So PA is out yet again after a long stint of insanity that had been building my stress levels up. Work, school, kids, and insane ex living in my house have REALLY blown my blood pressure through the roof. My doctor finally prescribed me a muscle relaxer, but I couldn't get it and tell PA because then I'd never see it again. I was told by my doctor that I have arthritis. Do I need any more medical issues? I think not, but there you go.
So I've had now about 36 hours of no roommate. I've been wondering about the financial aspect of this, but hey protecting my kids' and my safety is more important at the moment. School is over for awhile. I'm not sure when I'll get go back, but like I said safety is WAY MORE IMPORTANT.
I've been bemoaning my luck physical, emotional, and financial, but then I think of other folk who've been in similar situations as mine, and I feel a little comforted. I'm not alone on the misery front. Cancer screws a person financially. I'm not the only one. Addicted exes screw people financially. I'm not alone on that one either. Raise a glass all ye who have felt that one. Emotionally this stings a little, but not as much as what could be if I allowed PA stay here. That goes for physical too. Too many people have felt the insanity that others bring to a situation, and I finally have others who have actually seen with their eyes the incoherence and just plain craziness that he is capable of.
I had to explain the unpredictable behavior patterns of PA to my father during the Confrontation. I had to warn my mother with a very stern voice and a dark look on my face and warning that I will not call the cops until they are out of the house because of the risk factor. That silly bumbling old lady finally figured that out and swooped them up to take them somewhere. The cops were seriously annoyed with his behavior.
I finally had folk see what he was like, and you know the next day after he was bailed out by friends he came to get his stuff and told ME that I could have defused the situation better. I thought I did a damn good job since he was the fused bomb in the room.
So now to school and my after cancer goals...it will have to wait. I live in a fabulous house on a fabulous street. My kids go to a great school and are making friends. For their emotional sake we are not going anywhere. Big Girl Pants will be pulled on, and I will make this shit happen. But it will take a little longer than expected.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Friday, December 07, 2007
MY DAD KICKED MY EX'S ASS
We're all ok. PA is in jail.
My 66 YO dad kicked his crack smokin', piss drunk, lazy, worthless ass!
Pass me a beer. I feel like celebrating!
My 66 YO dad kicked his crack smokin', piss drunk, lazy, worthless ass!
Pass me a beer. I feel like celebrating!
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Sad News Comes When Least Expected
I had a good weekend, not the best, not the worst. It was ok. It ended great with Goddess Bodice Ripper's wedding party. I got a notice from my plastic surgeon to set up my one year follow up. THAT is a Good Thing. I got the piano inside. My house is clean, and two of my three christmas trees are up and ready. Yes, I'm a closet Ms. Claus.
My calm happiness was shattered though by a well meaning friend. A mutual friend, my Inspiration, passed away this past Thanksgiving weekend. I will miss her. She was beautiful inside and out. Not to mention she was a fighter (in her own way). The thing about her is that her cancer was less "dangerous" or "concerning" than mine, but her mind set was so much more positive and cheerful, as cheerful as a person whose doctor's advise was so totally and completely unreversably wrong. She however kept people smiling and helped people (myself included) to learn how to cope, relax, and keep going.
I cried, of course, but the tears held more than just mourning for a beautiful friend I won't ever see again. They held fear and anger.
Yes, I'm angry. I get angry EVERY time I look at those stupid pink ribbon things. Of course I know what's on my car. I get angry that people younger than me get this fucked up shit, and I'm TOTALLY grumpy that I got it. I am PISSED that she just died from what was originally stage 1 cancer. And of course I fear for my life. Don't tell me not to. You'll just add fuel to an already out of control fire. A person's cancer is not something to trivialize.
I have a new reason to be thankful and to be cautious. If I seem even more pissy than before, I have good reason. If I seem even more jumpy or out of sorts or overly introverted, I have a good reason. I'll fight it when it becomes a problem, but until then I need to process this. I'm just glad I met her when I did, and I'm glad she's not hurting anymore.
Cheers, Penny.
My calm happiness was shattered though by a well meaning friend. A mutual friend, my Inspiration, passed away this past Thanksgiving weekend. I will miss her. She was beautiful inside and out. Not to mention she was a fighter (in her own way). The thing about her is that her cancer was less "dangerous" or "concerning" than mine, but her mind set was so much more positive and cheerful, as cheerful as a person whose doctor's advise was so totally and completely unreversably wrong. She however kept people smiling and helped people (myself included) to learn how to cope, relax, and keep going.
I cried, of course, but the tears held more than just mourning for a beautiful friend I won't ever see again. They held fear and anger.
Yes, I'm angry. I get angry EVERY time I look at those stupid pink ribbon things. Of course I know what's on my car. I get angry that people younger than me get this fucked up shit, and I'm TOTALLY grumpy that I got it. I am PISSED that she just died from what was originally stage 1 cancer. And of course I fear for my life. Don't tell me not to. You'll just add fuel to an already out of control fire. A person's cancer is not something to trivialize.
I have a new reason to be thankful and to be cautious. If I seem even more pissy than before, I have good reason. If I seem even more jumpy or out of sorts or overly introverted, I have a good reason. I'll fight it when it becomes a problem, but until then I need to process this. I'm just glad I met her when I did, and I'm glad she's not hurting anymore.
Cheers, Penny.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Circus Peanuts
As a child I never wanted to run away. That concept just wasn't in me. I'd hear of kids who wanted to run away to join the circus, and I'd think "why?". I thought that until today. Today. November... whatever the day is today. I thought, "I want to run away and join the circus." For bleepin' sakes, I'm 33. Whatever. I feel it strong today, but I might just be hormonal.
I would do it too (if I drank a fifth of vodka and a bottle of tequila and smoked a joint the size of a baby's arm), BUT it would have to be with the delectable Mexican troupe that I saw today. No other circus troupe would suffice. No hairy man-dog trapeze act for me. No no. I want to travel with the long hair, adonis formed, tan skinned lad I saw twirling high about the big top without his shirt on and shiny black skin tight pants. Oh yes. Momma was happy to go to the circus after she saw that fella. Oh believe me. I noticed this guy working as a fully clothed hand WAY before I got to see his EXTREMELY well formed and VERY well controlled body twirling above my head. I clapped at seeing his nigh near nekked body doing nothing yet besides standing there.
I think circuses are getting it right these days. Well sort of. They rely less on silly animal acts which I abhor. Granted they still had tigers, bears, and elephants in which my kids kept telling me that they really liked doing what they were doing. Didn't I see them smiling and singing all of the words to the music? hunh? My Pinkie actually said that to me? Well, I did think Dr. Seuss logic was perfectly cromulent (don't ask if your not a Simpson's fan). So the apple must not have fell to hard from the tree. Anyway it seemed like the Babygirl was trying to rationalize animals being trained to humiliate themselves for her amusement. Bless her pea-pickin' heart. She has a little of me in her!
Back to the nature of modern circuses. They're getting sexy. I guess they're competing with cirque du soleil, and you know what? You'll not hear me complain. Not one little bit.
It was a funny trip. I went with my kids and my neighbor's grandson, whom I've mentioned before. I didn't want to go. I feel like going to the circus is on par with going to a Hannah Montana show. Bless you, Rikki, for being brave enough to take your niblet. Anyhoo, At ten in the morning I bought three children cotton candy and light sword/scepter thingys. I swear I need to have my head examined. I wouldn't let the kiddos eat the candy until the show was going to start, and finally after much whiny and gnashing of teeth, I allowed them their portion of the $4 bag of tooth decay.
The Urghboy ate his portion with such relish that he kept having large portions of the blue stuff sticking straight out from his face thus coloring his face for the rest of the day. He should have been in a movie, it was so silly looking.
Pinkie (ahem) discovered something with the help of her light sword/scepter thingy. She was having too much fun with it. I had to take it away. We were in public for bleeping sake. That's all I'll say about that.
Zilla, I'm glad to say is still not at that stage yet where he feels he's too old for such nonsense. He still gets excited over seeing animals and clowns, and I can still hold his hand while walking down the street and kiss him on the forehead while in public. You know I'm going to treasure these last bits of his 5-9 year old stage. I'll miss it when it's gone.
Anyhoo, I had my fill of good old fashoined family fun/sexy Mexican circus action. I guess there's one good thing about catholics. They sure don't like to ignore their sexualities. They can blend their family times with their good times. We gringos should take note.
I would do it too (if I drank a fifth of vodka and a bottle of tequila and smoked a joint the size of a baby's arm), BUT it would have to be with the delectable Mexican troupe that I saw today. No other circus troupe would suffice. No hairy man-dog trapeze act for me. No no. I want to travel with the long hair, adonis formed, tan skinned lad I saw twirling high about the big top without his shirt on and shiny black skin tight pants. Oh yes. Momma was happy to go to the circus after she saw that fella. Oh believe me. I noticed this guy working as a fully clothed hand WAY before I got to see his EXTREMELY well formed and VERY well controlled body twirling above my head. I clapped at seeing his nigh near nekked body doing nothing yet besides standing there.
I think circuses are getting it right these days. Well sort of. They rely less on silly animal acts which I abhor. Granted they still had tigers, bears, and elephants in which my kids kept telling me that they really liked doing what they were doing. Didn't I see them smiling and singing all of the words to the music? hunh? My Pinkie actually said that to me? Well, I did think Dr. Seuss logic was perfectly cromulent (don't ask if your not a Simpson's fan). So the apple must not have fell to hard from the tree. Anyway it seemed like the Babygirl was trying to rationalize animals being trained to humiliate themselves for her amusement. Bless her pea-pickin' heart. She has a little of me in her!
Back to the nature of modern circuses. They're getting sexy. I guess they're competing with cirque du soleil, and you know what? You'll not hear me complain. Not one little bit.
It was a funny trip. I went with my kids and my neighbor's grandson, whom I've mentioned before. I didn't want to go. I feel like going to the circus is on par with going to a Hannah Montana show. Bless you, Rikki, for being brave enough to take your niblet. Anyhoo, At ten in the morning I bought three children cotton candy and light sword/scepter thingys. I swear I need to have my head examined. I wouldn't let the kiddos eat the candy until the show was going to start, and finally after much whiny and gnashing of teeth, I allowed them their portion of the $4 bag of tooth decay.
The Urghboy ate his portion with such relish that he kept having large portions of the blue stuff sticking straight out from his face thus coloring his face for the rest of the day. He should have been in a movie, it was so silly looking.
Pinkie (ahem) discovered something with the help of her light sword/scepter thingy. She was having too much fun with it. I had to take it away. We were in public for bleeping sake. That's all I'll say about that.
Zilla, I'm glad to say is still not at that stage yet where he feels he's too old for such nonsense. He still gets excited over seeing animals and clowns, and I can still hold his hand while walking down the street and kiss him on the forehead while in public. You know I'm going to treasure these last bits of his 5-9 year old stage. I'll miss it when it's gone.
Anyhoo, I had my fill of good old fashoined family fun/sexy Mexican circus action. I guess there's one good thing about catholics. They sure don't like to ignore their sexualities. They can blend their family times with their good times. We gringos should take note.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Oops. She did it again.
No, this isn't some Britney blog, but it is about a female. My dog in fact. And I'm still questioning my love for her when I think about it.
You see, Chika has a fondness for things that are harmful to her. She reminds me of so many other characters in my life. Ahhh human... I mean, sentient nature.
A few weeks ago a dear friend gave me some dark, dark chocolate. My favorite kind. The kind that makes my toes curl. You get the idea of where this going don't you? I was sleeping peacefully ( as peacefully as I can) when I heard clickety-clickety of little claws over my hardwood floors. I also heard a couple of things fall over. After a few seconds I realized all was not right with the world, and I jumped from my bed, ran to my school bag, and looked at it. The little bitch had squeezed her head in and wiggled out the dark, dark bar of sweet sinfulness and completely devoured it on my son's bed (she knew I'd kill her if I caught her mid-munching).
