Germs...Bacteria...Virus...Oh My!

It seems to me that America has gone 'germ-crazy'.  Nowadays, almost every other commercial on the television is boasting about some antibacterial, germ-busting, protectant.  Everyone carries antibacterial gel on their person and it's becoming one helluva racket.  Even Kleenex brand has come out with a new disposable towel to replace bathroom hand towels.  Nevermind the killing of more trees, must keep our babies from getting sick.  Only, do you?  And how beneficial is it to keep our kids and ourselves from getting sick?

The flu shot is now an annual trend that Americans desperately wait for.  Because, surely it will work to keep you from getting the flu.  Oh, wait...that's right - no it won't.  It may keep you from getting a "known and untainted" strain, but the flu is this nasty, intelligent bug that mutates and recreates yearly.  The shot may, however, keep you from getting really really sick.  May.

Here's the problem with all these aids and practices, though: the human immune system works by exposure on many types of viruses and even some bacteria.  This means that the body needs to have access to some degree to its natural environment in order to strengthen and enhance its defenses.

As an example, look at the now infamous Amazonian tribe that was wiped out in the '80's by the common cold that the silly white man so irresponsibly gave them.  I understand that not every exposure is a healthy one and that a pandemic could and would dispose of a significant amount of people, but does sheltering our children and ourselves really work to keep this from happening?

Even when I was a child, shoes weren't worn regularly and fields and woods were free game for the adventurous.  If you bumped it, you rubbed it.  If it got cut, you tried to keep it clean.  If it started slightly bleeding, you sucked it dry.  If it were worse than that, you went to find Momma.  And she usually put you in the bathtub and poured isopropyl alcohol on it.  At least that's how it went in the South.

Of course, that was then and the times they are a-changin'.  Still....I wonder how much are we protecting our own these days?  By trying to ward off the microscopic villians that enter our airspace undetected, are we creating a more sterile environment or a more paranoid, weakened population?  After all, it is said that the most sure-fire way to get sick is to go to the hospital...

The Wonderful World of Whackjobs

Oh the wonderful world of crazy people.  And the scary thing is they don’t know they are.  We’ve all heard the saying, “If you think you’re crazy, you’re probably not but if others question it and you don’t, you probably are.”

And the really frightening thing is that they are everywhere.  Like those small roaches that infest homes when people don’t take care to clean.  And they spread out like a contagion, making you wonder: if I’m around a looney for too long, can I catch it?”  Sadly, if we take even a grain from the Nature/Nurture argument of our fine friends in the Psychology department, then yes – there most likely is that chance.  After all, that which you surround yourself with…

And there are all sorts, from the type that blatantly himself in third person making you wonder, “Are you insane?” to the type that mumbles and laughs at herself when you’re alone in an elevator making you think, “Omigod, omigod, omigod”.  But it’s the subtle signs of mental disorder that freak me out the most.

Take for example the woman that called in to the radio station this morning.  She wanted the DJs’ help her connect with a man she had only had one date with.  She really wanted to hook up with him again, but she also needed to tell him there was a chance she was pregnant.

When they get the gentleman on the phone, it’s obvious the poor bastard is afflicted with FullOfHimself disease.  He tells the DJs that he is in a longterm relationship, living with his son and baby mama.

Then, Crazy pops on to the line, totally freaking the guy out.  He hears her voice and immediately gets all jacked up, stating that she’d been pestering him for days and had finally found a way to get a hold of him.  Of course.  Crazy people WILL find you.  They are more impressive than the CIA.

At the mention that she has something to tell him, he retorts, “What, that you love me?”  And when the announcement is ‘no, I might be pregnant’, it’s like he’s been busted with an illegal kilo.  But, here’s the kicker: she hasn’t taken a test yet and feels that they should do it together.  Uh-huh.  Feelin’ the freak in this girl yet?  She has, of course, heard him mention that he'd crept out on another woman to be with her.

He is quick to decline that invitation and states to her and the radio show that while he’s not interested in anything with her, if she is pregnant, he will do whatever it takes to provide for the child and be a good dad.  Bravo (golf clap), Good Samaritan, bravo. (Um…way to do something to try and repair your dignity since the whole city now knows your rather unique name and that you’ve cheated on your current girl and weren’t even responsible about it).

He goes on to repeatedly blather about how this is all a big mistake, he’s got to do a lot of damage control, he does not want to have a relationship with her, blah, blah, blah.

Her ready response to all this is, “Well, you never know, this could all turn out to be something great.”  Wait…what?  Did you not hear him just say he has cheated on someone else and doesn’t even like you, you Jack Wagon?

