Tragic Heroine... or just being dramatic?

I've been contemplating delving into the Greek tragedies again.

I know, how many of us have even thought of them since High School, right?

But Clash of the Titans is coming out, and we just watched the original on television the other night. There is soooo much I've forgotten! (Or, rather, never learned as I was just reading them to get by and pass the tests! High School is lost on the young!)

I'm usually a Jane Austen type reader- love historical fiction! But, Greek Mythology is a type of historical fiction, right?

At any rate, I think I'm going to take the plunge! (I'm not holding myself strictly to this, though. I reserve the right to stop reading them anytime I feel like I'm getting zits, wearing pegged pants, or start doing my hair in a side ponytail. And I ABSOLUTELY draw the line at writing an analytical essay about it when I'm through!)

Anyway, my life is like a Greek tragedy, so why not? Huh?

*(I don't mean my father is a god and my mother is a mortal....)
**(nor do I have special powers.... but I do encounter many freakish people... and find myself wearing togas alot.... ok, maybe not!)

I don't like people knowing I'm stalking them....doesn't that defeat the purpose???

I just have to say, I don't often stalk blogs, but I do have my favorites I like to read on a semi-regular basis.

HOWEVER, when I see a blog visitor tracker on there, it makes me want to not read it. I don't know, I just feel like, Hey... just checking in and seeing how things are going, but I don't necessarily want you to KNOW that I am checking in.

It's like when you did a drive-by of a boyfriend's house in high school, really. You "drive by" but you don't really want him to know you are driving by.

Get it?

Just one of those things...

Ugh.

I've been planning this activity for a few weeks now, and I don't normally freak out about things.

But, today a hitch was thrown into the works at the last minute and I'm just a little frustrated by it. I know I can work around it- it's not like the end of the world, but I'm just a little discouraged. I'm in a new position in church and this is the first activity I'm in charge of. I just want things to go well. So, when a big "bump" comes along and makes things a little more difficult... well... it just wasn't what I wanted to hear.

Oh well. Forget yourself and get to work, right? Press onward...

"That which does not make us stronger, kills us."
- me

Speaking of psychological disorders...

I guess I'm still fixated on the "Hoarding" show I watched the other night that caused me to frantically clean and organize my house.

I've been thinking a lot about how crazy and illogical those people seemed on the show. I sat there thinking, "How can they not see how freaky they are?" But over the last few days I've come to a realization:

We're all freaky!

I mean, seriously. Can't you think of one totally weird or compulsive thing about almost everyone you know well? If you can't, I don't think you know them well. Really!

In my circle of acquaintences I know of all sorts of odd compulsions, or things that make each person unique. I was going to start listing them off here, but that might make some people upset. The key here, people, is that many of us probably aren't aware that we HAVE any freakish tendencies!

I, however, am fully aware of all my disfunctionalities! Just to list a few:
-I can't stand to have a cupboard door left open or a drawer open. I will get up out of bed to go check if I think there is any left open. Even if it's downstairs!
- I HAVE to have a clean living room if I know people are coming over. Drop by unannounced? You might find a seriously irritated me...not because I'm not happy to see you, but because my living room might not be clutter-free.
- If a dish I've made doesn't come out perfect, I am pretty mopey the rest of the evening...or for a few days. Even if it tastes ok.
-socks MUST match...no, white doesn't go with everything.
-I cannot...repeat: Can NOT just follow a recipe without changing something in it. Even if I've never made it before...it's a real sickness!
- I HAVE to sit on the second row at church. HAVE TO...it's like, if I don't, I'm not going to Heaven. I really get jittery and upset if I can't sit there. I know...need counseling!
- I REFUSE to touch the door handles at movie theaters and restaurants. I will wait for someone else to open the door, or if I have to, grab it with my sleeve.
-I WILL NOT sit in a hot tub if there are people I don't know in it. Who wants to take a bath with strangers and their dead skin cells?! Gross!

