.....but come on, the bank?
Really?
I gave blood today, and I've had problems in the past after donating blood. The dizziness usually hits me when I'm in the "canteen" area having juice and cookies. I can tell when it's coming, and I know to let the staff know so they can put me on the Stretcher of Shame. I also discovered years ago that yawning is an indication that I'm going to faint. A nurse told me that yawning was an indication that my blood was starved for oxygen, and that many people yawn right before they die.
Thanks for that little pick-me-up.
Today I felt fine after my donation. I sat in the canteen area the requested 10-15 minutes (closer to 10 - I had a lunch date with the Warrior Princess). I left to go run an URGENT errand for Hubby (SOMEONE who shall remain nameless but has been known to walk in his sleep and enter closets came to the golf course with no beer, immediately causing a situation of national security. Or insecurity. Whatever.) and I still felt fine. I met the Warrior Princess at the restaurant, and we had a lovely time chatting and enjoying lunch. Then I followed her back to the bank so she could take care of some internet banking business for me. I filled out some forms, signed some papers, and thanked the heavens above for the Warrior Princess. Again. It's wonderful having a friend in the banking business.
That's when things began to go a little wrong. I was ready to leave, but the tremendous buzzing in my ears told me that perhaps I shouldn't drive. Warrior Princess offered to let me sit in an unused office, but I said I was fine. And then my color abandoned me. And I started yawning. And then I sort of woke up on the floor in the unused office. Not at all sure how I got there. I heard a man ask if we needed help, and Warrior Princess assured him things were fine, it was only related to my blood donation. Thank goodness for that. Fainting in the bank is embarrassing enough; if anyone had called 9-1-1, I would have been permanently humiliated.
Eventually I felt well enough to drive home (over WP's protests, but I wasn't going to take her away from her job to drive me home), and I felt much better by the time I got home. I checked my blood pressure out of curiosity, and it was 93/54. Hello! I don't know how low is TOO low, but that's way low for me. No telling how low it was when I was still at the bank.
Oddly enough, I have never had blood donation problems when I was fat/obese. I don't reckon that's reason enough to put the weight back on, though.
I'm just pretty sure I can never go back to the bank.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
He Makes it Hard to Spill My Guts......
Several months ago, I got the bug to have football season tickets again. I had them years ago, in a previous wifetime (or two), but when it came to a decision of keeping the tickets or buying groceries, I had to let the tickets go. I know, I know, I'm not a true fan.
I don't know how it works at other schools, this having season tickets thing, and I only have a rudimentary knowledge of how it works at MY school. There is a minimum "points" level at which one can qualify to buy season tickets. Points = dollars donated, and the total builds up over the years.
One must donate a minimum of $250 PER TICKET in order to purchase season tickets. In addition, one must have a total points level above the minimum score. Problem is, that minimum score is secret. Until after the donation deadline. And it changes every year. It all depends on how many people buy tickets, and how much those particular people donate. That determines the points minimum. And it only becomes known even to the powers-that-be after everyone has made his or her donation for that year.
In 2008, Hubby read to me from an article in the newspaper about what the points minimum was for that year, and I thought he either misread it or there was a typo. The MINIMUM for that year was $10,000. Ten thousand dollars. Someone wanting season tickets and donating for the first time had to start at $10,000. Hubby had a buddy who donated $5,000. He got a letter back from the university basically saying thanks for your five grand, but you ain't gettin' no tickets.
Holy crap. What a racket.
The next year the minimum dropped to $4,500 and Hubby and I discussed buying season tickets. We went over the pros and cons.
Pros: We get to see the games in person.
Cons: It's hot. There are 92,000 people. We can watch most of the games on television in air conditioning. With plenty of beer. The 30-minute drive to the stadium (or as close as you can get to the stadium, which is at least a mile away) becomes a 4-hour drive. Tailgating means it takes all day to go to a game. Getting home is another 4-hour journey. It's a lot of trouble to go to just to leave at halftime. (Oh wait...that's Hubby.)
He even reminded me of a game I went to in 2008, about which I wrote this blog post.
But still. Having season tickets means ..... having season tickets. Being in the IN crowd.
