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being nessasary

a quirky look into being

Category Archives: seasons

I love comfy clothes.  I have gotten way too used to them the past few years.  When I wear tight clothes that aren’t made of a lovely cotton fabric, I am unhappy, scratchy, and sometimes grouchy.  I do happen to like looking cuter than PJ cute.  It is a vicious cycle.  But as I laze on my couch like most Midwesterners post “Snow/Icepocolypse,” I see an advertisement for what I thought would be the answer to all of my clothing woes, but no, its just hilariously embarrassing that I would ever dream of something like this.  I do not think much needs to be said, just watch.

 

 

Even the creators of Snuggie and Shake Weight are shaking their heads.

 

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When a year ends, I tend to get a bit thinky – not like that is anything new.   I like to focus on what has changed in just 365 days.  It brings some perspective to the time I have been given on earth.  They don’t have to be super deep and dark secrets that I have shed light on or anything, but here are a few then and nows I am willing to share with you, my dear blog reader:

1)  A year ago, I swooning over my now boyfriend.  I was in the same room as him at 12:00 am January 1, 2010, but I did not kiss him. Instead, we kissed near the end of May.

2) A year ago, I was about to start a job tutoring high school kids.  Now, I am about to start school for massage therapy.

3) A year ago, I was 2 years post op brain tumor with no sign of recurrence.  Today, I am 3 years post op with no sign of recurrence.

4)  A year ago, I cried more.

5)  A year ago, I didn’t have another beautiful nephew on the way.

Give yourself some thought.  What changed this year?  What blessings were you given?  How do you feel about your world? Have you gained friends?  Lost them?  Did you get hitched?  Have a baby bless your life?  Give it some thought.  Make a list.  Smile a bit – we are a year’s history.

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Hide yo kids, hide yo wife!  We lookin’ fo’ you!

Well, me.

Early this afternoon I was heading out the back door, two bags of recycling in hand, my coat zipped and buttoned, and my purse slung over my shoulder. I mechanically twisted the lock behind me and shut the door behind me.  I reached in my puffy pocket for my keys so that I could secure the dead lock in place. No keys.  You can see where this is going – my other pocket, empty.  Caverous purse, not empty, but lacking keys (though I found many a receipt, pennies, lip gloss, and some sparkles).

I peeked through the kitchen window. There they were.  Right next to the sink.  Safe and sound on a recently disinfected counter-top.

There I was, out in the cold with two bags of recycling.  Merry Christmas! Knowing my windows were all locked on account of a similar situation this summer.  I did a bit a tinkin’.  I remembered the little bathroom window that sits about 6 feet off the ground.  I reached window-ward, and managed to push it a few inches upward.  I think I actually yipped, a YAY!

My garage has a code entry and I was able to navigate my way through the broken snippers and old paint cans to a ladder  in need of some serious love. 

Me and Mr. Ladder tromped through the snow to said bathroom window (by bathroom window, I mean shower window…old houses are silly).  I sturdied the ladder, and made my way up to the window.  I pushed the frosted glass upward, and a burst of warm air kissed my cheeks.  I peeked in, and began to scheme. How in the world was I going to contort myself through such a tiny window without killing myself?

1) I needed to remove my constrictive coat (despite its awesomeness).

2) Remember how far the window is off the bathtub floor.

3) Not fall.

Luckily, I was able to get my almighty right leg inside first.  I found the ground and the rest of my body followed suit (my balance on the left leg isn’t so hot since the surgery).  Yay!!!!  I successfully broke into my house.

I stepped from my shower into the interior of my bathroom, leaving dirty boot stains on the tub floor.

I know what I am buying myself for Christmas this year:  a spare key.

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First you gotta find the perfect box of cards. A difficult task when you are super sensitive to all religions and beliefs.  It is particularly challenging to locate a box of greetings that do not look like an elementary school teacher’s closet.  It took several stops this year to find some that are okay, just okay. Last year was much better: I had found postcards featuring vintage-looking holiday cartoons.  I loved them – plus my message space was limited.

I have struggled to send my well wishes to friends and family this year.  I have had a particularly busy December, but have had issues with being quite wordy.  The cards I selected are dramatically white on the inside!  THEY MUST BE BLANKETED IN BEAUTIFUL WORDS!!!  I want everyone that receives a card to feel a little more loved than, “Happy Holidays, Love Nessa (in some cases, “and Betty [pawmark]).”  I like to do a bit of updating, throw in a little thing that was special between me and the recipient, maybe even toss in a bad pun or two.

