Can't Get You Out of My Mind

Sometimes I have no idea how certain thoughts get into my head, but once they get in, they rummage around and push everything else out. Such happened tonight when a random song that had no connection to anything of the day made its way into my head. Today’s temperatures reached the hottest we have had in the year and the air conditioning was out at work; nevertheless, “Santa Baby” the 1953 Christmas song parody popped into my head and latched on.

While preparing for a parent presentation.

While showering.

While watching a documentary on the British Empire.

“Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me I've been an awful good girl.”

Temperatures reached 109° today. I certainly did not think of sable. I thought of swimsuits.

I decided to watch some television.

“Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed
To a platinum mine”

No, the documentary covers the formation of the diamond mining industry, not platinum. (Who am I kidding, I would take any mine).

While today’s thought consisted of the lyrics to a silly song the dominating thoughts vary in topic and value. Sometimes, the thoughts consist of professional challenges that I seek a resolution or process to address. Other times the thoughts dwell on personal issues.

I consider the persistence of the song an annoyance. Rarely do I consider more productive thoughts an annoyance. I think this prejudice toward meaningful thought a natural expression of my work ethic. Even in repose, I want my brain meaningfully engaged. I need to start composing songs about professional and personal experiences that way maybe I can keep the silly songs from overwhelming my consciousness.

But as I prepare for vacation next week…

“…Santa baby, an out-of-space convertible too, light blue…”

…would perfectly fit the bill.

 

Girl Crack Underwear

No. I have not been hacked.

No. It is not a weird fetish.

The title is everything!

I just did some analysis to see who viewed this blog. I looked at the searches that brought you to this site. Any reference to underwear or “girl-crack” sent my views through the roof. The title and tags make all the difference in the number of views. My most heartfelt compositions go ignored while titillating trivia draws masses. Now that I am looking at data, it makes me glad I competed in the headline writing contest in high school.

Some of you are really sick people! My post lamenting women’s fashion that revealed more than I ever want to see has had almost six times as many hits as any post in the seven year history of this expressive endeavor. What is sexy about “girl crack?” We lament the poor fit when it shows up on the infamous plumber for which it is named. Surely it cannot be a fashion statement held in high esteem by anyone. Oddly- the rash of girl-crack searches has surged in the last year. I guess the clothing styles found in a recession do not provide the necessary stimulation for some people.

The underwear bit I can somewhat relate to. I have written several times about how satisfying it can be to have just the right fit with underwear and my joy at finding just the right pair. For me, though, the posts have been more fashion advice than fetish. Other than making my day much better through comfort, underwear does nothing erotic for me. Still, those three posts continue to draw many views despite a few years passing since the last one.

And then there is the dead pet bit.

I was heartbroken when one of my dogs died suddenly, but the frequency with which people search for “dead pets” disturbs me even more. I do post from time to time as my various pets provide fodder for inspiration, but none of those missives has been visited nearly as many times as the one memorial passage to a dog. Unfortunately, I am certain it does not provide the comfort some or seeking or any over outpouring of grief.

In the interest of full disclosure, the headline (and tags) for this post were composed only with the expectation that together they will push me over the top for the most views in a month (I am well on track with less than a week remaining). Perhaps with more cleverly titled posts and a few key words put into the labels, I will actually experience an income from the blog after seven years.

In the meantime I am not holding my (comfortable underwear wearing, girl crack watching, dead dog loving) breath.

Sharing the Faith

I have never been a very good evangelical, though I have been a lifelong Baptist. I do not deny my faith and frequently work it into conversations, but I never run around seeking converts. Still, until I began working on a blog that focused on my personal faith, little was ever said publically about me regarding my beliefs.

Then a few months ago I began collaborating with a friend on that blog which focuses on the weekly lectionary scriptures. Initially we met through the blog, but I wondered how any kind of collaboration would go. However, at the time we began discussing working together I had spent too much time neglecting the blog that began with daily posts for over a month. The challenge to collaborate by my friend reignited my energy and determination to continue at least a weekly post to the blog that had a specific purpose.

 

For the last few months, we have each made a weekly post to the blog – one with a protestant perspective on scripture for the week and one with a Roman Catholic perspective.

 

The competitive me wants to be first with the post for the week, but the passionate me wants to have real meaning to everything I write (at least there). I do not know if on any week I achieve either goal, but it does force me into a reflective time which fulfilled my goal of starting the blog in the first place.