The DJs ask her if she knows for sure, to which the answer is no.  They ask if she has taken a test or gone to the doctor; another no.  She offhandedly mentions she’s a week late. But she has a ‘feeling’ that she’s pregnant.  She also says that she might have told him that she wanted to get pregnant when they were together.  Hmmmm…no longer a mystery on why he hasn’t called back.

Then the DJs start taking calls and people are speculating that she’s lying, that she’s making it all up, that he shouldn’t have stepped out on his girlfriend that way.  And while all these are good points, I can’t help but wonder: HELLO!  Did anyone assimilate that she’s a STALKER who lost her mind in the parking lot of life?  And if by some off chance she does give birth, this poor baby is going to grow up knowing that his momma is not right and that there’s a chance he might not be right either.  Hell, it’s recorded for him to hear once he’s of age to understand.

Good Southern folk know that the best defense is to keep your crazy to yourself.  Because it can come back to bite you on the butt over and over again.  And if you’re unlucky enough to have earned the wrath of someone less balanced than you?  Well, Crazy-karma is the absolute worst kind to create.  But it is usually the quickest way to learn the lesson.

Dear American Government

Every year that I have lived in Colorado I have been hit with owed state taxes.  And every year, like clockwork, I have paid what was owed.  Even in 2010, when funds ran out, I kept paying what I could until I could pay it off.  Because never in my adult life have I been 'one of those kind of people'.

Then, you decided to do a supposed personal audit of my taxes and hit me with the notice that apparently I owe AN ADDITIONAL $900 on my 2008 taxes and now you are coming after me for it.

At the intitial announcement, I did not have an income.  This you knew.  And how do I know you knew?  Because you have now sent me a threatening notice of intent to garnish my wages when I've only had my current full-time job for one month. Lovely.

So, let me get this straight: I, one of many full-blooded, law-abiding Americans, am being harrassed and pursued for a paltry amount of money that I fully intend to pay (until such time as I can manage a review and investigation into this on my own) while many dodge their taxes, illegally fail to correctly report their income, or flat out refuse to pay what they rightfully owe.

And then, of course, there are those that have rights once they illegally find their way across our borders.  No taxes paid for them at all, so what could they possibly owe at the end of the year?  Yet, we shelter these trespassers and provide them free schooling, medical assistance, and legal aid even though no other country would allow these benefits for an American trying to take advantage of their country's opportunities.

I say to you, America - quit penalizing me, and all other good citizens, for the faults and flaws of those who would manipulate and steal.  Instead, offer me small rewards for following the rules and helping to continue to support this country.  Provide me with kudos and congratulations for continuing to choose right over wrong.  And quit trying to get me fired from the damned full-time job I just landed by unjustly painting me in a bad light to my new employer.

Best regards,

Teege

Christmas Day

Christmas morning and the thought of cooking after a sleepless night was not appealing.  I wondered briefly if Mrs. Claus had ever just thrown a biscuit in the microwave after Kris' most-famous annual ride.  Something told me that if she'd ever spent a night tossing and turning while her man snored to beat the band beside her, she probably did.  Christmas Day or no.

My man lumbered in to the obscured view my cocoon on the couch afforded me, cheerful as though he were the one that was gifted cookies and milk throughout the night.  As is tradition in my house, we begin opening a present a night at least three days in advance, leaving the biggest surprises under the tree.  Presumably, this is what led to The Man's jolly mood as his largest present still sat under the tree like a saving beacon on a shipwreck night.  But I, being that most non-morning person imaginable, could've cared less about a similar package beckoning to me.

I grunted someting about crawling back up the stairs to the bed now that he was done with his baritone solo and flopped on to my other side.  Unfazed, his mood faltered only briefly as he sipped his first cup of coffee.

"I want to open my present."  He declared.

"Good.  Go ahead."  I responded, muffled by the pillow I had shoved my face into.  Better to block out that strange, bright laser people refer to as morning sun.

"Don't you want to open yours?"  He ventured.

"Sure.  At some point."  I could hear the screaming of his dying holiday spirit as I crushed it out of him.  Well, damn.  It was Christmas afterall.  I pushed myself up and braced against the back of the couch.  "Go get 'em."  I smiled.  Something cracked.  Ugh...mornings are for people with no nightlife.

Watching him bring back my present with a huge grin plastered upon his face had me warming up.  Gifts opened, exciting surprises and I was almost myself.  My stomach grumbled.  It hadn't quite caught up with me yet.

"I want to go get Starbucks."  Duh.  It's an addiction - not like I'm gonna function long without it.

"Starbucks is open?"

"The one in Safeway is until two."

"Safeway is open?"

"Hopefully, or that would be awkward."

The parking lot was almost packed.  Apparently the coffee shop and grocery store hadn't kept it a secret for only the priveleged.  But, steamy hot chai in hand and I was practically skipping.  Afterall, it had been a wonderful Christmas and now I could spend the day relaxing with my man.  My stomach grumbled again.  The chai was filling enough, I suppose.

