“It’s a Typical Tuesday”
Got up late; don’t really care,
Threw on my clothes and brushed my hair.
Hurried to work; tried to be on time,
Got to get ready for the daily grind.
Sometimes I think, “what’s the point?”
I might go crazy if I don’t get out of this joint.
But then I settle myself down, and put on a smile
I’m not going anywhere, not for awhile.
It’s just another day; it’s a typical Tuesday.
Tuesday’s not so bad, it’s just in third place.
Thinking about Monday, puts a smile on Tuesday’s face.
Tuesday’s not as fun as Saturday, that’s for sure.
It’s just another day; just a typical Tuesday.
Just going through the day, looking for a song.
Not your typical girl; but I want to belong.
Still holding on to my dreams, with everything I got.
Praying for God’s direction, I don’t ask for a lot.
Got to settle myself down, and put on a smile.
I’m not going anywhere, not for awhile.
It’s just another day; it’s a typical Tuesday.
Tuesday’s not so bad, it’s just in third place.
Thinking about Monday, puts a smile on Tuesday’s face.
Tuesday’s not as fun as Saturday, that’s for sure.
It’s just another day; just a typical Tuesday.
Going through life; it’s the same routine.
Sometimes I wish I were somebody else.
Do ya know what I mean?
But I thank God for loving me, and I begin to smile,
I’m glad to be just who I am, at least for awhile.
It’s just another day, it’s a typical Tuesday.
Evette Ownby
5/12/09
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Are you easily bored? I know that I am. Just like a kid with ADD, I have a tendency to be "restless," especially at certain times of the month. When I don't know the reason for certain behaviors of mine, I blame it on hormones. Why not? Everybody else does. In a bad mood? You must have PMS. Obsessing over cleaning your house? You must be nesting. Sure, sure, blame it on the hormones! Who's gonna argue with you?
Anyway, this "restless" feeling comes over me and I feel like I need to start a new project. No matter that I have ten other unfinished projects that I keep putting off for one reason or another. So, I get this notion that Mother's Day is coming up in a couple of months and this is the year I need to make a scrapbook for my mom of all her pictures of me and my sisters from our childhood. So, I drag out the pictures and all my scrapbook supplies, and I get started on grouping pictures together and, designing page layouts, and in general making a big mess on my dining room table.
I used to have a great desk upstairs for working on my scrapbooks, but we currently have our house up for sale, and I "staged" the house, you know, like they do on HGTV. So, a full size bed sits where my desk used to be, and my desk sits in a storage building down the street, along with half of my scrapbook supplies. Particularly that blue gingham ribbon that would look great with the yellow and blue page layout that I just designed. This means a quick run to the storage building and a desperate hunt for the blue gingham ribbon. But of course, when I get there and start looking for said ribbon, it's not where I knew I had stored it. It's not in the second place, or the third place, or even the fourth place! Okay, so now I'm totally frustrated, hot and sweaty, and somewhat defeated. I go back home and look in the two or three other boxes of scrapbook supplies that I stored in the attic just in case I had the hankering to get creative before our house sells. And viola! In the very last place I look, there is the desired ribbon. Only now when I get it laid out on the page, I'm not happy with the results and I end up looking for a different embellishment. After three hours, I'm tired; I've completed a grand total of two scrapbook pages; I have a huge mess to clean up; I'm hungry, and I haven't even thought about what to cook for supper (if you're not from the South, that's what we call our evening meal); and I'm totally discouraged with the progress I've made on my project. Time to re-group.
So, I decide to cook supper. I think I'll feel better and re-energized after I've had something to eat. We eat in the livingroom in front of the t.v. because the dinning room table is covered with scrapbook stuff, and generally because we usually eat in front of the t.v. unless we have company. I really get interested in the program we're watching so, after I've eaten, instead of getting back to my scrapbook, I set my plate aside and keep watching t.v. During a long run of commercials, I notice my crochet bag sitting beside my wingback chair. I have a tendency to feel guilty about wasting too much time watching t.v., so I pick up my latest unfinished needle work project, an afghan that I'm making for one of my nieces, and work on that until the program goes off. All of a sudden, from out of the blue I'm reminded that I haven't prepared a craft project for my GA class for Wednesday night. GA stands for Girls in Action, our Southern Baptist church's Wednesday night bible study for elementary and junior high girls. The crocheting gets set aside for later as I get up and review my GA leader study guide.
