A fan of myself

Sitting here randomly reading posts in my own blog. I am, after all, my biggest (only) fan. My blog posts are not meaningless, not to me. It is like flipping through a photo album, except the pictures are painted by words. Not all of the memories are good, but they are, all lessons. And they are all, uniquely mine.

Four eyes...in a shade of blue

When I was very young, school determined that I needed glasses...terribly. For whatever reason, I don't know why, Mom sent Dad and I off to get me glasses. I don't remember this, but my guess is, my Dad let me pick the ones I wanted. They were baby blue. I assume, my favorite color at that time. Mom was not happy. She mentioned it many times while I was growing up. I am not sure why, but she did not think blue eyeglasses were a good idea.

Much more recently, school determined that my grandson needed glasses. He came into the house tonight wearing them. The first thing I did, was tell him how much I liked them. Believe me, all children, that wear glasses, need to hear this. There is way too much ridicule where glasses are involved. The second thing I did was smile to myself, because his first glasses are blue.

Sugar and spice...but more than pink.

I am having a dilemma. Surprise! I know, right?

I raised two sons. I bought them boy toys. Not exclusively. My son had a doll. As in, baby doll. It was a Cabbage Patch knockoff. His grandmother made it, he wanted it, she gave it to him. I had a few objections, none of them being that my son wanted a doll. It had a creepy clown face...enough said. And it was, a black baby. I was afraid someone would take offense. How hard is that to imagine? Anyway, when we walked into Toys R Us, they headed straight for the boy toys. It never even occurred to me, back then, that the toys were divided, greatly, by gender.

I am wiser now.

And I have a granddaughter.

I bought her a baby doll for Christmas. It's perfect for a 17 month old. It's cuddly soft. Age safe, sewn on face. Pink. Machine washable. It was a natural. I guess that is why it bothered me. I don't want her toys defined by her gender. Or, more accurately, perhaps, I don't want what I select for her to be all gauzy and pink because she's a girl. I want to open more doors to her, then, she can decide what type of person she wants to be.

Yes, this Christmas, she will be getting a baby doll. I hope that she will love it. But she will also be getting a super hero costume for playing dress up. Yes, it's a skirt, there is nothing wrong with being a girl. But I want her to know, she can be a hero too. 

Shooting, not the star variety

I went to a shooting range yesterday with my sons and a couple of their friends. There is so much to say about yesterday.

It was so nice to spend a day, we went out to dinner afterward, with them.

I enjoyed the shooting range much more than I anticipated.

It all started out, with a bit of, necessity isn't the right word. Desire isn't quite right either. Let's start at the beginning...

My husband bought me a gun, a .32 revolver, shortly after we got married, almost 35 years ago, with the intention of teaching me to shoot. He never asked if I knew how. He took me out to the country, I fired the gun twice, hitting the target (a corn cob on the ground) with the second shot. The gun was tucked away after that. Thankfully, I've never had a need to use it.

In recent months, I have started considering getting a concealed carry permit. As is normal for me, I can get really tied into an idea. I did some research, it's what I do, and realized that I needed to prove to myself that I was still capable of hitting a target.

I had never been to a gun range. I am happy to report that I was not made to feel uncomfortable at all. Sometimes that happens in places where there is too much testosterone. The man running the shooting line even came over and gave me some suggestions. I shot both of my son's guns, and their friend's gun, a couple of 9mm and a .40 Glock. I had no problem handling the larger caliber guns. It took a bit to get it right, but in the end the line guy came over and commented how well I was doing. That final target had 3 shots in the center, and the other 3 were within the first 3 rings. I was pretty proud of myself.

Hop, skip and jump in time

I am trying to keep my head in the here and now. Or, at least, in this week. I spent yesterday daydreaming about Mexico with my travel companions. Ahhhh. But the next time is still a bit over the horizon. I even have another vacation, before that one...and the holidays. Halloween is on the horizon but I have serious stuff to deal with even sooner than that. Hence, my reminder to keep my mind from skipping too far ahead. There are things to deal with...and enjoy, right now. My favorite season is Fall. It is fleeting enough, I don't won't it to slip through my fingers.

Thickening my skin

I know it is not so.
At least, I don't think so.
But I feel like I am being mocked.
People have taken to referring to me as, skinny.
I try to accept it with the good intentions meant.
I have lost nearly forty pounds.
But, I am not skinny.
I am just, skinnier.