And I absolutely abhor someone else having something I cannot have. I'm considering professional help for this condition.
The next year, the points minimum dropped to $1500. That's a fraction of what it had been. I realize you can do the math; I'm not trying to insult your intelligence.
Then I got the bug again. I had a separate little savings account stashed away, and I had money left in it even after I bought my new bike. I reasoned that I could use that money to donate money in the hopes of getting tickets, and it wasn't like I was spending household money. I then remembered that I had points leftover from that previous wifetime, the days before computers, that were floating around out in cyberspace somewhere. Surely those points might make a difference.
I had tried to merge those points once before, but it was like I was speaking Swahili to an infant lizard. Being the persistent sort, I called again, and this time I got a sweet young thing named Amanda on the phone. She made about four computer clicks and said, "Yep. Here they are. You've got 600 extra points."
Holy smokes. Remember, points=dollars.
Amanda told me how to merge my points, and I just realized how ridiculously long this blog post is getting, and for that I apologize.
I sent in my donations and my ticket application, still not 100% certain I would even get tickets. One year I had donated a measly amount (one of those other years when I felt the urge), and they sent me a ticket application. Completely misunderstanding, I ordered two season tickets, and I think the refund they sent me had "Ha ha ha ha - good one" in the memo line.
So I watched my credit card account like a hawk, fully expecting every day for them to refund the amount of two season tickets. But not my donation, of course. (I did read somewhere, though, that if someone really insists, they will refund the donation also.)
When it became comfortably obvious that they were keeping my money, indicating I had indeed procured the coveted season tickets, I then fretted about how to break the news to Hubby. It wasn't the money .... it was MY money, and we never fight about money anyway. If I overspend and have to ask Hubby to bail me out, he does it. No fussing, no cussing, no criticism (at least not out loud).
One night at dinner, when he had a particularly good day on the golf day and was pretty mellow, I decided to unburden my soul with the horrible secret of what I had done. When I finally blurted out that we had season tickets for football this year, Hubby just looked at me for a moment.
Then he said, "I saw that on your bank account months ago."
All that worry for nothing. Now he wants an RV parking pass, which is in the works. That will solve several of the cons regarding getting to and from the game. It also allows him to leave the game at halftime and me to stay.
I love it when a plan comes together.
I don't know how it works at other schools, this having season tickets thing, and I only have a rudimentary knowledge of how it works at MY school. There is a minimum "points" level at which one can qualify to buy season tickets. Points = dollars donated, and the total builds up over the years.
One must donate a minimum of $250 PER TICKET in order to purchase season tickets. In addition, one must have a total points level above the minimum score. Problem is, that minimum score is secret. Until after the donation deadline. And it changes every year. It all depends on how many people buy tickets, and how much those particular people donate. That determines the points minimum. And it only becomes known even to the powers-that-be after everyone has made his or her donation for that year.
In 2008, Hubby read to me from an article in the newspaper about what the points minimum was for that year, and I thought he either misread it or there was a typo. The MINIMUM for that year was $10,000. Ten thousand dollars. Someone wanting season tickets and donating for the first time had to start at $10,000. Hubby had a buddy who donated $5,000. He got a letter back from the university basically saying thanks for your five grand, but you ain't gettin' no tickets.
Holy crap. What a racket.
The next year the minimum dropped to $4,500 and Hubby and I discussed buying season tickets. We went over the pros and cons.
Pros: We get to see the games in person.
Cons: It's hot. There are 92,000 people. We can watch most of the games on television in air conditioning. With plenty of beer. The 30-minute drive to the stadium (or as close as you can get to the stadium, which is at least a mile away) becomes a 4-hour drive. Tailgating means it takes all day to go to a game. Getting home is another 4-hour journey. It's a lot of trouble to go to just to leave at halftime. (Oh wait...that's Hubby.)
He even reminded me of a game I went to in 2008, about which I wrote this blog post.
But still. Having season tickets means ..... having season tickets. Being in the IN crowd.
And I absolutely abhor someone else having something I cannot have. I'm considering professional help for this condition.
The next year, the points minimum dropped to $1500. That's a fraction of what it had been. I realize you can do the math; I'm not trying to insult your intelligence.
