Run On Sentence or Breakfast Dilemma?

Rhetorical "Murphy's Law" Question for today:

Why is it that it is the morning you wake to a growling, hungry stomach because you forgot to eat dinner the previous night since you had a snack when you first got home and then became engrossed, first in a movie and then a new book as you waited for your favorite show to be broadcast late due to being interrupted by a pre-season football game that you wouldn't have watched if the "first string" players were playing, let alone the third, fourth, and fifth string players that they announced would be playing at the beginning, only to find out that your show isn't being shown later because your current television station is run by idiots who forgot to load the proper tapes thereby letting the reruns of reruns of reruns continue to play, so you are required to watch your favorite show on video but that's okay because you haven't seen it in awhile, and you are actually pleased because your video tape doesn't have commercials due to the fact that while amidst your laughter and tears the first time around you managed to pause during the recording at all the right places and so you enjoy your show and fall asleep with tears of happy sadness, but now it is morning and your stomach is really letting you know that the normal cup of tea is not going to be enough, that you realize you have absolutely no cereal, no eggs, no muffins, no bread, no breakfast food of any seeming shape or form because you were not in the mood the night before to stop at the store and so now you have no idea what you are going to feed the now ravenous monster that is taking up residence inside your belly as you stare blankly into pit of an empty refrigerator and then the cavern of an even emptier pantry and you know that you will not be able to wait until you have had time to shower and dress and drive to McD’s or any other establishment and so you settle for the only things that are available to calm the beast that has set up residency inside your body … the single serving container of mashed potatoes left over from dinner three nights previous and a small container of preservative laden chocolate pudding?


Yum! Now to figure out lunch.

Wardrobe Call ...

Jensen?

Jared! Hey, man … what’s up?

Uh … Where are you?


Down here in LA … Kripke gave me a few days off, though I'm not really sure why.

I think I know, man ... listen ...

Jared?

Uh … yeah ... hey, listen. They’re, uh, prepping for filming the next episode for Season 3.

Cool. Have you read the script yet? Have we got a good monster?

Ahem. No. I haven’t seen the script yet.

Man … what’s up then? You sound all creepy.

Well, it’s just that I found out a few things about the new ep … thought you should know before you got here.

Okay. Why am I suddenly nervous? Have we got a new writer that you think will suck with our characters?

No. No. This one’s written by Sera.

Alright then … sucky new director that's going to try and let you drive my car?

Nope. They’ve got it set for Kim to direct this one.

Alright … power script … power direction … what aren’t you telling me, Dude?

I just found out something from Wardrobe.

What? They’re not going to try another alternate universe and make Dean wear pink this time are they?

No … uh, actually … they’ve got you set to wear the red and gray checked flannel shirt.

AWWW Crap!!

I guess now you know why Kripke thought you needed some time off. They're fixing to put you through emotional hell again.

Yeah. Note to self …

Burn red and gray flannel shirt as soon as possible.

Seriously, Dude. Between Home ...





Shadow ...





and then the two parts of All Hell Breaks Loose ...




the thing is just too painful to wear. It ends up wearing me out.




Don’t worry, Dude … I got you covered … I’ll protect you. I'll keep you laughing.




Yeah, Jared, I know you will.

Me, Myself And I Have A Talk

Sometimes it gets a bit crowded inside my head because there seem to be so many personalities dwelling there. Wait! Before you get worried about a “Sybil Complex”, there is an explanation that will hopefully make sense. You see, just as with many people, there are many personalities that make up who those of you who are reading this know as CindyRose (the blogger).

There are the primary Family two … Daughter and Sister. It depends upon the circumstances of the day, how strong they are and how much a part of my brain they occupy. However, make no mistake. These two personalities are ALWAYS around, never leaving. For they have been around since the beginning … well, the daughter part has been. The sister part came six years later, but that’s a blog for another day.

Another personality that comes under the heading of Family is that of Aunt. Although, due to circumstances, she doesn’t get to come out often, she relishes the time that she does for she is also one that is always around.

There is a personality that is laughingly called “The Cindy”. While this one is akin to family and therefore always around, this one is reserved especially for only three people to view and is also a blog for another day.

In addition to these there are also various others that shape and create who is viewed by the world around her … these others would generally fit under two categories – Friend or Co-worker and would also depend upon the viewpoint of the various people she encounters. Some simply call her Cindy, while others would call her Miss Cindy, and a few have called her “The Keeper”.

However there are three personalities that are not simply ALWAYS around … they are the basis, the foundation of the blogger called CindyRose. They are Me, Myself and I.

Last night I had to sit down and have a discussion with Myself concerning Me. A heart to heart talk, if you will. It didn’t start out very well. It began with this:

“You’ve not been taking very good care of Me lately,” I said to Myself.

You can see how this would not be a good beginning. I was upset with Myself and so was a bit testy. Perhaps I should explain.

