<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:20:55.281-06:00</updated><category term='ice storms'/><category term='Scrabble'/><category term='TV'/><category term='Diarrhea'/><category term='Corn Nuts'/><category term='ebay'/><category term='Slumbering'/><category term='Mindless Thoughts'/><category term='Annoyances'/><category term='Friends'/><category term='tattoos'/><category term='Beds'/><category term='Doobies'/><category term='Truths'/><category term='Naked People'/><category term='Water'/><category term='Antiques'/><category term='Happiness'/><category term='Freebies'/><category term='New World'/><category term='exhaustion'/><category term='life'/><category term='365 Day Project'/><category term='Colonoscopy'/><category term='Bat Boy'/><category term='Knowledge'/><category term='Musicals'/><category term='my mom'/><category term='Tattling'/><category term='food'/><category term='Leprechauns'/><category term='Shopping'/><category term='Randomness'/><category term='Diaries'/><category term='My Life'/><category term='diet tea'/><category term='Jesus'/><category term='Porn'/><category term='Death'/><category term='Snacks'/><category term='Issues'/><title type='text'>missing matilda</title><subtitle type='html'>A day in the life of me. My life. My journey.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>84</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-1110690949585076609</id><published>2012-01-03T18:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T18:39:15.709-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i am alive in 2012</title><content type='html'>Well happy belated new year to you and my one follower. My holidays were pretty dim. I worked all of Christmas and that really sucked ass. And even though I gave everyone a list of six items, not one of them got bought. Why bother with lists then I ask?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost my only address book amidst my mess so I randomly picked people out of the phone book (that I knew) and sent them my annual Yuletide Greetings. I wasn't impressed with the outcome of what I received though. It all seemed so forced. Like I sent you something and in return I got one back. It's not supposed to be like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my upstairs neighbors are moving at the end of this month. Just across the street and a little bit over. Close enough but not really. I adore their year old daughter... she turns 2 in July. I work with her mom but her dad... yikes. I got full wind of his mental/verbal/emotional abuse just a few weeks ago. Reminded me of ME and my awful past some 22 years ago with my very own psycho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night the little two foot girlie girl knocked at my door. What a sweet surprise that was! And I will truly truly miss that little face. Yeah sure I'll see her every so often but not like I have this past 365 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh life goes on.&lt;br /&gt;Happy 2012.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-1110690949585076609?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/1110690949585076609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=1110690949585076609&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1110690949585076609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1110690949585076609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-am-alive-in-2012.html' title='i am alive in 2012'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-3194355758173388290</id><published>2011-11-10T13:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T13:00:23.960-06:00</updated><title type='text'>popcorn madness</title><content type='html'>The laundry lady is absent today. She apparently is the one who makes the popcorn on Popcorn Thursdays. So I thought I'd be kind and make it. For the whole lot of coworkers. I didn't realize I'd still be hoofing at it 45 minutes after the fact but there I was....shoveling in the awesome buttery oil and trying to flick in the kernels without getting burned. The kettle or the entire machine needs to be replaced obviously and I had no business making it for everyone involved. Even as much as I love eating the fluffy nuggets.... by the time I made it back to my desk, I was sweaty and not wanting to eat any of my favorite treat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-3194355758173388290?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/3194355758173388290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=3194355758173388290&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3194355758173388290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3194355758173388290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/11/popcorn-madness.html' title='popcorn madness'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-2308610621542685032</id><published>2011-11-07T18:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T18:18:21.353-06:00</updated><title type='text'>strawberry yogurt</title><content type='html'>I am still not quite adjusted to the new time of Daylight Savings Time. I personally think this is the dumbest rule ever made up by anyone. I learned Hawaii doesn't even play the game. Nor does Indiana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My upstairs neighbor and I went to an auction a block from our complex. She was bidding on a really crappy house. She's desperate to move into a house. &lt;i&gt;Any&lt;/i&gt; house. She's lived upstairs for close to 7 years I think. Her bid was the highest and at $13,500 she won the house. Her husband was hunting. And I was there to watch their baby girl while the shortest bidding war ever took place. And just like that, she whipped out her checkbook and wrote a check for the $5,000 down payment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier to the auction, I became aware that I had $165.00 to my entire name. I'm doubtful I will ever have the money to have $5,000 sitting in my own checking account.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on my third day off out of four and a half days off. This Saturday is my first craft fair for the season and just today, I figured it was a good idea to start matting and framing some of my paintings that have just been laying around since 2008. I took a break around 12:30PM to motor to a nearby village to meet three really sweet little bears.....Mary Hanna (5), Rocco (3) and Cami (2)....and their Nana. We did an art project that I brought along for them and we had a little tea party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon returning home, I crawled into my pile of pillows and down comforter and snoozed away two more hours. I actually cooked a decent meal to eat and then ate some strawberry yogurt for dessert then spilled a half gallon of water on the floor and now I'm back to my growing art work pile....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a sweet day.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-2308610621542685032?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/2308610621542685032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=2308610621542685032&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2308610621542685032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2308610621542685032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/11/strawberry-yogurt.html' title='strawberry yogurt'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-5252954127194289069</id><published>2011-11-06T00:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T00:12:10.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>life in a small town</title><content type='html'>Things in the village where I live are fine...I do like living in a much smaller town  than where I was and only on occasion do I miss the conveniences of places  like 24 hours of Wal Mart or Walgreen's....but I don't miss anything else  of where I once lived 11 months ago... and just like there, I just stay put. I don't and  don't plan on getting involved in anything locally, I like being home. I  work long hours and thoroughly enjoy my time off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have good neighbors  too in my complex and we all help each other out which is nice. The  sheriff lives above me but I dont know if that's a good thing or not...  when he's not on patrol, he's a doofus and when he's on patrol and brings in some nut... he's not all that professional  either... but he's nice to me and that's all that should matter I  suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My job is going just okay too.... healthcare is really hard to work in  if you are not familiar with it like I am. But I've been there now  10months.... my teeny tiny apartment is driving me nuts though...it's  super small and I miss having two bedrooms... my art stuff is still in  boxes and scattered in several rooms... so when it's out of sight/out of  mind, I don't feel the urge to keep at it. And I should be doing it all  the time! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of our residents just died yesterday and he was the sweetest old  man....I did get to say goodbye to him last night even though he wasn't  awake to acknowledge me...I told his family I had a lot of fun with him  in the last 10months... that's something that I never really thought I'd  see a lot... people dying... and I have had my good share of people  passing away while I'm at work. My first body bag was really hard to  swallow but now I guess I'm "used" to seeing them being wheeled away and  down the elevator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My TV died too. Nothing like our buddy but still it's a loss. Yeah I know, again, not the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-5252954127194289069?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/5252954127194289069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=5252954127194289069&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5252954127194289069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5252954127194289069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/11/life-in-small-town.html' title='life in a small town'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-8542580790318958299</id><published>2011-11-01T20:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T20:54:44.638-05:00</updated><title type='text'>manual labor is not my cup of tea</title><content type='html'>I went to my mom's this afternoon after a quickie nap. She was going to make me dinner and wanted help hauling in wood from the back yard to her garage. I made four trips with the wheel barrow and was sweating up a storm. I did not bring another shirt with me and I was starting to feel rather gross. And I was cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hate manual labor. I always have. I'm so glad I never grew up on a farm like my mom and grandma Matilda did. After my third load to the garage, I did wonder how it was back in the times when the prairie women controlled their sod houses and did everything in the dirt. And here I bitch about how cold I am with the modern conveniences of what we have now in 2011.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gawd I'm such a wimp.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-8542580790318958299?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/8542580790318958299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=8542580790318958299&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8542580790318958299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8542580790318958299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/11/manual-labor-is-not-my-cup-of-tea.html' title='manual labor is not my cup of tea'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-678799438695297772</id><published>2011-10-31T14:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T20:55:45.589-05:00</updated><title type='text'>one month to go</title><content type='html'>Tonight I had one trick or treater. It was a horse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did get to watch all four episodes back to back - four hours straight - of American Horror Story. I am all caught up now and am excited to know, I'm no longer lost in the show. It's still creepy to me but I'm not turning it off now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I caught a show about a bunch of Skunk Apes - cousins to the almighty Big Foot - down in the swamps of Florida. Quite intriguing. Then I slept and slept and slept solid and a rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have a cold. And I cannot stop sneezing or blowing my nose! I hate this time of year. I got the flu shot but still am surrounded by a zillion germs now...worse than when I worked with all the children last year. And speaking of the word "year" ...I cannot believe come December 27th will mark my one year anniversary with my current job. I still remember when I was offered the job. It was December 14th. I was so excited but slightly annoyed I didn't get the wage I originally asked for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will be in 10 years, when I will make what I had originally asked for. They give 3% raises annually. So far I've only gotten a 2% raise on my six month anniversar. Still.... all my monie troubles followed me from last year to this year. And it still sucks. And has weighed down on me all these past months and today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-678799438695297772?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/678799438695297772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=678799438695297772&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/678799438695297772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/678799438695297772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/11/one-month-to-go.html' title='one month to go'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6424553839719105312</id><published>2011-10-28T22:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-28T22:51:34.221-05:00</updated><title type='text'>muck you.</title><content type='html'>To the bitch who had to go to my old high school blog I made just for my class of 1985 for our 20th reunion back in 2005. So what, an error was made. Muckity muck to you. And &amp;lt;&amp;lt;poof&amp;gt;&amp;gt; it's now deleted. I was sick of having that up anyways since 2005. And for good measures, I blocked her on facebook too....oooohweeee. I have so much power!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last two days haven't been ALL that bad at work. I tolerated it. I'm still stuck working the weekend though and it's low census ... meaning we have no peeps to look after. Gee, how many packets of crap can I make in a 10- 1/2 hour shift tomorrow??? I'd have better luck locking myself into the toilet and hand picking off each of my leg hairs since I accidently forgot to shave all summer long!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I'll live as a pioneer woman did ~ hairy legs and all ....shit, I'm already on the prairie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6424553839719105312?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6424553839719105312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6424553839719105312&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6424553839719105312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6424553839719105312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/10/muck-you.html' title='muck you.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-82530832301887655</id><published>2011-10-26T12:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T12:46:45.138-05:00</updated><title type='text'>pickles</title><content type='html'>I am addicted to them. Hate the sweet kind though. I don't understand their purpose. But dill, give me a bucket of them and they'll be gone by bedtime. My other addiction: sunflower seeds. It's all I eat during my favorite teevee shows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, is "American Horror Story" ... a new favorite even though I missed the pilot and still am trying to figure it all out. I still don't understand the guy with the half burned face. I read he was an old owner of the "house of murder" and he started a fire there and that's how he ended up looking like he does now. And I find him somewhat charming. I mean, he did, after all murder Hayden last week. With a shovel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In less than two hours I go back to work. To start MY four and half days of work. I don't know how to feel about this or what to feel or anything other than I'm cold. I'm holding out on wearing socks and anything winter. It's pretty dreary out too. I'm trying to maintain a positive attitude too. I am. I have like a zillion positive little signs on my desktop. I read them. I get what they are telling me. But I just need to believe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what I hate about going in at 2pm on Wednesdays is.... it takes me like a good 30 minutes to digest exactly what the hell is going on. A lot of shit has transpired since I was last there on October 21st. I always feel stupid just sitting there trying to regroup. And everyone walks by and says hi and I say hi back and then boom, I'm thrown in the trenches. Every second of that place is different. Nothing stays the same. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm eating hamburger pickles right now and I am not so okay with that. I bought a big ginormous jar of them on Saturday. I thought they'd last longer than the whole ones. But today, they aren't doing anything for me but upset my stomach. And that I hate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-82530832301887655?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/82530832301887655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=82530832301887655&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/82530832301887655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/82530832301887655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/10/pickles.html' title='pickles'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6025939736085293770</id><published>2011-10-25T14:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T14:52:21.924-05:00</updated><title type='text'>scared to blog</title><content type='html'>This is going to sound crazy but at times. Well most of the time, I'm so scared to blog. To really tell the world about what I am truly feeling. I know a blog is supposed to be a place where you can release all the things built up in your melon --- like a release of sorts but even though I write without revealing my true identity, people still know who I am. And perhaps, it is just that I don't want THOSE people to know how depressed I really am. Or the thoughts that are constantly pouring into my mind and sloshing around and too afraid to type what I am really feeling. I don't want anyone to judge me. At least, not on my personal blog. People judge me enough in the real world and that's why, perhaps, I have chosen to become a full on hermit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People, in general, scare me. This is not a secret. And most, I do not like. I've always been this way. Well, since I was 15 and all that crap happened to me in 1982. The anniversary is approaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;October 29, 1982 was when the Letter to the Editor was printed. The one I wrote. And Halloween 1982, all hell broke loose. That was then I realized who my real friends were. And it wasn't very many. As you see, once upon a time, I was THE popular girl. Me. And only ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it all changed. For the worse. Looking back, I suppose I've been brainwashed enough to believe that "everything happens for a reason" and "let go, move on" ....but it's never left me. The loneliness has always stuck. And the memories of it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the first time learning about KARMA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a truth. I hate my job. I hate it. It's still super hard and it appears to be getting harder. I knew nothing about the medical field other than what I know from being diabetic and having sleep apnea and the occasional sore throat. But after working 10 months this Thursday there... I still am in the infancy stage of trying to fathom everything and digest and even try to remember, retain SOMETHING!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get NO support from anyone. None. And anytime I try to tell my mom about it, she throws back into my face how many times I had told her "how much I love my new job." But I'm not going to do a damn thing about it. Because... I'm already "settled in" here. In my teeny tiny one bedroom, no dishwasher apartment. And I also feel stupid for telling everyone about my "great" new gig and loving it to pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I am on my fourth day off. Every other week, I get four and a half days off. I don't return to work till tomorrow at 2pm. Then I'm on through Sunday. It'll be fine, IF I get good workers to be with. But lately, it all feels to fake. So forced. So awful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am to be HAPPY &amp;amp; CALM all the time, my supervisor told me. Or tells me constantly. I am to not express my thoughts or anything to anyone but keep my mouth shut. She told me the other day that I wear my emotions on my sleeve. She can always tell when I am upset or in a bad mood. Well she's no magician because I can tell when others are too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leave me be. Please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6025939736085293770?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6025939736085293770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6025939736085293770&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6025939736085293770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6025939736085293770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/10/scared-to-blog.html' title='scared to blog'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-1508631136983417769</id><published>2011-10-05T12:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T12:45:54.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>running into people i loathe</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I had a great lunch date with one of my most talkative friends ever. Upon leaving the Mexican joint, someone from my childhood was waiting in line to be seated. I didn't see her at first because my glasses make images/people foggy at times so when I did see her and who it was, I was hesitant to even be polite and wave. But I succumbed to the uncomfortable pressure and walked over to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While making very brief small talk with her, I rejoined my friend to walk out of the restaurant with her....and as I turned to leave this person from my past, she asked, "How's Janie doing?" I was like WHO??? She repeated the same question and then I was jolted to reality and realized she was talking about my older sister. First, no one has called her Janie since she was little and she's now 48 and second.... this oddball entity in front of me has never discussed/talked/etc. about my witchy sister. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She took me off guard that's for sure and how dare she interrupt my wonderful lunch with my friend. That's what I first thought. It was so out of the blue and so random. But it was very random to see this person from my childhood too as she's quite anti social. And frankly once she opened her mouth to speak I regretted going over towards her to be polite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out poured from me was a lot of hate towards "Janie" to this oddball from my past. And for second I allowed that hatred to take over myself and make me feel all the horrible things she's done to me over the past 13 years -- my darling sissy not this oddball weirdo I once played girls softball with when we were young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After hugging my friend and saying so long, I left feeling like the oddball loser was planted there to purposely plant more doubt in my head, the same that my darling sissy has done to me for years on end. And it wasn't a good experience for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-1508631136983417769?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/1508631136983417769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=1508631136983417769&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1508631136983417769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1508631136983417769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/10/running-into-people-i-loathe.html' title='running into people i loathe'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7166120388656615192</id><published>2011-10-04T17:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T17:02:07.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>counting down till july 2013</title><content type='html'>&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;So  I got my new driver license today...right before the lady took my photo  of me smiling, she told me to get the hair out of my eyes (um???) so I  did and that's when she captured me forever on hard plastic of me  looking like I am sooo overly disgruntled and with a lazy eye to boot!!!  Oh and me looking half way sideways. And did I mention very  disgruntled?? I will be frozen in time till July 2013... when the actual  renewal will take place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7166120388656615192?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7166120388656615192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7166120388656615192&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7166120388656615192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7166120388656615192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/10/counting-down-till-july-2013.html' title='counting down till july 2013'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-746455802102561571</id><published>2011-10-01T12:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T12:50:14.007-05:00</updated><title type='text'>thanks mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;I  got the perfect note from my mom today:  &lt;i&gt;Remember there is a war going  on, and if your only offense is sighing, it would be a great world&lt;/i&gt;. ♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-746455802102561571?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/746455802102561571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=746455802102561571&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/746455802102561571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/746455802102561571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/10/thanks-mom.html' title='thanks mom'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7673735190055368339</id><published>2011-09-30T12:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-30T12:20:11.417-05:00</updated><title type='text'>disgruntled</title><content type='html'>&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;My  day started out with me falling on my face in my dark living room  around 6:30AM...walking out to my car and finding the horn possessed and  going off with my lights flashing madly....and upon sitting down at my  work station, a lovely nose bleed occurred all over my shirt!!! And I  picked a pair of very uncomfortable shoes to boot.. making my very  bruised left toes hurt even more from nearly falling in face first into  the bathtub the evening before. And how is your Friday going???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7673735190055368339?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7673735190055368339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7673735190055368339&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7673735190055368339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7673735190055368339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/09/disgruntled.html' title='disgruntled'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-4481912140252813779</id><published>2011-09-29T13:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-29T13:02:32.892-05:00</updated><title type='text'>what's your secret?</title><content type='html'>A facebook chum of mine just posted this thought provoking question about survival: &lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;"Everyone's  got a secret to their survival. We destroy ourselves, in one way or  another, only to be rebuilt again. So.. what's YOUR secret?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;I replied back by saying: &lt;i&gt;"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;If I share with you and all  of facebook, then it will no longer be my secret. I take a lot of time  for myself and being by myself to "rebuild" myself when needed be. I  take naps, I blog, I play a lot of online scrabble and watching mindless  reality shows like Big Brother puts things in perspective for me too.  