Of Confessions, Bandwagons, and the Zombie Apocalypse

**I guess I should put a spoiler alert on this if you're just now watching the Walking Dead, although I'm pretty sure I'm one of only 12 on earth who didn't watch until now. 

I've never been one to jump on the bandwagon. Whether it is "the" big movie that everyone talks about and says is amazing (like every superhero movie, or the newest Star Wars), or a product (like an iPhone or FitBit), or a television show (like Desperate Housewives or  The Bachelor). If I watch/buy/see from the beginning that's one thing, but once something hits the point of being "water cooler" worthy, I'm going to avoid it at all costs.

I don't know why, I guess I'm just a contrarian. I sometimes feel that all the talk makes a lot of hype that is impossible to live up to. This is why when we used to see movies a lot it was always on opening weekend. It's also why I can give up on a television show that I really loved and that used to be great but has really fallen in quality and believability of the storylines yet somehow still holds viewers out of some kind of crazy loyalty (I'm looking at you, Grey's Anatomy).

So, here's the deal. I have a big confession to make. I was not a Dead fan. That's right, I never watched one season, one episode of The Walking Dead. Not until the final episode of Season 6. I heard about it from my friends, and I just always had to say, "yeah, I'm not into that." Husband started binge watching it to catch up somewhere around the end of season 4. I watched one unfortunately gruesome episode along the way and swore it off again. I wrote it off as being just another violent kill or be killed show. Just another zombie show and, well, zombies are the new vampires, aren't they? I'm dead tired of the vampires. Also, I'm a big chicken when it comes to monsters and villains and zombie-like things. So I still refused to watch. Until this happened.

I have a massive thing for Jeffrey Dean Morgan which goes all the way back to his days on Grey's (pre-shark jump). My lust  love for him was exacerbated by his time on the final season of The Good Wife.

 I mean, damn. That man is fine. FINE.

So when I heard that Morgan would be playing the villain, Negan, on The Walking Dead this season, it was one more chance to see him, and I didn't care if he was the bad boy villain. So I did something I never do. I chased down the bandwagon and hopped right on board. I kept it quiet, though, because I knew the ridicule I might suffer from my know it all pain in the ass friends.

This summer, thanks to modern technology, I had the luxury of binging TWD all the way from season 1. Husband even re-watched it with me. I had previously tried to watch through a couple episodes with him, but wrote it off as another campy sci fi show. Now that I had a new incentive, I allowed my preconceptions to drop and just watched without caring how annoying obsessed I thought everyone else was with the "ridiculous" show. I just wanted the entire background so that I would understand the relationships.

A funny thing happened, though, as I viewed the first few seasons. I was becoming invested. I was taking interest in whether these people lived or died. I was watching the characters change and adapt to the new environment and adjust their expectations. Finally, I realized what a well crafted and well done series this was. I realized how engaging, frustrating, and interesting the relationships are. I was impressed with the writing and direction and the archetypal characters and themes within the show (Yes, I'm THAT much fun to watch with, too). I saw how deftly the writers and producers brought this to life and planned storylines for each character to keep the audience invested. I saw the craft of storytelling right before my eyes, and you don't get that with many TV shows or movies anymore.

One of my favorite seasons was season 4. After the prison falls and the group is scattered, some wonderful and personal storylines come out of the pairings that result. My favorite was watching Darrel and Beth paired up and trying to survive – trying to find common ground. I think it was this season that cemented my fandom. Prior to the prison, it was about survival. Now, it became about personalities and relationships and working together toward a goal.

My least favorite death in the series so far is still Beth's. It was so hurtful to watch them be so close and then lose her that way. I cried over the injustice of it for a long time, despite the fact that I had never really liked Beth. Second place has to be Herschel's death–so horrible. The creepiest thing in the show was the little girls taken in by Carol going koo koo for Cocoa Puffs. Creepy kids are one thing I can't handle. Second creepiest –the revelation that Mischon's "bodyguard" zombies were her family. I literally yelled at the screen when I realized that.  Oh, but I forgot about Terminus ....hmmmm.... So. Creepy.

So last Sunday, for the first time, I watched season 6 premier with everyone else. And what a premier it was. I'm now part of the crowd, feel free to call me a bandwagon jumper, a gadfly, a late to the party Lucy, that's fine. I am. But I assure you that I had all the emotions, feelings, overwhelm, and nervousness of everyone else watching that first episode. Literally as the opening theme was playing I looked at husband and said, "OMG!!! I don't want to know! I don't want to know who it is!!!!"