I am the one who takes the responsibilities. I am the daughter, the sister, the aunt, the Cindy, the friend, the co-worker. I am the one to say “I love you” or “I’m sorry” or “I’ll do it”. I am the one who has to find the way for Myself to take care of the things she is reponsible for such as paying the bills, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, making the meals, etc. I am the one who has to make certain that Me is taken care of by Myself. For I am the only one that can make this happen.

You see, I and Myself understand that the part that is Me is the part that needs constant care or she becomes sick or worn out or doesn’t get the things accomplished that keep the rest of us happy. It is Me that smiles when being greeted in the morning by a child’s soft smile and hug. It is Me that hurts so badly when a friend is troubled or in pain. It is Me that listens when someone needs to talk and it is Me that laughs at the silly stories or jokes of others. It is Me that is strengthened or wounded by words and/or actions from others and it is Me that takes the greatest pleasure in the enjoyment provided when I find a new book or a new story comes to Myself to be written.

So, you can see where I might be a bit upset with Myself for not taking good care of Me, can’t you?

However, as I talked, Myself jumped in and pointed out that she could not take all the responsibility for Me, that I am responsible as well. Back and forth the discussion went, with very little resolution, for, I admit, I was not willing to hear Myself talk. It wasn’t until we both took a moment and thought about Me distinctly and realized that she had just been sitting there listening and laughing to herself. You see she has always understood that it was a joint effort in taking care of each other. For the three of us … Me, Myself and I must all take care of each other, as one. Otherwise one of us will slip and take the rest of us down with them.

Although … as I was explaining this to Myself, a commercial came on the television and distracted Me and … well … let’s just go with the saying:

“It’s not a bad thing to talk to yourself and it’s not a bad thing when you question yourself. What is bad is when you don’t listen to yourself and therefore have to repeat it.”

Moving Memories

I have been wandering my memory lane today. In a continuing effort to preserve my many boxes (seriously) of photographs, I have been downloading them onto my computer and saving them to disc. Whenever I have done this, I have found myself enjoying memories of past laughter and good times.

Today's box of goodies included the various places that I have lived over the years. Being the child of an IBM executive, I can attest to the fact that while many people believe that IBM stands for the company "International Business Machines", during the years of my childhood, they stood for I've Been Moved ... many times. We were like the military, we just didn't live on army bases. When friends would tell me about having lived in the same town all their lives or *gasp* the SAME house, this was something I simply could not conceive.

My childhood, youth, and adult memories have come from various houses, cities and states. Earliest memories of slick hardwood floors come from a little yellow house in Kansas City, Missouri. There are other early memories of getting a baby brother, going to school for the first time and visiting the Statue of Liberty that come from living in a little green and white house in Madison, New Jersy. Moving to Irving, Texas, for the first time, to a little cream and brown brick house, brings more memories of elementary school, a backyard pool, playing Barbies and transitioning to junior high while pushing the limits of my parents patience. Then came the move to a split level brown house with the coolest bedroom ever (see for yourself ... even the carpet was black/gray/white stripes), in Edina, Minnesota. It was here that I entered high school, learned to like hockey (and a certain teenage hockey player), learned to drive and learned that my closest friends could live further away than "down the street".

The move back to Irving, Texas was to a different cream brick house on a different street, as well as to memories of a little red and white Chevy Ventura, high school graduation, going to youth camp and on mission tour with the greatest bunch of church youth a teenager could be involved with, and beginning college.

My next move was not dictated by IBM, however. It was a move to Shawnee, Oklahoma, three more years of college, and memories of dorm rooms, apartments, classes, studying, working, meeting new people from all over the country and experiencing life "on my own". Leaving college, a brief time was spent back with my parents - still in Irving, Texas, however in a different brick house on a different street - and making different memories of taking care of the house for my working parents and getting a job that would change my life.

Then came the move that was totally my own decision. A move dictated by the job I had as a full-time (and then some) nanny to a child I loved. Her parents had decided to move from their home in Dallas to Austin and so it was that I moved from Irving to Austin, Texas. With this move came the memories of spending long days with a beautiful child and watching her grow, of wandering the streets of the Texas capital, playing in the parks, watching the zamboni clean the local ice arena, and living in various places - including a lovely lakeside house and my own apartment.

As my charge grew and became ready for school, the decision was made to move yet again - this time closer to my parents who, during my time in Austin, had moved yet again themselves. This move took me to Springfield, Missouri and a time making wonderful memories of lake filled days with friends and family, of helping my parents complete and move into their latest home and working in the last place I would have ever imagined myself ... a sporting goods store called Bass Pro Shops.

