I wasn't allergic to smog.

3 1/2 years in NYC and not one time did I sneeze due to pollution, smog, fog, whichever you like. But back in Florida, it's a different story. I have done nothing but sneeze the last two months. I don't usually take medicine because when I do my body/mind reacts much the way it would if I were to drink alcohol. I spend the first few hours in a pleasant haze, and then I crash. Nyquil's the worst, knocking me out for 14 to 18 hours at a time in one dose. Robitussin isn't quite as potent, so it was my drug of choice for this week's allergy battle.

I will admit at one point contemplating drinking the entire bottle just so I could breath easy again. Then I remembered the time when I was three-years-old and I scaled the medicine cabinet to reach the top shelf where mom kept the Liquiprin. Liquiprin is the most wonderful tasting candy cough syrup in the world. (I was always SO sure the liquid would change color Marry Poppin's style when poured into a spoon. It never did.)

Being under the age of ten and of above average IQ, I had no trouble breaking through the child proof lid and downing the whole bottle. Luckily, mom came in and found me just as I took the last sip, and immediately had me in the bathroom drinking a glass full of salt water. I'm sure you can figure out what happens when you drink that much salt water. Yeah. I learned my lesson. Enough said.

Mysterious early childhood phenomenon: Why is it that when children spill something on a table, they insist upon sitting in the chair, watching the liquid run across the table, over the side, and onto their clothes. Is it written somewhere that the idea of standing up or moving out of the way is not to be grasped until the age of seven?? I will never understand.

Well, now that blogger appears to be cooperating (although looks are sometimes deceiving) I'll attempt a post.

Those of you who talk with me on a regular basis will know that all I've managed to discuss in the last seven days is the beautiful piece of machinery currently sitting in the driveway. That's right, my scion tC. On thus, her one week birthday, the odometer reads 152 miles traveled. Have I gone any significant distance? No. But I have been to bits and pieces of here, there, and everywhere.

Friday I showed my support for a group of friends at a local bar/grill because their band was playing there. I stood around and watched a handful of people drink green beer (it was St. Patrick's day after all) while the rest of the teenaged lot that gathered there stood around and whined about being too young to buy alcohol. The music was loud, the company was good, and we didn't have to discipline any high school children, so all in all it was a good evening.

Saturday entailed a trip to the mall (READ an excuse to drive my car for half an hour either direction) with my cousin and my godson. Sunday found me in Alex's (leader of previously mentioned band) driveway working on a piece of music for guitar entitled "Romanza". After I insisted I couldn't play barre chords, Alex taught me that every guitar player has to have a bit of contortionist in them, and I can now avoid that awful "thunk"ing sound 50% of the time.

The work week began and thus, here we are at Wednesday evening. Where does the time go??

Highlight of the week: As I was standing in the living room today, I noticed a car parked outside my house. The neighboring house is for sale, so at first I assumed that was the purpose for the visitor. Upon closer inspection, however, I realized I knew the face of the man who had climbed out of the car and headed towards the trunk.

I have witnessed this scene many times before, yet so many years have passed I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The old man behind the car shuffled around in an endless array of papers for a moment, then started up my driveway. Before he could reach the house, however, I had run out the front door and thrown my arms around his neck.

He smelled like a million saxophone lessons (I associate most memories with smells, I'm odd that way), just as he has for all the years I've known him. I can't quite place the fragrance, but it involves cologne and reeds... which probably means nothing to you I realize, but it's my story, and I wanted to include the little details.

This was no stranger. This was my first saxophone teacher! L.C. (infamous local musician who tutors half of the students in the county) is a remarkable man, and an amazing teacher. I can't claim he taught me everything I know, but he did teach me the most important lessons of my musical career. On the top of that list is his favorite phrase "I can't died."

You see, once a week L.C. would come to my house, throw impossible (or what I deemed to be impossible) music in front of me, state "this is very difficult and I'm not sure you'll be able to play it, but it'll give you something to work on", and then spend the next hour convincing me that "I can't!" had no place in my vocabulary.

He learned early on in our lessons exactly how to motivate his favorite student. The trick was for him to act as though he believed the task was beyond my playing abilities. My refusal to fail attitude would kick into overdrive and do the rest of the work for him.

It was wonderful seeing him again. It's funny how you never realize how much you miss something until it's left, and then returned to you one more time. I love that man.

alright for those of you looking at this mess, it's not my fault! the people over at blogger have had some problems with a "filer" and it's caused problems on various blogs on said "filer". apparently my site is one of them. hold on.. hopefully they'll get it fixed... sometime this year.

It's here...... it's my car....... it's blue...... it's mine...... holy crap.

Twenty-four hours from now, there will be a brand new azure pearl 2006 Scion tC sitting in the driveway. My first car, and a brand new one at that. Granted, I'm 26-years-old so it's taken me enough time to venture out and purchase one, but it's MINE! I've had to wait a week since placing the order for it to arrive at the dealership, and I hope it's worth the wait.