And I always have HOPE. I guess you could say at the age of 44, I am a  hopeless and faithful believer that some where "out there" something's  got to better than right now, right here in my world. And I pray I will  find it sooner than later ♥"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;What about you? What's your secret to survival?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-4481912140252813779?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/4481912140252813779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=4481912140252813779&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4481912140252813779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4481912140252813779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/09/whats-your-secret.html' title='what&apos;s your secret?'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6137022657679129159</id><published>2011-09-28T22:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T22:50:11.224-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i want to be my own boss</title><content type='html'>&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;Today  I made a wish that in a couple of years I will no longer be working for  the MAN and just be working for ME and my art business. I'm tired of  working with immature tattlers. I hope you're doing well and not getting  called to the Principal's office because someone doesn't like your  SIGHing. And you're doing it TOO LOUDLY!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;Can you actually believe a grown ass woman walked into my supervisor's office and had the gall to tell her I &amp;lt;&amp;lt; sigh &amp;gt;&amp;gt; too loudly for her??? Who the fuck does this shit??? I told my boss that I wasn't aware I knew how to "sigh."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;Oh and this same person doesn't "get my" sarcasm. But we all get hers.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;In the moment (as in now) I've been getting ready for the upcoming craft fair season which starts this weekend thru the week before Christmas. Two of my nice coworkers were very interested in asking me questions about how I prepare... the type of paintings I do, do for the fairs. It was nice to talk to these people about what I do with my art work when I'm not selling them on facebook or my art website.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;... and I joined the local Catholic church last Saturday. I hadn't been to church for a good 13 years. Sure I've gone to weddings and funerals but not on my own, on purpose, gotten in my car to drive to a Catholic church and waste an hour of my life that I know I'll never get back... to sit through a Sunday service. Again on purpose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;I saw the movie THE HELP this past weekend too. Not only did I cry throughout the entire moving flick but I just felt the need to belong to something that matters. I told my very religious mother and auntie yesterday. But I made them promise that they won't ask me questions about church, they cannot touch me in touch (aka hugging, holding my hand -- during the prayers like they've done in the past to me) and they cannot sit with me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;Hey, they are MY new CATHOLIC rules and I'm stickin' to them. I said I will go every Saturday night -- when I'm it's not my Saturday to work.... it beats going on Sunday mornings at the awful time of 8:30AM.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;I know I'm crazy for going against all the things I loathe about the Catholic faith but I don't want to join anything other religion. I tried that and every time I was sitting in a pew or a hard chair... I always felt all the Saints (Catholics believe in) and Mother Mary (I still worship her) and all of the Angels were staring down on me disappointed. I know I sound twisted and confused and down right fucked up. But my auntie and mama agreed to my new rules.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;My other new kick is... I want to become an extreme couponer. They say some devote 20hours a week to finding coupons. Every other week I get four and a half days off... usually I spend it shopping or painting or napping... I can sit at my computer and find deals and take them to HyVee or Wally World. I just am tired of paying $70 bucks for 2 bags of hardly any groceries. And I'm a frugal shopper too. I always get home thinking, "why didn't I buy that bag of chocolate?"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:1}" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:3}"&gt;So that's what's on my mind today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6137022657679129159?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6137022657679129159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6137022657679129159&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6137022657679129159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6137022657679129159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-want-to-be-my-own-boss.html' title='i want to be my own boss'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-2374688342305373130</id><published>2011-09-16T20:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T20:04:14.411-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i am still here.</title><content type='html'>Sorry folks but I could NOT recall the email address that I had set up for this blog. I just got off from working a 12 hour shift .. two hours over what I should have been but we were swamped and they needed the help.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-2374688342305373130?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/2374688342305373130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=2374688342305373130&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2374688342305373130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2374688342305373130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-am-still-here.html' title='i am still here.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-557604163583279983</id><published>2011-08-14T16:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-14T16:12:23.185-05:00</updated><title type='text'>living life to the fullest</title><content type='html'>I watched the movie 13 GOING ON 30 last night for like the 200th time  and realized how awful I was and treated people poorly only to make  myself what I thought was "more popular" and really I was just trying to  get ahead I suppose and it all backfired. I wish I knew what I know now  and could go back and just be a simple care free kid loving life for  all its worth and just be happy to be me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-557604163583279983?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/557604163583279983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=557604163583279983&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/557604163583279983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/557604163583279983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/08/living-life-to-fullest.html' title='living life to the fullest'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-3115301532318705649</id><published>2011-07-17T23:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T23:39:51.222-05:00</updated><title type='text'>44 winks</title><content type='html'>Thirty minutes left of me being a fresh 44 year old today. Yes, it's my birthday. And I had an amazing day with my mom in Mitchell. Lunch was at Ruby Tuesdays and we shopped and shopped and we were very hot. And our chats wondered how Laura Ingalls managed in prairie heat like what we had to endure pushing our Menard's cart to our car. I drank three 20 ounces of water in like 2 seconds. I was so thirsty. But I had a great birthday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-3115301532318705649?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/3115301532318705649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=3115301532318705649&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3115301532318705649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3115301532318705649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/07/happy-44-to-me.html' title='44 winks'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-2747697679245996789</id><published>2011-07-12T14:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T14:13:38.362-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sad news</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZML6P9EjxHc/ThycoJyrqQI/AAAAAAAAAEo/mmdnH3iURnw/s1600/sherwood-shwartz-300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZML6P9EjxHc/ThycoJyrqQI/AAAAAAAAAEo/mmdnH3iURnw/s320/sherwood-shwartz-300.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sherwood Schwartz, who created two of the most popular sitcoms of the '60s and '70s, &lt;em&gt;Gilligan's Island&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;The Brady Bunch&lt;/em&gt;, died Tuesday in Los Angeles of natural causes, surrounded by his family, a family member announced. He was 94.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only did Schwartz send the passengers and crew of the Minnow on a  three-hour tour, one that lasted from 1964 to 1967 (and forever after in  reruns), but he also wrote the &lt;em&gt;Gilligan's&lt;/em&gt; theme song. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did the same for the 1969-74 &lt;em&gt;Brady Bunch&lt;/em&gt;, about a widow and a widower with a lot of kids – and a sagacious housekeeper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-2747697679245996789?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/2747697679245996789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=2747697679245996789&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2747697679245996789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2747697679245996789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/07/sad-news.html' title='sad news'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZML6P9EjxHc/ThycoJyrqQI/AAAAAAAAAEo/mmdnH3iURnw/s72-c/sherwood-shwartz-300.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-9033752709548268625</id><published>2011-07-12T14:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T14:06:04.553-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i gave in</title><content type='html'>I am not proud of giving in but I did it. I called my brother last night and invited him to see my apartment and I agreed to do his 9,000 photos or so it seemed. It really just took a little over 90 minutes to do it all but he was pleased and all was well in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier in the day I motored to Yankton to get my teeth cleaned at the dentist. However, the last time I was there was April 30, 2009 when my insurance ended after I lost my job on April 1, 2009. I was really afraid that I had three teeth in question of possible new cavities but in the end, I got a clean check up. Nothing wrong. No weak spots just irritation from my sunflower seed abuse! Happy days :) I go back on January 16, 2012 for my next teeth cleaning with Jen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is pretty boring. It's another day off for me which I thoroughly dig but I'm forced to go to a mandatory meeting from 4pm to 6pm and I volunteered to bring the food. Or my gracious momma is bringing it: hot pulled pork sandwiches and another coworker is bringing other snackies to go with it. I'm celebrating my six month anniversary and also my upcoming birthday on July 17th. And today is proving to be very lazy too. I woke up much much earlier and sat around playing Lexulous on facebook and watching mindless TV... I then took a mini nap after that and just showered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big Brother 13 is on tonight, so is Flipping Out... then I must do a few paintings that I promised some peeps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-9033752709548268625?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/9033752709548268625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=9033752709548268625&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/9033752709548268625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/9033752709548268625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-gave-in.html' title='i gave in'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-2625199902624221718</id><published>2011-07-11T10:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T10:47:23.539-05:00</updated><title type='text'>great expectations</title><content type='html'>Earlier in the year when it was time for me to fill out vacation requests at work, I was anticipating how much fun July 4th would be. My siblings would be coming, I'd get to see my niece and possibly three nephews, we'd play Ladder Golf again and I'd take a lot of cool photos to post on facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also really wanted to go to Czech Days in Tabor in June... I cannot understand my own brain at times. I mean, I go to this event every June now for the past 13 summers. Each and every time I am there, I am hot, I'm bored, I am greatly annoyed with all of my relatives and my mom and I just walk around aimlessly looking at things or just sitting on one of the many make shift benches, people watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is July 11th. All those events that I was so looking forward to are now over. In the past and the end results to both? Disappointment. I suppose I could say they both failed my expectations. Once my mom said to me many many years ago was that I get so overly excited THINKING about what the possibilities are and once it happens, it always fails to come true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was and is so correct in that. With me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great expectations. Something I wasn't expecting to happen was, when I returned to work at Noon on July 8th, I wasn't expecting anyone to come up to me and tell me they were happy I was back or that they missed me. No one has ever expressed that sentiment to me at ANY job I've EVER been at. But it happened. People from all of the departments we have at the hospital, came directly to me, my face, and said to me, "Welcome Back," "It's good to see you're back," "We missed you!" ...and it wasn't because they needed me to do my job, they actually missed me. My persona. Me. They really missed me. I was so deeply touched by this nugget. And it was good to know I was needed and not just needed to fill in the blanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night, I went to my mom's house for dinner. Spaghetti. A personal favorite of mine that she cooks. Even though, mostly she cooks Czech recipes but spaghetti was served and I was delighted. However, my oldest brother is still hanging out there till Wednesday. When he arrived on July 2nd he initially asked me to help him upload a butt load of photos to his facebook account. I agreed and said "let's do it now." And I meant now. July 2nd, now. Otherwise on July 3rd, chaos would ensue, and it did when my sissy and other brother arrived. And it didn't let up till they left on the 8th. But still, I was home with all of them when I could have done the photos for my oldest bro. Did it happen? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed to watch my ultimate addiction: Big Brother 13. My plan was to leave at 8PM to head back to my apartment 10 miles away. Eight minutes left of BB13, my bro yelped up to me stating he was ready to do the photos. Nope. Not going to happen dude. I'm heading back north.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he laid on the family guilt. It's infamous in our entire family tree. Everyone with my last name is guilty of it. Including myself. We learned it from the master. My controlling, verbally/emotionally abusive dead father (&lt;i&gt;May you continue to rot in Hell&lt;/i&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left for home, disgruntled. I even snapped at my adoring mother. I was furious. The guilt was already getting under my skin and it continued to grow. I called my mom and told her I could do it Monday evening (as in today) after I returned home from my dentist appointment or Tuesday after my mandatory work meeting at 6PM. She said she'd tell him. But I got no Email this AM telling me it's a go. I love my brother. A lot. But I am NOT going to bow down to him now, on MY TIME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those mother fuckers really messed with my emotions, my mental being all last week. Being ignored from my sissy and my 2nd oldest brother wasn't a good time. Never again will I allow myself to expect greatness from them. And no longer will I put them in the "spotlight" and think they can do no wrong. They can and have disappointed me for so many years, I lost count. But there again, I always expect great expectations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogging has become my therapy. I refuse to seek counseling for something that will only continue to upset me and my happy existence. Their loss right???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-2625199902624221718?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/2625199902624221718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=2625199902624221718&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2625199902624221718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2625199902624221718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/07/great-expectations.html' title='great expectations'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-4247212614432763711</id><published>2011-07-10T00:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T00:07:38.409-05:00</updated><title type='text'>7 days till I am 44</title><content type='html'>Soon I'll be 44. In seven days from today. This may sound kooky but I'm looking forward to being 44. While being 43 hasn't been all that bad, it didn't have a lot of good parts either. Okay, with the exception of being hired into my current gig... that happened while I was (and still am) 43. But I also had to put up with a lot of bull shit politics at my old part time gig too. And several things with that, I'm now realizing haven't quite healed properly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have done what my wonderful mother is famous for ... &lt;i&gt;"Putting things on the back burner,"&lt;/i&gt; and eventually forgetting about them or just keep denying them. There is a new moving coming out called &lt;b&gt;"Horrible Bosses.&lt;/b&gt;" I plan on seeing it and will be blogging about it afterwards, I've already decided this.I could get a prize for being a victim of having several horrible bosses too. And without exception, my last two bosses, and the two bosses before them and the one before all four... all equal to "horrible bosses." Thankfully, God HAS been watching out for me in the past six and a half months, my current boss has been a blessing. Although, I'm still waiting till she starts spewing green stuff from her mouth and I see her eyes roll back inside her head but for now... I'm good. As good as it gets, I imagine. Again, I do not know as all I've had was "HB's."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my birthday. I know this sounds pathetic but all I wanna do is spend time with my &lt;i&gt;"back burner" &lt;/i&gt;mom... and enjoy the day doing something. She helped me get a new *used* car two weeks ago and so my birthday gift is within the 2004 Ford Focus. And I'm okay with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-4247212614432763711?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/4247212614432763711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=4247212614432763711&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4247212614432763711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4247212614432763711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/07/7-days-till-i-am-44.html' title='7 days till I am 44'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-5092802295571057935</id><published>2011-07-09T23:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T00:06:14.081-05:00</updated><title type='text'>making a come back</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;This was originally an Email I sent to my #1 fan of my blog... So I know I am cheating here but....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I haven't written a thing since mid May... got too much in my melon and I don't know how to release it I guess.... I do need to keep posting on here for therapeutic reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week (July 2- half of the 8th) I took off from my job of six months to spend in my childhood home hamlet with my siblings and their families. I was treated like I had a hideous disease and both my 2nd oldest brother and sissy refused to SPEAK TO ME with respect. Ignoring someone is a form of abuse you know!&amp;nbsp; And my brother's wife wasn't any better... my oldest brother did include me and I had some fun with my nephews/niece.... but being ignored and then have the two treat my mom like dirt royally pissed me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked Friday-today...very swamped... and came to the conclusion .... to HIDE all posts from my bitch ass sister and sis in law.... I was going to delete them but I haven't yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow and Tuesday are my days off but am going to the dentist tomorrow and Tues I have a nursing mtg I need to attend (mandatory) ... plus I get paid for going...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I should have been picked for The Rapture.... I'm so butt tired it isn't even funny. I have a lot more to gripe/write about but folks, I'll be back. I need something or some place to get my groove on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-5092802295571057935?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/5092802295571057935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=5092802295571057935&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5092802295571057935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5092802295571057935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/07/making-come-back.html' title='making a come back'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-3656758831703021862</id><published>2011-05-21T12:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T12:23:45.367-05:00</updated><title type='text'>happy rapture!</title><content type='html'>If I am here tomorrow after the Rapture happens tonight at 6PM .... I promise to return and blog my heart out. Till then, I'm off to the cemeteries to plant some flowers and such for Memorial Day weekend (my weekend to work). Peace out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-3656758831703021862?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/3656758831703021862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=3656758831703021862&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3656758831703021862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3656758831703021862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/05/happy-rapture.html' title='happy rapture!'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7567672082021516967</id><published>2011-05-14T19:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T19:34:36.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>how i spent my day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span data-jsid="text"&gt;I watched an elderly man turn green after having a heart attack. That was my Saturday afternoon.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span data-jsid="text"&gt;Then he had two more before being airlifted to the largest city in South Dakota. I am mentally drained.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7567672082021516967?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7567672082021516967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7567672082021516967&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7567672082021516967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7567672082021516967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/05/how-i-spent-my-day.html' title='how i spent my day.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-8299080886268530975</id><published>2011-05-07T23:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-07T23:22:12.422-05:00</updated><title type='text'>t.v. viewing pleasure.</title><content type='html'>On National Geographic Channel tonight from around 4pm to 11pm I watched  a marathon of Osama bin Laden's "10 Years of Terror." bin Laden gave  out clues/hints and then TOLD US Military and others via video taped  speeches that he was going to take down the Twin Towers, the Pentagon,  the Capitol, Seattle's Needle and Chicago's Sears Tower. And no one  believed him. And he was living in that compound for the past FIVE  YEARS!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope Americans are awake now!!!! He may be dead but he has thousands if not millions of followers. It is ALL pretty sick and disturbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of the marathon also reshowed countless of eye witnesses from 9/11 when the Towers were attacked and all of the other locations too. There I sat, eating sunflowers, watching so intently just like I did 10 years ago in my then townhouse. My heart started to beat fast -- all the while knowing the plot and the horrific ending to what I was watching....10 years ago, I didn't know.... what would happen in the end. Ten years later, it's still awful to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if people from that day, who were directly involved, are still having nightmares?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-8299080886268530975?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/8299080886268530975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=8299080886268530975&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8299080886268530975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8299080886268530975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/05/tv-viewing-pleasure.html' title='t.v. viewing pleasure.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-5366891214293135198</id><published>2011-05-05T21:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T21:40:13.207-05:00</updated><title type='text'>an irish blessing.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;May you be in Heaven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;a half hour before&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;the Devil knows you're dead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;-----&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I heard this blessing on May 3rd at a freebie luncheon at my work.&lt;/span&gt; I found it quite amusing considering a "nun in hiding" told a group of us before we bit into roast beef and cheesy potatoes.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Okay, I'm finally over the fact that Osama bin Laden is now dead and fish food. I'm fine with that and my life can move on. What I cannot get over is.... that people are now saying it was illegal to kill him and a whole bunch of other brouhaha bullshit on him. Seriously, I do not think I'm completely over what took place on September 11, 2001 yet.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;All my brain wants to do is go back to Friday, April 29, 2011, and watch over and over and over, the wonderful fairy tale of true love of Prince William and his new bride, Kate. That's magical, and real, and breathtaking..... it brings out hope. Or at least it does for me. I love the thought of HOPE.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Villains come and go. I'm fairly certain there will be another vicious villain in the making but how many true love fairy tale dreams can magically happen like what I saw on April 29, 2011?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-5366891214293135198?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/5366891214293135198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=5366891214293135198&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5366891214293135198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5366891214293135198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/05/irish-blessing.html' title='an irish blessing.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-5798218340295881149</id><published>2011-05-05T21:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T21:32:25.931-05:00</updated><title type='text'>perfecto.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-58EUSu-lsp0/TcNdgsnAxCI/AAAAAAAAAEk/gEdza8eB4Gs/s1600/tumblr_ljc5xk2Lel1qaedipo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="286" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-58EUSu-lsp0/TcNdgsnAxCI/AAAAAAAAAEk/gEdza8eB4Gs/s400/tumblr_ljc5xk2Lel1qaedipo1_500.