SO all night and into the next, my Chi zoomed about the house faster than any speed that a paranoid schizoiphrenic methhead could possibly attain. She proceeded to do hundreds and hundreds of laps ON MY BED throughout the night, jumping on both me and the Girl. She'd stop every now and then to squint her eyes at me and wave a paw in the air like she just don't care.
Saying "No, Chika!" didn't work. It just made her bounce and lick my face more. She was so shaky that everyother lap she'd fall off the bed and take 5 or 6 tries to get back on. The whole time time I kept growling, "git!" at her. That didn't work either, but I've noticed folks addicted speed tend to hear only what they want. Ok. MOST people tend to hear.....
Ah, yes. I'm so glad to own a dog. She's had issues before with chocolate. If you remember the chemo chocolate and the Godiva chocolate incidents of 2006. At one point she had a popcorn experience, and she has just never gone back to it, but for some reason, chocolate is a taste she just can't give up. I wonder if they have chocolate anonymous support groups for masochistic dogs and they're tired frazzled owners.
If you hear of any let me know.
You see, Chika has a fondness for things that are harmful to her. She reminds me of so many other characters in my life. Ahhh human... I mean, sentient nature.
A few weeks ago a dear friend gave me some dark, dark chocolate. My favorite kind. The kind that makes my toes curl. You get the idea of where this going don't you? I was sleeping peacefully ( as peacefully as I can) when I heard clickety-clickety of little claws over my hardwood floors. I also heard a couple of things fall over. After a few seconds I realized all was not right with the world, and I jumped from my bed, ran to my school bag, and looked at it. The little bitch had squeezed her head in and wiggled out the dark, dark bar of sweet sinfulness and completely devoured it on my son's bed (she knew I'd kill her if I caught her mid-munching).
SO all night and into the next, my Chi zoomed about the house faster than any speed that a paranoid schizoiphrenic methhead could possibly attain. She proceeded to do hundreds and hundreds of laps ON MY BED throughout the night, jumping on both me and the Girl. She'd stop every now and then to squint her eyes at me and wave a paw in the air like she just don't care.
Saying "No, Chika!" didn't work. It just made her bounce and lick my face more. She was so shaky that everyother lap she'd fall off the bed and take 5 or 6 tries to get back on. The whole time time I kept growling, "git!" at her. That didn't work either, but I've noticed folks addicted speed tend to hear only what they want. Ok. MOST people tend to hear.....
Ah, yes. I'm so glad to own a dog. She's had issues before with chocolate. If you remember the chemo chocolate and the Godiva chocolate incidents of 2006. At one point she had a popcorn experience, and she has just never gone back to it, but for some reason, chocolate is a taste she just can't give up. I wonder if they have chocolate anonymous support groups for masochistic dogs and they're tired frazzled owners.
If you hear of any let me know.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
It's the MOST wonderful time of the yeeaarr......
I need to do this more often! I get so excited for this project every year, and there's no wonder why. I love the gooieness and the mess. I adore toasted seeds with garlic salt. I love making my kids feel warm and tingly inside. I love feeling that way too.
This year is a first in a long time for us. We have a pumpkin for PA. His is the crazy looking one in the lower left. PA's never been around for pumpkin carving (still hasn't), but this year will be a first since Pinkie was a baby that he'll be around for trick or treating. I wonder how he'll handle the crowd, the noise, and the candy frenzy.
I always drink a bunch of coffee before we leave, so I can keep up with the little Zippy Zingers. After that just so I can go to sleep, I drink a few beers. My favorite is stopping at Freestate. Last year I ended up at Bertha's before the long trek back into JOCOland. This year I can just walk across the street. Yay! No driving long distances! At least for trick or treating.
The line up for the squash goes like this:
Pinkie, Zilla
PA, Enarda
I think they're all quite fitting, don't you?
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Pinkie can dance!
Boys and Girls Club had a talent show last Thursday. I'm not big on talent shows especially if they feature other people's children, but PA, Zilla, and myself all went smiling to see the Babygirl strut her stuff on stage.
We sat through many many urban dance routines that had me and PA looking nervously at each other while little 4th graders did these wierd pelvic thrust moves. Hmm...The Girl is not hanging with those cats. I did feel sorry for one school who felt every frikking child needed to be in it and the music needed to be preschool friendly. Wow. That's what they were called. But seriously wow. Either the songs were a little risque or sickeningly childish. Nothing in between. Not really.
Ok. So...after an evening of Rap/Hip hop pounding in our ears we finally got to our Babygirl's routine. Good. Great. Let's get it on! She got out there and they kids lined up with a lane down the middle for someone to dance through. One kid went. Then there was a lull in the action on stage. So Pinkie ran to the middle and flipped herself upside down into a handstand and came up smiling. she pretty much stuck to the front of the stage with her head twisted around to make sure she could check her dance moves with the teacher's. At the end the proudly strutted to the very front and struck a pose, and we knew a star has been born.
She was wearing the starry Goddess t-shirt: You are the hero of your own story.
She rocks even if she's rockin' to Fergie. I'm so proud!
We sat through many many urban dance routines that had me and PA looking nervously at each other while little 4th graders did these wierd pelvic thrust moves. Hmm...The Girl is not hanging with those cats. I did feel sorry for one school who felt every frikking child needed to be in it and the music needed to be preschool friendly. Wow. That's what they were called. But seriously wow. Either the songs were a little risque or sickeningly childish. Nothing in between. Not really.
Ok. So...after an evening of Rap/Hip hop pounding in our ears we finally got to our Babygirl's routine. Good. Great. Let's get it on! She got out there and they kids lined up with a lane down the middle for someone to dance through. One kid went. Then there was a lull in the action on stage. So Pinkie ran to the middle and flipped herself upside down into a handstand and came up smiling. she pretty much stuck to the front of the stage with her head twisted around to make sure she could check her dance moves with the teacher's. At the end the proudly strutted to the very front and struck a pose, and we knew a star has been born.
She was wearing the starry Goddess t-shirt: You are the hero of your own story.
She rocks even if she's rockin' to Fergie. I'm so proud!
2 down....2 to go
After the Recharge and a very scary, very early ride home during the very scary thunderstorm/downpour complete with big scary semis passing me every now and then, I got home to find PA actually asleep on the couch. I wasn't expecting him. I never do unless I have to go to school and then he doesn't show up until I've been gone for at least an hour. Whatever. I'm not here to bitch about him necessarily. Well, no I'll still bitch about him.
What I found that morning was a sleeping grown child and a bouncing barking dog. I said hello to the child and pet the pooch, but I noticed something was missing from my routine animal greeting. My cat was not saying hello. Hmmm... I asked the grown child were she was and he looked and called for her. Still no feline. Hmmm. It was pouring rain outside, and our baby kitty was somewhere out there. My heart sunk to my stomach were it proceeded to nauseate my poor tummy.
What happened was that he had some friends over, and they got drunk and rowdy. Our coffee table is broken from a testosterone fueled wrestling match. At some point in time as they went back and forth from the porch and the livingroom, the cat snuck out. Damn cat was probably trying to find peace and quiet. I'm sure Chika was having a panic attack in the Boy's room with all the commotion.
Ohhh. Shit. The kids. What do I do? The kids came home from the GP's house , and their reaction was to be expected. Pinkie started fretting. I swear she can fret like the best of them. I think she gets that from me. It rained all day. I thought surely with the weather being nasty and the kids being tired and bored then the day was going to suck ass. But they both tried to keep positive. Nothing's for certain. Somehow they already know this crazy fact of life.
Sunday we walked through the neighborhood and put up posters begging for the return of our precious puddin-tat. It wasn't a good sign that on one of the poles that we put our flier on was another flier for the same type of cat but gone by that point for a month. I bit my lip and kept going. It's now been a week. I've been to the humane society. No luck there, but I'll keep trying. To bad the REAL owner of the cat hasn't tried looking for her. Hmmm....
Now to pet number 2. Nemo our longest living fish has been fighting some kind of fungal thing. eew. Yesterday I watched the poor fish swim very quickly straight down and smack his face on the ground. That had to hurt. One thought ran through my mind, but since life has dealt a rough one for most of my friends I'll not say what I thought he was doing.
The good side of this is that I'm down to 1 furry stinkball and 1 wet fish. And since I brought almost all of the plants inside(19 so far and already given a few away), I'm glad the number of lives I'm responsible for has dropped even if it's just by 2.
What I found that morning was a sleeping grown child and a bouncing barking dog. I said hello to the child and pet the pooch, but I noticed something was missing from my routine animal greeting. My cat was not saying hello. Hmmm... I asked the grown child were she was and he looked and called for her. Still no feline. Hmmm. It was pouring rain outside, and our baby kitty was somewhere out there. My heart sunk to my stomach were it proceeded to nauseate my poor tummy.
What happened was that he had some friends over, and they got drunk and rowdy. Our coffee table is broken from a testosterone fueled wrestling match. At some point in time as they went back and forth from the porch and the livingroom, the cat snuck out. Damn cat was probably trying to find peace and quiet. I'm sure Chika was having a panic attack in the Boy's room with all the commotion.
Ohhh. Shit. The kids. What do I do? The kids came home from the GP's house , and their reaction was to be expected. Pinkie started fretting. I swear she can fret like the best of them. I think she gets that from me. It rained all day. I thought surely with the weather being nasty and the kids being tired and bored then the day was going to suck ass. But they both tried to keep positive. Nothing's for certain. Somehow they already know this crazy fact of life.
Sunday we walked through the neighborhood and put up posters begging for the return of our precious puddin-tat. It wasn't a good sign that on one of the poles that we put our flier on was another flier for the same type of cat but gone by that point for a month. I bit my lip and kept going. It's now been a week. I've been to the humane society. No luck there, but I'll keep trying. To bad the REAL owner of the cat hasn't tried looking for her. Hmmm....
Now to pet number 2. Nemo our longest living fish has been fighting some kind of fungal thing. eew. Yesterday I watched the poor fish swim very quickly straight down and smack his face on the ground. That had to hurt. One thought ran through my mind, but since life has dealt a rough one for most of my friends I'll not say what I thought he was doing.
The good side of this is that I'm down to 1 furry stinkball and 1 wet fish. And since I brought almost all of the plants inside(19 so far and already given a few away), I'm glad the number of lives I'm responsible for has dropped even if it's just by 2.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Pinkie Sponge Zilla
It's been a long tim since I've blogged about kids. I think today is the day. I will now start with the obligatory Mom's Praise for Her Offspring. Shouldn't that be "Outspring"? Or "Squeezes So Hard Your Eyeballs Go Cross"?
My children have great patience while I have lost mine.
Their best friend is a child that I am going to refer as Spongebob because he IS THAT ANNOYING. Ok. I have a heart as cold as ice. Puppies and kitties don't make me melt. Babies scare the bejeebus out of me. Butterflies are ok though.
Spongebob is one of those children that makes at least 4 or 5 attempts at eating your food each and every time he walks through your frontdoor. I can't afford to feed him I wish I could, but right now I just cannot. My cold, unfeeling heart is showing to some of you while to others I just appear pragmatic.
Spongebob also makes loud grating arghs, urghs, grrs, and raspberry noises constantly. He is incapable of refraining from making those sounds. I'm noise sensitive, and when I listen to music, I don't want hear Spongebob's weird gutteral utterences. I'm stressed out, wound tighter than kite string. The English don't even come close. So when I need down time listening to drunken alternative country or smooth world music composed to the sounds of a river, god damn it that's all I want to hear!
I love to watch the kids dancing. Pinkie and Zilla listen to the music's melody and rhythm and create interpretive dances for our amusement. Spongebob is a different story, and I have to admit right now I'm laughing about his antics. He saw the kiddos dancing and thought it was hilarious which brought out a torrent of arhgh-ha-ha-ha-arrhg's. For some reason they always get friends who don't dance as a recreation and their reactions are always so funny.
