then I went to teach a class at Stamp Your Art Out with some very lovely ladies. However, I had some equipment issues, the classes both ran way over, and I fear they will never let me teach again. To make the day even brighter, I stopped for a much-needed dinner break on my way home to Indy and, apparently, clicked the unlock button rather than the lock button on my carkeys, because I came out to discover my iPhone and charger had been stolen/

Needless to say, Idiot Girl hadn't backed up her phone in about two weeks, so her whole life was as absent as Paris Hilton's undies. (I've been having a great time trying to reconstruct everything, getting the line suspended, etc.)

Then I had to do Part II of the Sinus Solution: allergy testing. Have you ever had this done? What a thrill! It's more fun than having your gums scraped! I was there three hours - I watched a DVD while the nurse poked me 37,000 times. The best thing was getting the results immediately - no waiting for the lab to call. (Which is good since they would have reached my cell phone and left a voicemail in oblivion.)

Are you sitting down? (I still can't believe this.)

I'm allergic to EVERYTHING.

I'm not kidding - I am allergic to every single stinking thing they tested me for. (No wonder my sinuses are killing me and my head is constantly pounding.) I am allergic to trees and grass, cats and dogs, all kinds of dust: flour, wheat, garden variety, etc. I'm allergic to dust mites and cockroach bits and mold and ragweed and pollen. I'm even allergic to stuff I've never heard of.

But the one thing I was shocked to find I'm allergic to is....

Wait for it....   

PAPER.

I am allergic to paper.

Now some of you may remember when I walked away unscathed from a car accident that literally should have taken my life - and then broke my toe the next day in the living room when I ran into a stepper. I found that hysterically funny. 

This whole paper allergy business strikes me as equally absurd, and I have to admit I laughed my fanny off when the nurse told me this. I mean, before I became a paper crafter I had only one other "hobby" in my life: I'm a voracious reader. I LOVE books and have spent more money on them than on clothing, grooming and every other personal expense combined.

The good news is I don't have to give up reading or paper crafting, but I have a whole list of stuff I have to do to make it less hazardous to my health. We can also keep the cats, too, but they can't come into the bedroom ever again - and we're already hearing complaints about that.

And now I'm off to tackle yet another portion of my very dusty house - yet another reason I've been awol. Oh, and I have to order a special silk mask for when I clean or garden. (Yes, I should wait for the mask to arrive before I start cleaning, but I've gone this long unprotected - what's a few more days, eh?)

Computer Hell in What Amounts to a Pretty Small World

Oh, I had such plans yesterday!

I was going to write a post for Lily Pad. I was going to knock out four more card samples for my Memory Box class. I was going to clean off the Mountain of Shame that used to be known as My Desk. I was going to schedule a bunch of appointments and balance my checkbook. I was going to eat lunch at the table browsing over a magazine (rather than at my desk answering emails.)

Things started well enough. I was at my desk, writing my post, and was finishing the first paragraph when I realized I needed the symbol for the word "degree." This is not a difficult task - you open up the Characters window (if you have a Mac) and grab the thing.

Simple.

Easy.

Even the Village Idiot can do this one.

My computer, however, could not.

As a matter of fact, my requesting that particular function apparently gave my computer an aneurism or a stroke or something debilitating because stuff stopped working right. The character window seemed to be manifesting itself in a series of non-stop hiccups. Every three seconds, it would flicker onto my screen and then immediately vanish... only to reappear three seconds later.

Which was really annoying because the ol' college try did nothing but take me out of the WordPress program.

Every three seconds.

Turning off the computer was a stand-off because I couldn't get the drop-down list to appear, so I finally had to unplug it and remove the battery in a fit of aggression. (I hate having to result to such an intimate action, you know? It's such an invasion of privacy. I know I'd feel violated if somebody pulled off my drawers and yanked MY battery out.)

I figured the shut-down-start-up routine would solve the problem, but I was sorely mistaken. Before I even opened a program, there the Character window was - spazzing in and out of view like it was on speed.

I ended up calling Tech Support because this was not something I could handle on my own, obviously.

Guess how long I was on the phone?

Two hundred-three minutes. (Which is why I never made my Lily Pad post today, btw - that train left the station, alrighty!)

I spoke to no less than four techs, and had the most fun with the third one: Renee. It turns out that Renee used to be quite the rubber stamper (she still has her original stash)! (What are the odds I'd get a fellow rubber lover?) I was torn as to whether I should share with her the amazing toys that are out there now. To deny her this knowledge seemed cruel, but to subject her kids' college funds to future embezzlement by a recharged stamp addict seemed irresponsible.