Well,It just goes to show, we can't judge another's oddities because we might be suffering from something much worse!

What are some of your freakish tendencies???

Those Hoarding Hoarders Are Hoarding!

We made a HUGE mistake last night.

We watched "Hoarders" on A&E.

My hubby said: "Hey- let's watch that new show 'Hoarders', it'll make us feel better about ourselves."

About 15 minutes into the show I'm looking around my family room... there's a sock, there's a car... over there is a piece of paper. Not much, really. I'm fine.

20 minutes into the show... wow, my kitchen counter is kind of cluttered...

The next thing you know, we are desperately cleaning the kitchen, the family room, the bedroom... frantically looking around for anything that might resemble those freaky hoarders on the show!

I don't think we'll be watching that show again. It's too exhausting!

I have a St. Paddy's Day Hangover...

Ok. Yay for St. Patrick's day and all that. (burp)

(Note to self: Tons of potatoes with sausage and bacon and onions with more potatoes with cabbage and bacon.... not so easy on the tummy.)

Do they ever just have, like, a salad in Ireland?

Just wonderin'...

OH, here's a hillarious version of "Danny Boy":

Erin Go' Braugh!!!!

Yes. This is my day. The day where people say my name wherever you go. The day where.....

What? You don't know what I'm talking about? You've never heard of "Erin Go'Braugh"?

Well, translated from the gaelic, it means "Ireland Forever". But to tell you the honest truth, since I was in 3rd grade, I've always kind of hated the term. When I was a kid my brother's stupid friend saw the cute little badge I always wore on St. Patrick's day, and the special shamrock shoelaces I would put on especially for the day, and laughed at me. I mean, outright, mockingly laughed at me. My badge and shoelaces said "Erin Go'Braugh" and when he asked what that said I told him.

"Bwahhhhh haaaaaaa haaaaaaa...." he guffawed, rudely. "Erin go-buy-a-bra! Haaaaa haaaa haaaaaaa!!!!!!"

Never have I wanted to punch somebody right in the nose as badly as I did that kid. Right there in the middle of the crosswalk as he stood there with his orange crossing-guard vest and flag. He was supposed to be our protector, our guard against ills that could threaten or hurt us. Yet, here he was mocking me- my name, my chest, for heaven's sake! I was only in 3rd grade- I wasn't supposed to buy a bra! I ran home, red-faced and fuming with anger, hurt, resentment, and malice. It was then I began plotting my revenge.

Being only 9, my imagination for suitable acts of revenge was limited, at best. Nevertheless, the very next day I exacted my revenge just as I had imagined it would go down...every last detail carried out to it's precisely intended effect. As the perpetrator crossed me and my friends that morning, I innocently walked toward him as though nothing at all had happened to shatter my entire self esteem. I smiled demurely and made as though to continue crossing to the other side. He never saw it coming. There, in front of several children crossing the street and standing at the corner, I lifted up my foot as high as it would go and I stomped as hard as I could onto his toes!

"You big, stupid Leprechaun!" I shouted. "I bet you made your mommy buy you that rainbow belt!" (incidentally, rainbow colored striped belts were all the rage at that time, so he was perfectly up with the fashion trends of the time.)

Granted, it was pretty lame. Looking back on it now I realize it could easily have made my shame worse, but luckily for me, we were all young and immature, and my comment was received with great success from the audience viewing. Huge roars of laughter errupted and I could see he was sufficiently humiliated- a 6th grader having been put in his place by little old me! I walked across the street with my head held high, still wearing the shoes with the shamrock laces.

Although I still hear him chanting "Erin go-buy-a-bra..." every St. Patricks' day, I do feel a sense of satisfaction as well. It will forever be known as the day I had my own little Irish victory.

Erin Go' Braugh! Erin forever!!!!!
*For some great Irish recipes to fix for dinner tonight, go to my recipe blog and try something new! I mean, who really likes corned beef and cabbage anyway, right?