A Nurse's perspective on Ebola...

Yes, Ebola is scary. Being a person that works in a hospital, I don't want it where I work. Being a person that flies, I don't want to share space with sick people. The news from Africa is horrible. I won't deny any of this. But to give it a bit of perspective...

The latest WHO numbers is 4,447 deaths for Ebola. According to the same group (WHO) there are about 250,000 to 500,000 yearly deaths from the FLU. Flu kills millions during epidemic years. Estimates, from the CDC, is that 3,000 to a high of about 49,000 people die in the US alone from the flu. All that, with vaccines.

There are a lot of issues going on, from superstition to corruption, that is daunting efforts to control the Ebola outbreak. I am concerned for the infrastructure here to handle an epidemic. Dallas wasn't able to handle the isolation of one patient. Evidenced, by the fact, that they have two healthcare workers now testing positive.

I am not saying, don't worry. I think we all need to pay attention to what is going on in the world. It is scary stuff. But keep perspective.

And get a flu shot.

Blood Moon

On October 8, 2014, we had a lunar eclipse. 

 This occurs when the Moon passes behind the Earth, into the Earth's shadow. There is an alignment of the Sun, Earth and Moon. 

The result is a rust colored moon, called the blood moon.

 And the inspiration for the name of this blog.


















And the perfect excuse for taking photos...even at 6AM.

Warning...language

Four letter words have always boggled my mind. What makes them "four letter words," except the weight given to them by society? What is the difference between shit and poop? Both four letter words, meaning the same thing. So why is one forbidden in polite company? I will admit to having a 'mouth', at times. I'll drop the F bomb, in the company of friends, and not think a lot about it. I've been known to use bitch, a four letter word...that has five letters, as a term of endearment. But there is one four letter word that I dislike, a lot. I am not sure why; it's no worse than any other. I don't recall it ever being used in a way that makes it stand out. But I give it weight in my mind. It is an insult of the highest magnitude. But sometimes, on a very, very, rare, as in almost never, occasion, you just have to say...

What a cunt!

Exageration

Have you ever wondered why women are so hard on themselves over their looks? I mean besides the thin obsessed, super model, movie star, photo edited to unbelievable proportions, pin-up, world we live in. I have a theory. I know, you're surprised, right?

I assume of lot of women are just like me, at least, in this one particular thing. We start our day by looking at an over exaggerated version of our own face. My make-up mirror is 5X magnification. Yes, I have huge pores. The fine hairs on my face are gigantic. I can see every single, little, and not so little line. Every. One. There is no place for them to hide. Why do I do this to myself? With my new and improved, surgically corrected vision, I can't see up close...unless it's really BIG! And I'm telling you, it's really hard to put on mascara if you can't see your eyelashes. Ouch. So after looking at yourself, up close and personal, it's hard to believe that everyone isn't seeing all of your imperfections. They are right there, flaws on display. Pores. Spots. Lines. Mustache. I should buy stock in Maybelline and Covergirl. I doubt this is going to get better with time. I guess I could quit putting myself through it, just stop wearing make-up altogether. Ha-ha-ha-snort, sorry.

The elephant in my room

Let's talk about the hulking, gray, beast sitting on my shoulders...

I am hot.
I am cold.
I am restless.
I am anxious.
I am sleepless.
I feel out of control.

Menopause. The change. Every woman hates it, fears it, denies it. The dark door leading to, gasp, old age. Or, at least, that is the portrayal. There isn't much to be said in it's favor, other than the cessation of menstruation. That happened a long time ago for me, with a hysterectomy. Without a menses, I had no harbinger of gloom. Instead, a few years ago, I had a blood test to determine if my ovaries were still working...producing hormones. Results: My doctor declaring that I was, "Well past that." My response, "That was easy." She said most women are a bit more emotional at the news. I told her, I was just glad I had gotten through it without all the horror stories I had heard, and no one had been murdered. There had been a few moments of outrageous heat enveloping my body. But now the blood work said we were all done, tied up in a neat package with a bow. Cool, let's get on with life. I have things to do.