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-5798218340295881149?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/5798218340295881149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=5798218340295881149&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5798218340295881149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5798218340295881149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/05/perfecto.html' title='perfecto.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-58EUSu-lsp0/TcNdgsnAxCI/AAAAAAAAAEk/gEdza8eB4Gs/s72-c/tumblr_ljc5xk2Lel1qaedipo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-4570338499535268244</id><published>2011-05-04T21:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T22:46:13.502-05:00</updated><title type='text'>coping.</title><content type='html'>This is how I am describing my current state of mind. Just coping. Today I went to work for a mere four and a half hours and it was filled with so much stress and tension that all I wanted to do was scream. And then she left. The one that makes my life hell there. And I had three and a half hours left. To cope. Tomorrow and Friday I work two 11 hour shifts then I get another four and a half days off to reload, relax, nap, do nothing. Cope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are having our very first major thunderstorm as I type. With lightening. And I just ate a box of strawberries. All one pound of them. And I wasn't even hungry. I'm coping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not depression. I don't know what it is.&lt;br /&gt;And I'm just coping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-4570338499535268244?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/4570338499535268244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=4570338499535268244&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4570338499535268244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4570338499535268244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/05/coping.html' title='coping.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-3591056776142903859</id><published>2011-05-01T22:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-01T22:34:47.248-05:00</updated><title type='text'>dead.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m3pkzKbBjrM/Tb4mLbue79I/AAAAAAAAAEg/9Z83_lDiTVE/s1600/c1main.bin.laden.gi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="112" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m3pkzKbBjrM/Tb4mLbue79I/AAAAAAAAAEg/9Z83_lDiTVE/s200/c1main.bin.laden.gi.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The  most prominent face of terror in America and beyond, Osama Bin Laden,  has been killed in Pakistan, U.S. officials said Sunday night. Fresh from www.cnn.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just finished eating my popcorn and slurping down my diet tea and on came Andy Cohen announcing his second guest would NOT be on tonight due to the fact that Osama Bin Laden is dead. I almost coughed up my heart and I started to shake. Literally. I quickly grabbed my phone and called my mom. She wasn't watching TV. I told her to turn it on NOW and get to CNN. We both were silent on the phone, we both were breathing loudly..... Oh my fucking God. I mean it. MY GOD, my God up in the sky, floating around... Justice has finally been served.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we thought... Will the war now end???? My heart was beating fast then and it's still beating fast now... 30 minutes after the fact. Jesus almighty. And I do mean the real Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now have a headache. It's a pounding one. The headache. Last time my heart was beating so fast was when Elizabeth Smart had been found. Alive. And returned home. I was at work, the call center hell or the tin shed at the time. Working. At night. My heart was beating fast that night. Too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is surreal. Very very very surreal. I never thought they'd find him. Ever. It's also surreal to know that they have his body in US custody too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it happened on May Day. Insane, totally totally insane.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-3591056776142903859?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/3591056776142903859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=3591056776142903859&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3591056776142903859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3591056776142903859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/05/dead.html' title='dead.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m3pkzKbBjrM/Tb4mLbue79I/AAAAAAAAAEg/9Z83_lDiTVE/s72-c/c1main.bin.laden.gi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-993172624557643113</id><published>2011-04-26T13:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T13:21:20.768-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it didn't even hurt</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4e3gg0TqDQc/TbcL4SOBc5I/AAAAAAAAAEc/mgVx0b2aaco/s1600/mammogram2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4e3gg0TqDQc/TbcL4SOBc5I/AAAAAAAAAEc/mgVx0b2aaco/s320/mammogram2.png" width="249" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This morning I had my very first mammogram done at the hospital where I work. I was fearing all these horror stories of how my poor boobs were going to feel and shockingly enough, nothing hurt. At. All. I had zero pain and I was wondering what the fuss was all about !!?! Kind of like when I had my colonoscopy done on March 14th... the prep work was literally a piece of cake. I actually LOVED the mixture I had to drink with my orange Gatorade. And my boob thing was over in 15 minutes. I had more anxiety while trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I sit. In the dark. With the fan on. And I'm wiped out. I spent from Friday night to yesterday evening at my mom's house.... catching up on lost sleep and doing 43 book markers for the little second graders in Yankton who will be going through first holy communion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about going to Yankton today but I have no gumption to do anything other than empty my bladder, watch "16 &amp;amp; Pregnant" and plan a long cozy nap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-993172624557643113?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/993172624557643113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=993172624557643113&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/993172624557643113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/993172624557643113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/04/it-didnt-even-hurt.html' title='it didn&apos;t even hurt'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4e3gg0TqDQc/TbcL4SOBc5I/AAAAAAAAAEc/mgVx0b2aaco/s72-c/mammogram2.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7918199668168099176</id><published>2011-04-20T13:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T13:08:07.692-05:00</updated><title type='text'>wednesday blahs</title><content type='html'>Well here I am. Alive. Not sick. Semi-tired but I am here. I'm very late in creating 43 book markers for a commissioned project I said I'd do back in early February. I have two weeks to complete this task and I have no motivation to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday, I spent the afternoon with my mom on her 71st birthday. We went to Vermillion to check out some thrift stores and found that of the THREE there, only two were open. And we really wanted to go to the one that was closed on Mondays. But it was cold and wet and it rained all day long. Then it snowed. Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I did absolutely nothing but paid $9 to mail back a box of clothes from Lane Bryant... marked ALL TOO BIG! Yay for me but I wasn't feeling like paying nine bucks on postage either. I did get a nap in and that felt awesome to do. I managed to lounge about on facebook for most of the day and eat crap. Oh and the snow melted much later in the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am on Hump Day. I'm already dressed for work (at 2pm) and I'm cold. I will be paying my $86.06 heating bill today (ugh) an outrageous thing to do really. I was pampered for four years at Sutton. My heat was paid in full there. Before that when I owned my townhouse, my heating bill was over $150 every month yet it had 3 floors to heat. So paying $86.06 today for my teeny tiny apartment on one level (the basement level) is just plain idiotic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I am planning a farewell potluck to the two nursing students we have from USD. We've had them every Thursday since the beginning of January. And both are super sweet and kind and nice and friendly and hard working soon-to-be nurses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a list of some of things that are bothering me today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;South Dakota cold temps in mid April.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Snow.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cold rain.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Having to bundle up like an Eskimo to stay warm while sleeping.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My sinuses.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gum that loses its flavor.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;America's Top Model.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And Tyra Banks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Poop.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And the smell of it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Working with negative people.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Or people who complain, in general.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Burnt popcorn.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bad teeth.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Constipation.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The color tan.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cracked windshields.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hand lotion that leaves your hands sticky.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Parrots.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Director chairs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Boxing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Too small bathtubs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Valances.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cheap talk.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Taking out the trash.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Nuns.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mustaches.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Facial hair in general.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Curtains that don't keep the sun/light out.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Rough toilet paper.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Unsolved true crime cases.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why the two 14-year-olds in Minnesota committed suicide on April 16th.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Here is #32's disturbing link:&lt;br /&gt;http://abcnews.go.com/US/suicide-pact-minnesota-eighth-graders-haylee-fentress-paige/story?id=13411751&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7918199668168099176?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7918199668168099176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7918199668168099176&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7918199668168099176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7918199668168099176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/04/wednesday-blahs.html' title='wednesday blahs'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7662211610166948596</id><published>2011-04-19T12:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T12:24:39.612-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i am alive. still.</title><content type='html'>I cannot believe I have gone 9 days without blogging. To be honest, I have been dead tired. I had a grueling 4 and a half days of hard work, at duh, work. Then yesterday was my mom's 71st birthday and I was tooooo tired to really enjoy spending the day with her. I'll regret this later, I'm sure. And it rained ALL DAY long... then while I was sleeping, it snowed. Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will write more later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7662211610166948596?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7662211610166948596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7662211610166948596&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7662211610166948596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7662211610166948596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-am-alive-still.html' title='i am alive. still.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7550494745747142606</id><published>2011-04-10T10:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T10:47:23.243-05:00</updated><title type='text'>misfits unite</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Umjvhoxo20w/TaHOQLpM_kI/AAAAAAAAAEU/tcSW5XyR9Uc/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Umjvhoxo20w/TaHOQLpM_kI/AAAAAAAAAEU/tcSW5XyR9Uc/s200/016.JPG" width="165" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sorry about being MIA .... I've been painting up a storm for commissioned orders and myself. And I've been doing a lot of thinking too about my choices I've made in 2011 so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been wondering if I made the right choice to move to the hamlet that I am now living in. I thought I'd be saving a lot of money but I'm not. I'm right back to where I was where I moved from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor as a church mouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it sucks. Ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, isn't she, my flaming orange haired misfit, adorable?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p_Vh1pHxHOA/TaHPrDw9OVI/AAAAAAAAAEY/RG3TsTUeqKg/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p_Vh1pHxHOA/TaHPrDw9OVI/AAAAAAAAAEY/RG3TsTUeqKg/s200/024.JPG" width="137" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;She's 16"x20 and is posted right above my bed. Last night I did a smaller version of it --- I made sure I drew arms and gloves --- and she'll go on my locker at work. This brown haired misfit is supposed to be me (hopefully by summer, my hair will be this long and curly)....and this painting is a little larger than 5"x7."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the village I moved from, there was a murder there, yesterday. A 28 year old guy shot his 25 year old live in girlfriend at 3AM CST while she was in her car, leaving. He then shot himself in the head. And SURVIVED!!! He's in now in critical condition. What an ass eh? See, the place where I was living, is not known for any major crime except drugs and drunk driving. Crime like this is so pointless. Of course, yes, crime overall, is stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, did anyone catch last night's 48 Hours Mystery, about the Air Cadet Colonnel in Canada?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7550494745747142606?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7550494745747142606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7550494745747142606&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7550494745747142606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7550494745747142606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/04/misfits-unite.html' title='misfits unite'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Umjvhoxo20w/TaHOQLpM_kI/AAAAAAAAAEU/tcSW5XyR9Uc/s72-c/016.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-8861686717751014692</id><published>2011-04-05T23:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T23:26:13.814-05:00</updated><title type='text'>um, what did you say?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WGJEv6msAQs/TZvobGzZtPI/AAAAAAAAAEM/GsRURB71D5k/s1600/Confused.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WGJEv6msAQs/TZvobGzZtPI/AAAAAAAAAEM/GsRURB71D5k/s200/Confused.jpg" width="137" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Yesterday I received a very very very RARE text from my sister on the West Coast that came with an image of a roaring fire in a fire pit in their newly constructed outdoor deck made out of rocks/stones that her husband designed a couple of years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The text said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Wishing you were here."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I double checked to see if she really sent the text to me and wasn't a forward like she always does or has done in the past. Nope. I looked to see if it was sent to all my siblings but realized I couldn't see that nugget. And I just sat stunned in my car. Like really really really stunned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She lives in Washington. I'm 10 miles from our childhood home and I haven't seen her in 2 years and we haven't spoken on the phone in same amount of time. We MAY have sent a couple of emails here and there but nothing personal like "hey sis, how are you? i love you" kind of emails. Nothing like that. At. All.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are each others "friends" on facebook but I say that loosely. I've been on facebook since 2007 and she just joined not even a year ago. She told me it was a waste of time. She said the same thing about pedicures and manicures to me when I suggested she get them to relax... but now she's a regular. She's four years older than me and yet I'm the fun one. She's the married one. And I accepted the fact many many years ago that we are not friends and we will never be. I've tried to no avail. Her loss really. But I adore her husband and her three children. Still like others have told me, her loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On facebook, she likes to tell my sister-in-law of 25 years how much she loves her on her Wall... but never says anything at all to me on my Wall. She sends her love loudly on other fb pages of mutual friends, other relatives, etc... but not me. I get no love from her on facebook. I question it almost daily as to why I'm even on her friends list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CMoXohKtAv0/TZvobkcvLZI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/WGS4CDG_GA0/s1600/firepit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CMoXohKtAv0/TZvobkcvLZI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/WGS4CDG_GA0/s200/firepit.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So you can imagine the shock, horror (?) and surprise I was feeling yesterday.... when I got the roaring fire pit, with her spouse and my niece and nephew on the image with that message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously people, she's never wanted me to be included in anything of her personal life. Ever. Honest to God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I waited about six hours before I sent a text back. And then she responded immediately after that comment too. I'm really really confused. So much that when I had lunch with my mom at her house today, I couldn't bring myself to mention it to her. And I always talk about my sister with my mom. Always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-8861686717751014692?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/8861686717751014692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=8861686717751014692&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8861686717751014692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8861686717751014692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/04/um-what-did-you-say.html' title='um, what did you say?'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WGJEv6msAQs/TZvobGzZtPI/AAAAAAAAAEM/GsRURB71D5k/s72-c/Confused.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-1322834087660882321</id><published>2011-04-04T01:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T01:18:18.932-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i spy a fly....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uarmboZ0xqo/TZlg18NOKbI/AAAAAAAAAEI/M2lGPbF12VU/s1600/70-spying3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uarmboZ0xqo/TZlg18NOKbI/AAAAAAAAAEI/M2lGPbF12VU/s200/70-spying3.jpg" width="155" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;facebook is just stupid. and people are stupid. in general I mean on facebook. I was just about to sign out for the night, some three hours ago when I came upon a photo of an old coworker at the call center hell --- the place you know where I was trapped for six years.... well I worked with some really doozies .....so I click on the photo and up came one of the biggest skanks known to mankind or in this case, known to the village I just moved from .... and one click lead to another click and there I was on her entire WIDE OPEN FACEBOOK PAGE. She has nothing any private settings. Nothing. So I scanned through all 12 albums.... staring/gawking/whatever you wanna call it at all her hoochie-mama photos and all of her awful "mini-me" hoochie daughter's photos... boobs hanging out, making seductive poses with their lips being pouty or pursed together. Big skank, little skank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny thing is... about two weeks ago, my mom and I were in Wally World and came upon these two... they had a cart filled to the brim with new toys (for her and her 16 yr old daughter) ....I said to my mom that I bet she had just gotten her $5,000 income tax return... 'cuz she did that every year... spent the entire 5 grand on shit for herself and her two bastard children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there, before my spying eyes .... was all her skanky photos of her skanky self. It's good to see that she's stayed the same after all these years since I last laid eyes on her as a fellow coworker. And come on, seriously people.... block people like me from gawking all over your facebook pages! Jesus Almighty! ....AND block them from others like say your employers from looking through nearly ALL of them with you and the booze you are heavily consuming....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid is as stupid does I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-1322834087660882321?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/1322834087660882321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=1322834087660882321&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1322834087660882321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1322834087660882321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-spy-fly.html' title='i spy a fly....'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uarmboZ0xqo/TZlg18NOKbI/AAAAAAAAAEI/M2lGPbF12VU/s72-c/70-spying3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-1000260342647694534</id><published>2011-04-03T19:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T19:59:52.615-05:00</updated><title type='text'>remember steve?</title><content type='html'>my very good lookin' neighbor who lived kitty corner from me??? the one who said he was really really good lookin' about 14 times in a 5 minute conversation to me when I first moved in??? Yeah THAT Steve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He moved. To Iowa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-1000260342647694534?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/1000260342647694534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=1000260342647694534&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1000260342647694534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1000260342647694534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/04/remember-steve.html' title='remember steve?'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6825027841512544011</id><published>2011-04-01T23:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T23:19:02.094-05:00</updated><title type='text'>two years ago today...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h6ryhylQqck/TZahj26vPMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/S3qw_sogt_M/s1600/creepygirl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="156" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h6ryhylQqck/TZahj26vPMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/S3qw_sogt_M/s200/creepygirl.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;April 1, 2009 at 3:30PM I was aptly fired from call center hell. I had worked six years, three months and 29 days for that hillbilly shit hole. And I was kicked to the curb. Along with several hundred other folks. It was the greatest firing of all my firings in my entire career of getting a paycheck. I first started paying taxes back in the seventh grade washing dishes at a steak house then moved up to waitressing in high school and early college-hood. But enough about my big life journey of jobs..... And look at me now... living 35 miles away from that big metropolis of a village and enjoying somewhat my new digs, new job, new set of cohorts, new problems, new homestead, new everything.... Don't ya just love the little creepy miss ....And happy April Fool's to you too. Goodnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6825027841512544011?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6825027841512544011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6825027841512544011&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6825027841512544011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6825027841512544011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/04/two-years-ago-today.html' title='two years ago today...'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h6ryhylQqck/TZahj26vPMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/S3qw_sogt_M/s72-c/creepygirl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7117515799718286720</id><published>2011-03-31T19:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T19:57:07.229-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sweating to the oldies</title><content type='html'>Today proved to be one giant sweat pot of issues. By mid morning I was ready to run through a sprinkler and slide down a super ice cold silly slide. I was baking. I was screaming for mercy (inside my melon that is) and I just wanted to get out of my stifling hot hot hot winter long long pants and wanted to give myself a sweet little pixie hair cut. I&amp;nbsp; WAS THAT HOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted where I sit it's always a balmy 81 degrees (no fool'n) .... I had four fans directly on me and I still couldn't breathe. Then I got the dreadful thirst going on.... I could NOT get enough water to drink. I mean it. I was just lapping it up around the corner from my desk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did kind of mention to the girls that my diabetes was a bit out of whackadoodle and this was 99.99% the reason why I was acting this way.... And I stayed during lunch since it was our potluck and all. So I had nothing to put my hair up but an icky scratchy rubber band. Eeeeeeeewwww. But I forged ahead and used it. That did bring SOME relief but not enough....thankfully once I got to my teeny tiny apartment, where it's like an Eskimo's frozen tundra here (no thanks to my last months $92 electric bill or this months, $86 bill!!!!). Remember for the past four years, I lived in an apartment where I got FREE HEAT!!!!! That's the only thing I miss about that apartment!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, I got the scrunchie already picked out and I don't care if it snows like they are threatening... I AM WEARING CAPRIs come hell or high water!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7117515799718286720?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7117515799718286720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7117515799718286720&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7117515799718286720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7117515799718286720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/sweating-to-oldies.html' title='sweating to the oldies'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-629400522366249939</id><published>2011-03-30T22:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T22:26:00.424-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I bought a new chips'n dip bowl</title><content type='html'>....for tomorrow's retirement potluck honoring a really great guy who is duh, retiring. And we have to wear all black. So I went one step further and painted my finger nails with a sparkling sixty-nine cent bottle of black nail polish, tis my touch indeed. Truthfully, this guy will be missed. He's been friends of my family for nearly 30 years. But life goes on and we will get along without him. But it's just been, for me, comforting to have him around. I should already be in bed but I'm stupidly watching Andy Cohen with Michael and Richard from Top Chef....