Then I got the bug again. I had a separate little savings account stashed away, and I had money left in it even after I bought my new bike. I reasoned that I could use that money to donate money in the hopes of getting tickets, and it wasn't like I was spending household money. I then remembered that I had points leftover from that previous wifetime, the days before computers, that were floating around out in cyberspace somewhere. Surely those points might make a difference.
I had tried to merge those points once before, but it was like I was speaking Swahili to an infant lizard. Being the persistent sort, I called again, and this time I got a sweet young thing named Amanda on the phone. She made about four computer clicks and said, "Yep. Here they are. You've got 600 extra points."
Holy smokes. Remember, points=dollars.
Amanda told me how to merge my points, and I just realized how ridiculously long this blog post is getting, and for that I apologize.
I sent in my donations and my ticket application, still not 100% certain I would even get tickets. One year I had donated a measly amount (one of those other years when I felt the urge), and they sent me a ticket application. Completely misunderstanding, I ordered two season tickets, and I think the refund they sent me had "Ha ha ha ha - good one" in the memo line.
So I watched my credit card account like a hawk, fully expecting every day for them to refund the amount of two season tickets. But not my donation, of course. (I did read somewhere, though, that if someone really insists, they will refund the donation also.)
When it became comfortably obvious that they were keeping my money, indicating I had indeed procured the coveted season tickets, I then fretted about how to break the news to Hubby. It wasn't the money .... it was MY money, and we never fight about money anyway. If I overspend and have to ask Hubby to bail me out, he does it. No fussing, no cussing, no criticism (at least not out loud).
One night at dinner, when he had a particularly good day on the golf day and was pretty mellow, I decided to unburden my soul with the horrible secret of what I had done. When I finally blurted out that we had season tickets for football this year, Hubby just looked at me for a moment.
Then he said, "I saw that on your bank account months ago."
All that worry for nothing. Now he wants an RV parking pass, which is in the works. That will solve several of the cons regarding getting to and from the game. It also allows him to leave the game at halftime and me to stay.
I love it when a plan comes together.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
My New (Second) Favorite Baseball Team.......
I can't have an absolutely new favorite team, because I've always pulled for the (almost) hometown Atlanta Braves. Since back when you could go to the games and CHOOSE where you wanted to sit. Back when the players knew the fans' birthdays. (Not my line - hold the rotten tomatoes.)
I realized a couple of days ago that after days of angst-ridden hand-wringing and hoping and crossing my fingers, I never let my (four) faithful readers know what the outcome was for Warrior Princess' son (my "godson") in the Major League Baseball draft.
I won't boggle your mind with all the details, mostly because I don't understand them all. The draft occurred while Katydid and I were on BRAG, and I couldn't be with Warrior Princess when the most needed me. I must truly SUCK as a friend. I did watch online for about 5 or 6 picks of the first round, when we were certain he would NOT be taken, but I am an eternal optimist. During the draft, each team has five minutes to make their picks for the round, and they TAKE. EVERY. SINGLE. MINUTE. OF. IT. During that five minutes, you have to listen to commentators speculate on whom each team MIGHT take, who was taken in the last round, and what each prospect had for lunch on the second day of fourth grade. I might be exaggerating on that last one.
The kid was originally expected to go in the first or second round, then his injury occurred midway through his senior season, and that brought a lot of uncertainty. Unfortunately, professional sports teams use uncertainty as bargaining tools. To their advantage, of course.
Apparently the whole ordeal was just that .... an ordeal. Phone calls flew, agents pulled their hair out, scouts for teams who thought they knew whom their teams were going to pick almost quit in frustration (literally, I'm NOT exaggerating this time), and the kid heard he would go in the fourth round.
He did NOT go in the fourth round, nor the fifth, nor the sixth. According to the Warrior Princess, when his name was finally called in the seventh round (which is still pretty darn high for a kid just out of high school), he was so numb that he didn't even hear his name at first.
He was taken by the Texas Rangers (NOT the team we thought would draft him), and that makes them officially my new (second) favorite baseball team.