Spongebob stuck his tongue out and started contorting his body in a fashion that just a few hundred years ago would have had him burned at the stake for being possessed by demons. He was making the Noises too, drowning out the stereo. At the time it annoyed me because the music is what was inspiring my own children to move and we couldn't hear it because of him. I made everyone leave the room so I could work on my project in the peace and quiet of the song "Fuck this Town". I know I was tired. There's no other excuse.
So onto the part where I discuss what seems to me an infinite surplus of patience that resides in my children's souls. Those two people that I brought forth into this world are amazing to me. They accept and love folk for who they are regardless of "differences" that might be there. They are "long suffering". I learned when I was a child that that attribute was a virtue. I lost it somewhere along the line, but I have two role models that live me to take my cues from.
As a side note...they just turned on Spongebob Squarepants.
My children have great patience while I have lost mine.
Their best friend is a child that I am going to refer as Spongebob because he IS THAT ANNOYING. Ok. I have a heart as cold as ice. Puppies and kitties don't make me melt. Babies scare the bejeebus out of me. Butterflies are ok though.
Spongebob is one of those children that makes at least 4 or 5 attempts at eating your food each and every time he walks through your frontdoor. I can't afford to feed him I wish I could, but right now I just cannot. My cold, unfeeling heart is showing to some of you while to others I just appear pragmatic.
Spongebob also makes loud grating arghs, urghs, grrs, and raspberry noises constantly. He is incapable of refraining from making those sounds. I'm noise sensitive, and when I listen to music, I don't want hear Spongebob's weird gutteral utterences. I'm stressed out, wound tighter than kite string. The English don't even come close. So when I need down time listening to drunken alternative country or smooth world music composed to the sounds of a river, god damn it that's all I want to hear!
I love to watch the kids dancing. Pinkie and Zilla listen to the music's melody and rhythm and create interpretive dances for our amusement. Spongebob is a different story, and I have to admit right now I'm laughing about his antics. He saw the kiddos dancing and thought it was hilarious which brought out a torrent of arhgh-ha-ha-ha-arrhg's. For some reason they always get friends who don't dance as a recreation and their reactions are always so funny.
Spongebob stuck his tongue out and started contorting his body in a fashion that just a few hundred years ago would have had him burned at the stake for being possessed by demons. He was making the Noises too, drowning out the stereo. At the time it annoyed me because the music is what was inspiring my own children to move and we couldn't hear it because of him. I made everyone leave the room so I could work on my project in the peace and quiet of the song "Fuck this Town". I know I was tired. There's no other excuse.
So onto the part where I discuss what seems to me an infinite surplus of patience that resides in my children's souls. Those two people that I brought forth into this world are amazing to me. They accept and love folk for who they are regardless of "differences" that might be there. They are "long suffering". I learned when I was a child that that attribute was a virtue. I lost it somewhere along the line, but I have two role models that live me to take my cues from.
As a side note...they just turned on Spongebob Squarepants.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Nothing like being a grown up
When acting like the hot, sophisticated, older woman in a class where everyone's at least 10 years your junior....make sure you don't have mustard from your lunch dried on your neck!!!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
No, I don't care if I'm classist
I love this town. I've felt safe here and wanted to raise my babies here. I remember walking late at night after the bars closed by myself and not feeling too uncomfortable. That of course was pre-baby and crazy marriage (10 years ago). This town was so safe and welcoming.
Now I'm pissed and slightly Unnerved. PA was mugged last week. By privileged college boys. Smashed a bottle on his head, kicked him in the ribs a couple of times when he was unconscious on the ground, and took off with his wallet. They took off with our rent. Effing effers.
It's not bad enough to have a relationship hanging on by a monofilament, but add the financial shit (and shit it is), I'm about to have another nervous breakdown. I can not afford that. I don't know anyone who can really. There is one lesson that I learned and I've really tried not to accept it but I'm weak and now I don't like/trust frat boys. Point out more than a few good ones, and I'll change my mind. Ok. I had those feelings while in college, but it's been so long, and I forgot about the little trustfund bastards.
You'd think their parents would instill a conscientious philosophy like ummm...don't steal especially from the poor. I know after a point you can't do a thing about it, but I swear if my kids turn out like that I'll spank the crap out of them. I don't care how old they (or I) might be.
Aahhh. Panic attack over. Breathing coming back to normal. Not a drop of beer in the house.
Hmmm...Panic attack coming back.
Now I'm pissed and slightly Unnerved. PA was mugged last week. By privileged college boys. Smashed a bottle on his head, kicked him in the ribs a couple of times when he was unconscious on the ground, and took off with his wallet. They took off with our rent. Effing effers.
It's not bad enough to have a relationship hanging on by a monofilament, but add the financial shit (and shit it is), I'm about to have another nervous breakdown. I can not afford that. I don't know anyone who can really. There is one lesson that I learned and I've really tried not to accept it but I'm weak and now I don't like/trust frat boys. Point out more than a few good ones, and I'll change my mind. Ok. I had those feelings while in college, but it's been so long, and I forgot about the little trustfund bastards.
You'd think their parents would instill a conscientious philosophy like ummm...don't steal especially from the poor. I know after a point you can't do a thing about it, but I swear if my kids turn out like that I'll spank the crap out of them. I don't care how old they (or I) might be.
Aahhh. Panic attack over. Breathing coming back to normal. Not a drop of beer in the house.
Hmmm...Panic attack coming back.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
What a Stressed Out Family Needs
I've been stressed out. This week especially. I usually sleep 7-8 hours, but this past week I'd be lucky to 5 hours at night that were sporadic at best. So after my 4th night in a row of my laying on my bed instead of sleeping, I got up for a mini vacation for my stressed out family. We went to Worlds of Fun.
I have so many fond memories of that place when I was young. My family having the rare moments of fun together, long sweaty lines of people, weird paper parasol/flower things, fistfuls of gummy worms, the Orient Express, my first make out session was on top of the old river boat during a church youth outing. Seriously, the sexiest place was church youth group.
Yesterday provided more fond memories that even a bitchy strangerlady from Iowa could not squelch. Neither of my children bickered. My folks and PA got along great. Me and PA got along great. There weren't that many people there on such a beautiful day. It was the perfect day to go.
One thing I love about amusement parks is that you can test your fear level or maybe not in some cases. This was my kids' first time in an establishment not run by carnies and that had rides large enough for some serious liability insurance policies. I can be pragmatic at times.
My son went on the Mamba which is BIG. I have a fear of heights, and I went up it without looking around and clutched so hard to the car that my hand hurt afterward. I was too frightened to turn and look at my son let alone anything else. I can just imagine what he was feeling during that ride. He didn't make a sound even though PA let out a few choice words on the initial dropoff. I'm so proud of him (Zilla), but he and I agree that we're not going on that one again. He's smart. He know his limits.
Pinkie's turn for feeling the fear of death came towards the end of the day when she felt slightly left out and decided to join in for the wooden rollercoaster. It's not as high as the previous, but it's daunting for a 6 YO. We got up to the line , and RIGHT before we were to step into the car, she had a Nervous Pee Attack. She bounced up and down till me and her left through the chicken gate.
I don't care. I'm not one to push if they're not ready.
So, I got her to Granma and waited for Zilla, PA, and Grampa to return, so I could go on it with someone. Well, luck would have it that Granma and Pinkie returned before the boys showed up, and Pinkie decided that she would go on it this time.
Now, I don't push, but if they feel they are ready for something like a thrill ride then fine they can go.
We get on the contraption, and all was fine except for some teasing from PA. It started. PA informed her that she could scream if she wanted, and I confirmed that it was true. I even scream from time to time. All was shakey but fine. Then the first dip...not a sound. I kept my arms around the poor girl to give her some comfort. I couldn't really see her face, but I should have realized from the lack of sound she thought she was going to meet her maker.
I know, we were sitting next to and behind her, so why that fear?
We get to the end after what seemed an eternity of my daughter locked in the grips of fear. The train of death stops, and we exit. She starts to cry. PA picked up the poor frightened little girl who then screamed for Momma. Damn! Mom guilt sets in! What do I do?! We buy the picture!
Worlds Of Fun has a delightful practice of taking pictures of people whilst on the rides. The picture for this ride shows the true essence of what those few minutes were like for my poor Pinkie. Of course, we all laughed because honestly the girl had the best expression on her face. She clenched her teeth the WHOLE time while grasping the front of the car even though my arms were around her.
So much for Mom Guilt. The picture now has a place of honor on the shelf in my kitchen. I'm so proud of my dysfunctional family! All of us looked at our fears in the eye. I and my fear of heights, Pinkie and Zilla and their impending doom, and PA and his fear of hanging out with my parents. We all successfully had a good time despite those fears!
And I got 10 hours of sleep!
I have so many fond memories of that place when I was young. My family having the rare moments of fun together, long sweaty lines of people, weird paper parasol/flower things, fistfuls of gummy worms, the Orient Express, my first make out session was on top of the old river boat during a church youth outing. Seriously, the sexiest place was church youth group.
Yesterday provided more fond memories that even a bitchy strangerlady from Iowa could not squelch. Neither of my children bickered. My folks and PA got along great. Me and PA got along great. There weren't that many people there on such a beautiful day. It was the perfect day to go.
One thing I love about amusement parks is that you can test your fear level or maybe not in some cases. This was my kids' first time in an establishment not run by carnies and that had rides large enough for some serious liability insurance policies. I can be pragmatic at times.
My son went on the Mamba which is BIG. I have a fear of heights, and I went up it without looking around and clutched so hard to the car that my hand hurt afterward. I was too frightened to turn and look at my son let alone anything else. I can just imagine what he was feeling during that ride. He didn't make a sound even though PA let out a few choice words on the initial dropoff. I'm so proud of him (Zilla), but he and I agree that we're not going on that one again. He's smart. He know his limits.
Pinkie's turn for feeling the fear of death came towards the end of the day when she felt slightly left out and decided to join in for the wooden rollercoaster. It's not as high as the previous, but it's daunting for a 6 YO. We got up to the line , and RIGHT before we were to step into the car, she had a Nervous Pee Attack. She bounced up and down till me and her left through the chicken gate.
I don't care. I'm not one to push if they're not ready.
So, I got her to Granma and waited for Zilla, PA, and Grampa to return, so I could go on it with someone. Well, luck would have it that Granma and Pinkie returned before the boys showed up, and Pinkie decided that she would go on it this time.
Now, I don't push, but if they feel they are ready for something like a thrill ride then fine they can go.
We get on the contraption, and all was fine except for some teasing from PA. It started. PA informed her that she could scream if she wanted, and I confirmed that it was true. I even scream from time to time. All was shakey but fine. Then the first dip...not a sound. I kept my arms around the poor girl to give her some comfort. I couldn't really see her face, but I should have realized from the lack of sound she thought she was going to meet her maker.
I know, we were sitting next to and behind her, so why that fear?
We get to the end after what seemed an eternity of my daughter locked in the grips of fear. The train of death stops, and we exit. She starts to cry. PA picked up the poor frightened little girl who then screamed for Momma. Damn! Mom guilt sets in! What do I do?! We buy the picture!
Worlds Of Fun has a delightful practice of taking pictures of people whilst on the rides. The picture for this ride shows the true essence of what those few minutes were like for my poor Pinkie. Of course, we all laughed because honestly the girl had the best expression on her face. She clenched her teeth the WHOLE time while grasping the front of the car even though my arms were around her.
So much for Mom Guilt. The picture now has a place of honor on the shelf in my kitchen. I'm so proud of my dysfunctional family! All of us looked at our fears in the eye. I and my fear of heights, Pinkie and Zilla and their impending doom, and PA and his fear of hanging out with my parents. We all successfully had a good time despite those fears!
And I got 10 hours of sleep!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
School supplies
Oohhh. I forgot about how much supplies for art classes cost. I cringed when I bought the kids' school supplies, and that was for two people. And it was WAY less than what I'm going to half to pay for one class. Damn college.