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of stuff has been going on and I kept thinking "this must go on my blog" but at the end of each day, I picked sleep over blogging. A shout out to my one and only follower: I'M SORRY!!! But considering we are also facebook buddies, you know where I've been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work now through Sunday too. And guess who with? The chick whose sister died last Saturday. She's had the entire week off and now I get to be with her on Saturday AND Sunday. I'm hoping the death of her crippled sister will have softened her some, maybe made her more easy going, less harsh and less mean. And must we walk on egg shells around her???? That'll be the $20,000,000 question come 7AM April 2nd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a history of on again, off again depression. Ever since I was 15 years old. So the other day when I told my mom I wasn't feeling well and then later confessed to chalking it up to my depression, she got all weird on me and said "Talk to me." I thought I had been. About my job, moving, my finances, life in general.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember she's the one who loves to put everything, I mean EVERYTHING on the back burner and then turn off the stove and walk away from the smelly pot. Then my mom really forgets about the pot and must think this depression thing is something new !?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not like I just can say, "Okay mom, I'll stop being depressed." Apparently she doesn't get how depression works. Or anxiety for that matter! Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was at Wally World and for $3.88 my mom bought for me (big spender) ... a lovely red plastic bowl (with a nice handy dandy plastic lid) that inside the lovely red plastic red bowl had a smaller red bowl that perhaps would hold salsa or dip. So guess what I'm shleping along tomorrow? That's right... cheap ass salsa for $1.54 and a $2 bag of plain Jane tortilla chips. I may be cheap but I can have one hell of a good time at any potluck out there!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-629400522366249939?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/629400522366249939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=629400522366249939&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/629400522366249939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/629400522366249939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-bought-new-chipsn-dip-bowl.html' title='I bought a new chips&apos;n dip bowl'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-5865087103653093240</id><published>2011-03-27T22:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T22:59:17.448-05:00</updated><title type='text'>misfits unite</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P7d2pCCqNeQ/TZAF_cCY5NI/AAAAAAAAAEA/t8kT-s6alDs/s1600/downsized_0327012148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P7d2pCCqNeQ/TZAF_cCY5NI/AAAAAAAAAEA/t8kT-s6alDs/s200/downsized_0327012148.jpg" width="170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;For 10 hours today, I painted. Two of the paintings were for a commissioned project that I did last year too. For a Catholic school. Then I picked out a lime green 16"x20" frame and wanted something clever and fun loving above my bed. I didn't think of this originally but saw an oil painting done by some other artist of another misft superhero and decided to draw my own with flaming orange curly hair... in my own favorite colors with the word: SHAZAM up at the top. I love it to death and obviously the photo taken by my LG3 phone doesn't do it justice but it's adorable and it's mine and I drew and painted it with vibrant watercolor paints... and everytime I've looked at it for the past two hours... it just makes me smile. And isn't that what's it is all about??? Smiling. Laughing. Loving life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-5865087103653093240?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/5865087103653093240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=5865087103653093240&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5865087103653093240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5865087103653093240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/misfits-unite.html' title='misfits unite'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P7d2pCCqNeQ/TZAF_cCY5NI/AAAAAAAAAEA/t8kT-s6alDs/s72-c/downsized_0327012148.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-2496162137918950709</id><published>2011-03-26T23:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T23:04:55.883-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rocky horror me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZjcECgRonYY/TY61HufB1HI/AAAAAAAAAD8/8Nz8E2ueiD4/s1600/Tim-Curry-stars-as-Dr.-Frank-N-Furter-in-The-Rocky-Horror-Picture-Show.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZjcECgRonYY/TY61HufB1HI/AAAAAAAAAD8/8Nz8E2ueiD4/s200/Tim-Curry-stars-as-Dr.-Frank-N-Furter-in-The-Rocky-Horror-Picture-Show.jpg" width="175" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I wasted an hour on tonight's "48 Hours Mystery" .... so if you live on the west coast... don't bother. Earlier this afternoon I caught a glimpse of the "Rocky Horror Picture Show." I do not think I've ever seen it from start to finish though. So now, it's on again....I already missed the beginning. Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring 1990, I was a nanny in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Another nanny goat and I headed over to Cambridge (MA) to a midnight showing of "Rocky Horror" .... we stood in a very long line with Rocky maniacs....all dressed up in their favorite character..... once inside the joint, it was craaazzzzy stuff. Back then I was still a very naive prairie girl while my nanny goat gal pal was on her up and up of being an uptown girl .... Wait. Did I just write that? Basically she knew more than me and knew what she was doing while I was still the girl who stood and stared and didn't divert my eyes as quickly as she did. I never did quite "get" what the movie was about. I mean people told me. I had seen bits and clips and whatnots about the flick but wasn't a huge fan or even a fan. I just found the movie's music fun. And I liked odd and I still do. Life's oddities, that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've mentioned this nugget before, but I literally grew up in community theatre.... since I was in my mother's womb. I stopped acting in 2003. But earlier this afternoon, I found myself thinking... how cool it'd be in the community theatre in the village I no longer reside in... would do something as racy as "The Rocky Horror Picture Show."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chances of that ever happening is something like "when pigs fly." But it would be awesome to see live on stage. With nothing edited from the original script. I would even audition for it. I do miss acting and I do also miss singing. Performing. Being on stage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-2496162137918950709?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/2496162137918950709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=2496162137918950709&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2496162137918950709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2496162137918950709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/rocky-horror-me.html' title='rocky horror me'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZjcECgRonYY/TY61HufB1HI/AAAAAAAAAD8/8Nz8E2ueiD4/s72-c/Tim-Curry-stars-as-Dr.-Frank-N-Furter-in-The-Rocky-Horror-Picture-Show.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-8030159445056363333</id><published>2011-03-26T12:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T12:22:06.813-05:00</updated><title type='text'>stick with what you know</title><content type='html'>I just wasted nearly three hours going through free blogger templates to try to find one that beats the one I ultimately picked. The little girl named Matilda pulling on her dead little lamb. Stick with what you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a coworker of mine... the one who made my life a living hell last Sunday... the one who tattles on every one because she's such a whench .... went to work this morning with my favorite cohort in crime.... when I woke up now four hours ago, I got a text from my favorite telling me the whenches crippled sister apparently went to the ER just one block from me.... and died. She had some crippling disease and was wheel chaired bound. I forget what the official name to her disease was ...and she had been very very ill just not a month before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not too sure how I should feel since I do not like this particular coworker. Obviously yes IT IS sad, I'm not stupid or heartless. And everything I've been through with my own cousin's passing.... and there shouldn't be anything more I should want to say. But I have lots to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'll zip my lips and just add one more thing ... It is really really hard to offer sympathy to someone who is only looking out for herself and herself only.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-8030159445056363333?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/8030159445056363333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=8030159445056363333&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8030159445056363333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8030159445056363333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/stick-with-what-you-know.html' title='stick with what you know'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-1784751420520864192</id><published>2011-03-26T09:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T09:19:44.597-05:00</updated><title type='text'>howdy</title><content type='html'>I decided to get out of my weird funk. So I changed my dismal yet cute yet morbid template. Yesterday I made a conscious decision too at work and just said "fuck it" and go back to what is considered normal attitude about the misfits I work with too. Thankfully I got to work with one of my favorites and we made it fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hungry. As in junk food, fast food hungry. However, I don't live any where NEAR anything like that. And I have no desire to motor 35 miles to stuff my face with that shit. I am going to be going to my mom's this afternoon.... to do what else? My laundry. I don't have any quarters to be honest otherwise I'd jam all my threads in the washer just outside my front door. I know I could go get some but who wants to do that when your mom is offering hers and promised to cook something awesome for supper????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to share something cool with you. All of the adults of my cousin Scott's immediate family went to a tattoo shop across from the cemetery he was buried in .....all got an Aspen leaf tatted on in his memory. Besides his own nuclear family, everyone else, including his parents, got one. Why Aspen??? That's all of their second homes in Aspen, Colorado since all the kids (my peers) were children. And besides Scott's family, they all live around Aspen today. I mean, what a great memorial to him. I about started to cry when I read that on facebook last night.&amp;nbsp; His folks are in their late 70s...and this was their first tattoo. And two of Scott's older sons got them too... the two younger ones (13 and 9) got temporary stencils of an Aspen leaf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am. New template, new attitude, new reason for being alive. Life is always changing for better or for worse. Ya gotta roll with the punches, death included. And move on....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-1784751420520864192?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/1784751420520864192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=1784751420520864192&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1784751420520864192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1784751420520864192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/howdy.html' title='howdy'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-4456772265290467824</id><published>2011-03-24T21:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T21:58:38.265-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my mind is on an emotional roller coaster</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="sqq"&gt;“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh," he whispered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, Piglet?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw, "I just wanted to be sure of you."”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="sqq"&gt;____________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="sqq"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="sqq"&gt;I'm not feeling myself right now. Sadness is just enveloping me to a high degree of uncertainty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="sqq"&gt;While I know I have support from friends, family, my mom...my facebook pals, online bloggers and perhaps even the guy down the street.... I just feel so very very alone right now. And I cannot shake the image of my cousin lying in his coffin. I barely could cry at his funeral, yet tonight, I shedded a few tears when Casey Abram was saved on American Idol and I lost it when Michael proposed to Holly on The Office. I even asked if I could go home early today at work. By 2:57PM CST, I was curled up in my pajamas underneath a girnormous comforter wishing it all away. It's now 9:58PM and nothing has altered my mood. Goodnight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-4456772265290467824?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/4456772265290467824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=4456772265290467824&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4456772265290467824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4456772265290467824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-mind-is-on-emotional-roller-coaster.html' title='my mind is on an emotional roller coaster'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-8888440492359597565</id><published>2011-03-22T19:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T19:23:17.061-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Death'/><title type='text'>memo missed.</title><content type='html'>I went to pay my respects today for my cousin who died at the ripe age of 48 years and 27 days. We drove in a thick fog, rain and later on it hailed golf balls. We arrived early and was surrounded with a ton of my father's first cousins -- all in their 70s and 80s. I was the only one representing my generation beside Scott's three sisters. Wait, I was the 3rd one amongst the sisters. When I went over to see him in the casket... I was mortified. There wasn't anything left of him. But a shell of a human being. I think I felt my heart stop. What happened to my fun loving boisterous sounding cousin Scott??? Before me was a mega skinny skeleton covered with hardly any skin and hardly any hair on his head. His skin was stretched so badly across his face, I didn't know what to do but stand there and close my eyes breathing deeply. I knew I had to move because people were lining up behind me. And for second, I couldn't find my mom in the sea of black and more black. Thankfully, she wore a rust colored outfit and I found her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never got the memo that you had to show up in solid black to attend. I was the only one with a lime green coat on. I was the only one it seemed in a bright colored blue shirt too. And I was the only one without a ton of heavy jewelry on too. My mom said "this is how they do it in the big cities." I was too much in a foggy state of mind to disagree with her at that moment in time. Then we were all shoved into the "family room" to stand amongst ourselves with the other family members of the other cousins not belonging to us. I felt like I was stuck in some sort of time warp. I had no feelings whatsoever and I just gawked at anyone crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the procession started. I was shoved directly by the coffin, standing behind Scott's nephew. The choir started singing this angelic music and I couldn't figure out why I wasn't feeling anything. Emotionally, I mean. I mean, here I was, standing mere inches from a guy I really dug. He was a cool cousin. Funny. Smart. Witty. And now here was his body, all skeleton like.... seriously I was creeped out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom picked me up too early for me to fix my hair. She didn't give me enough time to blow dry it so I put it back in the front with a barrette....when I ran into the bathroom I saw how much of a goon I looked like. And felt. Since again, I wasn't given the memo on the black dress code. And what the city slickers do. I'm just rural prairie girl who likes to wear bright colors. I'm such a geek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never fully relaxed or felt like my real self until my mom and I fled the scene, after eating the funeral food of ham sandwiches and crappy salads. Then my emotions all came out. Everything. And God must've heard me. Cause right then and there we saw a ginormous lightening bolt, heard a loud crack of thunder and boy did the rain ever come down hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts were heard. Now safely back in my own teeny tiny hamlet of a home....I'm still cold. I'm still reeling from seeing him look so unlike him and as I looked up into the grey skyline tonight, I wondered how he is doing now, pain free...curiously wondering if he knew I was there. To say.... goodbye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-8888440492359597565?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/8888440492359597565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=8888440492359597565&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8888440492359597565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8888440492359597565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/memo-missed.html' title='memo missed.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-1550340852882818324</id><published>2011-03-21T19:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T20:05:05.622-05:00</updated><title type='text'>just got kicked to the curb</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KnsUGJoiB7w/TYf0Rj15KPI/AAAAAAAAAD4/TCuvAkLze5s/s1600/ebay.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KnsUGJoiB7w/TYf0Rj15KPI/AAAAAAAAAD4/TCuvAkLze5s/s320/ebay.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I am no longer an ebay whore.&lt;br /&gt;They have suspended my sluttiness of spending. FML.&lt;br /&gt;Thank GOD I've discovered &lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/"&gt;Etsy&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-1550340852882818324?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/1550340852882818324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=1550340852882818324&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1550340852882818324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1550340852882818324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/just-got-kicked-to-curb.html' title='just got kicked to the curb'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KnsUGJoiB7w/TYf0Rj15KPI/AAAAAAAAAD4/TCuvAkLze5s/s72-c/ebay.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-3229848862554894433</id><published>2011-03-21T19:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T19:43:50.251-05:00</updated><title type='text'>pluck me silly</title><content type='html'>I drove 35 miles to get my eye brows waxed and paid a whopping $8.35 for the task. I gave a $2 tip too. The girl doing it though was annoying as hell. I wish they'd just focus on pouring the hot wax and ripping off the strip instead of asking me stupid ass questions like &lt;i&gt;"What brings you to Yankton today?" &lt;/i&gt;....Duh. To get my eye brows waxed dumbass. Jesus. Obviously I was in no mood to discuss the weather, why I motored to the big city or why I felt the need to wax off my school marm eye brows to something more sassier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got back to the hamlet I now call home and called my mom. While I didn't go into it on here, I had a shit ass day yesterday. At work. She drove me to the furniture store in another teeny tiny village so I could pay $111.00 on my couch/ottoman bill. I still owe $410. Ouch. What the hell was I thinking when I went there with my mom two months ago looking for a pillow top bed???? All I recall saying was....&lt;i&gt;"Do you have any couchs on sale??"&amp;nbsp; &lt;/i&gt;I tend to open my mouth before thinking sometimes. Or only as of late. But it was good to vent out loud to my mom (about my job and not the couch) and not get judged back. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my new couch and ginormous ottoman but... $410 is a lot to pay right now since I never got back any income tax return!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Early tomorrow AM, I'm heading to the largest city in the Dakota Territory to say farewell to my super kind cousin at his funeral...I can tell you this much, it's going to be sad. I know his wife and his parents very well. As kids, my family and his family would do vacations together. He has three younger sisters....I first said he had six sons but he only has four. Prior to him getting colon cancer, he was extremely active and lead a vibrant life. Then he got terminally ill....and tomorrow I shall say 'so long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-3229848862554894433?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/3229848862554894433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=3229848862554894433&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3229848862554894433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3229848862554894433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/pluck-me-silly.html' title='pluck me silly'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-2470242228322250653</id><published>2011-03-20T23:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T23:48:52.687-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='365 Day Project'/><title type='text'>365 Day Project: My Version</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tl0zMavi6eo/TYbYTxaNxFI/AAAAAAAAAD0/dBXcvaWEeSk/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tl0zMavi6eo/TYbYTxaNxFI/AAAAAAAAAD0/dBXcvaWEeSk/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My pillow top bed surrounded bits n' pieces of my childhood, my art, likes and antiques.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-2470242228322250653?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/2470242228322250653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=2470242228322250653&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2470242228322250653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2470242228322250653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/365-day-project-my-version.html' title='365 Day Project: My Version'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tl0zMavi6eo/TYbYTxaNxFI/AAAAAAAAAD0/dBXcvaWEeSk/s72-c/003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6677470185450356368</id><published>2011-03-20T13:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T13:16:35.622-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Corn Nuts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Snacks'/><title type='text'>crunchy plus annoying</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-KOCBz8z37Ak/TYZDF6LPn2I/AAAAAAAAADw/1epKf-NaEFE/s1600/Corn+Nuts+Ranch+4oz-500x500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-KOCBz8z37Ak/TYZDF6LPn2I/AAAAAAAAADw/1epKf-NaEFE/s200/Corn+Nuts+Ranch+4oz-500x500.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Am home for lunch yet again. Bored to death at work. We have a very low census today. And four of us are on duty. When we're like this, we all get the munchies. I opted to eat one of my favorite snacks: Corn Nuts - ranch flavored. The girls tell me they reek something awful but I cannot smell a thing when eating them. A local moron who comes up every single Sunday carrying fresh homemade donuts from our local bakery said he couldn't smell them either. He has one of the most annoying laughs too. But the girls just love him. Gack. I hate annoying people like that. But they tell me he used to be a patient of theirs and was there for over 6 weeks.... what I haven't told them is .... this moron is one of my relatives. I don't even think this freak knows this nugget and I'm not going to be the one to fill him in on this awful piece of news either. As much as I resent my controlling father for not allowing us kids to get to know our kin in the hamlet I now reside in, I guess I can count myself lucky for not having to grow up knowing this dude is my cousin until I was much much older and more wiser.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6677470185450356368?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6677470185450356368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6677470185450356368&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6677470185450356368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6677470185450356368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/crunchy-plus-annoying.html' title='crunchy plus annoying'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-KOCBz8z37Ak/TYZDF6LPn2I/AAAAAAAAADw/1epKf-NaEFE/s72-c/Corn+Nuts+Ranch+4oz-500x500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-1058759462809636521</id><published>2011-03-19T21:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T21:02:43.785-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Slumbering'/><title type='text'>too pooped to write</title><content type='html'>My mom met me outside my gig tonight ....we were beyond slow for the first 9 1/2 hours of my shift then the last hour we got two ERs and a slew of families from both emergencies come crawling in AND a staff shift change. I was in the mix of it all doing all the registrations and ordering the Xrays/Labs, and making sure the families were well taken care of. It was nice to walk out of the madness to see my mom. It was even nicer and sweeter upon returning home with my mom to see my cutie patootie little six month old friend peering out the door window and my coworker holding her.... and then all three favorites of mine, entered my cozy little apartment to visit. And my little friend allowed me to feed her one Cheerio after another to her... oooh she's so so sweet. My mom brought me my all time favorite Czech soup for supper... and I heated up some dumplings to put in the soup.... perfecto. Now I'm beat. It's not even 9PM and I'm ready to close my eyes for the night and pray for a solid sleep. I have no photo op to post and nothing worth while here to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: magenta;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="color: white;"&gt;&lt;i style="background-color: magenta;"&gt;Happy Birthday to my #1 Follower!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: white;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am so glad we're friends. Sweet dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-1058759462809636521?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/1058759462809636521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=1058759462809636521&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1058759462809636521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1058759462809636521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/too-pooped-to-write.html' title='too pooped to write'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-4526704011382006875</id><published>2011-03-19T20:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T20:54:23.191-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Doobies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Death'/><title type='text'>prayers needed</title><content type='html'>Last night at 8:15PM CST, my cousin Scott died. He was just 47. He's leaving behind a wonderfully kind hearted wife and six sons; three sisters and their spouses and several nieces, nephews and his loving parents. And a host of approximately 200 cousins, me included. He was cursed with cancer since 2008. His funeral is Tuesday in the largest city in the Dakota Territory. And he was one of the nicest good-natured type of humans I've ever encountered. He was also the very first person to hook me up with a doobie back in 1984 too. He will be greatly missed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-4526704011382006875?