In other news... bills, bills, bills. I've discovered there's a silver lining to those millions of dollars in student loans some of us have to pay back. The reward lies in the fact that if you make your monthly payments, your credit score goes through the roof. 813 thank you very much. I'll learn to improv faster than I'll be able to pay off those loans, and those of you who know my improv abilities will know that to be near to never. (Just for the record, yes, I went to a private college and it cost me more money than I'll ever earn, but would I change it for the world?? Never. I loved every minute.)

I spent the entire day in a T.O.P. meeting for the county. TOP stands for Teacher Orientation Program. The school board gathers all the newly-hired teachers together in one room and tells them how to behave in school. No having sex with the students was one topic they emphasized (sad that that rule even has to be stated, but read the news, it obviously does), how to have productive teacher conferences, and a large portion of the discussion focused on all of the paperwork/evaluations we "newbies" have to have done before the end of our first year. Luckily, my college required us to complete all of the first year teacher Florida "competencies" before we could graduate (read paragraph two about how wonderful they were), thus I've completed most everything the county requires. I just have to track down a bunch of administrators and get them to sign and date all the various forms. As if there's time in the day for that AND chasing 18 four-year-olds all trapped in the same room.

The day wasn't a total bust, though. There was a wonderful 80's style tote bag waiting for me at the meeting today filled with all sorts of teacher "goodies". Markers, pens, paper, but I've saved the best for last!

I am now the proud owner of a red mini-swingline stapler! And if anyone takes it, I will burn down the building.

Milton Waddams: "And I said, I don't care if they lay me off either, because I told, I told Bill that if they move my desk one more time, then, then I'm, I'm quitting, I'm going to quit. And, and I told Don too, because they've moved my desk four times already this year, and I used to be over by the window, and I could see the squirrels, and they were married, but then, they switched from the Swingline to the Boston stapler, but I kept my Swingline stapler because it didn't bind up as much, and I kept the staples for the Swingline stapler and it's not okay because if they take my stapler then I'll set the building on fire..."

And he did. Office Space

This will be the new car when it arrives. The color shown is the one I've chosen. I'm waiting. Quite patiently. Please hurry. The "waiting place" sucks.

I'll admit it. I'm absolutely Obsessed with M*A*S*H*. In NYC I used to stay up until 3am on the weekends just so that I could watch the show (which only played on Friday and Saturday night at 2am).

Now that I'm back in Florida, M*A*S*H* can be found on the television multiple hours a day. I found the list below on the site linked above. Let's see how many of these I can check off.

You know you watch too much M*A*S*H when...

you've seen every episode at least 10 times.

you can't go a day without watching M*A*S*H.

you make chopper noises in your sleep.

you wear army fatigues and you're not even in the army.

you named your room "The Swamp"

you refer to your dining room as the mess tent.

you tell your kids there's a mine field in the backyard.

you plan a trip to Tokyo on your day off.

you name your kids Trapper and Hawkeye.

you start dreaming about it at night.

at dinner, you request "2 units of liver and fish - STAT."

you pay $50 bucks to have your phone number changed so the last 4 numbers are "4077"

you can't look at nearby mountains without humming "Suicide is Painless" and waiting for the choppers to show up

you're at the hospital and you look for nurses named Margaret and doctors named Hawkeye

the theme song brings a tear to your eye.

you're a man who walks around in a dress begging for a section eight and your not even in the army.

you walk across the street wearing a red bathrobe looking for the showers.

you wear a cowboy hat with your tuxedo

you cry whenever you see the last episode of M*A*S*H and just wish it wouldn't finish.

every time you hear a helicopter you look to the sky and wonder why you don't hear music.

you ask the waitress where the men's latrine is.

when you hear the weatherman say the word "Radar" you quickly look at the TV and are disappointed to see the regular weatherman.

you swear that martinis are your favorite drink ...and you've never had one.

you build a still from memory.

you call your boss 'colonel' and salute him/her.

you call your local pub 'the officers club'.

you order a jeep instead of a taxi.

you expect the incoming bus to be full of wounded but is instead full of passengers.

in a restaurant or at home, you want your meal served on a tray instead of plates.

you answer phone calls with '4077th MASH' instead of 'Hello'.

you smell all your food before you eat it.

you install a loudspeaker in your home to communicate with the family.

you yell, "mail call," when the mail is delivered.

when you sign your name in all capitals with asterisks between each letter.

when you look at your husbands combat boots and they remind you of Hawkeye's'

when you sign your checks with Alan Alda or you sign your name as a person from the show.

when you call the Operator and ask "Sparky" to place a stateside call and offer him a can of chipped beef if he'll do it.

when you have your own still in the living room

when you say "Ahhh, Bach" whenever you hear classic music

when everything seems to be "highly significant"

when you see a horse and you wonder if her name is Sophie.

when you swear you say H.E. double toothpicks.

when you walk into a bar and order a Grape Ne-Hi

when your convinced suicide IS painless.

when you start naming inanimate objects after characters.

when someone makes a joke, you say that you're not in the mood for "jocularity."

when your wardrobe consists of nothing but Hawaiian shirts.

when you refer to your knife and fork as a scalpel and retractor.