Even though I had guessed one death correctly, and the "surprise second" was straight out of the original graphic novel (right down to the bulging eye - ick!), I still felt sad, I still mourned like everyone else. But the thing is, I can see why it had to happen. There had to be something big, and it had to be someone who was beloved enough to start WWIII. The victim of Negan's bat had to be someone who would kill Rick's soul and make him controllable, bring him down a notch and let him realize that he is not in control. Otherwise our group wouldn't have the strength or incentive to seek revenge against the Saviors.

So, if you've made it this far in my post, which I'm sure not everyone will, I have another confession to make. I don't like Rick. Not at all. I know a lot of people think he is the hero of the story, and he sure thinks he's the leader of the group, but I just do not see him as the hero. I can write a dissertation on why and how and who I think is really the hero of the group, the one who has sacrificed the most for the better good. But that's the kind of thing that makes me so annoying to be around, so I will stop here.

I've learned to love Darryl, appreciate (and sort of hate at the same time) Carol, get over Carl's bad attitude (I'd have one too if I were him), and admire the hell out of Mischon. I hope Maggie steps up this season and becomes someone to admire, and I want to see Rosita kick some ass on behalf of Abraham. I also want to see someone, anyone, cut off Eugene's mullet!!!! But when it comes to TWD, I will take what I get because it is all so good. So well written, and so gripping. It is a story of a real and very relatable post apocalyptic life. Perhaps the most believable one I've seen. You really don't get that every day.

Meanwhile, I can't wait for Episode 2....and more of that sexy beast Negan.

Gratitudes

I think everyone knows that I believe 2013 is the Year of Suck. It's pretty much universal with everyone I know. 

However, just because this is my truth doesn't mean I am not grateful each and every day. Though I haven't daily posted my gratitude, I've tried to list more than 30 things right here and right now that I feel grateful for each and every day.

I am grateful for having basic necessities. A warm comfy bed, a roof over our heads, jobs that keep the bills paid and food in the pantry. Because we haven't always had that.

I am grateful for small, simple things. Coffee that gets me through the day. Tissues that don't make my nose hurt. A cell phone that works better than most of the computers I work on.

I am grateful for those who give without asking and who take without expectations.

I am grateful for the seasons, sunsets, sunrise and the promise of each new day.

I am grateful for the people in my life. A husband who makes me laugh, not cry. Parents who love me and still think of me as their child. Friends who know just what I need to hear and aren't afraid to say it.

I am grateful for everyone who moves through my life. Because even when people hurt me, disappoint me, anger me or betray me, they are helping me grow and learn and get through this journey toward being a wiser, more understanding human. And those who bring me joy make me a person worth knowing.

I am grateful for science and medicine and doctors and research. Competent professionals have saved my mother's life this year, kept me from getting strep another 7 times this year and eased the pain of other family members this year.

I am grateful for new friends who know the real me and get me. I am grateful for how comfortable I feel with them because of that, and how I can act, say and do everything that is just me.

I am grateful for my sense of humor. Because many times this year, being able to laugh at everything I was going through was the only thing that kept me going.

I am grateful for my ability to read. Being able to create a world inside your head from words on a page is, to me, the most amazing thing. Reading has gotten me through some rough times, helped me pass long, boring weekends, helped me be a better person, helped me become a more informed person and allowed me to do my job.

So, yes, for this and for so much more, I am so grateful. 

I hope everyone has had a wonderful Thanksgiving Day.I know I personally will NOT be leaving the house on Black Friday. Rather, I'm going to be as lazy as humanly possible. Because, y'all. I have the day off work.

Home is where.....

So periodically I participate from here and there across the interwebs. I'm the worst sort of lurker lately. I used to have time to participate 100% in everything and now it's just hit or miss.

But, I love the Stream of Consciousness Sunday over at Jana's blog and I really try to participate when I can because she always has goodness over there. Here's her post idea for this week, so here goes. Set a timer and riff on it for 5 minutes.