"I want breakfast. Let's go somewhere.  Wanna go to get something?"  I asked as I rolled the car up the driveway.

"They won't be open."

"Oh, yes they are."  I backed out again and headed towards my breakfast utopia.  The main thoroughfare was quite busy at 10:30 in the morning as people made their way to other locations.  We spied a Village Inn with a crammed parking lot.  Undeterred, I headed on, looking for the Ihop I knew was just up on the left.

"See?"  I beamed, snagging a spot close to the door.  It was busy, but we didn't even have to wait for a seat.

"Wow.  I remember when nothing was open on Christmas."  My man observed with some reverance.

"Yep.  But then people began to make a stink.  I mean, I understand though.  This country is made up of Christians, Buddhists, Jehovah's Witnesses, Athiests, Pagans, you name it.  And our constitution separates church and state, yet everything was always closed on Christmas.  Must've sucked growing up penalized for a holiday you didn't even celebrate."

He just nodded absently.  Being a born and bred Baptist, raised in the church, I could understand that he wasn't exactly keen about Christmas revelers becoming so lax.  But my belief system understands the plights of each and I have been taught to respect any personal endeavor that allows someone to be good to him/herself and that which surrounds her/him.

So, for me it's simple: those who do not wish to partake in a celebration or religious practice should not be forced to acknowledge it or limited by it, but for those who choose to participate in certain observances they should be respected and allowed that freedom.

I realized that although I am a bit of a slow starter for the Winter holidays and am not a Christian, I do enjoy the celebrations and thankfully I do not come under the radar of those groups who seek to destroy the beliefs of others.  I do not see why Atheists must single out Christians.   In my eyes, there is no need for a Catholic to fear a hereditary witch or an Agnostic person to feel the censure of a devout Jehovah's Witness.  And so on.  These things only seek to weaken us as a people.  Me?  I'm proud to celebrate my family and friends during this time of year and welcome the festivities closing out another twelve months of experience and learning.

De-Motivation

When it comes to completing a schedule or a "To-Do" list, I can be my worst enemy.  Don't ge me wrong, I'm not the personality type that is too susceptible to creating excuses or just whiling away the time through procrastination.  All of my life I have had to keep a body part moving (even in my sleep) and I can get cabin fever rather quickly if I don't keep busy.  No, I unfortunately fall vicitim to self-sabotage.

I can crank out the most impressive "Monday To Do List".  As a writer, I must spend most of my time writing even on days when I just don't feel like or can't manage to envision where the story goes next.  I can read over that list first thing Monday morning (which isn't exactly first thing, mind you) firmly set on knocking out each item in order.  But somehow, I get led astray every time.

Okay, fold laundry, take upstairs and put away.  That's an easy warm up to my day.

I fold the laundry and trudge up the stairs which can seem like the stairway to heaven some days.  I place the pile of warm, folded clothes on the bed, turn to get hangers and spy a used glass lounging by the bed.  I think, if I don't take that down to the kitchen now, I will forget and it'll sit there another day.  So, back down I go.  I rinse the glass out and go to put it in the dishwasher when I realize that last night's now clean dishes didn't get put away.  Well, if I leave those, then the man may mistakenly start adding dirties tonight so those better get put up.

Finally done putting away the dishes and wiping down the counters, of course, I realize the dog food bin needs refilling.  Well, that's just out the garage door.  Grabbing the food and refilling take only moments, but upon replacing the large bag in the garage I spy a box full of office supplies.  Now how did that get out here?  It goes upstairs in the office/activity room.  Better take that up before it gets left out here in the cold and that jacks up the pens and such.

Upstairs I realize that I've left the laundry on the bed, so I go back in our bedroom.  The first shirt to hang is winter clothing and of course that goes in the spare room closet across the hall.  I hang that and notice the thin layer of dust on the furniture.  Already time to dust again.  I quickly grab a duster and wipe everything down.  I see my old boots that were to get donated to the thrift store.  Those shouldn't be up here.  They should be down in the donation box.

I traipse back downstairs and drop them in the box.  Wait...that blanket doesn't belong there.  It's the dogs' ratty sleeping blanket.  In the laundry room however, a pile of shirts for drycleaning are laying where the blanket should get deposted.  Those better get run to the cleaners or they will never be done in time for wear this week.  And I really should get some stuff for dinner while I'm out.  It really will be a quick trip and it's still early enough (well...early enough for me) that I can certainly take a quick 15 minutes and get back home.