The suggested craft project for our next meeting is a mock counted cross-stitch sampler using graph paper and colored pencils. Great! That's simple enough. But I have to test it out and make an example for the girls to follow. I just have to locate my graph paper. The last time I rember using it was when I made a scale diagram of my livingroom so that I could rearrange my furniture. And if I recall correctly, . . .
it's in the top drawer. . .
of my desk. . .
which is sitting in the storage building . . .
down the street.
Ahh, such is my life!!
Anyway, this "restless" feeling comes over me and I feel like I need to start a new project. No matter that I have ten other unfinished projects that I keep putting off for one reason or another. So, I get this notion that Mother's Day is coming up in a couple of months and this is the year I need to make a scrapbook for my mom of all her pictures of me and my sisters from our childhood. So, I drag out the pictures and all my scrapbook supplies, and I get started on grouping pictures together and, designing page layouts, and in general making a big mess on my dining room table.
I used to have a great desk upstairs for working on my scrapbooks, but we currently have our house up for sale, and I "staged" the house, you know, like they do on HGTV. So, a full size bed sits where my desk used to be, and my desk sits in a storage building down the street, along with half of my scrapbook supplies. Particularly that blue gingham ribbon that would look great with the yellow and blue page layout that I just designed. This means a quick run to the storage building and a desperate hunt for the blue gingham ribbon. But of course, when I get there and start looking for said ribbon, it's not where I knew I had stored it. It's not in the second place, or the third place, or even the fourth place! Okay, so now I'm totally frustrated, hot and sweaty, and somewhat defeated. I go back home and look in the two or three other boxes of scrapbook supplies that I stored in the attic just in case I had the hankering to get creative before our house sells. And viola! In the very last place I look, there is the desired ribbon. Only now when I get it laid out on the page, I'm not happy with the results and I end up looking for a different embellishment. After three hours, I'm tired; I've completed a grand total of two scrapbook pages; I have a huge mess to clean up; I'm hungry, and I haven't even thought about what to cook for supper (if you're not from the South, that's what we call our evening meal); and I'm totally discouraged with the progress I've made on my project. Time to re-group.
So, I decide to cook supper. I think I'll feel better and re-energized after I've had something to eat. We eat in the livingroom in front of the t.v. because the dinning room table is covered with scrapbook stuff, and generally because we usually eat in front of the t.v. unless we have company. I really get interested in the program we're watching so, after I've eaten, instead of getting back to my scrapbook, I set my plate aside and keep watching t.v. During a long run of commercials, I notice my crochet bag sitting beside my wingback chair. I have a tendency to feel guilty about wasting too much time watching t.v., so I pick up my latest unfinished needle work project, an afghan that I'm making for one of my nieces, and work on that until the program goes off. All of a sudden, from out of the blue I'm reminded that I haven't prepared a craft project for my GA class for Wednesday night. GA stands for Girls in Action, our Southern Baptist church's Wednesday night bible study for elementary and junior high girls. The crocheting gets set aside for later as I get up and review my GA leader study guide.
The suggested craft project for our next meeting is a mock counted cross-stitch sampler using graph paper and colored pencils. Great! That's simple enough. But I have to test it out and make an example for the girls to follow. I just have to locate my graph paper. The last time I rember using it was when I made a scale diagram of my livingroom so that I could rearrange my furniture. And if I recall correctly, . . .
it's in the top drawer. . .
of my desk. . .
which is sitting in the storage building . . .
down the street.
