Awards: The Margarita Edition

I figure all that Morton's Salt ought to not go to waste, so I have whipped up a trash can (see, I told you we was classy!) full of virtual margaritas for the pixies to imbibe! And, after a week like this, I say we all deserve a libation, or forty.

Let me start, first, by saying that Phantom always made this gig look so effortless. Sue, I think we all knew *exactly* what you meant when you said you miss her. I do as well. Who knew how hard it really is to whittle down what ALL seem like worthy WW contenders? I know that it's all in fun, but having a support system really does help me get through some weeks, so I hereby award everyone a "I Am A Worthy Whiner!" Award. You all deserve one!

Whines of Substance this week go to:

Amy, and Sarah at ratatat for their wanting-to-be-pregnant woes. I wish I could offer sage advice, but look what I got to work with! Or not. (With family like mine, it's probably best if we don't reproduce much, anyway.) I wish you both the best of luck, and will pray that next month, you'll be getting "We Know What YOU'VE Been Doing!!!" Awards.

and

Anonymous for the S.O., and the "drifting apart." You have many hugs and well-wishes headed your way, Anon. I'm so, so sorry.

Old Skool Awards this week head out to:

Turtlebella, because I am right with you on the plant-killing. I've often said that I have a black thumb, because my mangling of poor, innocent houseplants borders on the terrifying. I love them, but I can't manage to keep them alive. I've killed air ferns, people. AIR FERNS. Things which are supposed to subsist solely on the air around them, and I have managed to convince them that this is not a wise move on their parts. I've killed cacti. And Chia pets. My freaking CHILD could grow a Chia pet at age five, but I apparently lack the necessary skillz to keep greenery from becoming blackery. That being said (or ranted, as the case may be), I feel your pain, Turtlebella.

and

Elizabeth for the stress and self-loathing incurred when knowing you have a deadline for articles and chapters looming, but yet not having the motivation or wherewithal to get said projects done. I know how hard it is to get motivated -- I figure each day is a success when I walk out of the front door in the morning with my clothes facing the right way out.

"Desperately in Need of a Handy Cluestick" awards go out to:

Sara and her suffering child for the trials of dorkdom. Feel free to wield the cluestick on people who hurt your beloved with gleeful abandon. Those mean kids never seem to get better, unfortunately. The only thing you can do for your baby is be supportive, and tell them you dealt with much the same growing up. It sure doesn't make it hurt any less, but maybe your child, with time, will grow to see that YOU didn't turn out so bad, and neither will they. Until then, the beatings will continue until those kids learn to keep their big yaps shut!

and

Miranda for her fireplacing fireplacer of a professor. Have these people not ever heard of an internal filter?!? If something seems like it's a Bad Thing to do or say, chances are you should probably NOT DO OR SAY IT! I'm so angry on your behalf right now! Did this professor actually think his/her conduct would *inspire* you? It would just piss me off. And, in fact -- it has. Many apologies are tendered to you at the actions of this assmunch. Not all people should be teachers, and this eloquently proves my point.


Awards of Mega Margaritas go out to:

Sue for the endless headaches. I have said before that I just don't know how you do it. I know I couldn't. I hope that you find some relief soon. Something. ANYTHING. I will pray that God lifts this burden from your already-full plate. Surely, someone in His service should not be laden with this affliction for so long.

and

redzils for the mother woes. And the angst, and the faraway boyfriend, and the ill grandparent. I see you know what I mean about it pouring. Salut!

and

Margalit for having a therapist who just may be the one who is *whacked in the head* for trying to blame Son's problems on Daughter. Um.... what the fireplace?!? I know there's a sibling dynamic, and a struggle for the affection of the parental units in any sibling relationship, but what the hell was this person smoking?! Also, for the migraine, the not sleeping and cranberry-pill solution to the cat's blockage. (May I suggest a cork for the kitteh?) All these other difficulties make the situation with the therapist so much more onerous. You can have *two* margaritas, Margalit. One for you, and one for your therapist, because the color of the sky in his or her world is probably the same color.

Hugs and wishes for better tomorrows for everyone else. Please check back with us next week, when the sublime and sultry Sheila is bringing the Brigadoon back from the ether.