Except...

apparently, my ovaries did not get the news that the factory was shut down. There must be a union, no shutters on this plant. The endocrine system is a complicated, interconnected network of glands. One stimulates, or inhibits, another. So the production, or lack of, by the ovaries, is a system wide issue creating a variety of miserable symptoms. Except the blood test said I was done! Well, apparently, well past, is not done. Why did I expect this to be any different? My body has always had a mind of it's own, going off willy-nilly, confounding doctors far and wide. I have watched more than one doc shake his head in dismay.

So here I sit at an ungodly hour on a Sunday morning, because I can't sleep. I'm restless. I'm hot. I keep having adrenaline spikes leaving me feeling anxious and restless...and grumpy. I don't think I mentioned that before. Damn it, I'm grumpy. It's way too freaking early to be grumpy. I need some kids to yell at. Get out of my yard! Oh. Hell.

So, I am talking about the elephant in the closet of every woman, over a certain age. I can't decide if I just need to paint him to match the decor or douse him in alcohol and set him ablaze. Did I mention homicidal? Be very careful if you decide to make fun of a menopausal woman. There are judges that are women, after all. It may be a perfectly legitimate argument that you deserved your fate.

Maybe a pitcher of sangria, it's 5 o'clock somewhere, right? And a gallon of paint. I need a project. I have the overwhelming desire to paint a room. Maybe the need to change my environment. Maybe the desire to expel some of this excess energy. Then I'd feel better...until I'm well past it...again.

More calendar

It is safe to say, people hate Monday.

Wednesday is hump day.

Thursday is Friday eve. 

Friday...TGIF.

Saturday and Sunday, it's the weekend. Nuff said.

Then there is Tuesday. Crickets chirping.

Poor Tuesday.

Calendars are hard

There are a lot of things that I want to do every other day, but this gets hard to keep track of on a 7 day week. I propose an 8 day week. Slide a day in for a 3 day weekend...as it should be. We can call it Freeday or Eigthday. I would name it after me, but D Day is taken. 45 weeks in a year instead of 52. Or we could add the eighth day and have 2 extra months in the year...I mean how bad could that screw up the calendar, right? Let's just make all the months 34 days, no more figuring on your fingers which months are short. So, I think, I just have 6 days left over. Back to tacking on a day every other month...damn.

A sanguine moon...

 Coolpix L820. Handheld. Unedited except cropping.

Cholesterol

Because this is the one place I can put things and find them later.

Along with losing 20 pounds, so far, I have lowered my cholesterol. I'd like to trend it over time, so...

1/13/14
Triglycerides          168
Cholesterol, total    225
HDL                      48
LDL                      143
Chol/HDL ratio      4.7

7/30/14

Triglycerides          154
Cholesterol, total    216
HDL                      48
LDL                      137
Chol/HDL ratio      4.5

According to one website I was looking at, this small success has lowered my heart risk by 18%. I've only been exercising 2 of those 6 months. I high hopes for my next check-up.

Running my butt off...

along with a few other parts of me. It's been 10 weeks. I have lost 20 pounds! That is 70,000 calories...negative 1000 calories a day, without going hungry. This is not an ad for a diet plan. I did it the only way that seems to work long term...eat less, work more. I am eating a lot more fresh fruits and veggies. I am walking 3+ miles most nights. With the walking I do at work that is 5+ miles a day. It would be quicker, but I'm frequently lazy on the weekends.

My husband said to me, it might not always be this easy to lose two pounds a week. Easy? Where? I must have given him a look, because he granted that I was working hard. Unfortunately, there is some truth in what he says. The less you weigh, the less calories you burn in an activity.

Tonight, my husband offered me some chips, I turned the can around to look at the calories. I told him, that's a mile and a half on the treadmill. I think that's the secret, when you start associating the food you eat with the amount of work it costs to burn. Then you decide if it's worth the work.

Courtesy

I am not sure when we forgot about other people. I see so much rudeness everyday that I just don't understand. Here are a few of the rules I think people need to relearn.

1. The people you are with, are more important than the people on the phone. This includes calls, texts and Facebook. If I am out with others and get a call, I check the ID, if it is not my husband or sons, I let it go to voice mail. If I answer and it's not an emergency, I cut the call off as quickly as possible (see rule #2) and apologize to the actual person I am with. I believe this is true for businesses as well. If I drove to your business, I should take priority over the person calling. And, if you are ready to check out at a business, or otherwise need to deal face to face with another person, put your phone away. Show respect, look other people in the face and have one to one conversations. This includes servers at a restaurant.