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/4526704011382006875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=4526704011382006875&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4526704011382006875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4526704011382006875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/prayers-for-his-family.html' title='prayers needed'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-3859671706703180388</id><published>2011-03-18T21:07:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T21:07:59.479-05:00</updated><title type='text'>home sweet home</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FVBdbfkE6g0/TYQP0WvITfI/AAAAAAAAADs/8xZXulOHbWk/s1600/doc4d6883219717d744266983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FVBdbfkE6g0/TYQP0WvITfI/AAAAAAAAADs/8xZXulOHbWk/s1600/doc4d6883219717d744266983.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-3859671706703180388?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/3859671706703180388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=3859671706703180388&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3859671706703180388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3859671706703180388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/home-sweet-home.html' title='home sweet home'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FVBdbfkE6g0/TYQP0WvITfI/AAAAAAAAADs/8xZXulOHbWk/s72-c/doc4d6883219717d744266983.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-8728927650475600135</id><published>2011-03-18T21:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T21:00:20.235-05:00</updated><title type='text'>photo-op project</title><content type='html'>I have a childhood theatre friend on facebook who sadly became unemployed in Sacramento, Calif right before Christmas. He apparently has been very bored trying so far, unsuccessfully, finding a new gig but has taken on a very creative project, simply called "The 365-Day Project." He has committed to taking a new photograph every single day until January 1, 2012 and the posting it on facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, I found this project of his to be quite annoying. He was only posting idiotic photos of his exceedingly boring dog. In between the dog and the dog chew toys, he has managed to impress me a wee bit and has included some really cool artsy fartsy type of photos too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm going to steal this project of his and while I have no dog, nor do I live in sunny California --- I do live in God's Country.... or in better and more truthful words, I literally live in "Tornado Alley." Yup, right in the heart beat of twister country. You can actually follow down with your index finger from where I am located all the way through Oklahoma... and you would have just traced through Tornado Alley. And it's here, where I proudly call home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say cheese!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-8728927650475600135?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/8728927650475600135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=8728927650475600135&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8728927650475600135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8728927650475600135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/photo-op-project.html' title='photo-op project'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6067458737138552664</id><published>2011-03-18T20:28:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T20:44:15.538-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Randomness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mindless Thoughts'/><title type='text'>missing matilda</title><content type='html'>Crazy day today. Woke up exactly at 4:47AM and had to pee. Badly. Then decided it was pointless to hit the snooze button so I cranked the heat up in my bathroom and got ready to shower. That completed, I got dressed and hung out watching mindless crap on TV and checking my facebook and emails. Headed to work to be greeted by .... &amp;lt;whew&amp;gt; we've been waiting for you..... a patient came in mega early for her AM procedure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between 5:45AM and when I left for lunch at 11:48AM ... it was a non stop blur of people, paperwork, transcribing, laughing, greetings, phone calls, more laughter, running up and down the ramp, delivering messages to other departments (on foot), up and down the elevator, up and down the flight of hard cement stairs, more people, whirls of sounds, bells and whistles and me ordering a sub sandwich at the local "deli" (aka gas station) in town... remember I know live in a hamlet that has no fast food places other than this "short order cook" place inside of a gas station. Not a truck stuck, a gas station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lunch....not so much busy but I got to leave by 5PM CST. To that, I got to see my mega adorable six month old little friend, got to hold her to boot while her mommy/also my cohort at my gig ....who also happens to live above me....got out her super cool jogger stroller. Then my mom and I headed over to my high school classmates bar &amp;amp; grill ...me for "The Mimi" chicken breast club and fries... she for the "all you can eat" fish buffet. She plays the Catholic game of LENT while I choose to ignore the game or rules that go along with being a Recovering Catholic. And I sinned once more and ate chicken. Bawk bawk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's getting down to crunch time now of completing my two 16"x20" commissioned paintings of the two 2nd grade classes at ironically, a Catholic grade school in the village I lived in for nearly 12 years. Plus two 16"x12" paintings I have to donate my time and talent for their April 16th Silent Auction at their fancy schmancy Gala event. I did this last year and my art went over smashingly well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My nephew is 14 today. I haven't seen him in 2 years. I will get to see him over the 4th of July when they motor over here from Seattle, Washington. He's an interesting kid. I like him a lot. Just wish I could see him more often than when his parents or ah my sister decides when they visit and when they don't. Sure I could go there, if I had any money, but I don't. And what little I do, goes for buying new Crocs or buying Funyuns or other mindless goop for my own pleasure and sanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work the next two days -- both 11.5 hour shifts with two icky people. Tomorrow will simply suck in terms of I know I won't laugh much or even smile much unless we get new patients in. But I have a couple of newspaper articles to write and some stuff to create for my supervisor. I need excitement up there otherwise it'll be a long ass haul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I ended my day by harassing my upstairs neighbor, Mark while he was grilling ground deer meat as burgers through my window while he was in the BBQ section of the complex. I must post a photo so all of you will NOT visualize us having a nice spread of three grills out our door ... it's like the redneck version of three crapass looking beat up old grills on ill fitted bricks on our crappy grass blended with a lot of mud, etc etc.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleepiness is hitting me hard right now. I think I'll change into my jammies and watch a bit more of "Say Yes to the Dress" and hit the lights in about 20 minutes.... praying that Mister Sandman comes a callin' around 9:30PMish. But before I sign off for good.... while eating with my mom earlier....my grandmother Matilda popped into my thoughts while staring at my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While telling my mom how annoying I am getting with the hourly siren whistles going off at 7AM, 12Noon, 6PM and then 9PM ....every single day. It's like hearing the tornado whistle that warns us Prairie People a pending twister is within arm's reach.... And remember this is not only my grandmother's birth place, but also my mom's and her older brother's too. So missing Matilda truly sprang alive while chomping on my non-Lenten meal. My mom mentioned something about the 9PM siren and how all of the town kids knew to go inside and get ready for Mister Sandman....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then proceeded to tell me something very similar from my childhood when I'd stay at my Grandmother Matilda's home. It was like a flood of fresh memories. I could hear my grandmother talking in Czech. I could see her very worn out tired hands. I could feel the roughness on her calloused hands too. I could smell the fresh baked sugar cookies on the counter. And the teeny tiny chocolate chips she'd use as eyes or buttons on her delicious sugar cookies too. The quaintness of their cute little house that was painted white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wonder, can they see me now? Are they proud of what I've become? Are they happy I've moved to their hometown? Can they tell when I'm feeling down or sad or overwhelmed? In my own world, I do like to think, they can see me. And they are proud of me. And then DO know when I wish they were still near. Deep deep down, I can still feel my grandmother's rough hands wrapped around me, like a good Czech does. Oh how I miss you so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6067458737138552664?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6067458737138552664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6067458737138552664&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6067458737138552664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6067458737138552664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/random-yet-mindless-thoughts.html' title='missing matilda'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-3578109507130264658</id><published>2011-03-17T21:26:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T21:55:15.694-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Porn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Leprechauns'/><title type='text'>am i losing my mind???</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-juyaHE7-4Kw/TYK_jw-fgNI/AAAAAAAAADk/dYLO9ghENPo/s1600/iloveleprechaunporn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-juyaHE7-4Kw/TYK_jw-fgNI/AAAAAAAAADk/dYLO9ghENPo/s200/iloveleprechaunporn.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;All day I was thinking... I need to post something for my one and only follower ....it was like a mantra going over and over and over in my melon. I had a super busy day at work. Two ERs came in, both nasty lacerations. One, an very elderly man and the other, an inmate. Both completely different stories but like a bad car wreck, I got to stay and stare. On the clock. On purpose. And doing actual work while I got to stare and gawk like I was at some circus freak show in the Sticks. The elderly man I felt really really bad for. The inmate, I asked the guards, what the other guy ended up looking like. They laughed and said "he hasn't woken up yet." Ouch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am. Leprechaun Porn is on my mind. And not in an X-Rated way. Seriously!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cohorts and I all wore green garb today. Two of them wore a lot of green stuff. So much, that they did resemble freakish green lovin' clowns. One went over the top and had on a green crazy wig, green antenna like "Cindy Who" dealy-bobs on and she rolled up her pants to show off hideous leprechaun socks and it was soooooooo funny. The only amusing thing I was sportin' was celery green finger nail polish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as I was walking home from work, I was trying to think of the many many thoughts filtering in and out of my brain.... Normally I never have to think of something to write about, I normally just sit and out comes what's inside.... but now that I have the big audience of one :) .... I wanted to make an impression I guess! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I have discovered that around 11PM or closer to midnight, if I turn my channel to the fuzzed out Cinemax channel, up will come lesbian porn. You can make out all the lovely details of the finely sculpted bodies created by some rich ole plastic surgeon... all the girls' boobies are sticking straight out....and even their lips (on their faces) are all plumped up and fugly like the rest of their fake bodies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what I don't quite understand about women like this, who on purpose decide to not get a real job and decide to flaunt their nekkid bodies on some porn channel... is WHY???? Why are you doing this????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HImSNhQxyrI/TYLEceIkNLI/AAAAAAAAADo/dZ3-d6HCEWU/s1600/Adults-in-Diapers_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="111" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HImSNhQxyrI/TYLEceIkNLI/AAAAAAAAADo/dZ3-d6HCEWU/s200/Adults-in-Diapers_02.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And then I ponder, &lt;i&gt;"Why am I watching this???" &lt;/i&gt;And no, I don't get "turned on" from these chicks smacking each other's other lips and vice versa.... while I am not high on my own horse I simply do not get this. Period. Then there's the lone dude, nekkid from the waist UP and wearing black sweat pants. He's on one chick while the other chick is on another ....chick. Fucking strange. But then there's the adults who love to wear big ole ugly diapers. On purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They even have a website for these ah, people. Here's one of them&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.dailydiapers.com/%20"&gt;http://www.dailydiapers.com/ &lt;/a&gt; (enjoy) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not a prude. Nope I'm not but ugh.... I'm slowly losing my mind. And apparently need to get a hobby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh... yeah I have one. And it doesn't involve being a lesbian (not that there is anything &lt;b&gt;WRONG&lt;/b&gt; with being one), being fake (or plastic) or being a grown-ass female sporting baby powder, a pacifier, Winnie the Pooh sheets and yah, ah wearing a ginormous diaper for sexual pleasure/ kinky fetishes/ or for shits n'giggles... whatever their fucking reason is to don a big ole diaper and act like an infant, just ain't my cup of tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long live the Leprechaun!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-3578109507130264658?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/3578109507130264658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=3578109507130264658&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3578109507130264658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3578109507130264658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-mind-is-slowly-shutting-down.html' title='am i losing my mind???'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-juyaHE7-4Kw/TYK_jw-fgNI/AAAAAAAAADk/dYLO9ghENPo/s72-c/iloveleprechaunporn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-935278717308327162</id><published>2011-03-15T20:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T20:52:49.857-05:00</updated><title type='text'>change of plans</title><content type='html'>I got an unexpected call earlier from my work this afternoon. I am to report to work at 8AM tomorrow and pick up my cohort who shares my title with me and motor to the village I moved from for a three hour meeting. Here's the thing though... my cohort called me and told me she's low on gas and then it was dead silent. So I guess that left me to say, I will drive. Talk about awkward. And we don't really get along. She's 48 and uptight and I'm 43 and goofy. Or very positive and I like to talk and talk and talk and talk. And she doesn't. Although the drive is just 30 minutes, it'll be a looooooooooong 30 minutes of me driving and forcing the small talk. So to my #1 Follower... I'll be reporting after I watch Survivor and before I watch Top Chef. And remember I'm in CST and not your time zone :) ..... Cheers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-935278717308327162?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/935278717308327162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=935278717308327162&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/935278717308327162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/935278717308327162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/change-of-plans.html' title='change of plans'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6873644055359105166</id><published>2011-03-15T14:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T14:21:02.630-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happiness'/><title type='text'>scissor happy</title><content type='html'>I woke up in a shockingly good mood. From 9:30AM to 1PM, I was an eager beaver unpacking my bedroom -- only two months after moving in mind you. I was hanging up stuff like crazy. And I took out three loads of trash. I showered, got dressed and even ate a nice lunch of veggie chili my mom made for me yesterday. I have been hoarding my old computer speakers for nearly a year and I decided to put them in a pile of giveaways to our local Bargain Shoppe in town. And then I had to endure a pile of wires that were nearly impossible to get untangled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The solution? Scissors!!!! With my history of bad cuttings in the past I should have taken the time to untangle the web of wires but I was over eager to get them out in and the trash. So I snipped twice. To my horror, I also cut the wire to my cable modem's adapter. FML. Quick thinking, I drove to Ace across town. They had something that would work but it would cost me $13.99 and it would have the Ace logo on it. Remember, I am renting the modem, it's not mine. And when I'd have to turn it in, they'd know the truth or something close to it. I didn't want to fork over the $14 bucks.... so I sheepishly slumped into the place where I got my cable modem to begin with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No problem, said the lady as she handed me a new adapter. She thought it may cost $10 or so but she would check with the owner and it may be free. Wowsers. I could live with that. I was fearing it'd be over $25 or more....&amp;nbsp; The first time I came into this joint to sign up for cable and the Internet, this lady was quite bitchy so my encounter with her today was quite nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to finalizing my bedroom.... then on to dividing up my art supplies since I do not have a second bedroom!!! Although I shouldn't complain to the $275 rent for my cozy one bedroom hut... I really really wish I had a two bedroom for this very case: where to put my art work, where to set up my art space....etc.... So my kitchen has been given an overhaul....and my one linen closet is now my art supply closet....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention today is my day off.... I return to work tomorrow 2pm... I work through Sunday then two more days off. Rock on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6873644055359105166?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6873644055359105166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6873644055359105166&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6873644055359105166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6873644055359105166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/scissor-happy.html' title='scissor happy'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-9123007910235139649</id><published>2011-03-14T21:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T21:43:11.466-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Life'/><title type='text'>meet me at the age of 25</title><content type='html'>September 21, 1992&lt;br /&gt;2:15PM&lt;br /&gt;Monday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things aren't as always as they seem. Correct?! Correct.&lt;br /&gt;I am 25 years old and I &lt;u&gt;think&lt;/u&gt; I have everything under some control -- but in the back of my mind I know something just is &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manipulation is such a BIG word. I am over 1,000 [sic] from where I was born and raised yet I still feel the negative vibes from my growing up years and especially from the house in which I lived from age 12 to 18 in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am unsure what the feeling I'm gathering is right now. I don't think it's anger. Because I am not really angry anymore at my parents, my past or my growing up times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time for me to move on to forget "back then" -- remember the good times -- But that's where I get all foggy. I hardly recall any good times in the house on Blank Blvd*. I was scared almost all the time. I had horrible nightmares and I got punished there a lot too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite times there were when I got to sit in front of the fireplace and nap! I also liked to sit in the red sitting room and watch the rain by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever my father was around, I stayed mostly in my room: playing, reading or sleeping. I lived in a secluded area -- where there were lots of trees and fields nearby. Usually on Sundays, I would go in the corn field behind our house and pick the corn that was already dead and walk along the trees. I'd leave bits of dried corn for the birds, whether or not they ate it or not, it always made me feel good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have many friends when we moved to the house on the hill. Everyone thought of me as a snot. I didn't think I was!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some Sunday nights, Sue* and Bob* and Tara* would come over and we'd play games on our Atari or rent movies, making prank phone calls. Those nights were always fun for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was sorta weird actually because in school, Tara and I didn't get along very well and on the weekends when all the other kids were not near, we got along great. I did like Tara, but she pulled a lot of mean stunts that made me dislike her in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes when I had to go to Kyndall* for my mom to get something at the store, I'd invite Tara to go with me and we always went to the Dairy Queen before we went back to our hometown. We always had a lot of fun since I really enjoyed doing errands for my mother... then things changed dramatically when I went to college. But I will always remember going to the DQ with Tara....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went off to college I quit doing errands for my mother. And also, quit doing things with Tara. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;* Names have been changed to protect my identity. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-9123007910235139649?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/9123007910235139649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=9123007910235139649&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/9123007910235139649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/9123007910235139649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/meet-me-at-ripe-age-of-25.html' title='meet me at the age of 25'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-1822047038319723380</id><published>2011-03-14T15:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T23:21:55.496-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Colonoscopy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Diaries'/><title type='text'>lost and found</title><content type='html'>For starters, my colon is now full of food thanks to being released early &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NZqMtiI2hrc/TX5-Sv2vzoI/AAAAAAAAADQ/TaCfNTnT1Ng/s1600/ravenhearst02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NZqMtiI2hrc/TX5-Sv2vzoI/AAAAAAAAADQ/TaCfNTnT1Ng/s200/ravenhearst02.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; afternoon after a successful roter rooter was performed on me. And thankfully, nothing was found. Clean and fancy free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my mom brought me home (the big one block away) and helped me unpack my left over boxes from when I first moved in, now, almost two months ago. We got pretty far then she had to leave for a meeting. And I decided to stuff my face with popcorn and then celery with extra crunchy peanut butter on top. So much for the soft diet I was told to have by the nurses earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho... while I was weeding through several boxes I found a diary from 1990. I had only written on three of the pages but apparently I waited till I was the ripe age of 25 to say anything of substance. I plan to type it up and post on here in a bit....I'm a bit curious as to what I had to chime in about so many years ago. Til then, I'm quite tired. Getting a scope shoved up my butt made me pretty anxious this morning and it wiped me out....so rock it out till I post from my 25-year-old self.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-1822047038319723380?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/1822047038319723380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=1822047038319723380&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1822047038319723380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1822047038319723380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/lost-and-found.html' title='lost and found'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NZqMtiI2hrc/TX5-Sv2vzoI/AAAAAAAAADQ/TaCfNTnT1Ng/s72-c/ravenhearst02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-4738264031047956579</id><published>2011-03-14T15:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T19:32:52.056-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freebies'/><title type='text'>freebies</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://img.bzzagent.com/image/educator.jpg?Type=activity&amp;amp;Activity=6241636359&amp;amp;Campaign=3072098672&amp;amp;Uid=1196795&amp;amp;token=6019558bc8ecbaf0c742649d459b11a2" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So I've joined another type of outlet that will allow me to be a product tester for free. If you click on the box next to my text, supposedly it'll take you to their site. Or if that doesn't work, go to www.Educator.com ...It's a pretty nifty site so go check it out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-4738264031047956579?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/4738264031047956579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=4738264031047956579&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4738264031047956579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4738264031047956579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/free-stuff.html' title='freebies'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7050458239405837387</id><published>2011-03-14T00:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T00:06:06.667-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Colonoscopy'/><title type='text'>my last liquid drunk</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SJ8hu7FgxK4/TX2hF7pGWAI/AAAAAAAAADM/khDaArxSLec/s1600/DrinkingWater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="170" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SJ8hu7FgxK4/TX2hF7pGWAI/AAAAAAAAADM/khDaArxSLec/s200/DrinkingWater.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Well I hope I don't have to escape in the middle of the night now and worry when will I be able to drink another drop of anything.... Due to the rules of having a colonoscopy, I am not allowed any liquid including Mother Nature's tear drops (aka water for you slow pokes) until AFTER my roter rooter cleans out my plumbing at 9:30AM CST tomorrow. Or I suppose later on today since it IS actually March 14th now. I should have went to bed when I first felt tired at 9PM but I felt I needed to get in as much liquids as I could swallow before bedtime rolled around. Plus my body and mental status are still fucked up from the Daylight Savings Time. Why does that even exist??? Think of me at your time zone, whatever zone you live in tomorrow morning. Many many many thanks! Peace out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7050458239405837387?