Sadly, my cold has worsened. Oh well. I had scheduled a vacation day for tomorrow just because I have to burn it before the end of the year and I'm not allowed to take any vacation over the holidays. So now I'll spend my vacation day being sick.
I'm glad it's not the flu. I've definitely felt worse, but I've also felt better. Of course, I don't think it helps much that I was at work until 7 tonight because I had to get so much stuff done ahead because I am going to be gone tomorrow.
Anyway, thank you for the get-well wishes, AD, CC and Afton. This too shall pass.
Next week is Thanksgiving already. I don't know what we're going to do. I was supposed to go home to visit my family until my vacation got yanked. We only get Thursday off (and it would be so much easier if I could just work that day but I think hubby would kill me if I did) so I hate to cook a big meal when I have to work the day before and the day after.
If I had my way, I'd just totally skip it, but hubby won't stand for that. We could go out, but I don't know if he wants to do that either. Of course, he won't plan anything ahead, so it's up to me. What kind of sense does it make to give the holiday planning over to someone who hates the holidays?
I really like David Morse. I always have. Hubby calls him one of my guys, as in, "Turn it to channel 55 -- one of your guys is on." He is one of my guys.
No problem, CC. I just wanted to make sure everyone knew I wasn't taking my BIL's comment to heart and feeling like I had to cut my hair because I'm geezerly.
I now officially have a cold, though so far it's remained mild. My colds always start with a sore throat, and I had that last night and today. Now that's kind of faded and I'm just sneezing and sniffling a bit. My colds usually hit a lot harder than this, so I'm kind of waiting to get walloped by it, but if I don't, I surely will not complain.
I'm going to try to give myself every advantage, however, so I think I'll get off to bed and hopefully to sleep.
Thanks for the great response to my question, Afton, Sissy, Camera Chic, Adamsdarling and Holliday.
I do need to clear up a possible misconception, though. It seems some of you may have read over one sentence in my post: "And I have no intention of cutting my hair. But I do wonder how many people agree with him that old women should not have long hair."
I noted several of you told me not to cut my hair, but as I said, I have no intention of doing that. My question was only who agrees with my BIL that old women shouldn't have long hair. I've never felt the slightest bit self-conscious about the length of my hair or felt like I was too old to have my hair as long as it is. I'm fine with it.
But many thanks to all you for chiming in on my question. And thank you, CC, for such a nice compliment. 
I have worn my hair super-dee-dooper short (about two inch spikes on top) and fairly longish, which is what it is now, and every length in between. I think it's reasonable for someone to say they like hair a certain length because that's just a personal preference, but I think it's strange for someone to say, "You are 40 and you now much get your hair cut to no longer than 10 inches in length." It's very strange.
I finally got my new phone today and added a data plan. My life may never be the same again. Now, if I could just figure out how to get into my voice mail. 
I could not get to sleep last night in a timely manner. It was some time after 1 a.m. when I finally crashed. I kept worrying about whether I'd gotten stuff done on Friday that needed to be done by midnight Sunday, if that makes any sense.
I'm really worried about some family members and I suppose that just adds to the tension that keeps me from falling asleep. It's still not as bad as when hubby was on dialysis, but now I have the added extra benefit of the jaw from hell. Last night it kept pulsing with these shots of pain. Usually it doesn't hurt terribly until I try to chew or I have to yawn, but last night it was hurting just as I was laying there. Lovely.
So here's another question for you all. I may ask this one on BW at some point, but I'll start here. When my BIL was visiting this weekend, he informed me that I'd have to get my hair cut pretty soon, because long hair on old women looks "weird."
I wasn't terribly offended because I've heard that from many people, including my mother (though she didn't use the word "weird") and it's generally accepted in our society that when a woman gets to a certain age (though I'm not sure what that is) she can no longer have long hair and must wear it in some short style. I'm not sure when that started because I know my great aunts were villified when they cut their hair and one of them never did cut hers, braiding it every day and wrapping it around her head and pinning it with bobby pins. But I digress.
Anyway, BIL and I have this kind of relationship where we just tell each other these sorts of things and I don't get offended and neither does he. For example, the last time I visited over there, he had this goatee that he was letting grow long. This is a look I just cannot tolerate. I love a man in a goatee but nicely trimmed. I can't stand men with long goatees. So I grabbed it and told him he had to cut it off. He just laughed, but the next time I saw him, it was cut off. He was lamenting its loss this visit, saying if he hadn't cut it, it would have been another two inches longer by now. I told him, it's a good thing it was gone, or he wasn't getting in my house.
Anyway, that's just how we are. And I have no intention of cutting my hair. But I do wonder how many people agree with him that old women should not have long hair. Obviously, I won't be offended no matter what your answer, but I'm just curious.
Holliday writes in her blog today that she doesn't call any one of her family members on a regular basis. I don't either.
I don't talk to my parents daily or even weekly, though I do write them a weekly letter. However, I know there are people who talk to their parents or kids every single day. I know two women who, the minute they leave their houses in the morning to drive to work, call their daughters and talk to them on the phone the whole way to work. I cannot imagine having that much to say to my parents. I don't find it weird or anything; just interesting.
Of course, part of that is I don't live anywhere near them, so I'm not involved in their daily lives and so we just don't have that much to talk about. There's just not as much in the way of making conversation as there is for people who are involved in each others' lives on a daily basis.