2. If you call someone and they say something like: I'm eating, out to dinner, driving, etc. offer to call them back or ask them to call you when it's convenient. Yes, I know you likely had an agenda when you called, but if your listener is busy keep it brief.

3. Unless you have specifically been told different, calling early morning or late nights is unacceptable. If you call me before 10 AM or after 9 PM, my mind immediately screams, emergency!

4. Loud noises, just like phone calls, should be limited by the time on the clock. Why is it necessary to mow your lawn at 6:30 AM? Yes, I have a neighbor that does this. Unless a storm has swept through the neighborhood and trees need to be cleared, there really is no reason for chainsaws after dark. For me, noise includes, screaming kids, loud music and 1 AM basketball games. Oh, and fireworks!

5. Your opinion, unless expressly requested, should be kept to yourself. I don't know why some people feel it is necessary to share their negativity with the rest of the world. On the other hand, please do share compliments and when someone makes an honest attempt at a compliment, accept it graciously, even if it was worded awkwardly (You look nice, today.)

6. Say please, thank you, excuse me. It's not that hard.

It surprises me how often people tell me I am nice. Maybe it's because I haven't forgotten how to interact with real people.

Even the voices in my head argue

I saw a 13.1 sticker on the car in front of me and I thought, I could do that.

Another voice, also in my head suggested someone should duct tape me to a wall.

Which is more crazy, considering a mini-marathon, or having conflicting voices inside my head?

Discovering exercise

I have joined a gym...twice. I would go, spend an hour, probably half of it wandering and wondering what to do next. For the most part, I hated it. I hated the girls that were made up way too much to dare break a sweat. I hated the testosterone laden grunting. I hated the leering glances between the two. I hated trying to take a private shower in a public place. I hated walking out in sweaty clothes. Most of all, I hated going back out to go to the gym once I was home from work.

Over the last couple of years, the weight had started creeping back up. I was knocking at the all time high weight that I swore I would never, ever, see again. So after much thought, probably over the course of a year, I bought a treadmill. It was not my first investment in exercise equipment, which is why it took so much thought. There is a lot of dusty equipment around my house. A treadmill would be my largest financial investment, and I had to be sure it wasn't a reason to keep the door shut.

Bought the treadmill the first part of May. Got a good deal on a Fitbit Flex, which arrived May 21. On June 19, I finished my first 5K. I walked it, no speed barriers broken, but I did it. I finished it. I had enough energy to sprint at the end. I danced afterwards and even went for a walk when my Fitbit said I needed 2000 more steps to hit the 15,000 step goal for the first time.

I have walked over 3 miles, on top of my daily steps, three of the last four days. The exercise is beginning to feel like a reward in itself. Great stress relief. I think it will be a habit. 

Plus, I'm down 12 pounds. Heading in the right direction.

Perspective

When I was 18, I got married, and I thought I was an adult.

When I was 19, I bought a house, and I thought I was an adult.

When I was 21, I decided to have a baby, and I thought I was an adult.

When I was 22, my first son was born, and I thought I was an adult.

Legally, I was an adult. When my sons turned 18, 19, 21, 22, I compared their lives to mine. I couldn't imagine them deciding to get married at 18. They still seemed so very young to me. It's only been in the last few years, in their mid-late 20's, that I can picture them as grown men. I imagine my parents felt the same way.

I am an open book...

doesn't mean you know me. Even though I will answer almost any question, it doesn't mean you understand the nuances of my life or how I feel about things. Don't presume to know me based on your experiences, or probably not even from my reaction to you. My thoughts and actions could totally conflict with one another. The law says it is not legal to choke the living shit out of you, even if you deserve it. So while I may be feeling it, thinking it, plotting it, I am likely to be avoiding you. You may never know how lucky you got when I just walked away.

What scares me

I hear this so much, and it truly scares me. The fact that a person can be going along, living a good life, minding their own business, planning a future and a piece of space debris...or more likely a drunk driver, comes out of nowhere and game over! The uncertainty, the unfairness, the randomness...the lack of any control whatsoever in one's own future, frightens me beyond measure. One can not live a life asking, what if? It would paralyze you beyond measure. But it's a scary world.

A reminder...

as I may need to remember this again, sometime.