whenever you ask for time off work, you ask for a weekend pass in Tokyo.

when you only feel comfortable making out in a supply room.

you never stop bitching about the food whenever you're at an all-you-can-eat-buffet.

you talk about M*A*S*H in your sleep

you order 3 cases of chocolate at the finest chocolate makers in Boston every Christmas, even though you don't even live in Boston

your children have to watch M*A*S*H as a part of their education

you can't sleep if you haven't seen M*A*S*H that day

you turn on the tv and you expect to see M*A*S*H on, no matter what time it is

you expect everybody knows it and likes it

you refuse to carry a gun, even if no-one expects you to do so

you can't make out without watching M*A*S*H

you hang a sign on your door saying: 'the swamp' or 'major M.Houlihan, knock before entering'

you sleep with a teddy bear, which you got from your brother, who was a box boy in a supermarket.

you are disappointed when you run into a priest that doesn't box

you refuse to wear your captain's bars, even though you haven't got any

you complain about being drafted, even though you're not in the army.

you know the serial numbers of all the M*A*S*H characters by heart.

you wear dog tags with your or a character's name, rank, blood group, and serial number.

your room is decorated with pictures from M*A*S*H.

you pay a million bucks to have a Korean houseboy called Ho-Jon

you drink 2 martini's for breakfast

you spend the last half-hour making up dumb obsessions for the M*A*S*H-homepage

you refuse to respond to anything but Hawkeye or Hot Lips

you take cold showers for the fun of it

you call the bar tender Rosie

you call your waiter Igor

you call every receptionist Radar or Klinger

you wear combat boots with everything you own and you wear them wherever you go

you have a tower of tongue depressors on display in your living room

you have sock puppets that look like all the characters

if, to punish your children, instead of sending them to their room, you 'confine them to quarters.'

instead of quitting your job, you say you resign your commission.

if you record the episodes on audio tape and play them in the car while driving.

when you swear you have an imaginary friend named "Tuttle"

when you call all the people you don't like "Ferret-Face".

When you put your clothes in a footlocker at the bottom of your bed instead of in the dresser.

when you set up a tent in your bedroom equipped with cots, a still, and a few roommates and call it the swamp.

why you keep wondering if your money is counterfeit because it green and not red.

you wear fishing lures on every hat you own.

you brush your teeth with water you pour into a helmet.

instead of taking the promotion at work from bag boy to Manager, you tell your boss, "just promote me to Corporal Captain, and we'll call it even."

you're fired at air traffic control for re-routing all planes because of sightings of a large bird with pink feet in the area.

If you call your mom 'Hotlips' and your father 'Frank'

when you are sleep-deprived from staying up until 1am every night just to see an episode you've already seen 5 times.

you look to buy stock in a company called 'Pioneer Aviation'

while ordering breakfast at the local diner you say, 'I'll have two scrambled powdered eggs and a slice of WW2 surplus bread, and don't make it tasty.'

you no longer watch tv since your station stopped showing M*A*S*H

you cringe when you hear the name Frank

you eat SPAM even though you don't like it and aren't forced to eat it

if no matter who you're writing to, your letters all begin with "Dear Sigmund".

you know you're obsessed when you spend your vacation watching your uncles MASH videos because you don't have a station near your house that carries it.

you yell "incoming" when your mother-in-law comes to visit (lol!!!!)

your ultimate dream is to be able to turn on the t.v. at anytime and have a M*A*S*H episode be on.

if you had enough money, you would buy a t.v. station and create the M*A*S*H channel, all M*A*S*H, all the time.

When you begin to call your friends "B.J.", "Trapper", "Radar", or "Margaret".

you holler at the waiter for telling you the day's specials are liver and fish

you dress in Army green pants and either a Hawaiian shirt or khaki T-shirt everyday

your last wish is to be buried with a copy of GFA

you'll do anything to see a movie called "The Moon is Blue"

you'll only eat if the recipe came from "Secrets of the M*A*S*H Mess"

When you begin to refer to you parents as "Colonel Father, sir" and "Major Mom, ma'am".

if you know a five letter Yiddish word for bedbug.

when you see a sign that says "Speed checked by radar" and you start looking for a short guy wearing glasses....

when you haven't left your seat for a couple weeks because you keep watching MASH videos

when you use bedpans instead of toilets in your house

when you download every MASH sound off of the internet

when you insist on using your brother Wendal's birth certificate to get drafted

when you have a servant that you insist on calling Young-Hi

when you mail a jeep piece by piece to anywhere in the world

You went out and bought a copy of 'The Last of the Mohicans' just to add to your MASH related video (or book) collection.

you let your son name his ferret Frank.

you actually sat and watched EVERY episode of MASH in order from start to finish in a single sitting.

whenever you hear the term "chief surgeon" or "head nurse", you immediately think of Hawkeye or Margaret

when you dig foxholes in your yard in case of an air-raid

when the sound of a sputtering airplane scares you because you think it's 5 o'clock Charlie

if you actually made it to the end of this list...

It's 6pm! Time for M*A*S*H*!