Dear Nakamichi Corporation,

On April 12th of this year I purchased some of your ear buds from KMart. 

As you can see by these next photos, the flat cable has already cracked open exposing some tiny red wires.

I’m willing to bet that this will probably happen to all of your flat cabled accessories.  You need a stronger casing on the wires if you want to stick with the flat design.

Just an FYI.

Waterford crystal anyone?

This beautiful Waterford Crystal clock was a wedding gift that we didn’t register for.  It needs a new battery and I’m not sure I have the original box.  We were married in 2000. 

This is the Waterford seal etched into the bottom. It is in perfect condition.  It’s a little over eight inches tall and five and a half inches wide. 

This vintage coat was given to me by my great aunt who was the original owner.

Here’s a close up of one of the buttons. 

And here is the original label.

Yes, this is real fur.  Sorry PETA.  Did I mention this was vintage?  Is it Mink?  Not sure.  Its very soft.  And the coat is very warm. The sleeves are a bit too short for me.  I have all three buttons, one of the buttons in the pocket because I’m too lazy to sew it back on but I do have all three buttons.

This Union label is the only other tag on the coat.  I’m going to say it is a Large. 

Here is a sexy little black dress that Beauty School Drop Out encouraged me to by from Forever 21, to wear on my Honeymoon. 

It’s just a little to slinky for me, I couldn’t muster the courage to wear a dress that looked painted on.  Tag still attached.  And as with the belts,  I’ll never be that size again, nor have the courage to show that much cleavage in public.

Size Eight Lauren Conrad platform boots.  I have no idea who Lauren Conrad is.  Obviously she works in the shoe industry.

I do have the box for these. 

You can see by the tread, they’ve only been worn a few times.  Maybe three times….  Yeah, I’m not really a platform shoe girl.

This little black Nine West crop jacket also has minimal wear.

It’s super soft and warm but I never felt right in it.  It has 3/4 length sleeves that kind of flair out.  It reminds me of an artists smock.

Close up of the black buttons that adorn the collar.  They’re all black.  That shine is just from the flash.  I’m not a professional photographer, I just play one on TV.

Please email me at madamfickle@gmail.com if you are interested in purchasing any of these items.

As always, thanks for reading everyone.  I really appreciate your support.

Fire Sale

Well you know what they say folks, when the going gets tough, start selling your stuff.  I don’t know who “they” are, but I’m sure someone has said it before.

So here’s the deal. I need to come up with come cash to pay for summer child care, air conditioning fix for my minivan and Rock Star blew two of his tires last week.  And so on and so forth.

As such, I’ve decided to start selling some possessions. Hopefully, that is not against the laws of WordPress.

If you or someone you know might like to buy one or more of the items I’ll be showing please email me at madamfickle@gmail.com and we’ll make arrangements.

First up we have three hand crafted needlepoint belts.  Two of them made by yours truly and professionally finished with genuine leather.  Many, many hours went into the making of these unique belts.  But alas they only measure 36 inches from end to end, and I’ve given up hope of ever being that thin again.  So rather than store them forever, I think someone should get to enjoy them. 

They have very minimal wear.  I will sell them as a set or individually.  Approximatly $100.00 USD went into materials for each belt, so that’s pretty much what I’m looking to get for each of them, but I will consider any offers. I’m afraid I’ll only be able to accept pay pal.

So without further adieu, the belts…..

Hopefully these photos show enough detail…

That’s all for now. I need to go photograph the rest of the treasures I’ll be putting up for sale.

As always thanks for reading my blog. I really appreciate all of you who are following. You make my day whenever you hit that like button.

Until next time…..

How I became Madam Fickle

I know what your thinking. You’re thinking madam because I’m a married woman (or just very formal) and fickle because of the, you know, fickleness. Wrong.

It was my senior year of college and the theatre department was holding the annual general auditions. How it works is you memorize two monologues, one current, one classical, to deliver to theater full of directors who have projects for the year, not all the projects for the whole year, but the big ones. All of the main roles for the shows were pretty much cast from these auditions.