I shouldn't complain. I know I'm lucky. I have no major diseases, nor does anyone in my family. I'm not paying 2 grand for one class, but I'm a frugal, frugal woman, and I had to finish off a bottle of wine after I balanced my checkbook. I'm not worried about finishing school. It won't take too long. I'll get my internship (slavedom), and then I will be on my way to starting a positive period of my life after a stint of personal recession.
All's I can say is breathe deep and pass me the bottle again, please.
And maybe hand me a piece of chocolate cake. I need it.
I shouldn't complain. I know I'm lucky. I have no major diseases, nor does anyone in my family. I'm not paying 2 grand for one class, but I'm a frugal, frugal woman, and I had to finish off a bottle of wine after I balanced my checkbook. I'm not worried about finishing school. It won't take too long. I'll get my internship (slavedom), and then I will be on my way to starting a positive period of my life after a stint of personal recession.
All's I can say is breathe deep and pass me the bottle again, please.
And maybe hand me a piece of chocolate cake. I need it.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Grumpisaurus cooled off
The AC is working again. I had a wonderful facial/massage today. I didn't have to read about someone's medical yuckiness. The animals didn't shred anything today. PA was beaving himself. My kids were listening and dancing to good music!
Thank Goddess for fabulous days!
Even if they were over 100 degrees.
Thank Goddess for fabulous days!
Even if they were over 100 degrees.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Collective Sigh Heard Around Town
I know I'll hear it. Tomorrow starting at 7:00 am, it'll start. The collective parental sigh of relief. Summer is over.
I love summer. I love eating, drinking, and living outdoors. I love seeing near naked people running. I love cicadas humming in the trees outside my house. I love fresh vegetables out of the garden.
What I don't love and will never love is having 2 bored children living under the same roof as me while the temperature outside remains 100 at 9 pm. Living with another adult who gets bored easily and behaves like a child is bad enough. BUT 2 whiny, overheated, lazy children drive me crazy. It's after 10 pm, and I'm still fighting with them on bedtime, but it's hotter than hell in here, so I understand. AC better not be on the fritz.
I love the children, mind you. The beginning of summer, springtime, fall, and the beginning of winter are awesome to have them around, but when the weather gets extreme they become devil spawn. Whiny devil spawn. The worst kind because not only are they pestering each other but then they whine at me after the inevitable hit/kick/scream outcome.
I don't do whinese. I refuse to learn it. My favorite reaction is asking the whiner what he/she did to deserve the said hit/kick/scream outcome. I always find out that the whiner started the pestering that escalated into such a volatile state.
Bill O'Reilly doesn't consider bomb explosions in Iraq to be newsworthy, but maybe he'll consider the explosive temperaments of PinkZilla to be. He's another topic of heated disgust, but I don't want to talk about serious matters on such a hot night. That will just make me grumpy instead of annoyed, but right now I feel like we hit the lower levels of hell.
Damn, I bet the AC went out. I need a popsicle.
I love summer. I love eating, drinking, and living outdoors. I love seeing near naked people running. I love cicadas humming in the trees outside my house. I love fresh vegetables out of the garden.
What I don't love and will never love is having 2 bored children living under the same roof as me while the temperature outside remains 100 at 9 pm. Living with another adult who gets bored easily and behaves like a child is bad enough. BUT 2 whiny, overheated, lazy children drive me crazy. It's after 10 pm, and I'm still fighting with them on bedtime, but it's hotter than hell in here, so I understand. AC better not be on the fritz.
I love the children, mind you. The beginning of summer, springtime, fall, and the beginning of winter are awesome to have them around, but when the weather gets extreme they become devil spawn. Whiny devil spawn. The worst kind because not only are they pestering each other but then they whine at me after the inevitable hit/kick/scream outcome.
I don't do whinese. I refuse to learn it. My favorite reaction is asking the whiner what he/she did to deserve the said hit/kick/scream outcome. I always find out that the whiner started the pestering that escalated into such a volatile state.
Bill O'Reilly doesn't consider bomb explosions in Iraq to be newsworthy, but maybe he'll consider the explosive temperaments of PinkZilla to be. He's another topic of heated disgust, but I don't want to talk about serious matters on such a hot night. That will just make me grumpy instead of annoyed, but right now I feel like we hit the lower levels of hell.
Damn, I bet the AC went out. I need a popsicle.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Remember if you're going to have bumper stickers on your car...make sure they make sense together.
On the way to work I got behind a little car who was being driven by a socially conscience person. I first started reading the sticker on the left.
"If you want a country run by religion move to Iran.'
There was some insignificant sticker to the effect of being proud of your offspring for scholarly prowess. Then the sticker on the right:
"Free Tibet."
hmmm...
On the way to work I got behind a little car who was being driven by a socially conscience person. I first started reading the sticker on the left.
"If you want a country run by religion move to Iran.'
There was some insignificant sticker to the effect of being proud of your offspring for scholarly prowess. Then the sticker on the right:
"Free Tibet."
hmmm...
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
weddings/divorces
I've come across the both of them recently, and It's got me to thinking. I don't belong at weddings. I don't like them. Divorce was easy for me. I love my lawyer. Don't remind me who my roommate is.
I mean my little cousin's wedding was cute. I guess...but pink and white goes a little far. Especially when the groom wears a white/white striped tux. There were cute little candleholders w/ the word "love" carved into them. Pink and green flowery crap draping everything. Pink chopsticks as party favors (ultracute). The sermon (because there always has to be one in a religious ceremony) was rife with man cleaving to the wifey and references to adam and eve. Typical stuff.
I brought a book. I had to. You see, I naturally scoff at these events. Even before I was married I was known for my disdain for them. Yes I know, I shouldn't have got married in the first place. It's just not for me.
I was good up until the end when the Officiate announced the couple with one male name. I started clapping like everyone else. It'd be rude not to, but then I let out "Yay! She lost her identity!" My brother who's more known for rude outbursts told me to shut up. yeesh.
See I feel a woman loses her identity not with a name change but with a complete erasure of her given name under the romanticized guise of "oneness ordained by god". I just snorted. That's kinda hard to do when you're stuffed up too. It makes me giggle to think of the phrase "cleaving to the wifey". I always thought of men as being needy. I guess this just reinforces it without making them feel weak (for shame!).
Marriages are on my mind. I don't wish for them to go bad. If that was case, One Toothbrush, I wouldn't even go near your celebration. I just can't stand traditional and outside influence on something so personal. I understand partnerships. I'm all about honest, cooperative relationships that are positive to both sides. blah blah.
Yesterday a dear friend came over to discuss his marital situation and get the number of my lawyer. I was the best man at his wedding. I was 7.5 months pregnant and wearing heels. This wedding was a little like the Birdcage. Freaks of all kinds on the groom's side, and mormons on the bride's side. I'm sure you've heard of this story before.
Well the interesting gooey parts keep going. He caught her cheating. Mind you, they had an open marriage, so there's no need for the deceit. She just couldn't help it. You see he doesn't like master/slave relationships. She had a master. Not him.
When I'm around the Ladies I feel prude, but I have to tell you around them I feel downright Puritan. I have no energy for more than one at a time. She juggled six. Her stamina is amazing.
Whatever...he's getting a divorce now. Not because she slept with other men, but that she lied about it. I guess that disproves my needy man theory.
I mean my little cousin's wedding was cute. I guess...but pink and white goes a little far. Especially when the groom wears a white/white striped tux. There were cute little candleholders w/ the word "love" carved into them. Pink and green flowery crap draping everything. Pink chopsticks as party favors (ultracute). The sermon (because there always has to be one in a religious ceremony) was rife with man cleaving to the wifey and references to adam and eve. Typical stuff.
I brought a book. I had to. You see, I naturally scoff at these events. Even before I was married I was known for my disdain for them. Yes I know, I shouldn't have got married in the first place. It's just not for me.
I was good up until the end when the Officiate announced the couple with one male name. I started clapping like everyone else. It'd be rude not to, but then I let out "Yay! She lost her identity!" My brother who's more known for rude outbursts told me to shut up. yeesh.
See I feel a woman loses her identity not with a name change but with a complete erasure of her given name under the romanticized guise of "oneness ordained by god". I just snorted. That's kinda hard to do when you're stuffed up too. It makes me giggle to think of the phrase "cleaving to the wifey". I always thought of men as being needy. I guess this just reinforces it without making them feel weak (for shame!).
Marriages are on my mind. I don't wish for them to go bad. If that was case, One Toothbrush, I wouldn't even go near your celebration. I just can't stand traditional and outside influence on something so personal. I understand partnerships. I'm all about honest, cooperative relationships that are positive to both sides. blah blah.
Yesterday a dear friend came over to discuss his marital situation and get the number of my lawyer. I was the best man at his wedding. I was 7.5 months pregnant and wearing heels. This wedding was a little like the Birdcage. Freaks of all kinds on the groom's side, and mormons on the bride's side. I'm sure you've heard of this story before.
Well the interesting gooey parts keep going. He caught her cheating. Mind you, they had an open marriage, so there's no need for the deceit. She just couldn't help it. You see he doesn't like master/slave relationships. She had a master. Not him.
When I'm around the Ladies I feel prude, but I have to tell you around them I feel downright Puritan. I have no energy for more than one at a time. She juggled six. Her stamina is amazing.
Whatever...he's getting a divorce now. Not because she slept with other men, but that she lied about it. I guess that disproves my needy man theory.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
No more teachers. No more books.
At least for 2.5 weeks. The last day of class for the summer. For the past couple of class periods we've been tortured by dreaded classroom presentations. After chemo I've lost most of what little patience I had, and now...well the best way I can I describe it is...think of driving in a 40 mph zone behind a weaving old person with cataract glasses going at least 15 mph under while you have have HAVE to go to the bathroom and your 2 usually sweet, mild mannered children are booming songs about Stan the Lavatory Man and songs about nibbling on mice feet in the back seat.
Ok. It's not quite THAT bad, but you get my drift...I'm seriously impatient.
I carpooled with the sweetest 19 girl to school. She didn't remind me of myself at that age. I said she was cute not surly and drunk. It is this girl that the whole female population in the class was thankful for. Little angel that she is.
Her presentation was the last one. We were all itchin' to get the hell out of there. Even the teacher was excited to get away. She came up to the front of the class to do the required Power Point Presentation. She had a cheerleader in the back encouraging her to go as fast possible. She started her presentation complete with an interviewed of a professional designer. It was this professional designer that stopped everything in its tracks.
On one of the pages, she had the designer's picture. He was delightful to look at, and every female (teacher included) agreed loudly that he was beautiful. mmm...the presentation slowed down from there, and any and all questions were directed to the man who was interviewed. Topic be damned.
"How old is he?" "Does he have a wife/girlfriend?" "Could you just turn the page back one more time?"
Ahhh...it was a great way to finish an evening summer class. I mean seriously I love sitting on my porch as soon as I get home almost until I go to bed. I certainly didn't want to hole my summer evenings up in a meatlocker of a classroom. So yah after sitting through boring student research presentations, it was great to see the entire female population bonding over one sultry picture of a steamy man.
I just felt bad for the guys in there.
eeh. Screw 'em.
Ok. It's not quite THAT bad, but you get my drift...I'm seriously impatient.
I carpooled with the sweetest 19 girl to school. She didn't remind me of myself at that age. I said she was cute not surly and drunk. It is this girl that the whole female population in the class was thankful for. Little angel that she is.
Her presentation was the last one. We were all itchin' to get the hell out of there. Even the teacher was excited to get away. She came up to the front of the class to do the required Power Point Presentation. She had a cheerleader in the back encouraging her to go as fast possible. She started her presentation complete with an interviewed of a professional designer. It was this professional designer that stopped everything in its tracks.