And the competitive me wants to see whose posts get the most reads (based on the reports, it depends on which site – since all the posts go to at least 3 sites).

Despite the competitive me, I am thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to spend some time each week working on my personal spirituality while sharing it with others. I enjoy even more the collaboration with another person who feels the same way and shares his heart genuinely through his faith and work. Each week I look forward to discovering what connections I can make and what insight he offers and I am looking forward to the continued collaboration.

I'm Not Dead Yet

I am not dead and I do not plan to die anytime soon.

Recently while doing some price comparisons online, I discovered some unexpected items from a popular membership warehouse store and so I shared it in a tweet (which is then shared as a Facebook status).

“Hmmmm...Costco sells urns...I think I found my eternal resting place - except for the parts of me to be turned into diamonds for loved ones” 

Yes, I want to be cremated.

And yes, there is a company that transforms cremains into precious stones ( Lifegem ). But given my choice of profession, I’m going to have to win the lottery to leave enough money for the cremains to be so transformed.

I’m sure this will dash the hopes of some who “liked” the status.

While I am not anticipating my death in the near future, the discovery of the urns came not long after one of my best friends confirmed that he would indeed kill me if the time came. I had asked him a while back if he would “off me” if I became incapacitated and unable to make the decision for myself, and of course, he wanted time to think about it.

I asked him after attending a seminar on estate planning. As a single person, medical power of attorney is one of the important decisions to make – finding the right person with the courage to make what may be unpopular decisions but ones that honor the wishes of the individual who finds him/herself unable to make the decisions. The lawyer presenting the seminar insisted that it be a friend, not a family member as relatives often have too many competing interests and are even more emotionally involved.

I settled on a life-long friend who knows more about me than even some family members and with whom I have had conversations about my wishes.

Despite the fears of some (and wishes of others) who saw the post, it is nothing more than one of those observations I make from time to time. However, I did find one that I really like. Like those who lay in caskets to make sure they are comfortable, I may purchase my own urn – a final statement of my personal style.

Not the Kentucky Derby

Today some of my co-workers and I met at a nearby resort for an administrative retreat. As glamorous as it would seem, the bulk of the day was spent in a typical conference room working on key topics we will address in the coming year. Still, you will not get any complaints from me – a day without Internet or phone or interruption spent in detailed conversation about important topics thrills me.

Nevertheless – I must find something to kvetch about.

That would be the signage going into and coming out of the resort.

Nineteen mph? Seriously?

I drive a truck. I do not have a digital speedometer. I just had to eyeball it.

Nineteen is close to fifty wouldn’t you say? And who’s going to enforce it – the Hyatt police?

The sign I actually stopped for though, kept me chuckling the rest of the day.

My co-workers had the same question I did: Where’s the fast horse trail?

I prefer a good gallop.

But that is probably a liability issue and we wouldn’t want that.

 

Fleas and Fire Ants

For the last two weeks, my biggest battles have been fleas and fire ants. One is at work. The other is at home.

 

Fortunately fleas are at work.

 

As far as the fire ants, my roommate calls me a mass murderer.

In my garden, I work to be as organic as possible until fire ants are found; at that point, I go nuclear.

At work we are having construction taking place in many parts of the building over the summer months when students are not present. As a result the resident vermin (rats, opossums, skunks, and raccoons) have been greatly disturbed from their established territories under the building and have  created and infestation of fleas, particularly in carpeted areas of the building –which is of course the part of the building where the principal has chosen to have administrative meetings this summer. Even though the exterminators made their rounds this past weekend, I still cannot walk into the room without my legs starting to itch uncontrollably.

Because work has been so demanding for the last few months, much like this blog, my garden has been greatly abandoned. Unlike the blog, however, the garden has become overgrown with grass and various weeds. When I began cleaning it up in earnest, I found it difficult to step far into it without being overcome by fire ants crawling across my feet and up my legs, hitching rides on grass stems to be carried high up on my thighs. Fortunately, for me, my work has required much thinking which is best facilitated by manual labor in my yard.

So, my garden, my work, and the blogs have all benefitted from the time spent grinding dirt under my fingernails.

 

And my expanding waistline makes me think that much the Department of Agriculture has to say about the nutritional value and calorie content of veggies is a lie.

 

While at work, I have to trust that the exterminators have brought the fleas under control. At home I know I have the fire ants on retreat.

Now I can start doing the physical work that gets my brain most engaged.