Lots of people want easy solutions. Easy, as in, they don't have to work to solve the problem. But since they don't have anything invested in the solution, they can complain about it. I have never been afraid to work. I will often take the lead when nobody else wants to. Give me a problem, I will try to provide a solution. But if I am going to do all the work I expect a, jeez thanks, not abuse. If you are not going to like the way I do things, do them yourself.

I say this is a reminder, because this is not my first go round. I say I may need to remember this again, because it probably won't be my last go round either. Finding a solution to a problem just seems to be a part of my nature. Maybe, because for 9 years, that is how I described my job...professional problem solver. I am used to hearing someone say, I want, need, wish, etc. followed by something they have been unable to accomplish, and accomplishing it. Seldom was it a thankful job, but I was good at it. I am a creative problem solver. When nobody else will stand up and say, let me fix that, I tend to, rather than sit around and moan that something needs to be done. I suck at sitting on my hands. I suck at wishing for a solution out of thin air. But, for awhile, I need to keep my head down, my eyes straight ahead and my mouth shut. I won't be riding to the rescue.

My damn hobby

I say that because I enjoy it, usually, but it does cause me to cuss...a lot. Some of it is all the tiny pieces I'm working with. I drop them, frequently. The other, more annoying part, is that what I envision in my head doesn't work out when I put it around my neck. I have made 3 necklaces in the last two weeks and I revamped all 3 this morning, um, afternoon...as I have been at it for several hours. Honestly, I guess most of that time was spent designing what is still a non-necklace. It just won't "come together". It is now pieces sitting in a ziplock bag. A future project. There comes a time when I know I need to stop. That moment just short of stuff flying all over the room accompanied by a string of four letter words.

Anyway, I guess one of the advantages to having a box full of beads and tools, is what you put together, you can take apart. It may be subtle, as is the case with these. Other times, the separation is permanent and everyone goes their own way. So after wearing a time or two, this happens...

 Above. Old on the left new on the right. The clear beads on the left ended up near the collar bone, which was all wrong. Be sure you say that in a fashion snob voice, just to get the full effect.

Below. I was certain the weight of the beads would keep the piece in place where the chain slid through. Boy was I wrong. It needed a permanent placement. I also mention that I had ONE champagne bead left, so I added it about the heart. I promptly found another lone survivor. Eventually,
I will have to make something just from all the odd beads.

Below. This is one of my favorites, simply because I love the colors and the charms. But it just would not lay right with the ring through the sun charm. So revamp (fashionista voice) it even got a new dangle. Are they done? For now.

With a heavy heart...

my Uncle Sammy was buried today. The last of my father's siblings. There is nothing left of that side of my family except cousins, that I see at funerals, like today. There aren't even weddings or holidays anymore. My family has become the one I made, blood and otherwise. My uncle was a lot of things, including a jerk per my father. I never saw that part of him. I have many fond memories of summer at his house in Waddy with my cousin, Cissy, and my grandmother. I was most proud of him being a State Trooper. They honored him today with a color guard. The three officers looked like babies, and I was sad to think that none of them actually knew him. They were just going through the motions. It brought back so many memories of my grandfather's funeral. My uncle was an active trooper back then, I was 8. I remember the motorcycles, lights flashing, that proceeded the funeral procession, they seemed to go on forever. An onlooker would have surely thought that is was the funeral for a state dignitary. Of course, to us, it was.

It's scary to think that we, my cousins and I, are now the oldest living generation of the family.

RIP Uncle Sammy. They say you are never truly gone as long as someone remembers you. You are safe as long as I live.

Another Hallmark holiday...Mother's Day

Not that someone didn't have good intentions, I guess. Maybe I'm just getting old, or wiser to the world. Hallmark has made me cynical of all the holidays, except maybe Halloween. I see beyond the bright faces encouraging you not to forget Mom. Buy a card, buy flowers, buy jewelry...buy, buy, buy. If one day a year is when you celebrate your Mom, and you have a good relationship, you're doing it wrong. I love that my sons have/will do nice things for me in honor of Mother's Day. But it isn't the only time...and if they didn't, I would know that they still love me. If you are all bright eyed over Mother's Day, you may want to stop reading here as I may rain of your parade.