I already had a soft spot for the Rangers. When Frogger Blogger and I lived just outside Dallas, we had very little money for anything fun. She was a single mom, and I was a college student surviving on social security payments. We did scrounge together a few dollars one weekend, though, and we bought upper level tickets for her, her kids, and me at a Rangers game. I think upper level tickets for adults were two dollars, probably a buck for each of the kids. It was the first professional team of any sport I had ever seen in person, and I was thrilled to be there. I have no idea what team they played against, what the score was, who won. I didn't even know the difference between the American League and the National League, what a designated hitter was, how a curveball differed from a cutter, or under what circumstances the infield fly rule is invoked. I still don't know a lot of those things.
In addition to drafting my "godson," the Rangers also drafted two UGA baseball players, one of whom was paralyzed in an on-field collision with a teammate (the other UGA player drafted). For them to draft a paralyzed college player showed more class than I can wrap my head around.
The kid's future is still uncertain at this point. He has until August 15th to make a decision as to whether he will enter the world of professional baseball or go to college for free on the scholarship he has been offered. Negotiations will continue through the summer as to what his signing bonus will be, which is what he will pretty much have to live on for the next several years while he makes his way (we hope we hope we hope) up through the minor leagues to the bigs. If the negotiations aren't favorable, he will play college ball for at least three years, and he will have another shot at the draft after his junior year.
It's a classic win-win situation. I am so proud of him.
And I'm now pulling for the Rangers. Until they meet the Braves in the World Series.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
My Husband and My Dog.......
Ways my husband and my dog are alike:
Both of them are big fans of naps.
They both like steak.
Both of them expect me to read their minds.
Dog and Hubby both like to go to bed while it's still daylight. And they think I should go to bed then too.
Both of them like to swim.
They both wait to be fed, instead of pitching in to help.
Both of them make stupid noises about inconsequential things, and never mind if someone else in the household is trying to hear the television.
Neither of them minds interrupting me while I'm doing something, like crocheting, reading, or playing a video game.
Both of them can be very charming.
Both of them can be very annoying.
Both of them are big fans of naps.
They both like steak.
Both of them expect me to read their minds.
Dog and Hubby both like to go to bed while it's still daylight. And they think I should go to bed then too.
Both of them like to swim.
They both wait to be fed, instead of pitching in to help.
Both of them make stupid noises about inconsequential things, and never mind if someone else in the household is trying to hear the television.
Neither of them minds interrupting me while I'm doing something, like crocheting, reading, or playing a video game.
Both of them can be very charming.
Both of them can be very annoying.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Millie's Fling by Jill Mansell......
This was a fun read about a young girl in Cornwall, England (it's apparently a seaside town, down on the southwestern "corner") and the shenanigans she and her roommate (Hester) get up to, along with a new friend, an author named Orla Hart, whom Millie meets when the author is contemplating - planning? - suicide.
I really enjoyed meeting the characters in this book, and the repartee among them was superb, particularly that between Millie and Hugh Emerson. There were a few coincidental occurrences that begged the imagination to stretch just a wee bit too far, but the plot was pleasant enough not to make them eye-rolling events.
Don't read this book if you are searching for deep symbolism, soul-searching themes, or spell-binding suspense. (Is that redundant? If so I apologize.) In spite of a few grammatical errors I caught throughout the book (I am a grammar snob, after all), I found this book quite enjoyable. A definite beach book.
I love the English vernacular. My favorite words are "loo" and "knickers." Does that mean I'm still stuck in middle school?
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Random Sunday Thoughts.....
At least I have the day of the week right this time..... I think.
I've started a new crochet project. It's a baby blanket for a friend of Sweet Girl's who is due at the end of July. I calculated that if I started tomorrow, I would need to do 5.566666666667 rows every day to get it done on time. Because I'm sort of anal like that.
Because I was so tired after fixing dinner tonight (cheeseburger pie - average at best), I gave myself permission not to wash the dishes. Then I went and washed them anyway. That has nothing to do with being anal.
Two of my cousins planned to go skydiving today (tandem jumps). But they got rained out. I think we have discovered a way to end a drought.
When I got to the reunion this weekend, I had half a tank of gas. Being the mathematical genius that I am, I calculated that I could make it home on the same tank. When I was 39 miles from home, the gauge said I had 31 miles of fuel remaining. I wanted to argue my case, but I decided it was more logical to stop and fill up.