I've never been big on talking on the phone. Back in the olden days, there was one phone and when you were on it, no one else could call in because when they dialed (yes, dialed) your number, they'd get a busy signal. So hours on the phone was discouraged. I just never found it that interesting anyway.
My BIL left today after we took him out for pasta and pizza at one of our favorite joints. I served him bacon and eggs this morning (and hubby, too, of course) and when we got home from taking him to the airport, the whole house smelled like bacon. Yum. I had to draw the line a little later, though.
After we got home, I put the T-shirt I'd had on this morning while making breakfast back on to do laundry and other Sunday night chores and I ended up having to take it off again and toss it in the laundry with everything else because all it smelled so much like bacon. I thought if I went outside wearing that shirt, I'd have every dog in the neighborhood attacking me. Bacon!
OK, back to the '80s: I had a very interesting decade in that there were many, many changes in my life over those 10 years.
I graduated from high school in 1980 and by that fall, I was attending college 350 miles from home. By the mid-80s, I had graduated and gotten my first real job and was paying my own rent and bills (and student loans). By the late '80s, I was married and raising three boys.
So lots o' changes there. Kind of weird.
Hubby and BIL and I had a very long day today. We watched three volleyball matches, two of which were the best VB matches I have ever seen. Our team won the conference tournament and so clinches a trip to the national tournament now. They probably will not do well at nationals, but it's pretty cool to get to go. These matches were incredible and I am hoarse from yelling and my hands are still stinging from clapping so much. Wow.
And we also squeezed in a trip to the casino where hubby and I were down almost $30 and were down to less than $1.50 left to play and we started hitting jackpots until we were up over $60. So yay for coming out $30 ahead!
Now it is very late and I am all worn out from cheering, but the new Stephen King book has arrived this very day and I feel that I must get to readin'.
OK, I typed a post twice, but I draw the line at three times. Maybe I'll do it again tomorrow. It wasn't that great.
Thanks for the URL, DD. I'll type more about the '80s tomorrow. It's a volleyball weekend at the college.
Now I'm really cranky.
I attended the annual Veterans Day service at our state Veterans Home here in town. I had to work today (in these parts at least, it's only government workers, bank and post office workers who get the day off) but I took an hour out and attended. I had to work longer at the end of the day to get all my stuff done, but it was worth it. They have a big World War II memorial out front and every ceremony is held there.
I wish more people had attended to show their respect.
So here's to you, Dad, and to all your cousins who served in World War II at the same time as you. And to my grandparents and all my aunts and uncles who waited at home wondering if they'd ever see any of you again. You all came home, some a little worse for wear, but all in one physical piece. Thanks.
Fear not Afton and DD, my friends (who can dance), I do not fear "The Safety Dance." I embrace it. I'm just curious as to why, after years of not hearing it, I have heard it three times in just a few days. Hmmmmm.
I was so taken with the name Men Without Hats that I use a form of it all the time. Every time I see roofers or construction workers doing their thing in the great summertime outdoors sans shirts, I gasp and say, "Men Without Shirts." Yummy!
This summer something wonderful happened twice as hubby and I were out driving around on a Saturday running errands. We have to go down this one east-west main drag so we can cross state lines and there was this guy mowing his lawn sans shirt. The first time I saw him, I nearly drove off the road because he was very pleasing to look at. Hubby just asked, "Do you want me to drive?" Then when I saw him again a few weeks later, I was more prepared but no less impressed. Hubby just sighed.
In fact, the first time I came very close to honking my horn as I drove past him because I was that damn impressed. I stopped myself at the last minute because I quickly realized I was exactly like those asses who honk at women all the time. It's called impulse control and I guess I have it and they don't.
"The Safety Dance" appears to be haunting me.
First of all, Afton writes about it in her blog. Then on "House" last night, it was playing in the background of an '80s themed costume party as part of a convention they were attending. Finally, it played during a break on the podcast broadcast of "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me."
So that's three. Why is the "Safety Dance" everywhere I turn?~~~
These family e-mails are gonna kill me. I need to be able to turn my brain off.
Thanks for weighing in, AD and CC. It seems that meth must not be as prevalent out there because you don't have the major anti-meth ad campaign that we have out here.
"Faces of Meth" is very well known in these parts. It's a thing the Multnomah County (Ore.) Sheriff's Department put together some years ago with drug offenders' photos. They took their mugshots from when they were first arrested and put them side-by-side with their mugshot from when they were arrested from 18 months to several years later. The comparison is pretty stark and shows a few of the physical ravages of meth addiction. They all have their mouths closed, so you can't even see the nasty meth mouth.
Anyway, here's a link to the "Faces of Meth" page. It's quite an eye-opener.~~~
My brother has a birthday in a few days. I have a heckuva time remembering how old he and my older sister are. I don't have any trouble with the brother who is closest in age to me, but the older two give me fits. However, I'm going to take a stab and say that he's going to be 54 years old. I have no idea if I'm right or not. I sent him a card, but I didn't mention his age. Think he'll notice? 
Would you like 2 exchange blog links? Best wishes... 
Merry Christmas, Jeanie!! 
Bravenet Blog 
Blog Community
Get a Free Blog
Manage your Blog
bravenet.com