I’m a nervous auditioner. I have a great stage presence but I’m horrible at auditions and job interviews. I work best with a memorized script. Anyway it took me until my senior year to be really noticed in the drama dept, other than being known as the weird girl I guess. That’s not true, I don’t know that they called me the weird girl. It just felt like that was what they thought. Someone actually said it looked like I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I think that may just be the face I make when I am straining to sort the voices out of the conversation so I can make sense of what people are saying.  New people, I’m deaf on the left.

Well, without further adieu, here is the classical monologue that’s landed me a supporting actress role of Yeye in the play Sarita.   Yes that’s right, I the freckled faced, fair-haired, Irish girl, was cast as a 13-year-old, tarot card reading, Cuban school girl, growing up with her best friend Sarita in New York in the thirties.  Yes, Cuban.  And I was awesome.

Madam Fickle  by Thomas  Durfey     Act IV, scene ii

Fickle:  Ha, ha ha,  ha–
That heaven should give man so proud a heart,
And yet so little knowledge–Silly creature,
That talks, and laughs, and kisses oft that hand
That steals away its reason as if nature
Had played the traitor and seduced the sex,
Without the aid of destiny, or women.
Ah, with what pleasant ease
The bird may be ensnared–  Set but a wanton look,
You catch whole convoys; nay there is magic
Pertaining to our sex, that draws ‘em in,
Though in the long vacation– and by heaven,
I am resolved to work my sly deceits
Till my revenge is perfect– Thus far I’ve done well,
And I’ll persevere in the mystery,
Wheedle ‘em to the snare with cunning plots;
Then bring it off with quick designing wit,
And quirks of dubious meaning.  Turn and wind
Like fox, in a storm, to pray on all,
And yet be thought a saint – Thus queen I’ll sit,
And hell shall laugh to see a woman’s wit.

I love that speech.

What an awesome idea!!

I’m not sure how this news escaped me……well it’s because I don’t watch the news.  Too depressing.  Anywho,  (yes I said anywho) I just received a text from CMAS which Google informs me stands for Commercial Mobile Telephone Alerts.  Any American with a wireless phone can subscribe through the text settings on their phones.

You can set it for Amber alerts, Imminent Threat alerts and/or Presidential alerts.  I don’t remember doing this to my phone, but I just received an Amber alert for Springfield, Missouri.  Can you imagine if everyone had this service on their phones.  All of the phones going off at the same time, BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!  Then every citizen of Springfield is automatically on the lookout for the 2000 Grey Nissan Maxima, Missouri license plate YG6K5R.  Wouldn’t you start looking at all the grey cars around you?  How far do you think the car would get it everyone got that message at the same time?  I’m thinking …..uh not too far.  Probably not too far at all……  Something to think about.

So hey, tell your friends and their friends and their friends friends.  And yes, that is the actual information from the Amber alert so if you know someone in Springfield, Missouri.  Make sure they’ve got their eyes open.

Word travels fast, when you’re having a nervous breakdown….

It’s amazing, the power of the internet. Less than 30 min after the second to last post, I missed a call from Beauty. Not on purpose. But I didn’t call back.

Less than 2 hours after this morning’s post, I get a text from the third Fickle sister. We’ll call her CC, short for Circus Clown. Because she worked for a circus, and has also performed as a clown. You can’t make this stuff up people.

Beauty follows my blog. CC does not. This leads me to believe that Beauty thinks I am mad at her OR Beauty is mad at me. Either way, concerned enough to alert CC. Circus Clown sent me three texts, advising me to take a sick day.She loves me. She will call me later.

I had no choice but to take a sick day. I look horrid. Five hours of almost non-stop crying will do that to you. I have finally stopped for the moment, now in the safety of my bedroom. Unfortunately, I have a teller out for two weeks from an emergency hernia surgery. So I dragged my sorry ass in there. About ten minutes before I arrived my supervisor called me to ask about a customer who wanted to wire money even though he was out of town. I explained that I had looked up the procedure in the Ops manual to make sure we could do it before I told the customer we would. ( Fun fact: I was her supervisor for four years.) I told her I would be there in minutes. I arrived shortly thereafter. Instead of going straight to my station to set up as usual, I went straight to her desk. Trying to keep my head down, trying to keep it together.