But it takes more like an hour to get to the cleaners and through the store.  And of course, I'm right up the street from that one place that has that Christmas present I should really go ahead and get before it slips my mind, again.  A quick glance at the clock leaving that store shows me that it's lunchtime and I should probably run something out to my man since I won't be home in time to get a sandwich pulled together.  But I better make it quick or I'm liable to miss that appointment I setup last week and nearly forgot about.

Once on my way back home, it comes to mind that I promised to send my daughter those pics of the dogs I took over the weekend.  I get those posted just as soon as I walk in the door and see a Facebook update email which encourages me to sign in where I inevitably get caught up in all the updates I'm scrolling through.  Thirty minutes later and I think, I should take a shower now instead of later so I don't go to bed with wet hair like last night.

And now, well I might as well do my hair and makeup.  Better to look good than risk looking bad.  By the time I make my way downstairs, the sun is setting and if I don't start on dinner we won't eat until late and that's never a good idea.

Then my boyfriend is home and we chat a bit and catch a quick show before making our way to bed.  While turning out the lights and locking up, I spy a sliver of paper about to fall from the table to the floor.  I push it back in place and notice it's the list I'd made the previous evening.

To Do:
Put away laundry
Blog
Write
Respond to emails
File paperwork
Organize coupons

Well, damn.  I snatch the pen up next to it and draw a line through Monday, scribbling Tuesday next to it before pinning it to the fridge with a magnet where it will most certainly get overlooked completely tomorrow.

What Say You?

It's no joke that as you get older certain abilities begin to fade.  And for most of us, hearing seems to be at the top of the list.  And while I can't say that mine is wavering just yet, I have found that at my age and through the miracle of motherhood, I have learned how to tune people out.  Sometimes without purposely willing it.

I have been blessed with an uncanny hearing ability that has served me more than I could have ever wanted; however, my mind will sometimes fill in words when I'm not paying enough attention or when I can't seem to make out the whole sentence.  I assume this mental 'filling in' is a common plague as supported by how many butchered song lyrics we all have in our memories.

Oh, the humorous recollections I have of friends belting out such timeless classics as "there's a bathroom on the right" (Bad Moon on the Rise), "smooth opinion" (Smooth Up in You), and one of my personal favorites - "night aroma!" ("Night, I remember" - Bob Seger sang this at the end of Night Moves).

It's amazing the power the mind has to convince us of truths we do not know.  This happens in all aspects of life from memories to sights to sounds.  None are more easily corrected or embarrassing as hearing something incorrectly.  An occurence that was never more prevalent than in my home a couple days ago:

Dwayne and I were sharing the couch when he notified me that Oklahoma had its largest recorded earthquake.

Too intent on what I was doing to grant him my complete attention, I offhandedly mentioned, "I wonder if my sister felt it."

The awkward silence brought my eyes up to meet his as he asked, "Why?"

"Because she lives in Sac, remember?"

His continued blank stare had me convinced that he had lost a bit of intellect.  I employed my hands to help me create a visual.  "You know, here's the Bay Area.  San Francisco is here, Oklahoma is over here and Sacramento is up north."  I smiled sweetly at my challenged boyfriend.

After another bought of silence, Dwayne began slowly.  "Let me get this straight..."  He put his hands up to emulate mine.  "San Francisco is over here," he signaled with a slight wave of his left hand, "and OKLAHOMA..."

I abruptly realized my mistake.  We burst out laughing in the absence of a fix for my moronic assumption that we were discussing Oakland.  And in the aftermath two things became clear: Oklahoma is not located in California and at least mind is still working (on what project, I have no idea).

Change Isn't Always A Good Thing

Imagine this:

You're driving down the road, enjoying the lovely scenic beauty of the mountains with your window down just enough to tussle your hair softly by a cool, comforting breeze and the radio playing a groovy little number on your radio.  You're relaxed, no one is driving like an ass and you're able to cruise on down the road.  Just then your favorite hip-hop song comes on and you crank up the volume (for those of you anti-hip hoppers out there, just humor me here).

Maybe it's Lady Gaga's new tune and you're singing away when the best verse comes on..."there's only three men I'ma serve all my life and that's my daddy, Colorado and Jesus Christ..."  Wait...  Colorado?  What would Lady Gaga be doing dedicating herself to Colorado?  Nothing, that's what.  And here you thought the original lyrics were "Nebraska" for some dude from that state.

What is up with this new, irritating trend in music on the radio stations?  It seems like every song that remotely hints at a person or place gets changed by the local DJ's to fit their station, names or location.  And most of the time it doesn't even sound good - it's a flat, dubbed statement that hiccups the flow of your groove.

Ugh.  I'm so over it.  Just leave the songs alone already so I don't get stuck trying to figure out why they did that to a perfectly good tune and then spend the rest of it desperately grasping for what the original lyrics were.