However, it has come down to the time where they are going to be belated.  If you haven’t received one and you are in my address book, I do love you!

I hope you can get by without your Nessa holiday cheer until after the 25th (I think anyone that is Jewish actually got theirs on time).  You may even get yours after the new year! How delightful to get a festive card post the “Winter is fun and joyous!” season.

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I just saw Black Swan and have found my brain completely befuddled.  If you have seen it, you know what I mean.  If you haven’t seen it, I suggest you do.  It will take many an Oscar.

What is the solution to obtain sanity when a mind is stuffed with feathers?  YouTube. Like a good friend, it is there to make you smile, whether it be dramatic gopher or the world’s beloved Charlie and his older brother.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, my favorite holiday YouTube videos!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hope you got some joy from this little collection!  Happy Christmas friends!!!

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Oh fooie!  I’m late! The pipes burst, my cat got out, it snowed ten feet, my car wouldn’t start, and a rodent chewed through my computer’s power cord!!!

Kinda legit, right?

No, I did not follow through with my month long “write in your blog every day, Nessa” pledge. This is not because I didn’t wanna.  I found out Friday evening that one of the greatest friends a gal can have was only a feeble drive away.  After adventuring around the world since she graduated from IU in 2008, she has taken up residence in Maui.  Real unfortunate, right?  A sad story.  I feel really bad for her, having to come home to trump through the foot deep brack basting Indiana’s beheaded corn stalks.

Because her life is so sad and sunless, I decided she needed me to bring some light to her life.  I ventured to the old stomping grounds: Bloomington, Indiana, home of the Hoosiers.  I needed to get there bright and early, just so I could save her tan from fading.

I spent a lovely 24 hours laughing, eating, playing, and dancing with her family and a friend of ours.  The internet and my writing responsibilities could wait – or not even exist – in exchange for precious time with my beloved college companion. December 18, 2010 does not need an excuse.  It is safe to hold onto the handle, but it is much more fun to let go and let the wind take you (Thank You, Story People).  I like fun and laughing until you can’t breathe.  It is all good for your being. 

Too many yesterdays pass like the hummingbirds in your window feeder.  They’re there if you’re paying attention or if you catch their flirty feeding methods out of the corner of your eye, but if they’re closed, its like it never even happened. I really would have hated to miss a hummingbird in an Indiana December because I was too involved with a computer screen.

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It’s gotta be tough.  You’re not on your schedule instead you’re at the whims of random people scattered throughout the city.  You’re just the back of a head and two hands.  The weather doesn’t bother you, and you always know your way there.  Some drunk person may barf all over the back seat then proceed to spill soda well into the unused seat buckles.  A child may be screaming, and an old hag may scrutinize the route. Some chick will call three companies in order to get a cab to collect her in the midst of a blizzard.

Last night, around 1:00 am I struggled to find a cab company willing to send one of its drivers to rescue me from the snow, cold, and questionable Megabus stop area.  I called three companies while arching around 465.  One said it would be an hour, another 45 minutes, and the third said to call back when I was closer.  Upon arrival, there was no cab for me.  I gathered my bag and prepared ideas to make feeble shelter a bit more like home – a couch, lamp, maybe a throw pillow?  As was losing my mind, I heard my name shouted from the street – it was the company that had me call as the bus slid into home.

Like a hooked fish my hooded head whipped in his direction. An electric shock of delight caused me to skip as merrily as I could in 3 inches of snow to his tropically heated car.  I piled myself and gear in, and told him where I was headed. As we sledded our way north, I listened to the conversations over the company’s walkie-talkie.  The drivers were all giggling about how the 5 cabs that were on the roads were going to be busy and how they were stood up by customers (oops, sorry cabbies that took an hour – a ladys gotta do what a ladys gotta do).  They shared what streets were slick and which ones were as salted as ocean-side boulevards.  They were working together to get crazies like me home in the middle of a blizzard.

I made sure to make eye contact as he turned to collect my money, and told him to keep his ice skates sharp.  I gave him a five dollar tip and a bag of hot cocoa. Well the second part isn’t true – but it would have been nice.

 

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