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7050458239405837387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7050458239405837387&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7050458239405837387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7050458239405837387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-last-liquid-drunk.html' title='my last liquid drunk'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SJ8hu7FgxK4/TX2hF7pGWAI/AAAAAAAAADM/khDaArxSLec/s72-c/DrinkingWater.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-3523801178241737008</id><published>2011-03-13T11:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T11:47:24.958-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Colonoscopy'/><title type='text'>here i go</title><content type='html'>I have already drank 32 ounces of my Miralax &amp;amp; Gatorade combo. Seriously, it was tasty. It was just like drinking plain Gatorade. Plus I made a cup of hot Dream Easy tea to sip along with the mix. I've already read 3/4 of my Reader's Digest that I have sitting next to the commode. I have a book on standby and lots of room sprays. I have about 36 games of facebook's lexulous (aka scrabble) going on too. And I'm watching a marathon of "Say Yes to the Dress." My day is pretty much planned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's on your agenda today?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-3523801178241737008?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/3523801178241737008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=3523801178241737008&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3523801178241737008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3523801178241737008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/here-i-go.html' title='here i go'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-5532081757380074560</id><published>2011-03-12T16:57:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T17:50:51.308-06:00</updated><title type='text'>game on!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-paAjyxWHKrE/TXv5-D3-LkI/AAAAAAAAADE/pO9HFl5P1Yc/s1600/0312011619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="243" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-paAjyxWHKrE/TXv5-D3-LkI/AAAAAAAAADE/pO9HFl5P1Yc/s320/0312011619.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;No solid food after midnight tonight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I get to start drinking the Gatorade and Miralax noon tomorrow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-5532081757380074560?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/5532081757380074560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=5532081757380074560&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5532081757380074560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5532081757380074560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/game-on.html' title='game on!'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-paAjyxWHKrE/TXv5-D3-LkI/AAAAAAAAADE/pO9HFl5P1Yc/s72-c/0312011619.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-17278152731706813</id><published>2011-03-11T19:45:00.087-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T12:44:24.872-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Knowledge'/><title type='text'>things to know about me</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am the youngest of four siblings. The other three are a lot older than me. Growing up it felt like at times I was an only kid. I didn't like this feeling.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When my mom finally leaves this planet, I really do not know how I will manage. I'm serious.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I became a professional artist one week before my 40th birthday.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I will be 44 on July 17th. People are always amazed when I tell them how old I am. Most think I'm in my late 20s or early 30s.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I started blogging in late 2003.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I do not have a best friend. I thought I did but realized very recently that she never was mine although I held her high up on a pedestal for decades. In the end, as well as in the beginning, she has always ignored me. And only wanted to be my friend when no one else was available. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My favorite kind of music is disco. I like the beat and the clothes from the 1970s.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I went to three colleges before finally graduating in 2001 with a Bachelor of Arts in Selected Studies with an emphasis in Criminal Justice. Sixteen years prior to graduating I went to college for graphic arts. I really wanted to be a computer animator in the beginning. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My father died May 18, 1998 and my life turned around for the better. My mom and I have never been closer.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Aquamarine or Teal blue is my all time favorite color. Pink is a close second.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I would really like to hear/see Rod Stewart in concert. When I saw the B-52s in concert, I got my hair done in a BeeHive and wore funky clothes like the girls in the band.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was a nanny for a Canadian Hippie couple in Gloucester, Massachusetts in 1989-1990. It was the greatest time of my entire existance on earth. I took care of a 7-year-old girl and a 3-year-old boy who I favored and loved dearly. I have never heard from them again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am an organ donor.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eye liner and mascara are the only types of makeup I wear to work.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I sleep with an electric blanket.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Since I was 19 (on and off) I've been coloring my hair.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Once upon a time, I lived in College Station, Texas.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;While I am not religious, I love God and I worship Mary.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love wearing big fluffy socks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watermelon and Green Apple Jolly Ranchers are my all time favorite hard candy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I golfed all through high school and was on the varsity team. I was actually quite good back in the day.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love gourmet hand tossed pizza.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My only piercings are three holes in each ear lobe.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have toilet water blue eyes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love Bath &amp;amp; Body Works lotions....currently Linen is my favorite scent. Twilight Woods is a close second in scent.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can eat an entire box of Peanut Butter Patties courtesy of the Girl Scouts.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am not a lesbian. And seeing girls kiss girls does absolutely nothing for me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Happy by Clinque is my all time favorite perfume.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eternity for Men and Obsession are my favorite men scents.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I absolutely LOVE Reality TV.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I sold my queen-sized gorgeous sleigh bed for $80 in order for my mom to buy me a full-sized pillow top bed in my new apartment. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have been so fascinated with the Royal Family ever since Lady Di married Prince Charles.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I did not vote for Obama. And I'm a democrat.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have always wanted to get a Saint Bernard and name him George. I will now settle for a Chihauhau and name him George.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On Santa's wish list for the past several years I've always had down an electric toothbrush... when I finally got one this year, I used it just a few times and now, it's in the drawer. I feel bad because my mom thinks I still am using it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I used to always wear bright red lipstick. Now I barely use a moisturizer on my lips.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a lot of weird looking freckles and spots on my legs and arms ...I am scared I may have some sort of skin cancer. I'm too scared to get them checked out.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love love LOVE Culligan water with a ton of ice cubes in a big plastic cup.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Laffy Taffy -- preferably cherry or grape are even with a big box of Milk Duds as my favorite candy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;True crime is my favorite genre to read.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I would love to meet crime writer Ann Rule some day.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have issues when people blow their nose around me and then they don't wash their hands afterwards.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Same thing with people going to the bathroom and not washing their hands.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Within the next three months I will have had a colonoscopy and a mammogram.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have been to every US state with the exception of Alaska and Hawaii. Those two places are on my Bucket List.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;So is white water rafting. And visiting the Tower of London.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I wish Knots Landing was still on TV. In the mid 1980s that was my favorite show to watch. Before that, I dug The Love Boat and Fantasy Island.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I now only wear Crocs to work, to play in, as slippers, to do laundry, to church...everywhere.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I need to buy new underpants.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I wear bifocals.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I do not own an Ipod. Or a Wii. I still use my boom box from the mid 1990s. And it works great.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I do not know how to properly balance my checkbook.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have cheated on many tests in my life.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have never been to jail. Or prison. Or reform school.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate devilled eggs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I like black licorice.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have been in a haunted house before.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hope to own a nice SUV some day.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love wearring earrings.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I rarely go a day without wearing nail polish and I always have polish on my toe nails.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Besides my birthday, Halloween is my favorite holiday. Then it's Groundhog Day. Seriously.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Back in the late 1980s, I used to collect Swatch watches. At one time, I had over 20 of them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have never given birth but deep down, I know I would have made an amazing mother.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I always say I do not have any regrets in my life, but I really do have them. Quite a few in fact.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I used to be an award winning newspaper reporter. I really loved seeing my name in the bylines. Here's a regret: I never should have walked out and quit my job over the phone.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love drawing and painting my whimsical art. I love the feeling when someone tells me how happy they were when someone else bought them a piece of my work.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Naps are my friend.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;But I'm terrified of the dark.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And I still believe in the boogeyman.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Popcorn is one of my all time favorite comfort foods. With butter and some sort of seasoning on top.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am happy to say I am not a hoarder.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am severly allergic to cats. My tongue swells, my eyes get puffy and I itch all over the place.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Daily I take the generic form of Benadryl. I'm allergic to a lot of junk other than felines.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have never witnessed a murder. I hope I never have to.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am an awful bowler.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And I cannot throw a softball to save my life. Even though as a child growing up in a small hamlet, I was on the summer girls softball team for many many years. They put me in right field....no balls rarely ever were hit my way. (Much to my relief)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;As a kid, I swam on the local swim team too. That sport I was actually great at (back stroke and breast stroke)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Every summer, I make a ton of homemade salsa and pico de galla.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am a fan of hand sanitizer.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I also am a fan of Meatloaf. The singer, not the food.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My art company became trademarked on May 13, 2008 at the United States Patents &amp;amp; Trademarks in Washington DC.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have had long term pen pals since I was in the 2nd grade.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;While I don't like to touch them, I have a fondness for frogs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I used to have a fish bowl full of guppies.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When I was 5 years old, my family had our very first pet, a teeny tiny turtle we named Sammy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The pet I miss the most is our very beloved Fred. He was an Irish Setter. He is buried in my mom's back yard. He died when I was living in College Station, Texas.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a lot of fears but I never let anyone know them.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am addicted to dill pickles.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am not fond of rhubarb.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I used to work in the photo department at Wal Mart in 2005. I lasted four months.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have been back stabbed far too many times and now I fear female friendships.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Crocs are about the only brand of shoe I wear.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have sleep apnea and I use a CPAP and wear a mask at night to sleep. I never sleep without it. I'm scared if I do, I will die in my sleep without the oxygen I desperately need.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I now live in a town where I am related to about half of the 1200 population. But I've never socialized with any of them. Growing up as a child, my father wouldn't allow it. And now at the age of 43, I keep running into them and I barely can muster a hello to them. And I feel horrible about it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love taking hot bubble baths.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Back in 1994, I had to get braces. I wore them only for six months though.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I wear a splash of perfume to bed. My theory of that is, if I die in my sleep, I do not want to stink! :P&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am 100% Czech.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I do not like to pet animals.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Snakes used to terrify me. Now only mice do.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On my 11th birthday, I saw the movie GREASE in the movie theatre with my two friends, Susan and Stacy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I celebrate my birthday every year with some sort of party.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I prefer my mom's Czech cooking over any other type of food on this planet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;However, eating Chinese food is a close second for me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My favorite flower is a white daisy. Wildflowers come in second place for me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a threater-themed bathroom.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My kitchen is full of roosters.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mexican food is my third favorite food.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love going to antique shops.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I used to own an 8 foot blow up Gumby.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I do not like to wear lip gloss. I feel cheap.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I adore Winnie the Pooh and Eyeore.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I own a knock off Pillow Pet from China in the shape of a panda. I only paid $5.25 for it. I bought an identical one for my great-niece for Christmas.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Since late 2004, I've been on facebook. When I first joined, I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Now I'm addicted to it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Zombies rule the world, or so I think they do.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;People in general annoy me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love ice chips.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have never considered myself a lady.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am grateful I was raised with high morals and amazing family values.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am a recovering Catholic.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate eating fish. The taste makes me gag.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I also hate cleaning house and doing mundane chores.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My favorite snack is Dakota Style (made in South Dakota) sunflower seeds.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A close second, is chips and dip.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I adore children. I love how innocent they are and I love teaching them to draw.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Libraries are my friend.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have been called a hermit before. And I embrace the term.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In 1994, I had my gall bladder removed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My confirmation name is Jane.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate saying the rosary but I love holding them at funerals.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love shopping on ebay and Hobby Lobby for rare finds.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ben Stiller is one of my favorite actors.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;So is Morgan Freeman, Greg Kinnear and Tommy Lee Jones.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I never used to like Cameron Diaz but she's grown on me and now I adore her.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Granny Smith apples are the preferred apples for me. I love eating them with extra crunchy peanut butter.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I lost my first grandma when I was 7 and by the time I was in the 5th grade, the other three died as well. I am so envious of all my friends my age who still have their grandparents.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a brother who is a Colonnel in the Army and I know nothing about him or his life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I pay to have my eye brows waxed. Plucking them isn't a choice for me. The pain is too severe for me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I once dated a divorced dad with two kids who weren't his biological kids and had a psychotic ex wife. I will never ever date someone like that again. Ever.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I once lived in Lincoln and Wayne, Nebraska.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And Wichita, Kansas. Yes, on purpose.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;As well as Bryan, Texas.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Beverly and Salem, Massachusetts were also once places I called home.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can type over 75wpm.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I only wear Cacique brand bras.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I wish they never would have invented Day Light Savings Time.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My favorite number is 7.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am fascinated by trees of all kinds.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I tend to walk away from all negative people. I just don't have time for them.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Milk chocolate is my favorite kind of chocolate flavoring.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a history of being Bulimic since 1990. I am not proud of this but it has never gone away.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don't like talking about my deep deep feelings to anyone including a therapist.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don't trust people who don't look you in the eye when talking.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am the same age as Sesame Street.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Everything about the Titanic fascinates me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love monkeys.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Clementines are a fun fruit to eat.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In 2005, I filed chapter 7 bankruptcy.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am not a fan of beer.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I try to be as truthful as possible no matter what the situation is.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And I find humor in all things, including funerals and death and destruction. And mayhem.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I address all of my mother's friends as Mrs.or Mr. So and So. I was taught incredible manners as a child.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am still friends with everyone I went to Kindergarten with (circa 1971-72).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;As much as I love living in all four seasons, I really really really hate cold icy winters like we get every single year.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-17278152731706813?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/17278152731706813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=17278152731706813&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/17278152731706813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/17278152731706813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/things-to-know-about-me.html' title='things to know about me'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-1899538518006823238</id><published>2011-03-10T17:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T17:51:17.394-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Musicals'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><title type='text'>gorgeous sounds</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TJ3UNSnJiS4/TXwFr-QxDgI/AAAAAAAAADI/q4k85E7kqsY/s1600/Les+Miz..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TJ3UNSnJiS4/TXwFr-QxDgI/AAAAAAAAADI/q4k85E7kqsY/s200/Les+Miz..jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;“&lt;i&gt;Les Misèrables&lt;/i&gt;!” I found it on  PBS. It was the 25th Anniversary edition and was it ever great! Did you  get to see it? There are things that echo in your mind all through the  years. This was simply amazing to see and hear on TV. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have grown up since birth in theatre/musical theatre. My dad was known for his directing these type of shows on "live" stages. My last show I was in I played a Pick-a-Little Lady in MUSIC MAN in 2003. Before that, it had been 20 years since setting foot on a stage to act. I won numerous acting awards in high school and even was granted a monetary theatre scholarship in college. I had heard about Les Mis over the years but never saw the show till I accidently stumbled upon it last week Saturday on PBS of all places. It literally blew me away. It was so amazing and I literally had goose bumps on my arms. Wow. No other words can describe that feeling I got from seeing this masterpiece performed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-1899538518006823238?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/1899538518006823238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=1899538518006823238&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1899538518006823238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/1899538518006823238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/gorgeous-sounds.html' title='gorgeous sounds'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TJ3UNSnJiS4/TXwFr-QxDgI/AAAAAAAAADI/q4k85E7kqsY/s72-c/Les+Miz..jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6623811407690015259</id><published>2011-03-08T12:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-08T12:23:17.366-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Colonoscopy'/><title type='text'>ah, i guess i am ready...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SkLvgnDOg4g/TXZtnZ-_VGI/AAAAAAAAAC8/Z_54ITZausg/s1600/colonoscopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="157" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SkLvgnDOg4g/TXZtnZ-_VGI/AAAAAAAAAC8/Z_54ITZausg/s200/colonoscopy.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Or not. March 14th is the actual procedure. But per my instructions, I have to start three days in advance. Lucky me. And my poor butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am perfectly okay with the procedure as I need it done but it just so happens to be happening at the same place where I actually work at. Just the floor below from where I normally sit. So instead of shying away from it, I've announced it was happening to my coworkers and have even joked about it to ease the awkwardness and add humor to the odd situation at hand. It is two years in the making. Right before I lost my job on April Fools Day 2009, I had met with a Gastroenterologist. He was going to check out why I have such a nasty gag reflex and then also perform a colonoscopy because of apparent issues I was having then (and sadly still having two years afterwards). However my health insurance was to expire May 1, 2009. And we couldn't get the procedures scheduled in time. And no way was I going to pay for this expensive plunge up the butt with my pocket book change!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's now nearly two years after my termination and am in a new job, a new town, a new beginning. But with nothing resolved from yesteryear. Perhaps I'm sharing too much information with you. But alas, I simply do not care. If you have issues, get them checked out. Call me the poster girl for getting your butt checked out ~ early detection of the unknown. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-zPpdzcozjwM/TXZtn4LcD0I/AAAAAAAAADA/iw4Q60F2yo8/s1600/miralax_nf_powder_7_day_otc_4_1oz_069625_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-zPpdzcozjwM/TXZtn4LcD0I/AAAAAAAAADA/iw4Q60F2yo8/s200/miralax_nf_powder_7_day_otc_4_1oz_069625_2.jpg" width="156" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Yesterday my mom and I headed to Wally World and picked up the ingredients I have to swallow. Not one but two bottles of MiraLax and thankfully I get to drink it with orange Gatorade. The first bottle of M, I have to down that with 64 ounces of the orange stuff around noon on Sunday, the 13th, then around 6pm, I get to down another container of M with 24 ounces of Gatorade. But I didn't like the smaller version of the Gatorade so I bought a 30 ounce bottle. It's going to be gross enough my mother has told me and I have the WORST gag reflex ever. Ever!