On one of the pages, she had the designer's picture. He was delightful to look at, and every female (teacher included) agreed loudly that he was beautiful. mmm...the presentation slowed down from there, and any and all questions were directed to the man who was interviewed. Topic be damned.
"How old is he?" "Does he have a wife/girlfriend?" "Could you just turn the page back one more time?"
Ahhh...it was a great way to finish an evening summer class. I mean seriously I love sitting on my porch as soon as I get home almost until I go to bed. I certainly didn't want to hole my summer evenings up in a meatlocker of a classroom. So yah after sitting through boring student research presentations, it was great to see the entire female population bonding over one sultry picture of a steamy man.
I just felt bad for the guys in there.
eeh. Screw 'em.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
There's always room
It's been a long time since I really blogged intellegently. I have no excuse except that I just don't have it in me. Processing things come at very odd times and when there's no computer around like driving down the higway at breakneck speeds. Thank goddess I'm not around a computer 24/7. I could just imagine what I'd be like, I'd be more socially inept practically autistic.
Right now I'm trudging along as best as I can. Please don't think me rude if I want to sit quietly. I'm acting childish. I know that. I keep telling myself that this isn't a lot, but I'm wondering how you single moms have balanced work, school, boyfriends, children, and personal time. Not to mention my masochistic ass wants gardening, pets, and getting in shape shoved in there somewhere. I know it can fit in there...
Wow. some of you have PHD's.
How many hours are there? Seriously. I know I can squeeze something else into my schedule. You see right now I'm procrastinating a final project/presentation I have to give on Monday. I haven't really done a damn thing on it. And here I am complaining about it like some college kid without a complicated family situation or a job that wreaks havoc on my neck.
I am getting a new desk, so I don't want anyone thinking I'm being...ahem...problematic. I learned that word in art school. It was very popular when discussing aspects to a project that just didn't work properly. See! We had to use large words when making pretty things (or in my case thought provoking things)
My stuff just isn't pretty. It's delightful, but you wouldn't put it on a Chick-lit book cover or anything. It's too visceral, and there's not enough shopping bags. But art is not the topic. My procrastination and time (in)efficiency is.
Hmm...I'm taking suggestions from the peanut gallery on how to properly balance all of these aspects.
Right now I'm trudging along as best as I can. Please don't think me rude if I want to sit quietly. I'm acting childish. I know that. I keep telling myself that this isn't a lot, but I'm wondering how you single moms have balanced work, school, boyfriends, children, and personal time. Not to mention my masochistic ass wants gardening, pets, and getting in shape shoved in there somewhere. I know it can fit in there...
Wow. some of you have PHD's.
How many hours are there? Seriously. I know I can squeeze something else into my schedule. You see right now I'm procrastinating a final project/presentation I have to give on Monday. I haven't really done a damn thing on it. And here I am complaining about it like some college kid without a complicated family situation or a job that wreaks havoc on my neck.
I am getting a new desk, so I don't want anyone thinking I'm being...ahem...problematic. I learned that word in art school. It was very popular when discussing aspects to a project that just didn't work properly. See! We had to use large words when making pretty things (or in my case thought provoking things)
My stuff just isn't pretty. It's delightful, but you wouldn't put it on a Chick-lit book cover or anything. It's too visceral, and there's not enough shopping bags. But art is not the topic. My procrastination and time (in)efficiency is.
Hmm...I'm taking suggestions from the peanut gallery on how to properly balance all of these aspects.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Sounds of a screen door slamming
I finally have internet again! I feel like I've missed a bunch since I moved back in. Damn my OCD need to get my house perfect. I know it will never happen. I'm not delusional. I just get bored and antsy and I'm very visually oriented, so I must get it perfect.
We're moved in, and we're settling into our stench so speak. We're creating ruts on the borrowed futon while watching the tv a delightful goddess gave us. Little did she know that ours was going downhill fast, very fast. Thanks, GB.
Oh, yes. Thanks, Bertha for futon.
I'm learning a little more about life since I moved in.
I've learned that people who act grumpy towards cats will receive the majority of their affection. Freyja is the newest member of the family. She was brought home by the large kid that looks like an adult male. I'll get her picture up asap.
At night when I read before bedtime I have a kitten on my chest and a dog on my lap. Right before that I have 2 kids scrambling for momtime, and one large adult child snuggling as close as possible. There's nothing like knowing your loved. It's warm and tingly. Sometimes it's suffocating, but that's what "Mommy's Private Time" is for.
The next thing I learned is that "they" make blue briefs in adult sizes. My neighbors learned that too. I thought the man was wearing my son's underwear which he pooped in, but no, it was his and he didn't poop in them. I'm just so glad my kids got a chance to be exposed to one of the more colorful folks here in Lawrence in a rather safe environment. Gina's Kevin further proved that that they make "tighty blueys" whilst at Lu's party last weekend. Pull your pants up, Boy!
Colored briefs are too much like underoos. Men, don't wear them unless they're in perfect condition. Moth holes on a droopy ass are not attractive. I swear when my underwear gets moth eaten or ill-formed I'll rid the drawer of them. I just ask for the same consideration even if I never see them. Just remember what your momma said about clean underwear and accidents.
I know I've learned more, but there's a cat climbing my curtain. damn cat.
We're moved in, and we're settling into our stench so speak. We're creating ruts on the borrowed futon while watching the tv a delightful goddess gave us. Little did she know that ours was going downhill fast, very fast. Thanks, GB.
Oh, yes. Thanks, Bertha for futon.
I'm learning a little more about life since I moved in.
I've learned that people who act grumpy towards cats will receive the majority of their affection. Freyja is the newest member of the family. She was brought home by the large kid that looks like an adult male. I'll get her picture up asap.
At night when I read before bedtime I have a kitten on my chest and a dog on my lap. Right before that I have 2 kids scrambling for momtime, and one large adult child snuggling as close as possible. There's nothing like knowing your loved. It's warm and tingly. Sometimes it's suffocating, but that's what "Mommy's Private Time" is for.
The next thing I learned is that "they" make blue briefs in adult sizes. My neighbors learned that too. I thought the man was wearing my son's underwear which he pooped in, but no, it was his and he didn't poop in them. I'm just so glad my kids got a chance to be exposed to one of the more colorful folks here in Lawrence in a rather safe environment. Gina's Kevin further proved that that they make "tighty blueys" whilst at Lu's party last weekend. Pull your pants up, Boy!
Colored briefs are too much like underoos. Men, don't wear them unless they're in perfect condition. Moth holes on a droopy ass are not attractive. I swear when my underwear gets moth eaten or ill-formed I'll rid the drawer of them. I just ask for the same consideration even if I never see them. Just remember what your momma said about clean underwear and accidents.
I know I've learned more, but there's a cat climbing my curtain. damn cat.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
1 year
It's been one year. One long LONG year. Actually one long 16 months, but who's counting? I've been through the most mentally and physically changing experience that I've ever had the pleasure(?) to endure. My political and spiritual beliefs have been hardened since I've been living here. The desire to control my life's outcome is...how shall I say...more fiery. I've been working through depression and an uncertainty about my life that brings me to tears when I think of my kids.
My breast MRI from last week came out clear. I figured that since I didn't hear from them until a few days later when a letter came in the mail. The morning of the letter, me and the Judybat talked over our most feared words.
Interesting. Not so simple. Don't like the looks of it.
We talked about how we didn't hear the phone ring. During those times right after a test you're nervous and scared. I know my chances are around 84% survival for the next 10 years, but that 16% brings me to my knees. Someone has to be that. There has to be population control. That's what disease is for. So I'm still scared, but the further I get out I feel a little better.
Something good!
I move on Friday into an adorable house with garden! Tomorrow PA paints the kitchen and livingroom, and we go get the other colors. The landlord is paying us back for the costs of the paint. So it's not all doom and gloom with me! We're still alive and kicking, and we can't wait to get back to a town we consider HOME.
My breast MRI from last week came out clear. I figured that since I didn't hear from them until a few days later when a letter came in the mail. The morning of the letter, me and the Judybat talked over our most feared words.
Interesting. Not so simple. Don't like the looks of it.
We talked about how we didn't hear the phone ring. During those times right after a test you're nervous and scared. I know my chances are around 84% survival for the next 10 years, but that 16% brings me to my knees. Someone has to be that. There has to be population control. That's what disease is for. So I'm still scared, but the further I get out I feel a little better.
Something good!
I move on Friday into an adorable house with garden! Tomorrow PA paints the kitchen and livingroom, and we go get the other colors. The landlord is paying us back for the costs of the paint. So it's not all doom and gloom with me! We're still alive and kicking, and we can't wait to get back to a town we consider HOME.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Time to Wait
This past week has been busy. I've readying my family for a move and cleaning up this house after a week or so of no old folks. I got a call Saturday from Judy saying that they'd be home on Monday. I was expecting them home on Friday. Oops. That meant clean clean clean like a banshee before said banshee comes home and my hearing gets noticeably worse.
Today I finally got what I wanted, an MRI. ooo. I know your jealous.
I really didn't want one, but you know...better safe than sorry. I think I've been poked by needles at least a thousand times since my conception. Sometimes the nurse is an effing saint/aritist poking my sad little veins quickly, cleanly, and painlessly. Other times…not so much. Today my Nurse Betty was a rather SLOW LMH nurse who couldn't figure out how to coax my tired, angry veins into plump, happy, and excited-to-be-stuck-again ones. She wasn't my favorite by far, but then she didn't blow out anything. It's really the small things in life that make me smile.
Lying in the tube on my stomach with my boob(s?) in the boobbox was interesting as usual. I learned that hospitals think that earplugs and earphones blaring in Star 102 actually shut out the noise of the contraption. They don't, not one bit, and unfortunately I couldn't drown out the radio either. I still don't know what's worse...pop music or deafening metallic banging. Thankfully I'm part of that delightful generation that suffers from premature hearing loss, and my memory is still foggy from last year's drugfest, so maybe I won't remember why my ears seem to hear a little less later on.
Now that's over with. I wait. I'm waiting to move, waiting hear back on this adventure, and waiting for the old folks to come today and holler about something. At least I don't have wait to further damage my ears.
Today I finally got what I wanted, an MRI. ooo. I know your jealous.
I really didn't want one, but you know...better safe than sorry. I think I've been poked by needles at least a thousand times since my conception. Sometimes the nurse is an effing saint/aritist poking my sad little veins quickly, cleanly, and painlessly. Other times…not so much. Today my Nurse Betty was a rather SLOW LMH nurse who couldn't figure out how to coax my tired, angry veins into plump, happy, and excited-to-be-stuck-again ones. She wasn't my favorite by far, but then she didn't blow out anything. It's really the small things in life that make me smile.
Lying in the tube on my stomach with my boob(s?) in the boobbox was interesting as usual. I learned that hospitals think that earplugs and earphones blaring in Star 102 actually shut out the noise of the contraption. They don't, not one bit, and unfortunately I couldn't drown out the radio either. I still don't know what's worse...pop music or deafening metallic banging. Thankfully I'm part of that delightful generation that suffers from premature hearing loss, and my memory is still foggy from last year's drugfest, so maybe I won't remember why my ears seem to hear a little less later on.
Now that's over with. I wait. I'm waiting to move, waiting hear back on this adventure, and waiting for the old folks to come today and holler about something. At least I don't have wait to further damage my ears.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Little bit of heaven...little bit of hell
I've complained constantly about my stint here in Shawnee. Yes, I would prefer to live elsewhere and we all know where that elsewhere is. It is after all the only place I've found in Kansas to live and raise offspring, but there's something here that I'm going to miss terribly.
Monday after a long and cranky day at work (no one's fault) I came home and opened all of the windows. The sun started shining after a very long absence, and the temperature was perfect. The last window I opened was my bathroom window. This window has a great view of the woods, the neighbors' now huge pond, and the ten horses running on the pasture surrounding the pond. I've watched hawks, foxes, deer, possums, horses, dogs, cats, birdgalore, snowstorms, and rainstorms from this window.