Today’s post needs no real introduction. There are places we all feel are “home” even if they’re not physically our homes. They invoke emotion in us that can’t usually be put into words, but today we’re going to try. Today’s (totally optional) prompt: Going Home

 When I was younger, we moved around a lot. So home always meant something different. Mostly it meant family though. Because we were always in a different city, had a different house. I never had the house with the pencil marks on the doorway, marking my brother and my growth.

But as an adult, living with my husband in Nashville, I always sort of thought "home" was where our stuff was. Like when you're on vacation and say I want to go home. Well, you mean your house, to sleep in your bed and smell the familiar smells and cuddle up on you own sofa to watch tv.

Until we moved to Pennsylvania, I believed this. However, once we were there, I never stopped saying "I want to go home" and he'd say, "oh, you're ready to go?" meaning leave whereever we are and go back to our house. but I meant Nashville. Home.

It's where I was at 18. It's where I was in my 20's. It's where I grew up, had bad and good things happen, learned to drive in traffic,  had my first apartment. When we would come to visit I felt like I was seeing a lover I'd missed for years and not realized it. I love that city. It's home. And I'm not back there yet, but home isn't so far away now....

Feelin' Groovy!

Yesterday was the husband's birthday.

isn't he the cauuuutest thiiing???

Now, I'll be honest. I don't very often get sappy and lovey-dovey about our relationship.  I feel like after 17 years of being married we are past all of that stuff. We love each other and we show it. We care about each other and we show it. It's just not necessary to say it all the time to everyone in the world.

But I really, really love this man. And I know that he loves me. I KNOW that. I've never in our marriage felt one iota of jealousy because he always makes sure I know how much he loves me and how he is committed to me.

He lets me be crazy when I want to and reigns me back in when he needs to. He indulges me when he can and is honest with me when he needs to be. He always believes in me and my talents, even though he is sometimes the only one who does.

He stuck with me through years of serious and undiagnosed depression, when all I could tell him was "I just don't feel right". Through anger and sadness that I couldn't even explain. When we talked about it later, much much later, I asked him why he stayed. Why didn't he leave me?

"Because I made a commitment. And I love you. That's why," was all he said.

We've come through the roughest of the rough patches together, he and I, and things now are amazingly great. We are happy. It's not always been that way, and a lot of people don't know that, but it is good now.

This blog, for better or worse, is about what's going on in my life and what's going on in my head. Today, I am just overwhelmed with love for my husband, and I though just once I'd give in and let people know that.

People ask him all the time what he did to deserve me. I ask myself all the time, "what did I do to deserve him?" Honestly.

What Doesn't Kill You....and Whatnot

This morning as I write I am remembering a Tuesday morning exactly 10 years ago today. It was the 4th, I slept in, hubby got up for an early appointment with his newest hobby, flying lessons. I vaguely remember him kissing me before he left at 7 am. It was ridiculously hot but his lesson the previous evening got rained out by an unexpected thunderstorm so we took the opportunity to go have some fun together. We went to see a movie, play putt putt, and goof around in the arcade for hours. We had enjoyed a fun evening together but I was tired this morning, having been out so late. Hubby however didn't want to let a week go by without logging his hours so he set out early to meet his instructor.

I rolled out of bed around 8:30 and got to work on a project with the kitchen's tile floor which we had just finished installing. I was lying on my stomach in the kitchen floor a little before 9am when the phone rang. I figured it was Mitch wanting to know if I wanted him to bring breakfast or if I would like to go out with him to eat. Instead the call went like this.
Him: "Mrs. Herndon?"
Me: "Yes?"
Him: "Mrs. Herndon this is Mark calling with Vanderbilt Hospital"
thinking it was a fund-raising or solicitation call
Me:  **impatient tone** "yes?"
then thinking how in the world I could say not thank you and hang up without feeling like a bum.
Him: "Mrs. Herndon, I am a nurse on Lifeflight and I am calling to tell you..."
ok, now I am really going to feel guilty telling him no.
"your husband, Mitch, has been in an accident and is headed to Vanderbilt Hospital."
**silence**
My thoughts are racing "a car wreck? He was only 5 miles away, they say most accidents happen close to home, why didn't I hear it? Why is he going to Vanderbilt? who is this on the phone with me?"
But I said something like
Me: "mmm...o..k?"
**silence**
Him: "Mrs. Herndon? Are you still there? Do you understand what I am telling you?"
why is he calling me Mrs. Herndon? he needs to stop that...I am only 32
Me: "Marsha, and yes, he was in a car wreck, so I need to come to Vanderbilt to pick him up?"
Him: "No, Ma'am, his plane crashed this morning around 7:45"
Me: "Oh, what? Plane crash? Oh. OK."
Him: "Your husband is here with us, we're on our way to Vanderbilt hospital. He keeps giving me this number and asking me to call you. You need to meet us in the Emergency Room can you do that?"
At this point I am losing it. My mind is running wild.
Me: "Yeah, huh? What? Meet you? Ummmm....where?"
Him: (patiently) Meet us at the emergency entrance at Vanderbilt Hospital, OK, can you do that Mrs. Herndon? Do you have someone to drive you? I don't want you to drive yourself ok?"
yeah, someone will drive me, I will do 100mph down I24 to get myself there!
Him: "Mrs. Herndon, who can drive you. Promise me you won't drive"
Me: "My friend. My friend Julie will, ok?" I had no idea if Julie would or not.
Him: "Allright I will see you there, OK?"