While I was in the pool today, Hubby's nephew's wife called and left a message asking if she and her kids could come over and swim. Last time she did that, she didn't wait for a response, she just came anyway. I fumed and fumed today, and then I decided to take matters into my own hands. But I took the coward's way out. I texted her back and told her "Today's not a good day to come swim. Sorry." I feel a little bad about it (only a little), but they call ALL. THE. TIME. And summer is the ONLY time we ever hear from them.
One of our cats just slithered her way out from under the loveseat. That's apparently where she goes during thunderstorms. I think I can cancel the weather radio app on my iPad and just rely on the cat. I may have spoken too soon. We just had another distant rumble of thunder, and she has retreated to the love seat again. The space she just slithered into is no more than three inches high, I swear.
There was no television in the cottage where we stayed this weekend. I told Hubby he would have pulled his hair out if he had gone. Hubby is bald.
The best part of coming home from being gone all weekend is knowing I don't have to get up tomorrow morning and go to school. I love summer.
I found my old high school chorus teacher on FBook this weekend, and he confirmed my friend request. Would it be rude to ask him where he got all the hair, since he had a combover going on back in 1974-1978, and now he has a full head of hair?
Weird cousins just don't get any less weird, no matter how many years go by.
I've started a new crochet project. It's a baby blanket for a friend of Sweet Girl's who is due at the end of July. I calculated that if I started tomorrow, I would need to do 5.566666666667 rows every day to get it done on time. Because I'm sort of anal like that.
Because I was so tired after fixing dinner tonight (cheeseburger pie - average at best), I gave myself permission not to wash the dishes. Then I went and washed them anyway. That has nothing to do with being anal.
Two of my cousins planned to go skydiving today (tandem jumps). But they got rained out. I think we have discovered a way to end a drought.
When I got to the reunion this weekend, I had half a tank of gas. Being the mathematical genius that I am, I calculated that I could make it home on the same tank. When I was 39 miles from home, the gauge said I had 31 miles of fuel remaining. I wanted to argue my case, but I decided it was more logical to stop and fill up.
While I was in the pool today, Hubby's nephew's wife called and left a message asking if she and her kids could come over and swim. Last time she did that, she didn't wait for a response, she just came anyway. I fumed and fumed today, and then I decided to take matters into my own hands. But I took the coward's way out. I texted her back and told her "Today's not a good day to come swim. Sorry." I feel a little bad about it (only a little), but they call ALL. THE. TIME. And summer is the ONLY time we ever hear from them.
One of our cats just slithered her way out from under the loveseat. That's apparently where she goes during thunderstorms. I think I can cancel the weather radio app on my iPad and just rely on the cat. I may have spoken too soon. We just had another distant rumble of thunder, and she has retreated to the love seat again. The space she just slithered into is no more than three inches high, I swear.
There was no television in the cottage where we stayed this weekend. I told Hubby he would have pulled his hair out if he had gone. Hubby is bald.
The best part of coming home from being gone all weekend is knowing I don't have to get up tomorrow morning and go to school. I love summer.
I found my old high school chorus teacher on FBook this weekend, and he confirmed my friend request. Would it be rude to ask him where he got all the hair, since he had a combover going on back in 1974-1978, and now he has a full head of hair?
Weird cousins just don't get any less weird, no matter how many years go by.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Nash Bash 2011......
I am in the Low Country of South Carolina for our family reunion, affectionately known as the Nash Bash. Nash is my mother's maiden name, and she is one of five girls and one boy (yep, he's the youngest). I wasn't supposed to be here this weekend, since I was **ahem** SUPPOSED to be on a kayaking trip, but we all know how THAT turned out.
Today has been jam-packed with activities, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every one of them. Sweet Girl and I are the only representatives from my mom's branch of the family tree, and I'm glad we came. I miss my sisters, and I wish they could have been here to share in the fun.
I started this morning with a 22-mile bike ride while it was still cool. One way to motivate myself to ride is to pack up the bike and all the accessories and haul it a couple hundred miles. Once I've gone to that trouble, I'm darned if I'm going to let the bike sit in the car all weekend. The terrain is very flat here, of course, so it was a very nice ride for me.