When I opened the window a cool, sweet breeze blew in giving me what is the closest thing to a spiritual epiphany that I've ever had. The air was filled with birds and frogs and nothing else. There were no human sounds anywhere. The animals were alive and happy that the rain had let up, and the world was beautiful again. They were singing their hearts out.
I sat down. I breathed. I listened. I took all that clamor in.
I swear there's no heaven except after a storm when the euphoria that comes after sets in. That's the only heaven I've ever seen, and the only one that anyone can convince me of. I couldn't help smiling and was almost sad that I was moving.
Then I heard cars, lawnmowers, and the garage door opening. People were coming home from there daily commutes and starting up their noisy machines. I heard the proverbial record scratch. ugh. Time to go back to "life".
I love this place but hate it also. But I guess you can't have it perfect. That'd be heaven, and like I said I don't believe that place exists.
As an FYI…I don't believe in hell either…unless you count Crawford, Texas.
Monday after a long and cranky day at work (no one's fault) I came home and opened all of the windows. The sun started shining after a very long absence, and the temperature was perfect. The last window I opened was my bathroom window. This window has a great view of the woods, the neighbors' now huge pond, and the ten horses running on the pasture surrounding the pond. I've watched hawks, foxes, deer, possums, horses, dogs, cats, birdgalore, snowstorms, and rainstorms from this window.
When I opened the window a cool, sweet breeze blew in giving me what is the closest thing to a spiritual epiphany that I've ever had. The air was filled with birds and frogs and nothing else. There were no human sounds anywhere. The animals were alive and happy that the rain had let up, and the world was beautiful again. They were singing their hearts out.
I sat down. I breathed. I listened. I took all that clamor in.
I swear there's no heaven except after a storm when the euphoria that comes after sets in. That's the only heaven I've ever seen, and the only one that anyone can convince me of. I couldn't help smiling and was almost sad that I was moving.
Then I heard cars, lawnmowers, and the garage door opening. People were coming home from there daily commutes and starting up their noisy machines. I heard the proverbial record scratch. ugh. Time to go back to "life".
I love this place but hate it also. But I guess you can't have it perfect. That'd be heaven, and like I said I don't believe that place exists.
As an FYI…I don't believe in hell either…unless you count Crawford, Texas.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Happy Birthday Old Man River!
Over time different cultures have come up with agreed upon points of reference in which to measure time. Most notably (for us anyway) the Western Culture with its year 2007 AD. My Zilla has always (for his 9 years of life) marched to his own drumbeat. Personally, I think it's more of a shuffle, and I don't think it's quite a drum. It's probably more like a triangle that's hits off tune and at odd times. He is my son after all.
He has come up with his point of reference in which to distinguish importance and chronological order in the universe. We, that is to say my house, are currently living in the year 53 AG. Screw that whole anno domini thing. What the F is that anyway? This is by far much more important. Seriously.
What we base timelines on in my house is...Godzilla. Everytime I say that word aloud or in my head I hear that screechy roar that resembles many, many large fingernails scraping across the wolrd's largest chalkboard while being amplified at Spinal Tap's infamous 11 setting. I just know I'm going deaf.
So poor Granpa aka Old Man River has a birthday tomorrow. And what heartfelt expression does he get from his loving, respectful grandson?
"Oh my god! You're older than Godzilla!"
But what does he expect? He was born in 13 BG.
He has come up with his point of reference in which to distinguish importance and chronological order in the universe. We, that is to say my house, are currently living in the year 53 AG. Screw that whole anno domini thing. What the F is that anyway? This is by far much more important. Seriously.
What we base timelines on in my house is...Godzilla. Everytime I say that word aloud or in my head I hear that screechy roar that resembles many, many large fingernails scraping across the wolrd's largest chalkboard while being amplified at Spinal Tap's infamous 11 setting. I just know I'm going deaf.
So poor Granpa aka Old Man River has a birthday tomorrow. And what heartfelt expression does he get from his loving, respectful grandson?
"Oh my god! You're older than Godzilla!"
But what does he expect? He was born in 13 BG.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
It's been a long time a-coming
It's been a long time since I've had to deal with any normal women's issues. ahem. Yes, that is to say PMS. I even forgot how to deal with the whole "issue". I looked at the lady products as if they were European plug-ins or something. Yaaa! What do I do? What do I do? I felt like my old 13 year old self unsure of what the body was doing. And what in the world was I supposed to do with it?! Was there a manual? I just knew the Judybat was hiding it from me.
That's my big news. Flo came. She's just laughing at me and telling me to eat my grits. I don't like grits. They're messy. So is Flo, but I don't think she cares.
I have very mixed emotions about her. I feel "normal" again, but goddamn it...I didn't like her in the first place no matter what different boyfriends told me. I dated a few fellas that for some reason got turned on by her. yuck. sorry. I won't repeat that. BUT what freaks me out more is that I don't know if the drugs are working to keep the cancer from being fed by the estrogen that is still being produced in my body. I don't have bc anymore, but it's a precautionary step to keep any miniscule cells at bay.
I would go through stints of not wanting to have the little egg producers reside in my body anymore then something would happen, and I'd get baby fever for some insane reason. Very confusing. even for me, and I KNOW I'm a very complex person. Some would say wishy-washy. Others would say flakey. Still some would imply bi-polar. Whatever. I have my reasons for my actions. Right now it's because of hormones.
The funny thing is that my coworkers knew what it was. The day after I made brownies at 11 pm, I was mindlessly cleaning and getting very, very cranky over the colossal mess that keeps growing in my office-esque room. They made me Tension Tamer Tea. I also got mental hugs, a few pieces of chocolate, and a few jokes aimed at me. I deserved those.
Now it's Saturday night, and what I think I really need and what I'm going to give myself tonight is wine.
That's my big news. Flo came. She's just laughing at me and telling me to eat my grits. I don't like grits. They're messy. So is Flo, but I don't think she cares.
I have very mixed emotions about her. I feel "normal" again, but goddamn it...I didn't like her in the first place no matter what different boyfriends told me. I dated a few fellas that for some reason got turned on by her. yuck. sorry. I won't repeat that. BUT what freaks me out more is that I don't know if the drugs are working to keep the cancer from being fed by the estrogen that is still being produced in my body. I don't have bc anymore, but it's a precautionary step to keep any miniscule cells at bay.
I would go through stints of not wanting to have the little egg producers reside in my body anymore then something would happen, and I'd get baby fever for some insane reason. Very confusing. even for me, and I KNOW I'm a very complex person. Some would say wishy-washy. Others would say flakey. Still some would imply bi-polar. Whatever. I have my reasons for my actions. Right now it's because of hormones.
The funny thing is that my coworkers knew what it was. The day after I made brownies at 11 pm, I was mindlessly cleaning and getting very, very cranky over the colossal mess that keeps growing in my office-esque room. They made me Tension Tamer Tea. I also got mental hugs, a few pieces of chocolate, and a few jokes aimed at me. I deserved those.
Now it's Saturday night, and what I think I really need and what I'm going to give myself tonight is wine.
Monday, April 23, 2007
38 Days Remaining
Already I've packed up all of my winter clothes, pictures, art, art supplies, kids' craft supplies, books, movies, music, and kids' books and movies. It took only a few hours. Now the long wait begins...
I keep looking at the calendar. Time seems to be dragging, but I know it goes faster as we get older. I'll be outta here in no time.
I keep looking at the calendar. Time seems to be dragging, but I know it goes faster as we get older. I'll be outta here in no time.
Chi Adventures
Sunday was a real treat. Aside from being blown nearly off the road a few times, the trip to Lawrence with the kids and dog was rather enjoyable. Listening to live music at the Replay felt like old times. I missed a few Goddesses who didn't show up, but oh well I'll close my eyes and envision their sparkling eyes.
On the way home me and my little family enjoyed the warm air and saying "hi" to people doing whatever outside their homes and close enough for us to acknowledge their existence. At Pa's house we went in and I proceded upstairs to relieve my bladder of PBR. That's when I noticed something rather strange. Nothing brown and fuzzy was trying to get into my lap whilst peeing, and my ears weren't ringing in pain from high pitched barking. I finished and walked the upstairs. uh oh. I flew downstairs practically ramming into Pa who was running to find me. We both had the same look.
Funny, it was the same look we had when we realized I was pregnant for the first time.
So out the door we go. I drove around first with the windows open, calling for Chi, and asking people if they'd seen her. I drove back. Then we both took off in different directions with kids in tow. Pinkie was wimpering. I thought Zilla didn't give a damn either way. I had gotten my workout in and returned sans damn dog.
However! Pa was coming up the street with a small bundle of wiggles in his arms. That's when Zilla took off running calling for said damn dog. ahh Zombie Boy does have emotions! Pa dropped Chika, and off she went just like a dog at the races. I'll have to look into that for a little extra money.
A couple of kind hearted, small dog familiar neighbors caught her and noticing her girth, they instantly knew that she was a well loved chihuahua. I heard she actually behaved herself! no biting, fussing, peeing, etc...
I'm still going to shish kabob that bitch one of these days.
On the way home me and my little family enjoyed the warm air and saying "hi" to people doing whatever outside their homes and close enough for us to acknowledge their existence. At Pa's house we went in and I proceded upstairs to relieve my bladder of PBR. That's when I noticed something rather strange. Nothing brown and fuzzy was trying to get into my lap whilst peeing, and my ears weren't ringing in pain from high pitched barking. I finished and walked the upstairs. uh oh. I flew downstairs practically ramming into Pa who was running to find me. We both had the same look.
Funny, it was the same look we had when we realized I was pregnant for the first time.
So out the door we go. I drove around first with the windows open, calling for Chi, and asking people if they'd seen her. I drove back. Then we both took off in different directions with kids in tow. Pinkie was wimpering. I thought Zilla didn't give a damn either way. I had gotten my workout in and returned sans damn dog.
However! Pa was coming up the street with a small bundle of wiggles in his arms. That's when Zilla took off running calling for said damn dog. ahh Zombie Boy does have emotions! Pa dropped Chika, and off she went just like a dog at the races. I'll have to look into that for a little extra money.
A couple of kind hearted, small dog familiar neighbors caught her and noticing her girth, they instantly knew that she was a well loved chihuahua. I heard she actually behaved herself! no biting, fussing, peeing, etc...
I'm still going to shish kabob that bitch one of these days.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Boob Squish
Yesterday I left work early to go to my 8 month (?) mammogram. I have one tit remaining, so it's a good idea according to my doctor. According to my breast tissue and history of breast cancer detection and my surgeon, an MRI is a better idea, but this Dr. Oncologist is a man (no offense) and my surgeon is a WOMAN (with great taste) who has a lot of experience in Breast cancer and the different ways of detection that different types of breast tissue require. I trust her a bit more especially since she was determined to find out exactly what was there and to get it out quickly. Dr. Oncologist didn't think yoga could help me out. I guess he doesn't understand stress and stress-relieving techniques.
ok on to my mam story...
I drove to Shawnee and stopped at a drive through. It was 2:30 and I hadn't eaten since 7:45 that morning. My stomach was fairly grumpy thus making me very grumpy. I got a call when the guy in the window handed me my food. It was the imaging place where said boob squish was going to take place. "Did you have breast cancer?" "Yes!" " Did they tell you that you need to bring your previous films (mammogram pics) ?" " No." "Well, I need them before your appointment. Can you go get them?"
I said it was 2:30, right? Well, the appointment was at 3:00 in Olathe. I was in Shawnee. My mammograms I thought were sent by my oncologist's office to them. No. they didn't have them. Hmmm...Ah LMH had them. I had to drive all the way back to Lawrence, and go ask for them from the hospital. On the drive there on an empty tank of gas, I rescheduled my appointment until this afternoon. I get to the hospital and was informed by a very delightful girl behind the radiology registration desk that the Breast Center moved the LMH South. Great! Call them up and go get them! Day is saved!