One more major move has taken place in my life and that was the one from Springfield to my current home in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Still, the memories, though newer, are not any less wonderful or enjoyable and while I may have lived here for longer than I have lived in any other city in my life, I must confess - I still kept moving. Outgrowing my first apartment and the memories of poolside days and making new friends in a city where I knew no one, I moved on to another apartment that was my home when my first girlie came to make memories of playing in the dirt, watching Lion King more times than should humanly be possible, Saturday mornings of pancakes and Saturday nights playing games with friends.

I do have one last move to report and that is to my current little house where I have been making memories for the last 10 years. This is the little house where I have lived the longest and the memories here are fresh, daily continuing to be made. It is here that my twink girlies have created their space - taking my designated craft room and making it their Barbie room, where, together with their older sister, we have enjoyed Valentine parties and putting up the Christmas tree, cuddling on the couch watching movies and making chalk pictures on the driveway.

Each of my many moves, whether dictated by IBM or by myself, have enriched my life with a multitude of memories. While I have photographs of many of these memories, there are so many more that are imprinted on my heart and in my mind. I just wish there were some way I could download these and share them with you as well.

A Cool Imagination

I tend to get bored driving back and forth to work each day. It's been the same trek for 8+ years. So I like to mix it up. Some days all I can think is to get home ... NOW. Those days are highway. Some days I have errands and those days I travel the roads to take me by my sidetrip destinations. And some days, like today, I am so exhausted from work that I want to get home, but the highway is jammed by a wreck and I end up wandering. I would rather keep making side street turns and keep moving, rather than stop for lights or traffic. It's as though I know that I am so beat that if I stop, I will end up dozing and drooling on the steering wheel. Not only is this not safe ... it's also not sanitary or attractive.

However, that is not the point of this little thought process. The point of this thought is the number of times I was told the temperature, as I made my way home. This summer it seems that more and more businesses are making it their ... well ... business, to let us know what the temperature is outside. I'm not sure why. Am I more prone to do my banking where they tell me not only the time but the temperature outside? Because of noticing the new electronic flashing sign telling me the temperature, will I be purchasing a new pool from a particular company? Getting a load of dirt? Eating a meal? What was once though of as a convenience, now becomes rather laughable.

In the space of one mile yesterday, I literally passed 5 signs telling me the temperature. Only two were the same. Since they were all in the triple digits, I didn't really care. All they really needed to do was put the words "It's Hot" and flash them and I would get the point.

Today was no exception. In my tired wanderings I found sign after sign telling me it was 100+ degrees. That is, until I came to this sign located at the side of the road. It was advertising a local store. It's sign read 78 degrees. I knew I was really tired, so I did a double take. Yep ... there it read, bold as brass in it's flashing red neon letters ... 78 degrees.

So, I did the only thing that seemed right. I pulled into the parking lot, parked right next to the sign and enjoyed the pocket of cool air.

Have I mentioned I have a powerful imagination?

Video PicSpam

This was originally a picspam type poem that I did for a blog on the TVGuide site. However, reading the thoughts and comments of my blogbuddies there, and at the request of one, in particular (Rap - this is for you), I took it out and made some adjustments, added some pics and changed the format a bit. I have yet to figure out how to add my own music and the music the site offers just isn't right. So, you'll have to have the music in your head. I don't think that will be a problem with most people. The song is pretty well known. Anyway, I decided to post it here, as well as over in my TVGuide spot. Hope you enjoy.

Supernatural: My Favorite Scenes

Peaceful Moments Once A Week

Saturday mornings are my favorite time of the week. They are a time that is so incredibly peaceful for me and I am loathe to ever give them up. It is only for something REALLY important or life threatening that I consider altering what has become one of the best times of the week for me.

I used to be a slug-a-bed. I admit it. I loved sleeping as late as possible on Saturdays, never realizing the moments I was missing. Even after I started getting up earlier due to the girlies, I didn't truly appreciate these moments.

(Ahem. It's a bit difficult to be a slug-a-bed when you have a couple of two year olds standing at your face at the side of the bed, poking you and declaring their hunger. But even then, after sleepily preparing the food of choice and properly setting the cartoons to where they were requested, I admit to becoming a slug-a-couch for a good portion of the morning. Well, a slug-a-couch with attachments. Somehow, said girlies always seemed to be on top of me as I resumed my snoozing.)

In the last couple of years, though, I have found that Saturday mornings have increasingly become "My Time". I continue to wake early, as I do during the week, but in an "on my own without the alarm", relaxing, non hurried, don't have to get dressed and out the door, type of way. Standing at my kitchen window, surveying the weather that God has chosen for the day, I make a little pot of tea and begin my day with my computer. I check in on family and friends, I wander over to my little Sanitarium in the TVGuide Blogosphere, make my rounds, and check in with friends there. After I have finished my tea, I might get started on a few basic household chores - depending on my mood and the condition I left the kitchen the previous Friday night. I might spend some time writing, particularly if a new idea has taken hold of my brain and transmitted itself to my fingers. Or, I might simply brew another little pot of tea and enjoy some time with one of the three or four books I always seem to have started.

