Category Archives: True Life Adventures

Instant Productivity Via Exploding Microwave


Microwaves Hate CeeLee Too
I didn’t know all I Needed was a Plug to Kick Start My Productivity


Productivity and time management are my bright shiny objects


Full confession.

I have a bit of a problem. Actually it’s more like I have a fondness for perusing a gazillion different productivity and time management sites.

For hours.

But the productivity part stops there. It goes no further.

That’s the problem.

I also have a habit for making lists just so I can make a strike right through the item completed.  Everyone needs a hobby.

The way I see it, it could be worse. My hobby could be suddenly yelling “Yeah!” for no apparent reason or sitting on the couch and watching cars go round in circles for hours on end.

Or maybe….it could be as simple as innocently plugging in the microwave with my eyes cracked open at 5am for another fun filled day…and having it explode.

And not even because I put anything metal in it.  I didn’t. It’s a helluva wake up call, and definitely better than a gallon of coffee. Ask the neighbors. We were awake and alert for hours following that this morning.


The Before I Hit 40 Bucket List

I started this bucket list way back when I was 20, and didn’t even know I had ADHD, much less a yen for time management and productivity fence sitting.

When I thought that age 40 was the end all, be all. Which isn’t, but I didn’t know that then. The trouble is that 40 is getting closer but I’m not making any headway into crossing items off that damn list.

I thought if I were to put it here, it might give me the boost I needed, like the wake up call by microwave this morning, but without the shell shocked and deaf neighbors, asking (yelling) if I was testing heart attack induction via sound. I wasn’t intentionally no, but now there’s an idea! Productivity via explosions…

Speaking of yelling “Yeah!” as a hobby…

My other half just came home, looking very much as though he might’ve blown up a few microwaves today himself. I guess that bucket list will have to wait, well damn and oh what a shame. I’ll just post it next week.

I’ve got to explain the reason our microwave has this gorgeous star burst pattern of jagged metal artwork extending from it’s backside and the window directly behind that.

The one letting in all the hot air and missing all of the glass. And do the laundry, as I have some soiled undies to take care of.

I’m downright productive today, don’t mind the shakiness, I hear that dissipates over time.


Exploding Microwaves...Go Figure
Nothing Like an Explosion to Get You Moving



The Completely True Tail of the Bunny Whacker Stick

Beware the Bunnies! Get Your Bunny Whacker Stick Today!
Beware the Bunnies! Get Your Bunny Whacker Stick Today!

I’m just a bit twisted, wwayy more warped than I should be, and I have a jacked up sense of humor. Said sense of humor that tends to leaves others (normal people) shaking their heads and wondering if they’ve been victims of a brush with non-reality.

Which may or may not be due the up half the night case of insomnia of late. To that, I plead the 5th.

 I blame my humor on my family 

It goes like this. Nothing I’m about to tell you has been embellished a single iota. My family is just that good.

My mother has three small dogs. Dogs no taller than mid-shin. Dogs who, depending on the day, current moon phase, the last person that fed them, and whether their morning…constitutional was all that it could be; demand my affections or bark non-stop.

At me, to me, about me, Gawd only knows.

My mother however, is entirely different (of course). The dogs love her and that’s all there is to it.

Before I take this any further, I need to preface this with the fact that my mother is an animal lover (nooo…). She takes in almost everything, tries to nurse it back to health or keeps it until it bites her.

The pack of yappers my mother lovingly calls dogs found this nest when they decided, lovingly I’m sure, to bolt from her and explore one morning.

Rest easy, no bunnies were hurt, the li’l barkers just made their presence known to Mom, that is when she finally caught up to them and called them all sorts of…loving names for running from her (and they were probably yelling,I’m freeee!!!”).

Mom decided to incorporate an old dowel rod to her morning romp with her wild bunch and she calls it the Bunny Whacker (stick).

Now. I told you all of that so you’d understand this. You’ll thank me later, I know you will.

The actual Tail of the

Bunny Whacker (stick)


So here’s my mother, it’s morning, she’s riding herd on her three pack and has the bunny whacker stick with her.

All of them trotting along merrily in the early morning sun, maybe even before the sun has come up, who knows? Mom’s strange like that and…it happens.

The bunnies all pile out of their nest in an intimidating bunny-like formation with snarling…(buck teeth ) fangs and vicious little claws, all of them growling dirty bunny words and ready to get whacked defending their home against the gruesome foursome headed their way.

Or so that’s what I thought I heard when she was telling this story. I heard her correctly, except for a few, minor really, teeny little details.

What Mom was really saying, was that the bunny whacker is used to protect the bunnies from her yap pack. No whacking even took place apparently.

No, Mom just shakes the bunny whacker stick at the gaggle of growlers and they cease and desist. Really? As they would delight in the chance to play with the little fuzzy things in the yard until they didn’t want to play anymore and played dead which is actually really dead.

So it’s a bunny whacker stick yes, but a bunny whacker stick to protect her… We hate you CeeLee, and that’s why we all bark at you at the same time, because we know you hate it when we do and since we hate you anyway, you can kiss our fuzzy little-darlings from wreaking havoc on the bunnies?

Yeah, sure. Of course! How silly of me! That makes complete sense.