But I had hung up the phone trying to think what to do now. The thought of him having a car wreck seemed so distant and comforting compared to a plane crash and it suddenly hit me that he was being LIFEFLIGHTED. That was only for the very most serious conditions. All of a sudden I broke down, but only for a moment. Called Julie, called my parents, called his parents. Cried. Broke down, threw stuff, screamed and yelled "why me? why me? why did this have to happen now? why Mitch?"

By the time I did all this the phone rang again and there was a woman on the other end.
Her: "Mrs. Herndon? This is (I don't remember her name) I am an ER nurse at Vanderbilt?"
Me: "Yes?" ohgodhe's dead he'sdead! whatamIgoingtodo?
Her: "Mrs. Herndon your husband is refusing to give us permission to sedate him. He won't allow us to give him any medication. His injuries are pretty serious and he really needs to be medicated so that the doctors can get to work. We need consent."
Me: "You tell the doctors I said to do anything the have to do to save him for me. And you tell my stubborn ass husband that he needs to let the doctors do whatever the HELL they want to do and shut his mouth, will you tell him that for me? He doesn't like to take a lot of medications but this is kind of a different circumstance. Will you tell him? Is that enough consent?"
Her: **stifling a giggle** "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you Mrs. Herndon, that is all we need. Are you on your way?"
Me: "Yes" I lied and hung up the phone. Waited and waited and waited for Julie to get there, it seemed like forever, and then headed to Vanderbilt with HER driving 100mph.

That moment, the moment on the phone with the nurse, I knew. I knew that I couldn't lose it again. I knew that I had to be hard as rocks. I knew I had to be a steel magnolia, whether it was in me or not. I had to reach up and pull myself to the surface if I was to be able to get through what was happening. I couldn't be self-absorbed. This was about him, not me. I couldn't be self-pitying, I had to be strong.

That day changed everything in my life. It began a year long odyssey of hospitalization, recovery, physical therapy and caregiving. It changed both our perceptions of life and love. It confirmed our spiritual but non-christian beliefs. It taught us both patience. It almost tore our marriage apart, but in the end it bonds us together forever.

No one really knows what we went through during those months of recovery, but one thing I will say is that I never broke down to anyone except one person. Other than Julie, not a soul ever saw me cry, be hurt, get upset or whine about the circumstance. On the second day he was in the hospital I went home for a shower and broke down crying under the water. That day I made plans for what to do if he died. I made peace with being a 32-year-old widow. I don't think I would have made it through if I hadn't done that.

Our friends rallied together to help in ways too numerous to mention. They loaned us a house, they brought us food, they took me out to lunches and dinners just to get me out of the hospital. They mowed our yard and trimmed shrubs in the July and August heat. They helped me pay bills and sent money for groceries because we were both out of work. I realized that I had great friends. I got to know my father-in-law better. I realized my own strength and the bounds to which you can endure something for the one you love. I learned that I am strong. And sure. And I learned to always look for the good out of a situation rather than the bad. It is the only way to survive.

My Big Fat Redneck Weekend

This past week was the County Fair here in our small town. Pretty much it is JUST as I remember it being when I was in high school, except for the fact that it costs a lot more to get in nowadays. (Still a relative bargain at $10 though)

Hubby wanted to go to the tractor pull on Friday night, but I opted out of that one. As he is so kind to point out he is a farm boy and I grew up in the city. I mean, the first part of my life we lived in the country and had horses, dogs, cats, a few chickens etc. but pretty much since I was 12 I have been a "townie". So, I let him attend without me. Besides, aren't tractor pulls kind of a guy thing?