Now, I don't know if you know where LMH South is, but I do. It's right across the streest from where I, Goddesss GB, and Goddess Going There work. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET. Gas is like what? $2.78? It takes a quarter of a tank to go to Lawrence and back home. I'm cheap, I know. I'm a big believer in global warming, a bigger believer in that than Kansas winning the basketball championship. (I heart KU!) I could have walked there and gotten the films if the person who registered me by phone LAST week would have told me to go get them. I love efficiency.
So today I go have my boob squish. Here is the lesson I want you all to learn....Always know where your mammogram films are and take them with you on your next one!
ok on to my mam story...
I drove to Shawnee and stopped at a drive through. It was 2:30 and I hadn't eaten since 7:45 that morning. My stomach was fairly grumpy thus making me very grumpy. I got a call when the guy in the window handed me my food. It was the imaging place where said boob squish was going to take place. "Did you have breast cancer?" "Yes!" " Did they tell you that you need to bring your previous films (mammogram pics) ?" " No." "Well, I need them before your appointment. Can you go get them?"
I said it was 2:30, right? Well, the appointment was at 3:00 in Olathe. I was in Shawnee. My mammograms I thought were sent by my oncologist's office to them. No. they didn't have them. Hmmm...Ah LMH had them. I had to drive all the way back to Lawrence, and go ask for them from the hospital. On the drive there on an empty tank of gas, I rescheduled my appointment until this afternoon. I get to the hospital and was informed by a very delightful girl behind the radiology registration desk that the Breast Center moved the LMH South. Great! Call them up and go get them! Day is saved!
Now, I don't know if you know where LMH South is, but I do. It's right across the streest from where I, Goddesss GB, and Goddess Going There work. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET. Gas is like what? $2.78? It takes a quarter of a tank to go to Lawrence and back home. I'm cheap, I know. I'm a big believer in global warming, a bigger believer in that than Kansas winning the basketball championship. (I heart KU!) I could have walked there and gotten the films if the person who registered me by phone LAST week would have told me to go get them. I love efficiency.
So today I go have my boob squish. Here is the lesson I want you all to learn....Always know where your mammogram films are and take them with you on your next one!
Light at the end of the tunnel
We move back to Lawrence June 1st! Calloo Callay!
It's a cute little white house with blue trim built in the 1920's complete with a covered front porch for after work beer drinking with my soon to be new neighbor and fellow goddess Bertha and a basement for crazy Kansas weather.
I can't wait for a summer of bike riding, swimming at the public pool, walking downtown with kiddos, going to the library, Sunday afternoon shows at the Replay, having my own garden again, and to see my Goddesses much more often!
I don't know if it's just wierd emotions, but I'm getting teary-eyed. My horrible, terrrible, very awful year is finally coming to a close, and a new beginning is coming soon. I have a few more steps, but I'm taking care of those.
6 more weeks!
It's a cute little white house with blue trim built in the 1920's complete with a covered front porch for after work beer drinking with my soon to be new neighbor and fellow goddess Bertha and a basement for crazy Kansas weather.
I can't wait for a summer of bike riding, swimming at the public pool, walking downtown with kiddos, going to the library, Sunday afternoon shows at the Replay, having my own garden again, and to see my Goddesses much more often!
I don't know if it's just wierd emotions, but I'm getting teary-eyed. My horrible, terrrible, very awful year is finally coming to a close, and a new beginning is coming soon. I have a few more steps, but I'm taking care of those.
6 more weeks!
Friday, April 13, 2007
The Judybat and Henry
Yes, I know I'm immature, and probably not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I love watching my mom cringe and turn her heels while Henry Rollins is speaking on the telly. Especially when the telly is in her house, and he's in Isreal.
After all, it is HER glorious nation by god-given right.
After all, it is HER glorious nation by god-given right.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Some thoughts and a little light reading before bed
Old Man River just handed me a book called "The Case for the Resurrection".
Yah…silly me. I actually believe that global warming is probable.
Only a liberal fool would swallow that ridiculous farce instead of believing in the power of that miraculous death defying act of the sweet Lord.
hmm…Speaking of the sweet lord…have you seen Dejesus on the Royals? hmm-mmm…talk about sweet lord.
Yah…silly me. I actually believe that global warming is probable.
Only a liberal fool would swallow that ridiculous farce instead of believing in the power of that miraculous death defying act of the sweet Lord.
hmm…Speaking of the sweet lord…have you seen Dejesus on the Royals? hmm-mmm…talk about sweet lord.
Ain't no old hen yet!
Hmm…2 computer classes. 2 beers. One great time flirting with a ceramic teacher known for bedding his students. I love school!
There's a sign in the computer lab at JCCC banning kids from it. I think that's funny because the girl who sits next to me is probably 13 years younger than me. Makes flirting with the hot art "professor" even better.
This is going to be fun…
There's a sign in the computer lab at JCCC banning kids from it. I think that's funny because the girl who sits next to me is probably 13 years younger than me. Makes flirting with the hot art "professor" even better.
This is going to be fun…
Sunday, April 08, 2007
The Lord Hath Risen
And I didn't kill anyone. Aren't you proud of me?
Everyone remained mature and grown up with only a tiny bit of drama over a missing bottle of bourbon. It was found, and my brother apologized to me. I finished a project that I started last night. And I found out that one of my brothers has the same thyroid medication. He just started on the stuff. I warned him of the ADHD crap that will kick in in a few weeks.
I have come to the conclusion that christians eat ham on easter as a slap in the face towards jews and muslims. Jesus likes sweet meat. Sweat meat and devil eggs. Personally, I like devil cake.
All in all. Easter went off without the ranting and passive aggressive behavior that is usual for a Sunday. There was lamenting and gnashing of teeth over frozen plants, but there was entertainment over an illustrated bird book with recorded bird calls. So it turned out good.
I think I'm going to force my kids to learn all of the bird calls so they'd get on David Letterman. A segment called Stupid Kid Tricks.
Everyone remained mature and grown up with only a tiny bit of drama over a missing bottle of bourbon. It was found, and my brother apologized to me. I finished a project that I started last night. And I found out that one of my brothers has the same thyroid medication. He just started on the stuff. I warned him of the ADHD crap that will kick in in a few weeks.
I have come to the conclusion that christians eat ham on easter as a slap in the face towards jews and muslims. Jesus likes sweet meat. Sweat meat and devil eggs. Personally, I like devil cake.
All in all. Easter went off without the ranting and passive aggressive behavior that is usual for a Sunday. There was lamenting and gnashing of teeth over frozen plants, but there was entertainment over an illustrated bird book with recorded bird calls. So it turned out good.
I think I'm going to force my kids to learn all of the bird calls so they'd get on David Letterman. A segment called Stupid Kid Tricks.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
F**K 'EM
I went to First Fridays last night with an old friend of mine. We've always skirted our differences of opinions so we wouldn't get angry with each other. I'm fairly left. He's Libertarian. Both of us have our naive ideas about our sides. We both see our sides are more honest, forthcoming, and helpful to society as whole. Ok. We disagree over the "how-tos" and the "what-things-are". We avoid these things to keep things pleasant until…the government should get rid of all social programs.
Whatever.
He doesn't like being obligated to help people. He honestly feels that people (the great majority of them) would give to charities to help the poor. And since there'd be less restrictions, there will be less poverty. Fuck any consumer advocacy. Business-rule-all attitude.
He didn't even flinch when I said that'd I be dead if it weren't for the social programs in place. I'd be receiving no surgeries, no chemo, and no check ups. My children would be left without a mother. fuck 'em. In his fantasy world charitable organizations would take up the slack. oh. They don't exist now because there is no need for them. But in the mean time any all aid to those less fortunate (whether american or not) should cease entirely. fuck 'em.
I can't say how much that hurts. I can't say how much that makes me angry that a person has the gall to say they are compassionate when they would purposefully stand aside to watch people (or anything else for that matter) starve to death or die of some horrible disease. Or that they would express these feelings towards someone who has come too close.
It is makes me laugh in my dark humor kind of way when they equate compassion with cruelty. You see in his book they are one and the same. ok ok. There are times when mercy killing is the best option. Look at Terry Schiavo. But it is completely different when one is talking of people who have the possibility of a viable future. Look at the children of Africa. I understand the land mass cannot handle the population, but there are alternatives to overpopulation. Pro-lifers eat my pooh.
I guess this is the point:
Do not under any circumstances be as rude as to trivialize anyone's misfortune and act as if their possible untimely demise is a matter of mild curiosity. If I believed in hell, I'd think that there'd be a special place in it for you if you do.
Whatever.
He doesn't like being obligated to help people. He honestly feels that people (the great majority of them) would give to charities to help the poor. And since there'd be less restrictions, there will be less poverty. Fuck any consumer advocacy. Business-rule-all attitude.
He didn't even flinch when I said that'd I be dead if it weren't for the social programs in place. I'd be receiving no surgeries, no chemo, and no check ups. My children would be left without a mother. fuck 'em. In his fantasy world charitable organizations would take up the slack. oh. They don't exist now because there is no need for them. But in the mean time any all aid to those less fortunate (whether american or not) should cease entirely. fuck 'em.
I can't say how much that hurts. I can't say how much that makes me angry that a person has the gall to say they are compassionate when they would purposefully stand aside to watch people (or anything else for that matter) starve to death or die of some horrible disease. Or that they would express these feelings towards someone who has come too close.
It is makes me laugh in my dark humor kind of way when they equate compassion with cruelty. You see in his book they are one and the same. ok ok. There are times when mercy killing is the best option. Look at Terry Schiavo. But it is completely different when one is talking of people who have the possibility of a viable future. Look at the children of Africa. I understand the land mass cannot handle the population, but there are alternatives to overpopulation. Pro-lifers eat my pooh.
I guess this is the point:
Do not under any circumstances be as rude as to trivialize anyone's misfortune and act as if their possible untimely demise is a matter of mild curiosity. If I believed in hell, I'd think that there'd be a special place in it for you if you do.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
hair tingles on the Frontline
I'm sick of creepy-crawlies. Seriously. Yesterday I counted 8 large brown recluses and 18 ticks. Today I cleaned up a mousehouse at work and counted 2 large brown recluses and 1 tick. A few weeks ago I smacked a brown recluse off my neck at work dropping so many of Rikki's beloved f-bombs that the receptionist, who was on the phone with a client right behind me, calmly put the him on hold and burst out laughing. I have PTSD from it. My hairs are tingling with the heebie-jeebies ALL the time. Even right now as I type in the relative safety of the over-sprayed Old Folks' Home.
I counted my dog's vampiric "buddies". It's a total of 24 ticks on my Chi in the past 1.5 weeks. Freeze warning? Bring on that freeze warning and kill the little shits off!
Like I said…I'm sick of creepy-crawlies.
I counted my dog's vampiric "buddies". It's a total of 24 ticks on my Chi in the past 1.5 weeks. Freeze warning? Bring on that freeze warning and kill the little shits off!
Like I said…I'm sick of creepy-crawlies.
House hunting Lawrence style
I have more loyalty to a creature that stayed by my side in the worst of situations than I have a need of shelter from a grinchy, heartless woman at the moment.
Yesterday I got a call from a landlord who insisted upon a pet deposit of $1360 if I wanted to live in a lower level 2 bd apartment in a East Lawrence house with my Chi. The rent is $680. I don't know about you, but I think that's a bit excessive. Especially since my daughter will make poopy messes more often than my dog.
Funny thing is that she was acting like it was a favor that she obviously preferred not to do for me and my family. hmm...I'll do her a favor and not rent from her.
Back on the hunt…
Yesterday I got a call from a landlord who insisted upon a pet deposit of $1360 if I wanted to live in a lower level 2 bd apartment in a East Lawrence house with my Chi. The rent is $680. I don't know about you, but I think that's a bit excessive. Especially since my daughter will make poopy messes more often than my dog.