In any event, Saturday mornings are now my time. While those girlies now enjoy being teenage and preteen slug-a-beds, I enjoy the peace of those hours. The quietness of the house without TV or music raging, when my heart can rejoice and my soul can rejuvenate. During this time, I find peace.

Words Say One Thing ... Actions Say Another

The Bickersons came to my house this evening. For those who don't know, this is the name I have for my twin girlies when they decide to indulge in sisterly, ahem ... shall we say ... "love and affection". Tonight's display of "love and affection" revolved around who's turn it was to change the movie in the DVD player. After listening and watching this exchange for a few minutes, I played the "Grown Up" card. (I'm allowed to do this. After all, I AM the grown up.) I took the remote, which happened to be on my desk with me at the time, changed the setting from DVD to Video and pushed play. I wasn't sure which one, but I was certain it was a Supernatural video in the machine. I was right. As "In My Time of Dying" (Season 2, Ep. 1 for those who ... *gasp* ... are unaware) begins to play, so begin the groans, the "oh no!"s and various other statements saying they would rather watch anything else. Ignoring The Bickersons, who are now showing a united front, I continue to allow the video to play.

Interestingly enough ... before the firey flash of the title card at the beginning ... both girls attention was caught and the episode continued with little comment and no complaint as the three of us watched those Winchester men and the journey of that particular episode.

They tease me for my passion, they make faces when I play my DVD's or videos, they insist they'd rather watch anything else ... yet when it is on the TV - they are captivated, watching, asking questions, interested in what is happening.

Yeah. Their words tell me one thing ... but I'm a grown up. I can read the actions.

Oh. And the Bickersons? Yeah, they've changed back into the sweet girlies I enjoy. For atleast the next five minutes.

Flavored Memories

Cherry Coke

Vanilla Dr. Pepper

Peach Tea

Raspberry Ginger Ale

Flavored drinks are all so popular right now. Everywhere you go you can have your choice of fruits and flavors added to anything you want. You can mix it up in a Big Gulp drink from the local gas station. Restaurants offer special teas and coffees. You want to be considered cool? Add a couple of flavors to anything you drink.

Who knew that mumblemumble years ago, my girlfriend, Beth and I were cool years before our time?

Every opportunity we had during those lazy summer days of high school, we could be found cruising the Sonic Drive Inn and sipping on our own mixture ... we called it a CVLS (Cherry Vanilla Lime Sprite) and it could only be had at the one drive inn located between our houses. The other one in town didn't have Sprite, it had Teem. And while the manager would argue that there was no difference - trust us ... there was. It wasn't on the menu. The menu didn't list flavor additions at that time. It was something we talked them into making especially for us. After the first few times, we didn't have to talk to hard ... unless we got a new employee. Then we would patiently talk them through it. Only a couple times did we have to get the manager to confirm our request was legit.

Tonight as I drove by the Sonic on my way home, I was looking at the kids enjoying the last days of summer before heading back to school. I watched them ... sharing and tasting the different flavors of their various drinks.

I remembered those CVLSs from those years long ago. So I pulled in and ordered one. Of course, I had to use the words and not the initials. The girl taking my order didn't bat an eye at the combination of flavors and the carhop that brought it to my window wasn't the least bit curious about my request. But that was alright.

Tonight as I drove home sipping the refreshing flavored drink, I enjoyed those memories from mumblemumble years ago. And smiled.

Too Clean

Last night as I was closing down the house and getting ready for bed, I got this sudden burst of energy and finished cleaning up the kitchen. Everything neat and tidy and all put away. No dishes in the sink, no dishes in the dish drainer, not even dishes in the dishwasher. Counters and sink freshly scrubbed, coffee pot shiny, range top and microwave glistening. The refrigerator cleaned out and the floor freshly mopped.

I went to bed feeling good. When I got up this morning and came to my kitchen to make my morning tea (decaf white blueberry - yum!), the sun was coming through the window and everything smelled and looked so nice. What a wonderful way to start the day!

This can't be a bad thing, right?

Problem is ... this evening, as I stood in my nice, shiny clean kitchen debating what would be good for dinner, everything I could think to fix involved getting pans dirty, using the utensils, making the glistening microwave and range top not so ... well, glistening.

What do you fix for dinner and keep the nice and shiny kitchen looking so pretty?

Yep ... you got it. Pay a visit to the local Subway.

Wardrobe Assistance, Please ...

Attention Supernatural Wardrobe Department:

Even though, technically, he is your boss, it might be nice if someone could please offer some assistance to The Kripke in coordinating his clothing and his personal appearances in front of large audiences.

CW 2007 Winter Press Tour



San Diego Comic Con 2007

I'm sure he has other shirts and t-shirts he could wear.

How sure?

Pretty sure.