Ahh, such is my life!!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Exercise Tip
When exercising on a stability ball, if you have long hair, it's a good idea to keep you hair pulled up in a ponytail or hair clip. Otherwise when you roll backwards, you run the risk of rolling on top of your hair and pinning yourself to the ground. There's no easy way out of this predicament. Trust me on this one.
Monday, April 19, 2010
There are a few things that really make my blood boil; two-faced politicians, mean spirited people who commit violent acts just for kicks, and people who park in handicapped parking spots who are in no way handicapped. But for today, I'm just gonna talk about the later.
The other day I was at the gym working out on the elliptical machine when I noticed a car with a handicap placard hanging from the rear view mirror pull up into one of the two handicapped parking spots right out front. I didn't think too much about it until two perfectly healthy looking, young women exited the car and entered the gym. They then proceeded to get on treadmills and RUN! Neither of these girls showed any sign of a limp or other problem. The more I watched them, the madder I got!
And then the wheels started turning. Should I go up and confront them right there in the gym and risk starting a fight? Maybe I should just go call the police. I really hate confrontation. But maybe there was a perfectly good explanation for what appeared to me as totally unresponsible, callous behavior. And if I confronted them and was given evidence that they had every right to use that placard, I would look like a fool. Maybe I should just right a "shame on you" note and put it on their windshield. Did I mention that I hate confrontation?
When I got out to my truck I wrote the note, and was determined to put it on the windshield. But in the end, I just left the parking lot and later fussed about the situation on my Facebook page.
I just wish more people would act responsibly. But doesn't that start with me? Shouldn't I confront immoral behavior when I see it instead of turning a blind eye? Shouldn't I stand up for my convictions, no matter what the cost? I don't know who I'm more upset with; those girls for their thoughtlessness, or me for my cowardness.
The other day I was at the gym working out on the elliptical machine when I noticed a car with a handicap placard hanging from the rear view mirror pull up into one of the two handicapped parking spots right out front. I didn't think too much about it until two perfectly healthy looking, young women exited the car and entered the gym. They then proceeded to get on treadmills and RUN! Neither of these girls showed any sign of a limp or other problem. The more I watched them, the madder I got!
And then the wheels started turning. Should I go up and confront them right there in the gym and risk starting a fight? Maybe I should just go call the police. I really hate confrontation. But maybe there was a perfectly good explanation for what appeared to me as totally unresponsible, callous behavior. And if I confronted them and was given evidence that they had every right to use that placard, I would look like a fool. Maybe I should just right a "shame on you" note and put it on their windshield. Did I mention that I hate confrontation?
When I got out to my truck I wrote the note, and was determined to put it on the windshield. But in the end, I just left the parking lot and later fussed about the situation on my Facebook page.
I just wish more people would act responsibly. But doesn't that start with me? Shouldn't I confront immoral behavior when I see it instead of turning a blind eye? Shouldn't I stand up for my convictions, no matter what the cost? I don't know who I'm more upset with; those girls for their thoughtlessness, or me for my cowardness.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Flip-flops
Tip for the day: It's not a good idea to wear flip flops when you're a passenger on the back of a Harley, unless you want a hot foot, run the risk of burning your ankle, and enjoy having your
hubby yell at you for getting melted rubber all over his shinny chrome pipes. I'm just saying...
Okay, I have to fess up, I've never worn rubber flip flops on the back of a Harley. I have worn heavy leather sandals and still got a hot foot. And I have had a little of the rubber heel of a leather boot melt on the Hub's pipes, but it wasn't much. And he didn't yell at me. He did fuss a little and tease me alot. Even though I'm a Lucy, I'm not a complete air head. ;p
Thursday, April 15, 2010
VettieLou Logic #1
Tip for the day: It's probably not a good idea to wear a dress when you're going to the chiropractor. I'm just saying... This is in NO way a bad reflection on my chiropractor, Dr. Jeff. He is completely professional and a perfect gentleman. It's just that when he adjusts my lower back and hip, he has to twist me up like a pretzel, and ever since I fell down a flight of stairs several years ago wearing a dress, I've had this phobia of having my skirt end up around my ears. Just call it VettieLou logic.
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