Oh, hi.

So, I woke up this morning and it's the last day of August. What the what? I blinked and July and August were gone.

And you woke up this morning and it's the last day of August; yet another day and no post from Little Ms. Notetaker. What the what? Is she actually posting?

All summer has been building to this past weekend. I'm training for the Dublin marathon with Team in Training. And sure, the running has kept me busy, but not enough to keep me away from the Internets. No, what kept me away, was the fact that I'm fundraising for the Team and I didn't want to rely on direct appeals to my friends and family, so what do you do? Yeah, you throw an 80s Prom.

Oh. My. Gracious. Planning a prom is a lot of work. A LOT. And when you're the world's biggest control freak it makes for even more work. But despite my short-comings as a delegator, I had a great committee and cast of characters to make it fantastic.

There's so much I could say about it, and in fact I have a few half-written posts filled with all the drama one would expect from planning a prom. But now that the best night of our lives has passed, and I've put my inner-Promzilla to rest, I think the only thing that needs to be shared is that it was ridiculously fun, my hair was incredibly big, we made some money for a good cause, and now it's done.

Oh, and this:

My virtual magic elixir

I got in to work this morning insanely early. That's something I love to do. I love getting to the office before anyone else is there; I think it's because it's so quiet and I can calmly start my day. When I get there and walk into the din of productivity in the hallways I feel rushed and frantic, like I'm late and I've missed my chance to get a jump start on the day, may as well give up now and resign myself to a day of surfin' the web. Just kidding, Internets (especially work colleagues), I don't do that. I swear. Only if I'm helping you buy 80s prom dresses.

At any rate, I've been riding the work-sponsored transportation in and this morning as we pulled into campus I noticed something funny with my vision. It was a strange blinking and river rippling sensation that seemed prominent in the outer periphery of my right eye, but when I focused on it, I realized it was also happening in the inner corner of my left eye.

At the time, I assumed it was just something tweaky probably because I had been reading (hello! I'm on book 5 of LMNT's Extreme Book-it Reading Challenge for Grown-ups... more on that in an upcoming post) while the vehicle was in motion. I decided to ignore it as I walked to my office. But when I finally got settled in and booted up my computer, the psychedelic strobe light river ripples appeared to be getting worse. I tried not to panic. I closed my eyes to see if that made a difference. Yep, even in the dark my eyeballs were tripping out.

So I did the most rational things anyone would do, I consulted the Internets. Turns out if you type in "psychedelic strobe light river ripples and eye" into the symptoms in WebMD, you don't really get anywhere. But, if you search by body part and then filter by symptoms, yeah, you are probably knocking on death's door.

Note to self: No matter how dire the health care industry gets, always know that WebMD is there for you, just like your good old trusted family physician.

I meandered through the symptom list until I found things that seemed remotely like I was experiencing. "Flickering light in vision" is a symptom of an ocular migraine, or plain old migraine. Nope, had those before and I knew that's not what it was. "Blinking eyes," epilepsy or Tourette syndrome. WHAT THE WHAT?! It was at this moment worst-case scenario LMNT surfaced, you know, the worrywort, and thought, "Oh, no. I may have Tourette's. I'm going to have to leave work today to get that checked out. But shoot, I didn't drive, and I can't catch the bus until 4:00. Plus I have so much work to do. Guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow to get officially diagnosed with that big scary disease." And then I swore and had the desire to touch an oven burner. Not completely satisfied, or sufficiently worried about the depressing future I would most certainly be facing, I decided to click on one more symptom. I really didn't want to be epileptic or have Tourette's. Heed this warning, Internets, be ye very careful when you click on "Shadow over part of vision," because the screen goes dark and a warning box pops up and tells you if you are experiencing shadows over part of your vision you should seek emergency medical attention... RIGHT NOW. YOU IDIOT. YOU ARE HAVING A STROKE. WHAT ARE YOU DOING DIAGNOSING YOURSELF ON THE WORLD WIDE WEB? GET TO A HOSPITAL.

And oddly enough, the moment I read those words, the acid trip my eyeballs were having ceased. Thanks, WebMD. Best part? No co-pay.

Pass the Heinz

It's time for ketchup. Or catching up.


Sweet potato pie, where has the time gone? I have certainly let the cobwebs grow thick and heavy here. And as I am wont to do, I'd like to apologize and make the promise that you'll start hearing from me regularly. And as much as I'm going to try and make good on that promise, I'm not committing to anything these days. I'd say that life is hectic, only I don't think it's that crazy, or at least not any crazier than normal. I've just been tired. Tired and apathetic. Not wanting to do much of anything, and I'm afraid to say that my apathy is manifesting itself in the form of me not blogging. I have several half-finished posts, but my heart's only been in it halfway, so instead of buckling down and posting, I've just taken naps instead.


I'm sincerely hoping that my muse returns soon, and muse, if you can hear me, please bring cooler temperatures with you. This heat is making me miserable, and is forcing me to do things that I don't really want to do, like sleep in my basement alongside other things.

I actually believe that Nutty, his ghost, or any of his progeny are not in residence in the basement, but something even worse is, or was, living down there last week when I moved into the extra bedroom. Mothra.


I have an abnormal fear of two things, 1) fish, and 2) miller moths. I think the fish fear is the product of spending summers with my grandparents either in the Mississippi River or a reservoir in Colorado, and an overactive imagination of unseen water creatures wanting to nibble on my feet. And millers (that's what we always called them growing up), well I've been afraid of them since I can remember. Growing up in Colorado we always seemed to have an abundance of the pests. And if they got in the house, nothing would really set me off more. Those creepy flappy moths with furry larva-like bodies, blindly flying into light bulbs dive b0mbing your head in the process. Blech.


I do know that these pests are only that. Essentially they are wayward migrators without any intention (or true capability) to nibble on my feet or any other appendage really, but they still creep me out. One summer back in junior high, Colorado had a miller epidemic (in my mind that's what it was). We were overtaken by swarms upon swarms of millers. Gross. It was the most terrifying few weeks of my life. Constantly on the look out for things flapping your way, getting stuck in your hair. I remember one day my VBFF and I were walking down the street and passing by a shrub we awakened hundreds, no, maybe thousands of the things. The dusty cloud of evilness took to the air, and we took to running, and screaming, and flailing away.

So last week, when I took up nightly residence in my scary basement, and I creaked my way down the stairs, I was beyond delighted to hear a familiar flap flap flap. And even better it fluttered on my face. Yippee! I eked out a scream that can only be described as that of a man-child (I've never had a real good shrill girlie scream, this one was no exception. It ended up sounding like a cross between a distraught Quasimodo in the bell tower and me being kicked in the gut). I ran to the little bedroom in the corner of the basement, slammed the door shut, and turned out the light, lest the little creeper follow me in there.

And you know what? There's no real point to this story. Nope. So now we've caught up. Sort of. At least you can all rest assured that Little Ms. Notetaker was not eaten alive by Mothra and that maybe, just maybe I'll post more soon.