Side note: Just before I drove to work I dropped off Three at the preschool. They recently had a new door put in and while it was being worked on we had to enter in the front of the building which is the main entrance to the church attached to the preschool. The preschool door is fixed. Three would not come with me to the door. He made me chase him to the front of the building, where of course all the doors are locked. It had been raining all day yesterday and this morning. The rain had stopped but everything was all wet and he ran thru some grass. So now I’m in the wet grass, in my dress pants. I’d already been crying for several hours at this point and was barely holding it together just so I could get him in there.

Anyway so now I’m at work. And before my boss called me I was planning to call from the parking lot,briefly explain my state of being and suggest I go home and to the doctor. Now with the customer issue this is not a possibility. Also, since I am the head teller so I have most of the money. So there was no getting out of it. I would have to go in there and try to keep it together long enough to deal with the customer issue and sell some money so they could operate. I think only one of the six other female employees was to busy to see my face or notice my sniffling. Maybe two. I was trying to not actually look at anyone directly. My Fing nose wouldn’t stop running. No one, besides Rock Star and Dr. T, has ever seen me like this. Oh and my kids. I can’t hide it anymore from them. Awesome. So yeah, nearly the whole staff saw me at my worst this morning. And you know they are all talking about it, trying to figure out what’s going on, because that is what women do. Don’t deny it.

I can’t be smiles and laughs all the time people. That’s just a cover anyway, and a thin one at that.
Why are you sad Mommy? What do I say? What am I going to say Well kids, Mommy’s just having a little difficulty with reality right now. A spiritual crisis perhaps.

Funny story: A few weeks ago, maybe a month now, I was home early and two women came to the front door.

We interrupt that funny story to bring you this just… fantastic development…..earlier this morning as Six and Eight headed to the bus stop I wrote Rock Star a crazy letter, put it in an envelope and left it on his pillow. I just noticed that it is gone. So here come the water works again.

New people, I have trouble conversing in the, well normal way. Mostly because I trip over my tounge constantly. My brain moves faster than my mouth. Evidently my fingers as well. Also, whenever I need to say something important about what’s going on with me I pretty much burst into tears every time. It’s difficult for the listener. So in the safety of this environment, even if I trip over my fingers, at least I have the power to edit. Shit I think Rock Star is home.

Nothing bad about us. Just asking for help, in a crazy, nervous breakdown sort of way. Well if he’s home he’s decided not to enter the bedroom for the moment. New people, I’m hard of hearing. Very easy to sneak up on. Back to the two women at the front door.

We don’t use the front door and actually it has boxes stacked in front of it. So I went out the side door and met them on the driveway. They introduced themselves and began to say they were with some women’s bible study. They handed me a flyer which I did not look at. I didn’t even let the lady finish her sentence. I just started to shake my head no and I could feel let’s just say a “not nice” face replace my smile.

Oh….we don’t….

You don’t?

We don’t read the bible. (Which is a lie. I went to Catholic school k-12. Once I tried to read it cover to cover actually. I couldn’t get past Exodus though. It is a pretty boring book. Page after page of people begetting.)

Oh!

Thank you I don’t want to waste your time so you can just you know…. ( It was at this moment I realized I was shooing the women away with my hand. You heard me, I shooed them away.) And we don’t need saving either. I called over my shoulder as I turned away.

I threw the flyer into the recycle bin without looking at it on my way back into the house.

I was really angry. I don’t even know what they wanted. Quite frankly I don’t care. The thing I hate about religious people is that they’re always trying to “save” you. How about you mind your own business? You worry about your soul and I’ll worry about mine. Okay? Thanks.