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And starting on Friday the 11th, I have to start on an all clear liquid diet: jello, popsicles, clear broth, water .....three days of this, or two really since on the 13th at midnight, I cannot have a single drop of liquid, not even water to quench my thirst... just my own saliva till after the 60 minute procedure. And none of my diabetic pills. I am to sign in at 8AM and my procedure is at 9:30AM. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am secretly hoping there is about 35 lbs of poop stuck in the intestines that'll shoot out next weekend and then more dead stuff just being lazy in the tubes will be suctioned out too and I'll wake up from &lt;span class="searchResultsTitle"&gt;anesthesia at least 50 pounds lighter!!! I mean, my gawd, they have me drinking a ton of that laxative crap (no pun intended) and everything from my throat on down, you'd think will be cleansed through and through. What'll be left but my bones and flesh??? I want it all cleared out. I don't want any surprises either still lingering in the dark crevices of my intestines.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="searchResultsTitle"&gt;But I also hope some weird alien like creative doesn't suddenly emerge like what happened in the Alien movie sequels. I guess if it does, all I can say is, shit happens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6623811407690015259?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6623811407690015259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6623811407690015259&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6623811407690015259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6623811407690015259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/ah-i-guess-i-am-ready.html' title='ah, i guess i am ready...'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SkLvgnDOg4g/TXZtnZ-_VGI/AAAAAAAAAC8/Z_54ITZausg/s72-c/colonoscopy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-313644913731511125</id><published>2011-03-07T10:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T10:02:28.422-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='exhaustion'/><title type='text'>exhaustion.</title><content type='html'>No more tension. Nada. That is how I have felt since I reported the "issue" to Corporate Compliance. I took a peek at this kid's fb page and all that nasty info he had on there for all to read is now gone. But he still listed his work place. Stupid boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I felt I needed to just "block" everyone from my current place of employment as an extra security measure too. As you all may know, sometimes things I say are often misunderstood and instead of asking me the meaning of something I've posted or said, people just assume the worse and not realize I am a full fledged member of the National Sarcasm Society and it was a joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my day off, thankfully. Tomorrow and half of Wednesday too. A well deserved time for me. I had two grueling days at work that I just am slowly recovering from. And it's snowing on the prairie. Again. And cold as a butcher's freezer. Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must MUST must start on my two commissioned paintings that I was hired to do last month. I set my due date to be at the end of March. They are for a Catholic church's annual spring Gala in the village I moved from. Last year my paintings were both auctioned off for over $250 a piece at their silent auction. This year I told them I needed a more substantial fee as each painting takes a good 7-8 hours to complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My agenda for the day as I sit here and type at 10:03AM....I plan to shower, eat some breakfast, finally put away the rest of my boxes from moving in end of January...and start drawing.... and get a nap scheduled in there too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This feels like a lame diary entry. But I'm too tired to think of anything clever to harp on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-313644913731511125?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/313644913731511125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=313644913731511125&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/313644913731511125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/313644913731511125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/exhaustion.html' title='exhaustion.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6646568887748839750</id><published>2011-03-06T10:27:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T10:30:09.802-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tattoos'/><title type='text'>tattoo me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_YJNzfxlzjA/TXUHy8nbpII/AAAAAAAAAC4/4K8AQLJLH2c/s1600/foot_tattoos_lowres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_YJNzfxlzjA/TXUHy8nbpII/AAAAAAAAAC4/4K8AQLJLH2c/s200/foot_tattoos_lowres.jpg" width="149" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is not one of mine!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;I have three that I designed myself. And I waited a long long long time  to get them. My first was done on 12/4/2004. I just realized at that  moment that I did NOT need a MAN to fulfill my life and I was tired of  ALL fucktits on this planet (Channeling Bridget Jones). So I designed a  broken peace sign, with my childhood nickname written in teal blue in  the center…and had the words: Strength, Truth, Wisdom, Laughter written  around the black broken peace sign. This one is located on my lower  back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 2nd one was done 2/2006 and it’s teeny tiny on my inside ankle on  my right ankle… it’s off a stick girl with long curly hair holding a  teeny tiny yellow star standing on a half moon…with the words “I am a  moonchild.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lastly my third…when my art company became trademarked in Wash DC  …I got a cartoon version of myself that I drew on my left outer calf  leg with my company name above my cartoon self and my name below. I always said if I was ever murdered and cut to pieces, someone would  be able to ID myself if they held up that part of the leg :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret none of them and would like to add a 4th.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6646568887748839750?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6646568887748839750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6646568887748839750&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6646568887748839750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6646568887748839750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/tattoo-me.html' title='tattoo me.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_YJNzfxlzjA/TXUHy8nbpII/AAAAAAAAAC4/4K8AQLJLH2c/s72-c/foot_tattoos_lowres.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-964028126767440386</id><published>2011-03-02T22:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-02T22:27:03.588-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tattling'/><title type='text'>i did it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-tLms1MXAjVw/TW8XdcnbCDI/AAAAAAAAAC0/cH5EPw_zp1o/s1600/guilty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="175" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-tLms1MXAjVw/TW8XdcnbCDI/AAAAAAAAAC0/cH5EPw_zp1o/s200/guilty.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I wish there was an option on here to write upside down. Because that's how I feel I should be writing. Like in shame or something. After a month of hoarding the info about my coworker's meanness of writing about how much he hates his job, how he hates us coworkers and how many times he used the F*bomb describing his job duties and everything else.... I bit the bullet and went to corporate compliance and told them what I had seen on facebook. I'm not trying to tattle or get this kid in trouble but I think they needed to know how disturbing the content of his angst was towards the place I actually love going to work at. As I was exiting the conversation with C.C., I begged them not to reveal my name. Of course, they said, no they wouldn't reveal anything. But in previous positions, when I've asked the very thing, they have always told who was the tattler. Writing upside down would be my answer for this post. Not to mention it'd be way cool. Carry on wayward son....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-964028126767440386?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/964028126767440386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=964028126767440386&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/964028126767440386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/964028126767440386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-did-it.html' title='i did it.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-tLms1MXAjVw/TW8XdcnbCDI/AAAAAAAAAC0/cH5EPw_zp1o/s72-c/guilty.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-8216773192186433243</id><published>2011-03-02T12:50:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-02T12:51:49.700-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Truths'/><title type='text'>my! what BIG eyes you have</title><content type='html'>I confess my eyes are bigger than my wallet these days. But I thought I was doing okay in that department. I've never been one to actually sit down and balance anything other than what I could carry with both hands, my chin (by tucking things underneath) and my arms. So back when I was in General Math my freshman year of high school, I thought "no problemo" to the chapter on learning how to balance a check book. There were six of us my freshman year taking the class with good ole Mrs. G. The rest of our class was in Algebra I. Not my cup of tea. In fact, math has never been a good subject for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recall that I did not fair well in "learning how to balance anything," that year. In fact, I think I barely passed the easy class with a D-. I was not a good student after I hit junior high. I suppose I never applied myself but I also didn't really care. I only cared about the social status of high school, my freshman year, that is. Academically, no. My second oldest brother was born a wizard. He got ALL the smarts in my family. All of them. The rest of us siblings struggled and barely hung on. By the time I was a senior in high school, I could have wall papered my entire bedroom with all the Pink Slips I had received!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon entering college, everyone was writing checks to pay for gas, booze and movies. I couldn't be left behind and naturally I had gotten myself into much trouble that way too. My mother probably lost more hairs and turned a lot whiter with me, the last kid of the bunch than any other of her offspring. But how would I have known, our family keeps a tight lip on every one's finances. And I was no exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned the embarrassment of going into each place of business when my checks bounced. I was a mere age of 18 when I first had to do this feat. I should have learned my lesson there. But no, I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1989, I left college after four years without graduating to become a nanny out East. I was doing very well managing my meager wages and following it like a hawk at the bank until I met the bestest besty friend I've ever ever ever known. Still to this date, she rules the roost for friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her BIG eyes taught me something evil. She was a spend-a-holic to the highest degree. At first I was in awe of her shopping capabilities. I admired her and ooohed and aaahed after she bought one terrific item after another. And not at clearance like I was always taught. Nope. She was a full-priced item kind of girl. Nothing was off limits to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started one day at Filene's in a city near Boston, Massachusetts. We were at the cosmetic counter trying on oodles of perfumes. She found three she HAD to have and whipped out her Filene's credit card and that was that. I was eyeing a bottle of something sparkly I recall. The sales lady assumed I was like my fabulous friend. And then she asked the most god awful question ever. &lt;i&gt;"Would you like to apply for a Filene's credit card?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I panicked. My small town roots on the prairie never prepared me for this kind of world. I was taught good values and really had high morals. I was raised in a strong Catholic home with great family ties. And here I was, standing in a busy (and fabulous) store with a fancy schmancy lady smiling in front of me dangling the forbidden apple right in front of my face!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I caved. Not only was I approved for the credit card, I was given a super high spending limit. I was both mortified AND thrilled all in one. My fab friend gushed with joy. And like her, bought three very expensive perfumes. All I had to do was sign my name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll spare you the details of my credit card nightmare that went from 1989 to 2005 when I had to file Chapter 7 bankruptcy. It's a long life of shame, humiliation, anger, stupidity and stress. Must I say anything else???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to present day. 2011. While I own absolutely zero credit cards....Oh wait. I own two store cards but my balances are almost paid off. Really. I swear. Girl Scout promise swear! But no Visas or Discovers or Mastercards or gas cards or any other works of the Devil. I've been slowly building back up my shitty credit since the bankruptcy. I was told it takes 7 years from the time you file. I'm six years in to my seventh year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid is as stupid does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, here I am, March 2, 2011 and I have literally $2.06 to my birth name. I get paid on Friday. My $275 rent comes out a few days later and a slew of scheduled online bills follow. Yes, I'm saving money from my old rent of $465 and bills from my life in the other village... but I've added on new headaches that I didn't know would occur. When I signed up for cable/Internet here, I was told my monthly bill would be close to $60. According to the bill I received just yesterday, $91.53 will be coming out of my checking account very very soon. And I was told my electricity wouldn't run any more than $40 or $50 bucks. Yeah, ah... $92.24 is due in 18 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night I froze. In bed. I turned down all the heat in all the rooms --- each room has it's own thermostat. Every one of them at 12Noon yesterday were at a lovely 52 degrees. I wore two pairs of socks, thick sweat pants, a long thick short with a hoodie over that and a ginormous down comforter and I snuggled up like I was in a cave with no room to budge. And that's how I slept. When I woke up this morning, my eyelids were icy and my nose was so cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's a good thing I don't drive to work anymore as I only live one block from my job. Gas is now a record high in these parts of the Dakota Territory. $3.28/gallon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Girl Scout promise I will learn to balance my check.&lt;br /&gt;Starting tomorrow...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-8216773192186433243?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/8216773192186433243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=8216773192186433243&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8216773192186433243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8216773192186433243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-what-big-eyes-you-have.html' title='my! what BIG eyes you have'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6357645389813407810</id><published>2011-03-01T14:04:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T14:04:48.281-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tattling'/><title type='text'>should i tattle?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fRoqmRspvoI/TW1OQTbq5YI/AAAAAAAAACw/7XqepWf62Wg/s1600/Facebook-icon.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fRoqmRspvoI/TW1OQTbq5YI/AAAAAAAAACw/7XqepWf62Wg/s200/Facebook-icon.png" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I'm torn between doing the right thing and/or just ignoring something and turning the other cheek which basically is the same thing as ignoring the elephant in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was first at my now not so new gig back in December 2010, I thought it'd be &lt;i&gt;cool&lt;/i&gt; to "friend" all the coworkers there &lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;(stupid of me to think it was actually cool)&lt;/span&gt; but I did. And many days later, I went to cancel majority of the requests or simply unfriend everyone I friended. I'm notorious for doing this since 2004 when I first hooked up with the crazy sensation. Unfortunately for me, many had already accepted my facebook friendship and were telling me how excited it was that I was now at the same place of employment as they were. So I couldn't really defriend them, now could I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, last month I was doing my normal stalking on facebook -- going through friends of friends' pages when I found one of a much younger new coworker of mine. He wrote where he worked, listed his job and then proceeded to blast everyone to the ground with the F*Bomb and saying basically what a shit hole it is to work there I was just hired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now someone of you have been reading my blogs since the beginning, also in 2004. And you all know what almost happened to me in 2004... I was almost dooced for it. (Google dooced if you don't know what it means). So here is the situation now....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A kid who just graduated from high school in 2008 has been working where I have been since 2006. He's in college studying psychology apparently. He is from my new village, his parents live here still, blah blah blah. Oh and he's super arrogant, cocky, the whole nine yards. And he's gay but pretending he's straight. I nailed him immediately on that nugget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, I shared what I discovered with another coworker of mine who is like my Wonder Twin at work. She agrees with me that I should print out his facebook page and turn it into three people at work: HR, the CEO and our Corporate Compliance person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not wanting to be a meanie here but I actually VALUE the place I'm employed at. Granted he's what, 20, and I'm 43 but I still VALUE the place that just hired me and believe in the mission and all the Godly stuff that goes with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I motored to my mom's for lunch today. My printer isn't set up yet so I printed off his fb page with the nastiness he wrote about the people, the patients and about my other coworkers, my friends. He slams everyone!!! So here I am, typing about it because I don't know what to do about it. I do honestly feel the HR person, for sure, needs to know what he's blabbing about considering he did have to sign a confidentiality form to work where I work. He also definitely needs to just grow up too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6357645389813407810?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6357645389813407810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6357645389813407810&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6357645389813407810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6357645389813407810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/am-i-whistleblower.html' title='should i tattle?'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fRoqmRspvoI/TW1OQTbq5YI/AAAAAAAAACw/7XqepWf62Wg/s72-c/Facebook-icon.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-3806492443269168</id><published>2011-03-01T01:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T01:37:55.974-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Issues'/><title type='text'>will i ever break even?</title><content type='html'>Am frustrated now. And done with shopping. I'm broke. The great thing  about my job is that I like it. A lot. The shitty part of it is... it's  the same crap pay as my old job gave me... so I have the same money issues I  had there. And it just caught up with me. I am fairly fucked right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-3806492443269168?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/3806492443269168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=3806492443269168&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3806492443269168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/3806492443269168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/03/will-i-ever-break-even.html' title='will i ever break even?'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6954841041225264009</id><published>2011-02-27T14:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T14:59:44.619-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Scrabble'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naked People'/><title type='text'>scrabble anyone??</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-vGCkYNWWo5Y/TWq2QMEm4mI/AAAAAAAAACk/QFj1hpJmHVs/s1600/Extreme-Scrabble12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-vGCkYNWWo5Y/TWq2QMEm4mI/AAAAAAAAACk/QFj1hpJmHVs/s200/Extreme-Scrabble12.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Besides actually showering, eating breakfast that led directly into lunch and then a snack....oh and putting on clothes, the only thing I've been doing today has been playing Scrabble on facebook. And listening to country tunes on CMT. Not quite sure why I never thought to play it in my birthday suit like these two bozos to my left. Perhaps one day.....I hope she put on sun screen though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the country music, yeah ah....I guess I've always been in denial for actually liking the stuff. Not music. But the country kind. I really did Miranda Lambert and folks like the Dixie Chicks, Faith Hill is okay but I like the newer groups. Sugarland is good. But that song about the house that Miranda chimes away on. Awesome. I love the melody. And it's a little bit sad. For me anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_tgm5nawU24/TWq3sN1aAaI/AAAAAAAAACo/Gxdd0gqCc2U/s1600/downsized_0227010933.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_tgm5nawU24/TWq3sN1aAaI/AAAAAAAAACo/Gxdd0gqCc2U/s200/downsized_0227010933.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My couch and ottoman arrived yesterday morning. Only after they took off my front door, my closet door, a wall hanging and the light fixture hanging down. Only THEN, did it fit. Just barely though. My other option was to get the big chair and the love seat. But it all worked out in the end. And I'm very happy about it all. The rug by the ottoman is also new but that came a couple of weeks ago when I got my new pillow top full size bed that my momma nicely purchased for me. I have $203 left to pay on the couch and I haven't paid a dime on the ottoman yet. How I'd love for the furniture guy to simply say to me, &lt;i&gt;"It's on the house!"&lt;/i&gt; but I don't live in La-La Land. I have a few relatives who live there. In La-La Land I mean. So I'm playing Scrabble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hours now. I wanna lay on my new couch so badly but the living room doesn't have any curtains yet to make it dark in there and I just wanna veg out in darkness. Like Elvis liked. I got new curtains in my bedroom yesterday but they don't block enough light out so we're going to return them &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;only&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; when they go on sale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that could be a long time!!! I have a short supply now left to unpack and put places. I find the whole process of packing and unpacking annoying. All of this left over shit would go into the 2nd bedroom, had I had one here. But I don't. So now it just lingers on like a bad ugly scab on your knee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-x-sJjKmEJXU/TWq6jdsAzlI/AAAAAAAAACs/tmyP5A3x1EU/s1600/dumbass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="181" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-x-sJjKmEJXU/TWq6jdsAzlI/AAAAAAAAACs/tmyP5A3x1EU/s200/dumbass.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;I googled dumbass and this appeared.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;I'm playing one game of Scrabble with this guy named Tony C. from down south. He spelled Mississippi with only one set of "s's" and then tried to tell me that's how they really spell the state. Ah, I'm not a dumbass. No, you don't. Another game is with a dude named Mikey. No adult man should ever be called Mikey in my eyes. I have 33 Scrabble games going on. I'm even playing my own mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling now like I need a nap before I watch all the OSCAR hoopla on tonight. I still need to run uptown to grab my mail too that came from yesterday. See, the apartment complex I live in does NOT have mail access. I am in rural America and all around me (the houses) all have mailboxes by the road or by their driveways. Not this complex. We got nothing for mailboxes. So the town decided whoever lives here gets a free medium sized mailbox at the local Post Office uptown. On days like we've recently experienced: blizzards and ice storms and the like... I've actually had to face the nasty elements and motor over to get my mail. Sucks ass but it's something I've accepted living in this cozy environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And life goes on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6954841041225264009?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6954841041225264009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6954841041225264009&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6954841041225264009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6954841041225264009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/scrabble-anyone.html' title='scrabble anyone??'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-vGCkYNWWo5Y/TWq2QMEm4mI/AAAAAAAAACk/QFj1hpJmHVs/s72-c/Extreme-Scrabble12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-6988422114373522813</id><published>2011-02-26T10:09:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T10:12:02.264-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happiness'/><title type='text'>nice compliment....</title><content type='html'>Logged on to facebook this AM and found this sweet note from a former coworker of mine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Good Morning!!!   The energy that you bring out everyday in your  posts is wonderful!  I can tell you are extremely happy in your life and  it looks great on you.  I couldnt be happier for you.  I'm so ready for  spring I could just spit!!   take care my friend.....♥&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;My response back:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never knew this kind of happiness or that life could be THIS  fulfilling!!!! I go every day to my job and think "I am so blessed."  Every day is something new, something I've never done before. It's so  rewarding. And it's one of THE hardest jobs I've ever ever had to do.  There are few meanies there but I do my best to just ignore them and  carry on.... I've had bad days there but nothing compared to the shit  ass call center which was daily even at the *******, that  place sucked ass from the get go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have such an amazing amount  of daily support there too.... and downsizing to such a COZY (aka SMALL)  apt has been absolutely wonderful too. I'm not lying or kidding.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also never have enjoyed spending time with my mother so much like I have in the past 2 months.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall I just feel so much calmer, patience is a norm now...and my anxiety isn't high anymore either!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who  knew that moving to ******* of ALL Places to live could be just what  God apparently had planned for me after all these years of trying to  figure out my plan for living!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the note ♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-6988422114373522813?