We had family photos (please, please. please, please let them be decent....... I don't know how I became the family photographer), then our customary huge lunch. After lunch some of us took the little kids out to an abandoned trail trestle (too much history to put here) to look for sharks' teeth while the tide was out.
I didn't find any sharks' teeth, but Brandon took pity on me and gave me one that he found. I gave it to one of the little kids.
It wasn't hard to find these guys. Fiddler crabs? Is that what they call them?
When we got back, we had the annual auction. Family members bring items to auction off to each other. Sometimes they are handmade items, sometimes they are just things we don't want anymore. The money raised goes to fund next year's Nash Bash. The first thing auctioned off today was a container of crock pot candy that I contributed (since I only decided on Wednesday to come, I didn't have time to make much of anything else). It sold for $25, and I was pleased with that.
Some of us wanted to go kayaking (you gotta love the irony of THAT), but launching from this little community (where my cousin lives) is dependent upon the tide. High tide was at 5:59 PM, and we really really meant to leave then. Getting any number of cousins together at the same time is problematic, though, and by the time we embarked upon this adventure, it was 8:15. Heck, that's my bedtime!
There's my Sweet Girl, with the tip of my kayak showing in the foreground.
Because we waited so long to leave, the tide was already two hours into its march BACK into the sea, and we had to wade through some pretty yucky mucky muck to launch the boats. I don't know when I've had a more NECESSARY shower.
I wish the picture could do justice to just how beautiful this was, with the sun setting behind my cousins.
By the time we kayaked to the abandoned trestle (the same one we had been to earlier in the day), it was going on pitch black. It took a couple of trips to get everyone and the kayaks back to our "homes," but we all had a great time.
Long drive back home tomorrow (a little over four hours). I'm so glad I came.
Today has been jam-packed with activities, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every one of them. Sweet Girl and I are the only representatives from my mom's branch of the family tree, and I'm glad we came. I miss my sisters, and I wish they could have been here to share in the fun.
I started this morning with a 22-mile bike ride while it was still cool. One way to motivate myself to ride is to pack up the bike and all the accessories and haul it a couple hundred miles. Once I've gone to that trouble, I'm darned if I'm going to let the bike sit in the car all weekend. The terrain is very flat here, of course, so it was a very nice ride for me.
We had family photos (please, please. please, please let them be decent....... I don't know how I became the family photographer), then our customary huge lunch. After lunch some of us took the little kids out to an abandoned trail trestle (too much history to put here) to look for sharks' teeth while the tide was out.
I didn't find any sharks' teeth, but Brandon took pity on me and gave me one that he found. I gave it to one of the little kids.
It wasn't hard to find these guys. Fiddler crabs? Is that what they call them?
When we got back, we had the annual auction. Family members bring items to auction off to each other. Sometimes they are handmade items, sometimes they are just things we don't want anymore. The money raised goes to fund next year's Nash Bash. The first thing auctioned off today was a container of crock pot candy that I contributed (since I only decided on Wednesday to come, I didn't have time to make much of anything else). It sold for $25, and I was pleased with that.
Some of us wanted to go kayaking (you gotta love the irony of THAT), but launching from this little community (where my cousin lives) is dependent upon the tide. High tide was at 5:59 PM, and we really really meant to leave then. Getting any number of cousins together at the same time is problematic, though, and by the time we embarked upon this adventure, it was 8:15. Heck, that's my bedtime!
There's my Sweet Girl, with the tip of my kayak showing in the foreground.
Because we waited so long to leave, the tide was already two hours into its march BACK into the sea, and we had to wade through some pretty yucky mucky muck to launch the boats. I don't know when I've had a more NECESSARY shower.
I wish the picture could do justice to just how beautiful this was, with the sun setting behind my cousins.
By the time we kayaked to the abandoned trestle (the same one we had been to earlier in the day), it was going on pitch black. It took a couple of trips to get everyone and the kayaks back to our "homes," but we all had a great time.
Long drive back home tomorrow (a little over four hours). I'm so glad I came.
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