So what made me so angry? I mean I was really shocked by my behavior. I think I am having an internal debate that goes something like..if we, all of us are just the thoughts of the infinite consciousness and none of this is real where does that leave me? I’m just a speck in the universe, a single thought, then what is the point? I’m not suicidal. I just..everything about this world is just so wrong.

We’re killing each other every day. We’re starving each other every day. Stealing from each other. Why? Because someone is different than you? Why do we all have to be the same? God likes variety, isn’t that what they say? Doesn’t matter whose god. In the end, isn’t everybodys deity the same? Because you’re better than the rest of us? A very wise person once said “I don’t say I’m no better than anybody else, but I’ll be damned if I ain’t just as good.” Maybe if so many were not so focused on having the most, others would not feel the desperation that leads to stealing.

A lifetime is like the blink of an eye when you’re talking about eternity. So the PTB (powers that be) must have some sort of plan. I don’t know, how about everybody be nice. Just a thought. How about everybody stop judging everybody else? How about stop being so greedy and self centered, maybe think about the bigger picture. I know, it’s the crazy talking.

So there’s that. What else?

Broke, broke, broke all the time. Every time we think we’re getting ahead, something breaks. Right now I’m driving with the check engine light on because I can’t afford to get it fixed. My antifreeze is brown. (It’s supposed to be clear.) Sometimes at stop lights it starts to clunk like the engine may fall out. Or explode. Oh, and the air conditioning doesn’t work. Has never worked.

Kids don’t listen. It’s like I’m not even there. Doesn’t matter if I say it in the nicest possible way or scream it from the top of my lungs. I feel very disconnected from them. I want to love them. I want to feel close to them. Lately I just feel like running away. I did call the shrink and made an appointment for Six. Apparently, she just sees kids and teens. The receptionist says she occasionally takes on the moms, but she’ll want to see Six first. I have an appointment with Dr. T at 4:45. I’m hoping for some Xanax. Or something stronger, I’m flexible.

I haven’t looked at my book since 11:56 pm November 30th. In some ways I think it may be my only salvation. Even if no one ever reads it, just the accomplishment of a finished product will do me good. Perhaps help me along the path to best sellerdom.

Still no sign of Rock Star. He’s the only reason I’m still sane. But even after 16 years together I still struggle to voice my thoughts aloud with him. I’m scared he’ll think I’m crazy and want to leave. I have nightmares, they are so real, where he leaves me. The look in his eyes in those nightmares. He just looks right through me, like I’m nothing. Sometimes they are so paralyzing I literally have to fight to move and wake up.

More tears, yea.

And the big one, my branch failed the annual surprise audit last month. I’ve worked for the company for 11 years and have never failed an audit. Now it seems like I can’t do anything right. I’m not focused. I’m out of balance. I was given an official verbal warning for being out of balance over $100 in December. I’ve never had any kind of reprimand from an employer before. Last Saturday I was over $280. I can’t find the error. If I don’t find it there will be an official written warning, the next step being termination. If we don’t pass the re-audit which is going to happen sometimes in the next 60 days, I will probably be fired. Which is why when I remembered at 6 this morning that it was discovered Friday night that my dual control partner closing with me on Thursday night did not initial the vault log, something which can’t be just initialed the next time he comes in. (Which won’t be for two weeks, because he’s the guy with the hernia.) An exception has to be written. 11 years. I have given 11 years of good service. And now it’s all hanging by a thread.

When I look in the mirror, the woman staring back at me is not the woman in my head.

So there you have it. THE sob story. I think I will take a nap before I go to see Dr. T. Many thanks to you all. You’re really good listeners.

I’ve been bawling for almost three hours now.  I’m having some sort of anxiety attack.

I made the call just now to try and see the shrink.  Mostly for Six.  The pediatrician thinks there maybe something more than ADHD.  My in laws said they would help with that expense.  Little do they know what a basket case Ive become.

I’m so scared right now of losing my job and my kids because of my mental strain. 

The shrink’s office wasn’t open.  I look a mess and I need to leave for work in about ten minutes.

Seriously considering the sanatorium again.