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/6988422114373522813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=6988422114373522813&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6988422114373522813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/6988422114373522813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/nice-compliment.html' title='nice compliment....'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7182797601671313294</id><published>2011-02-23T22:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T22:51:03.342-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bat Boy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jesus'/><title type='text'>let's ponder over this....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OeTd2HPiMGU/TWXjOCYqh2I/AAAAAAAAACg/FUlvO5D5q3M/s1600/batboy-joe-plumber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="205" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OeTd2HPiMGU/TWXjOCYqh2I/AAAAAAAAACg/FUlvO5D5q3M/s320/batboy-joe-plumber.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And you think you have issues....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Jesus. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I sometimes wonder "What would Jesus do?" if he had a kid who was the Bat Boy Love Child. You know how everyone, but me, wore those hand made bracelets that said WWJD??? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7182797601671313294?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7182797601671313294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7182797601671313294&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7182797601671313294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7182797601671313294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/lets-ponder-over-this.html' title='let&apos;s ponder over this....'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OeTd2HPiMGU/TWXjOCYqh2I/AAAAAAAAACg/FUlvO5D5q3M/s72-c/batboy-joe-plumber.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-4298915429498509297</id><published>2011-02-22T10:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T10:02:38.220-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>yum</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-at1_uCW6uJE/TWPbSOgrpHI/AAAAAAAAABM/3KVaDEDMpfI/s1600/potato+dumpling+soup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-at1_uCW6uJE/TWPbSOgrpHI/AAAAAAAAABM/3KVaDEDMpfI/s200/potato+dumpling+soup.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr align="center"&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption"&gt;yummy!&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;In mere hours (two) I will be sitting at my mom's kitchen nook eating a bowl or two or three of her delicious potato soup with mini-dumplings. She invited me to lunch. At her house. My old house. My childhood home. It's my second day off in a row. I work tomorrow at 2pm. My fridge looks nothing like her fridge. Nor do my cupboards or pantry or anything else for that matter except maybe, our toilet paper supply. We hoard toilet paper. Don't ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterward our yummy lunch, we are going to be headed to another tiny community to pay more on my soon-to-be new microfiber couch and ginormous ottoman. Her washer died and thus she needs to pick one out there too. The thing about my couch is .... last year at tax time, I got over $1500 back from Uncle Sam. Remember I didn't have much of a job. Well in 2010, my life was pretty much the same poverty stricken self that it was too. So in my mind, I had high hopes that I'd be getting approximately that much this time. So I decided to do the unthinkable and start spreading the cash around before I even knew what I was getting..... Can you hear that dreadful music???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right. So. On February 25th, I'm getting exactly $76.00 back. Yup. Bird shit if you ask me. But, let's move on. $76 is better than nothing and it's better than having to pay IN. Anywho.... if it wasn't for my God-given artistic talent then I'd be more fucked than ever. I received a handsome check from an organization in the "city" I used to call home to create two large 16"x20" paintings -- I did this last year for them -- and they were excited and more than pleased to commission me again this year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I've done some other smaller commissioned paintings too. I think I have about $150 left to pay on the price tag of $689.00. But here's the thing with this quaint local shop.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The owner is allowing me to have the ginormous ottoman thrown in with the gorgeous couch come delivery time and I can pay him monthly on it. I about crapped my pants when he said that. What other furniture joint would do that???? None.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born and raised in this here county on the prairie. He knows my family. And he &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;trusts&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; me. That's huge in my book. Trust. But I know he has a kind heart and he's a good business man. He's the same guy who sold my mom my new pillow top bed. He's the "good people" kind of people you wanna know. And trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So soon, I'll be putting on my Crocs and heading out the door. I'll drive 10 miles to my mom's warm house and we will eat the potato soup and gossip and discuss current events and what we thought of the Lifetime movie of The Amanda Knox story last night. And on our way we shall go....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-4298915429498509297?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/4298915429498509297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=4298915429498509297&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4298915429498509297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/4298915429498509297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/yum.html' title='yum'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-at1_uCW6uJE/TWPbSOgrpHI/AAAAAAAAABM/3KVaDEDMpfI/s72-c/potato+dumpling+soup.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-2088543361666500355</id><published>2011-02-21T19:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T19:50:36.673-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>i am what i am.</title><content type='html'>So who I am really? I haven't pondered that kind of thought for quite some time now. I guess I'm still in a fog from asking to apply for the job I currently have to finding out I got the job to writing my termination notice to my evil apartment manager ...to actually leaving that "city" to moving to rural America, a mere 35 miles west of where I lived -- very unhappily -- for nearly 13 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I currently live in a very small cottage of a town. A town that my mother was born and raised in. A town that I never thought in my wildest dreams I'd ever end up in. Ever. But here I am. Moved in around January 18th or so and started to "live" here January 24th with internet and cable already hooked up. I started my new job December 27th. I could have started earlier. I wish I had now. But I'm not trying to focus on any regrets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 1, 2009 at approximately 3:30PM after putting in a full days work, I was fired after six years, three months and 29 days. I was at a dead end gig. I hated it with a passion and there was no way of ever moving up the ladder. It was at a call center for a credit card company. I took the position back on February 10, 2003 thinking I'd be there maybe six months max. But there I was six years later. And they fought tooth and nail to NOT give me any unemployment benefits. I was unemployed for close to five months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A part time gig working with small children hired me at the beginning of the school year that Fall. It was part time yet they wanted you to work as a full time person with no benefits and wake at the crack of insanity and be there on time at 5AM. They changed Directors three times in less than the year and three months I worked for them. And staff came and went. No one was full time yet many promised it'd go full time. It was a lot of hard work, a lot of awful office politics and a lot of bullshit. But I did enjoy some of the children. Most had very annoying mothers who felt their child was &lt;i&gt;special&lt;/i&gt; and deserved better treatment. I disagreed with them all. I was told I had an attitude problem. I did. Wouldn't you??? I hated it there too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End of November 2010, I received a miraculous phone call from the HR department in this tiny hamlet of a village I now call home. She urged me to apply for the new position opening up here. I didn't get too excited but how many HR directors call potential employees to apply??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About two weeks later, I was called for an interview. A few days after that, one of my friends, a former supervisor for the part time gig mentioned above, sent me a text message saying she was called for the job I had the interview for. Now I was excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;December 14, 2010, I was offered the position. Full time status, full benefits (did I mention I lost my health insurance April 30, 2009?) and it was a wonderful place to be employed at. Lots of stuff went down. My life went from deep depression to a slap in the face-I'm wanted, I'm really wanted for a good position-Oh my God I gotta move, I gotta pack, I gotta do a ton of shit......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's now February 21, 2011.... in six days will mark my 2 month anniversary of being employed full time. In a town that is 10 miles away from my childhood homestead. I'm no longer attached to the place I called home for the past 13 years. I'm slowly cutting off all ties I've had with that depressing place. I had no happiness there. None. I had few friends. Real friends I mean. You know the kind you can actually DEPEND upon. I want nothing to do with the place with the children and all the mean spirited bosses there. They said they had my back. But they lied. And my anger is pretty much dissolved from that place. I now only miss like four or five kids. I really sound awful by saying that. But it's true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am what I am.&lt;br /&gt;I am an artist.&lt;br /&gt;My imagination is through the roof.&lt;br /&gt;I am a friend. A good and loyal one at that.&lt;br /&gt;I love a good hearty laugh.&lt;br /&gt;I have a great work ethic. But I don't live to work or work to live.&lt;br /&gt;My job is merely a place where I go, I work hard and I get a biweekly paycheck.&lt;br /&gt;A paycheck that I get to buy goodies on ebay and at fun places to fill my home with wackadoodle gunk.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a fun neighbor.&lt;br /&gt;I'm an avid book reader of true crime and other nonfiction works like memoirs.&lt;br /&gt;I'm an Aunt, a sister, a daughter and a granddaughter, although all my grandparents are dead.&lt;br /&gt;Matilda George are the names of my Grandma and Grandpa.&lt;br /&gt;Two people taken from my young life. I was 11.&lt;br /&gt;I'm now learning about them at the age of 43.&lt;br /&gt;I firmly believe Matilda (they called her Tillie) is my guardian angel.&lt;br /&gt;I have three of them.&lt;br /&gt;A psychic told me that, back in 1998.&lt;br /&gt;I believe in Angels, Mary - the mother of Jesus...and many many Holy Ghosts.&lt;br /&gt;And spirits.&lt;br /&gt;And haunted things.&lt;br /&gt;I'm hopelessly romantic, but haven't dated anyone since 2004.&lt;br /&gt;He was mean. To me.&lt;br /&gt;So I have up the hope.&lt;br /&gt;Is that weird?&lt;br /&gt;I am what I am.&lt;br /&gt;You either like me or you don't.&lt;br /&gt;But it kinda bugs me when people don't.&lt;br /&gt;I do give second chances but never thirds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was with someone a very very long time ago that twisted the meaning of love for me.&lt;br /&gt;I haven't heard from him or seen him since 1993.&lt;br /&gt;While I don't miss him, I missed the fun, the laughter, the silliness we used to have.&lt;br /&gt;I miss being protected. Even though he wasn't much of a protector.&lt;br /&gt;Is it wrong for me to wish, someone is out there for me. Still?&lt;br /&gt;After all these years?&lt;br /&gt;I just cannot imagine that God would allow me to be single all these years without someone to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right by my front door, I have hung a beautiful ceramic plague that reads HOPE. I see it when I leave the house, I see it when I come home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2011 is the year for HOPE. For me. And all of my wishes.&lt;br /&gt;This is the year for me. I just know it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-2088543361666500355?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/2088543361666500355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=2088543361666500355&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2088543361666500355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/2088543361666500355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-am-what-i-am.html' title='i am what i am.'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-8920058389876829905</id><published>2011-02-21T14:41:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T17:48:15.960-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ice storms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Diarrhea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ebay'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diet tea'/><title type='text'>wasting the day away</title><content type='html'>Today is my day off. I woke up around 9:15AM and stayed in my pajamas till around 12:30 .... ate breakfast and lunch and remembered to take my glucose sugars. And then I have literally sat in front of the computer for the entire time playing Lexulous on facebook. I got a game going with someone in Belize, Melbourne Australia, few in Canada and someone in Missouri. Then I have many who refuse to even acknowledge that I am a human being playing a game of scrabble with them. Idiots. I have no gumption to do a damn thing today. Nada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ice storm has curtailed any option of leaving the house to do anything remotely fun. Like spending money or visiting my mom in her village. Everywhere it is icy and gross. And winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also never got around to painting my nails. I've eaten an entire box of Girl Scout cookies too. Fuck. I've been drinking this Chinese diet tea for several months now and just ordered another box of it off of ebay for like $7.99. It works. It really works. IF you are near a toilet. That's the key ingredient. A porcelain toilet. Why you ask? Because it makes you shit. I suppose it works a lot like that new Ali drug. Cause they makes you almost shit your pants or so I'm told. But this tea is the bomb. I drink it as hot tea and as cold tea. Supposedly it works as a detox or something like that but you get the shits alright. From it. I mean. And you gotta be willing to drink it &lt;i&gt;knowing&lt;/i&gt; you'll get the runs. I should know. I've lost 30lbs so far from it. I got about 100 to go but yeah I'm living proof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of the shits... I am scheduled to get my very first colonoscopy done on March 14th. How fun will this be???? But it must be done and it's costing like $6,600 or more. For less than an hours time you have a tube up your ass... it's going to be roughly $7,000 to do it. But thankfully my health insurance has kicked in after nearly a year and a half without it. And my new place of employment offers a 50% employee discount of major services like that. So I won't be forking over THAT much but it'll still suck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-8920058389876829905?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/8920058389876829905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=8920058389876829905&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8920058389876829905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/8920058389876829905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/wasting-day-away.html' title='wasting the day away'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-9061085812991243668</id><published>2011-02-20T21:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T21:10:12.121-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annoyances'/><title type='text'>sunday's manic madness</title><content type='html'>Some time between 3 or 4AM this morning, lightening and thunder struck the small rural prairie town I now call home. And sometime during those same hours, lightening struck the main hospital in the "city" I used to reside in causing all the computers in this here little area to all stop working. By the time I got to work at 7AM, I was told the very same thing. No computers. Not now and probably not for my entire ten and half hours of working I had ahead of me. I also had a very annoying know-it-all ex-spinster on my shift too. Why any sane man would marry her in the first place is beyond my wildest imagination. Why any really sane man would pick her out of a zillion other chicks to marry a 2nd time really blows my mind. But there she sat. Just. Staring. At. Me. And it wasn't even 7AM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus. Mother Fucking God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in no mood to deal with her yet again. Yesterday was bad enough. Nearly 11 hours of her yapping nonstop and here we go again. Sunday. The Lord's Day of Rest. And me stuck with her. Stick a hot needle right into my eyeball. Now. I dare you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And our computers were down till who knows when. We had no radio other than the cop radio and the ambulance one. And it was already 80 degrees in our teeny tiny quarters. My only saving grace was my good pal who was also on my shift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day was long and tiresome. Our lights went out twice before 9:30AM. Our generator took forever to kick in. My only concern at that given moment was &lt;i&gt;"I hope the ice machine doesn't shut down again."&lt;/i&gt; Yeah, that's all I cared about. Me chomping ice chips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully my mom called in before lunchtime just to make sure I was okay and we were all doing alright. How I wish I could have told her how much I hate the "know-it-all" and how I just wanted to scream. But I didn't. And couldn't have anyways as she was sitting. Right. Next. To. Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home 15 minutes after I clocked out. My long four and a half days of working are over. Two days to reboot then two and half more days till my four days off are here. Did I ever tell you how much I love my new work schedule? Yeah, I love it. It's the best ever. I work 10-1/2 hr days.... I get every Monday and Tuesday off no matter what. I don't work on Wednesdays until 2pm and am off 4-1/2 hours later. Then I work every Thursday and Friday and every other weekend. Is that the bomb or what???? 7AM to 6:30PM with an hour for lunch. Awesome. Awesome. Awesome. One week I have 2 days off, the next I have 4 days off. Sure it's a hard job but it's always fun at times and very rewarding too. Except when I have to work with the Know-it-All. Everyone else are cool peeps. Well most are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the manic madness of the day full of ice and doom are almost over. And my relaxation will be here to enjoy and cherish.....and embrace. Now what color should I paint my fingernails this week?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-9061085812991243668?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/9061085812991243668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=9061085812991243668&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/9061085812991243668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/9061085812991243668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/sundays-manic-madness.html' title='sunday&apos;s manic madness'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-461040382569687984</id><published>2011-02-20T20:54:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T20:54:58.943-06:00</updated><title type='text'>cool website</title><content type='html'>http://www.rebeccaculhane.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-461040382569687984?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/461040382569687984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=461040382569687984&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/461040382569687984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/461040382569687984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/cool-website.html' title='cool website'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-7208581255257257189</id><published>2011-02-13T13:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T13:59:16.132-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Antiques'/><title type='text'>life is good</title><content type='html'>....I just remembered I had a blog. I've been so busy with working and vegging and trying to figure out what my new apartment needs to remember that I just created a blog last week!!! I got a lot of cool stuff for my new home but I have no ambition to actually unpack it and put it away. Can I just say, I'm lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday my mom and I took off to hit up some antique stores. We hit up one and stayed for nearly 3 hours. I was so overwhelmed and enthralled with all the treasures from ceiling to floor and two full floors of all the crowned jewels. We had a blast. I left the store with $93.09 worth of great stuff. The owners of the joint, Al &amp;amp; Bertha, were of amazing help. We had Bertha running up and down the stairs every time we turned around and found another smashing deal that we couldn't give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next I headed to the local Dollar Tree and literally went in to buy TWO items and $15 dollars later, carried out two large baggies full of dollar discounts, including two awesome colors of nail polish. Gold and a bright purple. Awesome. Our journey took us next to the grand slam of all stores: Wally World. There I went in to only buy pillow cases for my bed. But $77.87 later...I got a microfiber comforter for $18 (what a deal!!!) and a variety of other interesting things for my bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lCIY-WQwJws/TVg2NjMc3SI/AAAAAAAAAAY/QXu3AtdbnoA/s1600/0213011244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lCIY-WQwJws/TVg2NjMc3SI/AAAAAAAAAAY/QXu3AtdbnoA/s200/0213011244.jpg" width="193" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is a huge ass clock.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;It was a spendy day. I am enclosing a photo of my new ginormous flower clock that I put in my kitchen....&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kitchen theme is still roosters as it has been since 2001 ... but this time am adding more farm themed items too. The counter in my kitchen is a 1970s avacado green so after seeing that when I first checked out my new digs, I decided to bring in a LOT of reds. I'll post more photos at a later date, after I get off my lazy ass to unpack more goods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up next is my theatre themed bathroom. I also had this creation in my old place for four years... but now with a different structure, I can add a lot more gunk too. So being the ebay whore that I am, I bought five vintage looking movie posters to add to the bottom base board area on my bathroom wall. Posters bought were several Alfred Hitchcock movies and the original JAWS movie. I think I saw that flick when I was 8 or 9 years old and am still scared to swim in dark murky areas... even though the Dakota Territory is no where near any ocean!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came home to my cozy home yesterday totally exhausted. Wiped out. I had enough gumption to set up my new pillow-top bed with my new comforter, my new (6) pillow cases and skipped supper altogether. I was too tired to do anything but watch CSI: Miami and 48 Hours Mystery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-7208581255257257189?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/7208581255257257189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=7208581255257257189&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7208581255257257189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/7208581255257257189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/life-is-good.html' title='life is good'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lCIY-WQwJws/TVg2NjMc3SI/AAAAAAAAAAY/QXu3AtdbnoA/s72-c/0213011244.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-326365857944871289</id><published>2011-02-07T20:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T20:56:24.778-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Beds'/><title type='text'>sleepytime...</title><content type='html'>My mom shocked me this morning and took me to a local furniture store in a nearby town and bought me a brand new mattress (a pillow top kind) and box spring and metal frame $530 total...it's only a Full Size which is what I wanted OR a daybed with a trundle bed underneath... my new bedroom will not fit my queen size sleigh bed sadly and the twin bed that I had owned for 4 years which never was used.... is ungodly uncomfortable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom has 3 really nice antique full beds at her house that we've picked up at garage sales or auctions and I was trying to convince her to give me one of those and I'd replace it with my queen bed. Well that apparently unnerved her to some bizarro degree and off we went to the furniture store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bed is coming on Wednesday morning. I also picked out a gorgeous ginormous area rug for my living room. And then went a step further and picked out a gorgeous chocolate brown microfiber couch that looks leather. A bit higher in my price range but apparently I can trade in my twin bed, my sleigh bed and mattress, box spring and the owner will take off from the couch price. Why would I ever dream of shopping anywhere else??? Plus they deliver for free!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The couch is another story. Another blog post. Another day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-326365857944871289?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/326365857944871289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=326365857944871289&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/326365857944871289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/326365857944871289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/sleepytime.html' title='sleepytime...'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6843500130013023558.post-5537154298667417273</id><published>2011-02-06T20:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T20:39:14.241-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New World'/><title type='text'>hello world....</title><content type='html'>....I haven't decided if I shall keep this blog or not... and it's not my first either. I lost count as to how many I've started and deleted over the years.... but I did first start, very innocently way back in 2003 I believe. I'm just testing the waters. Again. And I like my new moniker as it recalls happy memories for me. Not too identifiable but enough for me to know what it is all about. And I'm not so lost and confused as I was eight years ago either. When blogging was so new to everyone and all involved. I have since moved from where it all started too. A new village, new people and old ....many know me but hardly anyone really knows the real me. I like that. Starting fresh. Being a bit mysterious. And starting with a fresh clean canvas....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6843500130013023558-5537154298667417273?l=matildageorge.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/feeds/5537154298667417273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6843500130013023558&amp;postID=5537154298667417273&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5537154298667417273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6843500130013023558/posts/default/5537154298667417273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://matildageorge.blogspot.com/2011/02/hello-world.html' title='hello world....'/><author><name>Missing Matilda</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04068369220657018592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