However, on Saturday? Demolition Derby time! I am so all over that. I guess it is the alter-ego of my normally peace loving self, but I just love me some violent sports and activities. Football (hit 'im hit 'im hit'im!!!!), ice hockey (only good when a fight breaks out), roller derby (best on flat track and sitting in the "danger zone" where you might get hit by a girl sliding across the floor), love them all. But demolition derby? Well. I have loved that ever since Fonzie and Pinky Tuscadero took to the field way back in the 70's.

Oh, thank goodness she was OK in the end. What was she thinking not wearing a helmet? I so wanted a little pink halter top and white short-shorts like she wore. But I digress. *I HEART YOU, PINKY!*

So, it's probably just the redneck in me, but I had to go to the demolition derby. And boy was it redneck, let me tell you. However, for me just sitting and people watching was well worth the $10 admission fee. The derby itself was just a sideshow bonus. There were people wearing outfits the likes of which I had never seen. Women sans bra who should never go without. Men who hadn't showered in...the last decade. And more tattoos than at a biker convention. Not that there's anything wrong with that! 

Prime example of what not to wear seen here!

Now, I am trying to be healthy so I decided I would eat before I left the house, leaving hubs to wander the myriad of fair food and return with 2 giant corn dogs. I nibbled on an apple and drank water while those around me brought back funnel cakes, shaved ice, chili cheese fries (actually the only thing that tempted me) and cotton candy. We just had the best time sitting in the stands and being entertained by hoi polloi walking below us. Because, apparently, when you get all "dressed up" and come out to the fair, you want as many people to see you as possible. That is why when you put on a tight, skimpy tank dress, and you're about 8 months pregnant, you want to walk back and forth in front of the stands about 12 times an hour for three or four hours. When you weigh 250 and decide to wear a tube top and cutoff Daisy Dukes you want to stand at the fence in front of the crowd and smoke your cigarettes and let your kids run wild where everyone can see. When you're a white boy rapper wannabee you wear your shorts down around your butt and a muscle shirt with your cap bill to the side and strut through with your sad little posse as much as possible to ensure maximum exposure.

The best part came when the local Police showed up, obviously scanning the crowd for someone. I smacked hubby on the arm saying "watch this, some shit is about to go down". Sure enough, they soon pulled a girl from the crowd and she put on a show! She was about 90 pounds with long stringy hair and was fighting with all her might to keep from having those handcuffs put on her. She grabbed one of the officers by the forearm and just about threw him on the ground. Then, it was on! The other officer took her from the other side and all hell broke loose. It was awesome! She was kicking and fighting for all she was worth. I thought at the time that she was just a young girl, but when the police finally got her under control and they walked her out I could see that she was much older than her size and clothing might imply.

the offender dragged away still fighting.

The funniest thing is that this whole event barely caused a ripple in the crowd. I guess I was the only one amused, having never had a family member dragged away by the cops in a crowd full of people. Moments later the police were back to handcuff and take away a man this time, who put up no fight at all. Very anti-climactic.

The derby was awesome, and the car I picked as my favorite (an old boxy 70's era station wagon type thing) actually ended up being the winner. And the best part? The driver's name was Cleveland. How awesome is that? I love it.

After the car derby, there was, yes, a LAWNMOWER Demolition derby. Now play-it-safe Marsha was really worried about how the drivers would remain unharmed on lawnmowers, but actually no one got hurt, although 2 of the lawnmowers did tip over on the drivers. 

The best part of this was the comment that came from the redneck guy behind us when the lawnmowers pulled out onto the field. In a slow drawl he said "awww, ya'll this is redneck as shiiut." I had to laugh.

I think we'll go to another lawnmower derby in a couple of weeks.

5,840 Days

5,840 days, 16 years since I decided that I would spend the remainder of my life with my hubs.

To have and to hold.

For Better : The vacations in Jamaica, San Francisco, Colorado, NYC, DC, and so many other places. All the Friday date nights, concerts, fireworks, my graduation.  Best of all, the day we got the call about moving home to KY.