Unfortunately, Mother's Day isn't all smiling faces, flowers, cards and cookouts for everybody. Those are the people my heart aches for with all the Hallmark reminders of what a perfect life is supposed to look like. The pain all the worse when the entire world seems to be telling you to be happy. Many have lost their Moms and Mother's Day just rubs salt in the wound. Others want to have a reason to celebrate Mother's Day, but have been unable to have the child they want so much. Thanks Hallmark for the reminder. Still, there are the women that have lost children. I imagine Mother's Day in heartrending for them as well. Or, what if, you have children and that relationship has been torn apart for some reason?

Do you make a card for that Hallmark?

Fear

I won't, generally, admit to what scares me. But, I will say that I am more afraid of the things in my head, than almost anything else you can throw at me. I lock it away for long periods of time, but every now and then, the lid creaks open .

And, that, is nearly impossible to escape.

Thinking about what you know

Picture a globe. Here, I'll help...

This is, generally, accepted as a representation of where we live. We all know it, but do we really think about it? The flat surface we stand on, isn't really flat. I'm guessing in North America that we slant north. At the equator, you'd be sticking out at a 90 degree angle, held in place by the invisible force of gravity. That is just not how you think of your place in the universe. So, why isn't it harder to walk north than south?

We also know that the sun does not revolve around the earth, so technically, we misspeak when we talk about the sun moving across the sky. The earth moves beneath the sun. Do I travel faster going east than west?

Just a few minutes inside my head.

I am not weak

I am not sure who decided that women are the weaker sex. Some, not so thoughtful, member of the masculine persuasion, I am sure. Yes, you can likely beat me at arm wrestling, bench press more and even pee standing up. But I challenge you to puberty, menstruation, hormones, pregnancy, childbirth and menopause. Any body that can stand up to all of that is far from weak. So put that bullshit in your pipe and smoke it.

Discovery

I think I have discovered why I am not writing. Those weird random thoughts end up as Facebook status updates instead of a more thought out blog entry. I need to stop that. Why? because I like writing, even for myself. I like thinking through something instead of just a blurb. After all, I'm still getting to know me.

Valentine's Day...what a crock

I have seen, and heard, a lot of people bemoaning their lonely Valentine's Day. I, in no way, wish to belittle your feelings; I can not tell you how to feel...and I, too, have fallen victim to the Hallmark view of life. But I'll share a thought...

Contrary to what TV, florist, chocolatiers, fine dining establishments, Hallmark, etc. would have you believe, not everybody, but you, is sipping champagne by candlelight. Valentine's Day is a commercial holiday. A $13 million holiday based on idealism, competition and a lot of guilt, based on the advertisements I hear. Men feel pressured to go, all out, to prove their love on this one day of the year...lest they be scorned and ridiculed for not living up to the hype. Some women seem to feel the need to brag and show off that their significant other out did yours. Why else are so many flowers delivered to work? It sure isn't for convenience; have you ever driven home with a vase full of flowers? It's the Valentine's Day status symbol. There are a lot of happy couples out there not celebrating, today is no different than any other day. I don't need roses or chocolate to know he loves me. I actually even asked him to not buy me a card. I requested that he pick up dinner, so we wouldn't have to go out...we eat out all the time. I would much rather he buy me flowers on a whim, and roses are not necessary. Rather than a than a 2 lb heart of mystery chocolates, I'd rather have a bag of Lindt truffles; which he went out one evening and bought because I had a sweet craving. Don't let Hallmark make you miserable, on this one day of the year, with their hearts and cupids. I'd almost be willing to bet, that some of those women who were gushing over exorbitantly expensive roses this afternoon at work, would love to trade you for your independence, your solitude, your weekend.

Roses don't buy happiness.

My mind on a treadmill

I get like this sometimes. The mind is jumping about.

I've cried for 2 days over potentially boarding my dog during vacation. I know I am assigning him human emotions when I fear that he will feel abandoned. He is old and doesn't do much. As long as he has a comfy place to sleep, food and the opportunity to eliminate, he will be fine...and better than being left alone and at the mercy of when people get around to him.

I need to get my driver's license renewed.
I need an oil change.
I need to renew my liability insurance.
I need to call about a refund.
I have a doctor's appointment, I need not to forget.
Oh, and my husband is having surgery.

If I make a list, sometimes the mind settles. I am feeling so unsettled.

In other news...today's random thought:

I was never a cheerleader or an athlete; I was in Beta Club and National Honor Society. Instead of sports, I read books. I guess I was a geek before geeks were cool.

I have no idea why my mind was in high school mode.