Maybe I should christen my yard stick that I have to carry, as my butterfly be gone stick, because Gawd knows, my yeah I’m fat, so what?  spoiled Rott is always under fire from those little bundles of terror.

Beware Butterflies...Death From Above!
Beware Butterflies…Death From Above!



A Scene From When Gardens Strike Back">Ivy</a> by Peter Griffin
I Should’ve Stuck To Pulling This Kind of Ivy


This Just In At All News About NO News…

We’re going to join our on-location reporter where she’s live at the scene of the occurrence, momentarily. Late last week, an innocent woman was yet another victim of what has been a disturbing trend in the past, but one recently on the rise. The trend?

The Garden Attack.

Targeting the a wide array of victims, it appears to prey upon the wary and unwary alike. Scientists are puzzled over what appears to be a completely random pattern, and urge gardeners to take precautions, such as pants that fit.

Let’s go live. Nadia, are you with us?”

“Yes, Bob, I’m here and standing with me is the latest victim, Cee…um…Lee. Yeah…Ma’am? Can you tell us what happened?”

What?! I’m terribly sorry, you’re going to need to speak up, I’m deaf from having to blast my mp3 player in order to drown out the neighbors dog to keep my sanity. Now, what did you say?”

“Can you tell the viewers at home what happened?”

Well I don’t know what you’re saying but I can tell you what happened.”

“That would be great.”

What?! Never mind. I was minding my own business, just listening to my music and doing a bit of weeding in my garden when it just jumped on me from out of nowhere.

“What jumped on you?”

What?! Dammit speak up! I can’t hear-


Oh! Why didn’t you ask me before? Now I look like an idiot, thanks a ton. The poison ivy jumped on me, you silly woman. If it snarled or made any noises, I didn’t hear it, but I sure saw it, with it’s red eyes and mouth full of it’s…itchy stuff. It scared me bad, but I couldn’t run. It wrapped around my legs and I fell face first into the dirt.”

“What, ahem. WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?!”

Geesh lady, are you deaf too? I can hear fine, you needn’t holler me down like that. The poison ivy jumped down the back of my pants, that’s what happened.

” Is that why you’re dancing like that? ”

 I know you’re a hotshot reporter and all, but wouldn’t you dance around if you got attacked by a poison ivy monster that went down the back of your pants and in your butt crack that’s already had a run in with a spider on a highway, but now has a rip roaring case of poison ivy?!

I take hourly baths in Calamine, have to be hogtied to my bed so I don’t scratch in my sleep and have the indignity of having everything and I do mean everything swell shut. Now I ask you. Wouldn’t you dance-oh hey, lookit that butterfly!”

(sigh) “ADHD too? Great…Back to you Bob.”

Okay, so maybe it sounded better in my head…


I’ve never been allergic to poison ivy in my entire life. I have even gone so far as to roll around on it just so I might strike swiftly and without warning, on the unwary and allergic, I’m just that mean. But it’s not funny when the joke’s on me. Or rather, plastered across one the worst areas possible to get such a joke.

So if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a Calamine dunking waiting on me.

And a garden to annihilate.


My Doctor is still laughing


I’m The Walter Mitty Of The ADHD World

(Photo credit: latemodelresto)
What I See In My Head…But Not In Reality-Yet! 
For all of the armchair warriors out there

You aren’t alone. Sitting there in your boxers, doing something your mom would probably disapprove of, whiling away the hours on a Saturday, dreaming of adventures that you know will likely never happen to you and if they did, you wouldn’t be playing the part of the hero, much more likely you’d be the one afflicted with a case of uncontrollable screaming .

Take heart! I do the same.

I am the Walter Mitty of the ADHD world

I’m guilty of spending hours dreaming my own daydreams, all of which I come through smiling, ones where I save the day, I’m consistent and…hell. Let me be honest.

All of the things that I’m really not, but just keep wishing to be. In reality. You know, like being funny, witty, charismatic, able to hold a conversation without once looking down at my shoes and realizing they aren’t tied, or the certainty that my hair is standing on end, even a dawning horror that I may have smutz on my face.

Yep. Those things.

I was dreaming about a new adventure and got an idea

Okay, so I know I’ll never be a DJ, or have the ability of dubbing music into really cool remixes,I’ll  not even so much as have the looking suave and breathtaking while doing those things poorly, but! It doesn’t stop me from having fun.

Or my trying to do what I see so clearly in my head but am still unable to translate into anything that makes sense whatsoever. It probably should, oh yeah, but it doesn’t.

In my head, I am gorgeous, sophisticated, and worldly

In my reality, I’m just a bit lacking on all of the aforementioned qualities. Since music is honest to goodness, the best way that I can  relate, what I can always seem to identify with, and more possibly the fact that I was bored out of my gourd being the culprit of this whole debacle, I decided to do my own experiment (run away, run away now!)

I thought I might show you, you arm chair warriors, you who are kings and queens in dreams of your own design, if not in reality, exactly how far apart my reality and my perception of said reality, really are.

So do you? Want to hear my masterpiece?

Hey, you never know, it could change your life, make you an instant narcoleptic or maybe even spur you to do your own version. If you do, let me know.

Because here at least, there are no losers and no winners. Just real people. So I want to know.

Do you want to hear what I came up with? Hmmm?

(Photo credit: Dave Pinter)
And My Reality-See The Difference?  Chevy Cruze Eco