Or Worse: Hubs almost dying in a plane crash in 2000, the deaths of all his grandparents, and most of all his father, living and dealing with my depression, the early years when we spent so much time away from each other, and the move to PA.

For Richer: Though never "rich" there have been easy times when we had a very comfortable savings account, all our bills paid, owned a home and had our vehicles paid for. Those were the days.


Or Poorer: When we first married, times were really tough and the budget was tight. Somehow we always got through it OK. When we needed money for something, it always came from somewhere-one of us would get a raise or a bonus or something. In fact, it's kinda like that now thanks to this crappy economy and selling 2 homes within the last 18 months. Oh, yeah, and me being in school for 2 years and not working. But I know we'll make it just fine.

In Sickness: See worse, above, 18 month recovery from plane crash, miscellaneous surgeries, my 2 years suffering with depression and being a total shrew, migraines, ankle pains, and general old age.


and In Health: From reading the above this is apparently the other maybe... 10 days out of the year.


To Love: I loved him since I was 12. It just took him until we were 25 to figure it out.

and to Cherish: (assuming the definition of care and affection) We only touch each other out of love, never anger, and we do not hesitate to show affection around others. But not in that weird, creepy, annoying throw-up-in-my-mouth-a-little way, of course.

Forsaking All Others: So far, so good. We have ultimate trust in one another.


Until Death Parts Us: We've defied this once, but we'll see. If he's made it through this far, I've got him hooked for good.


And then, there's tonight while watching Survivor. Me: I didn't remember her getting kicked off last week. Why did I think it was Rupert? Hubs: Crack? 


Thanks, Honey, I love you too! That death parting thing? Yeah, it just got one step closer.


Happy Anniversary, Pookie! Here's to another 16 years sleeping with the same man!

This almost never happens. No, really!

After not sleeping Monday night, I overslept today by about...I don't know, 3 hours or so...yeaaaaah. Now, before you judge me, I do have a goal to be up by 7am every day but I only set an alarm when I have somewhere I have to be. I guess that's one of the few perks of being unemployed (or "working freelance" as we artists call it). However, when I get up this late, I usually feel as if I must have missed something by being so lazy. In my defense, I really only got about 4 hours sleep the previous night, I am not just a total sloth lying in bed until 10am. But when it does happen I can usually count on either a) my phone being full of messages from my mom, husband or best friend or b) my email box racking up messages. Usually, without fail, when I have overslept there will be waiting for me at least one of either a) or b) requiring me to be somewhere within 30 minutes of the time I rolled out of bed, causing me to show up with unwashed hair and sheet marks creased all over my arms, and sometimes wearing the previous day's clothes. What is it about us that wants to deny that we've taken the luxury of sleeping in? When you answer the phone and they say, "did I wake you?" at 11 am we never, ever would say "yeah, I am sleeping, call back 'round 3". Sometimes I tell people after the fact just to see the look of pure astonishment on their faces. I just sit back and smile knowing it is coming. And when I tell them I spend the first 2-3 hours of the day writing, well that just really blows them out of the water. So here's the scenario today: 10:15 Hubs calls. Him: "...did I wake you UP?" Me: "NO, of COURSE NOT!" ... "OK, no, but in the interest of full disclosure I did sleep until 10." Him: (silence, then)... "HON-ey!" Call #2 is my mom at 11:30 Her: "What are you up to today?" Knowing better than to think she'd understand the real answer (which is writing), Me: "Oh, nothing, just laying around." Her: "LAYING AROUND!!!!!" There is such shock in her voice I say: "Yeah, why, what are you doing?" Her: "Oh, I'm just layin' around like a chicken with lice droppin' off it." ???wha-at??? This strikes me as completely hilarious for some unknown reason. I am laughing uncontrollably and say: "Mom...you are watching TOO much Dr. Phil. And so if you're laying around then, why are you busting me for laying around?" Her: "You're just usually wrapped up in something by now."" **Sigh** And on it goes. My cell phone starts ringing around 10 am and is like this all day. My life, honestly... So, the way I see it is this. I can't help it if I can't find a job in my field (graphic design). I am looking, interviewing, doing everything possible short of settling on something I completely hate, like something in my former field, accounting. So for now, in order to develop myself as a disciplined writer I can work at my new side business selling jewelry, help pay some bills, and concentrate on things that I want to do. So, don't harsh me when I sleep in a little bit. Anybody need a good graphic designer?