We know how this turned out. Being an addict myself, of course I had to enable a fellow rubber fiend. (Sorry, Rene's kids... I understand the Community College's mall campus is real convenient to Food Court job opportunities!)

Renee is so artistic that she had one of her doodles tattooed to the inside of her wrist. She emailed me a photo:

 

I thought that was cool (although I'm relieved she didn't have any gems or pearls surgically imbedded in the centers of the stars, etc). That could have gotten painful.

Believe. What a good motto! I am going to adopt it immediately....

I believe I will accomplish something today.

I believe I will overcome yesterday's issues.

I believe I will beat the ever-lovin' crud out of my computer if it so much as thinks about messing with me!

Oh, yeah, and I believe that my keyboard and mouse will recover from Puddin' yacking up sick all over them when I got up to go to the bathroom after being on the phone for over three hours.

Bet you didn't see that one comin', did ya?

Neither did I, gentle readers, neither did I.

More Hospital Fun

So it looks like I'm fine.

But they want me to stay, anyway.

Loudmouthed Lauren, again, informed me of this in her own special way. Having been giving draughts of morphine through the night, her slapping the light on and shrieking was especially unpleasant. Although, I have to admit, morphine does have a tendency to make one NOT jump right out of their skin. It's more like you would jump out of your skin if you could find it.

Still, it took ten minutes for my heart to stop pounding.

Frankly, I think Lauren needs to work on her bedside manner. Putting the patient into cardiac arrest is frowned upon in the better hospitals, after all.

I tried to find out why I had to stay, but that Rotten Lauren said the doctor would explain it all to me later. Which was an out-and-out story. He never showed up. Some other guy did - and he didn't have a clue.

At least now I get to drink something. I've spent the last 24 hours without water, etc - just an IV drip (in case I might need surgery). I have been sipping water and annoying the nurses by escorting myself to the potty without the benefit of their help. After the first trip with a nurse, I paid attention so I could relieve myself without having to wait for her to show up next time.

It's a very complex procedure, you know.

You unplug the IV machine and toss the cord over the hooks along the top. Then you walk to the bathroom while wheeling the machine beside you.

Yessiree, very tricky stuff.

I went for a walk and did three laps around The Ninth Tower, expertly steering my IV unit around wheelchairs and pedestrians. I was going to attempt a square dance move with it, but that would have been showing off and might have created some form of resentment.  (Never, ever cheese-off people who routinely stick needles in your arm.)

I've spent the rest of my time dozing, running a mild temperature, reading Michener's Chesepeake, (not one of his better efforts) and watching That '70's Show via Netflix on my laptop. I LOVE WI-FI!!! I tried to answer some emails, but I opened my inbox, saw about a million emails, and promtply lost the will to live.

Or at least to stay awake. More napping.

Dinner was broth injected with half a jar of celery salt. 

LOTS more water.

I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and stuck earplugs in my ears because the stupid C-PAP machine was whistling like it was about to collapse. I didn't realize it at the time, but this was to prove to be most beneficial on the morrow....

Back to the Hospital

On June 3, I entered the hospital for surgery and checked out 24 hours later because hospitals have taken to emulating the fast food industry. (I suspect their ultimate goal is to remove a spleen in the same amount of time it takes to prepare a cheeseburger.) 

So I went home and all was well....

Until I awoke in great distress about 2:30 a.m. this morning with a suspected complication. It was too suspicious to ignore, so I had to go to the ER. And they kept me there all night. And this morning they decided to admit me.

Great.

The world's loudest Physician's Assistant (Lauren the Loudmouth) woke me up by hitting the lights and shrieking, GOOD MORNING, MRS. NOLAN. DR. SO-AND-SO HAS DECIDED TO ADMIT YOU FOR SOME TESTS AND XRAYS AND A CAT SCAN AND AN UPPER GI SO THEY CAN SEE WHAT'S GOING ON IN THERE. DO YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS? NO? OKAY, THEN. SOMEONE WILL BE WHEELING YOU UP TO THE NINTH TOWER IN A MINUTE. AND DON'T EAT OR DRINK ANYTHING.

I'm not sure what was more terrifying. The blind panic that spread through me as I was jolted from sleep to discover myself alone in a strange place being screamed at by a Nazi Wannabe, or the news that I was to be taken to The Ninth Tower. (I don't know about you, but I find The Ninth Tower somewhat sinister sounding. It makes me think of Richard the Third, and the two little princes, and other medieval jollies.)

Bring on the leeches! Let the blood-letting begin!

Sigh.

I wish I could have a drink of water....