Funny thing is that she was acting like it was a favor that she obviously preferred not to do for me and my family. hmm...I'll do her a favor and not rent from her.
Back on the hunt…
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Lofty Mom Thoughts (and one dirty secret)
Last night me and the kiddos watched a portion of the second Shrek movie. I had issues with the first, and now I have issues with second. I don't like the message of accepting everyone except apparently short delussional people. In the second though your required to accept judgemental people, but you have to watch the extras to find that lesson out.
What I had issues with and that was laughed at in the first movie but accepted in this one is the whole "waiting for your hero to make it all better". I really don't like waiting until your "prince" saves you from whatever your dilemma might be. So comes now, Enarda, to bring it upon the children to think about the possibilities that no one is going to "save" them. No. We're not talking religion right now. I had the children recall the shirt that my young daughter wore the day before, and the lesson printed on it.
On Sunday LuLu gave my little Goddette a goddess t-shirt. The black one with pink print. The one that says:
You are the hero of your own story.
I can't remember who authored that one, but good job. She wore that to school on Monday. I'm sure it was a hit. Especially with the conservative faculty. It was a hit with the Judybat. I smiled.
But this is not the only child directed thing that I have issues with. Oh no. I have issues with Bratdolls. They look like "hoodrats". streetwalkers. crackwhores. bee-otches. ugly bee-otches. I don't want my girl aspiring to that either. yeeuck.
Barbie and all her sleazy sexing seems so tame. My Barbies had sex. Even though I had only one Ken. No. I'm not hipocrite. Those lusty ladies had jobs and direction. And none of them got married. We're not Mormon. Anyways I don't think Mormons like lesbian love.
I want my girl looking at Steinham. Fuck. I want her looking at Pelosi and Clinton. Thankfully she's not paying attention American Idol, but then again neither am I. So…what lessons am I going to raise my kids with? Independence, thoughtful ambition, personal strength, responsibilty, and I don't care if your gay. I want grandchildren. Turkeybasters are options. I'm just saying.
What I had issues with and that was laughed at in the first movie but accepted in this one is the whole "waiting for your hero to make it all better". I really don't like waiting until your "prince" saves you from whatever your dilemma might be. So comes now, Enarda, to bring it upon the children to think about the possibilities that no one is going to "save" them. No. We're not talking religion right now. I had the children recall the shirt that my young daughter wore the day before, and the lesson printed on it.
On Sunday LuLu gave my little Goddette a goddess t-shirt. The black one with pink print. The one that says:
You are the hero of your own story.
I can't remember who authored that one, but good job. She wore that to school on Monday. I'm sure it was a hit. Especially with the conservative faculty. It was a hit with the Judybat. I smiled.
But this is not the only child directed thing that I have issues with. Oh no. I have issues with Bratdolls. They look like "hoodrats". streetwalkers. crackwhores. bee-otches. ugly bee-otches. I don't want my girl aspiring to that either. yeeuck.
Barbie and all her sleazy sexing seems so tame. My Barbies had sex. Even though I had only one Ken. No. I'm not hipocrite. Those lusty ladies had jobs and direction. And none of them got married. We're not Mormon. Anyways I don't think Mormons like lesbian love.
I want my girl looking at Steinham. Fuck. I want her looking at Pelosi and Clinton. Thankfully she's not paying attention American Idol, but then again neither am I. So…what lessons am I going to raise my kids with? Independence, thoughtful ambition, personal strength, responsibilty, and I don't care if your gay. I want grandchildren. Turkeybasters are options. I'm just saying.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
What's your favorite Disney movie?
I was asked that question yesterday. My imediate response was "The Jungle Book". I love the music. It's so positive, fun, and danceable. It's not swooshy. I hate swooshy movie music. The song I was thinking of in particular was " I want to be human too". The asker was thinking "The Bear Neccesities". Hmm…Two damn good songs.
Fastforward to this morning.
I ran away to the bathroom to get away from bats and ogres that lurk in my home. yes. I'm bitchy too, but I could minimize the probability of an episode if I hide. Stress was bubbling up in my stomach and my teeth were getting achy from clenching them. Then in pops :
Look for the Bear neccesities
the simple bear neccesities
don't worry about your problems
or your strife
I started singing outloud in the bathtub. I'm a bather not a showerer. ahhh. It's such a bouncy happy go lucky song. The stress was brought down to a simmer, and after a few moments was gone. It's the silly things in life that keep me going.
Now I'm going to go tackle that whole "needing a home" thing.
Fastforward to this morning.
I ran away to the bathroom to get away from bats and ogres that lurk in my home. yes. I'm bitchy too, but I could minimize the probability of an episode if I hide. Stress was bubbling up in my stomach and my teeth were getting achy from clenching them. Then in pops :
Look for the Bear neccesities
the simple bear neccesities
don't worry about your problems
or your strife
I started singing outloud in the bathtub. I'm a bather not a showerer. ahhh. It's such a bouncy happy go lucky song. The stress was brought down to a simmer, and after a few moments was gone. It's the silly things in life that keep me going.
Now I'm going to go tackle that whole "needing a home" thing.
Monday, March 26, 2007
George and Mr. Toad
A quick note about pets…
Toads found outside DO NOT make good pets. Beetles made to live in a small aquarium together will go batty and one will end up dead.
However, it is now warm enough for the critter to go out to the woods, thus leaving the cramped aquarium empty for said toad. Or at least that's what my kids thought. The poor toad looked so miserable and scared. It was as if he was begging me to free him from my son's determined grasp and let him go back home. I couldn't refuse his plea. He was cute after all.
Toads found outside DO NOT make good pets. Beetles made to live in a small aquarium together will go batty and one will end up dead.
However, it is now warm enough for the critter to go out to the woods, thus leaving the cramped aquarium empty for said toad. Or at least that's what my kids thought. The poor toad looked so miserable and scared. It was as if he was begging me to free him from my son's determined grasp and let him go back home. I couldn't refuse his plea. He was cute after all.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
You know I love her but…
I've gotten hollered at for not blogging, but I haven't had the time to either read or post. This crazy thyroid med is not only making me chubby, but it's also making me extremely productive artistically speaking. It's amazing how much I've accomplished these past few weeks. Cleanliness is still far away, but so is my godliness. I'm working on my goddessness first.
Ok. First order of business.. thank you to who came to my birthday dinner or gave me a call. I had a wonderful time!
Second. It has officially been one year. I was asleep and getting my tit cut off. Now I'm a hairy, two-bumped woman again. Thank you cosmetic surgery! Mrs. Edwards has had a reccurrence. I'm a little freaked out about that. I don't know her of course, but it hits close to home if you can understand.
Issues are still the same. The most current episode of insanity happened this morning. The Judybat after repeating, "I don't need this. I don't need this." , then yelled at me "Git behind me, Satan!" Ahhh…Saturday morning at my house. Oh. Uh…it was over me not liking bleach getting on clothes. Ok. I yelled at her for it, but I was across the house and had to yell through a very important videogame, one radio, and a dishwasher. Anyway Satan attacks her through "Witch" Enarda when "Witch" Enarda tells her not to do something. Fuck.
When did I become a witch? Oh yes. this morning right after she told me.
See. Life is too interesting at the moment to really be able to concentrate and opine about things. Maybe when things are a little less crazy around here (ahem) and the Harpy of Kansas isn't screeching my direction, I'll be able to concentrate and write something deeply profound.
Ok. First order of business.. thank you to who came to my birthday dinner or gave me a call. I had a wonderful time!
Second. It has officially been one year. I was asleep and getting my tit cut off. Now I'm a hairy, two-bumped woman again. Thank you cosmetic surgery! Mrs. Edwards has had a reccurrence. I'm a little freaked out about that. I don't know her of course, but it hits close to home if you can understand.
Issues are still the same. The most current episode of insanity happened this morning. The Judybat after repeating, "I don't need this. I don't need this." , then yelled at me "Git behind me, Satan!" Ahhh…Saturday morning at my house. Oh. Uh…it was over me not liking bleach getting on clothes. Ok. I yelled at her for it, but I was across the house and had to yell through a very important videogame, one radio, and a dishwasher. Anyway Satan attacks her through "Witch" Enarda when "Witch" Enarda tells her not to do something. Fuck.
When did I become a witch? Oh yes. this morning right after she told me.
See. Life is too interesting at the moment to really be able to concentrate and opine about things. Maybe when things are a little less crazy around here (ahem) and the Harpy of Kansas isn't screeching my direction, I'll be able to concentrate and write something deeply profound.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy…I mean Enarda
I had my 6 months out from chemo appointment on Monday. All's good now, next month
I'll celebrate Pinkie's birthday, my birthday, and my 1 year anniversary of being cancer free (one tit less)!
Plastic replica does not a tit make. First of all because there's a missing nipple, but mostly because the feeling is gone.
I've been feeling down because of everything that's been happening to everyone these past couple of months. Not to mention living with the biggest stressors in my life. I haven't been able to sleep and my emotons have shut down regularly to stop the screaming in and out of my head.
Last night I had a turn. a mood swing if you will. I thought of every beautiful thing outside of my control instead of the ugly. I thought of the extremes in beauty that art and craft have to offer. I thought of distant thunderstorms rolling through the prairies of Kansas and Colorado and giving a drink to the life that dwells there. I thought of coral reefs and the life that surrounds them. I thought of bright green leaves and deep dark moist earth. And I thought of how I don't care if some of my friends abhor that word.
Last of all I thought of what scared me most as a child. The infinite and repetition. The space between atoms. The fact that atoms (chemical compounds of the universe) exist in everything (does that mean diety is all things?) and transfer to other things when the original host expires. I thought of interconnections, seeming chaos, and cycles. I know I've skimmed this subject before, but it helps to remind myself and others that things are connected and temporal.
Shit might be the flavor of life for a while, but it will soon taste like roasted duck with roses and nasturtiums. Weird combo, but I'm hungry and I still have 45 minutes till I can eat. Damn thyroid meds.
Whatever. I feel peaceful. PA and Judybat seem like small gnats to me right now.
I'll celebrate Pinkie's birthday, my birthday, and my 1 year anniversary of being cancer free (one tit less)!
Plastic replica does not a tit make. First of all because there's a missing nipple, but mostly because the feeling is gone.
I've been feeling down because of everything that's been happening to everyone these past couple of months. Not to mention living with the biggest stressors in my life. I haven't been able to sleep and my emotons have shut down regularly to stop the screaming in and out of my head.
Last night I had a turn. a mood swing if you will. I thought of every beautiful thing outside of my control instead of the ugly. I thought of the extremes in beauty that art and craft have to offer. I thought of distant thunderstorms rolling through the prairies of Kansas and Colorado and giving a drink to the life that dwells there. I thought of coral reefs and the life that surrounds them. I thought of bright green leaves and deep dark moist earth. And I thought of how I don't care if some of my friends abhor that word.
Last of all I thought of what scared me most as a child. The infinite and repetition. The space between atoms. The fact that atoms (chemical compounds of the universe) exist in everything (does that mean diety is all things?) and transfer to other things when the original host expires. I thought of interconnections, seeming chaos, and cycles. I know I've skimmed this subject before, but it helps to remind myself and others that things are connected and temporal.
Shit might be the flavor of life for a while, but it will soon taste like roasted duck with roses and nasturtiums. Weird combo, but I'm hungry and I still have 45 minutes till I can eat. Damn thyroid meds.
Whatever. I feel peaceful. PA and Judybat seem like small gnats to me right now.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Mixed
There's lots of mixes in the world. Cake mixes. Bread mixes. Spice mixes. Remixes. My daughter's fashion style comprises of mixing stripes, polkadots, and animal patterns in one outfit. Very colorful and very much like her great-grandmother on my momma's side. I learned from her that it's ok to wear rainbow plaid with black and white horsetooth. And polyester is the choice of fabric for fine ladies everywhere. She rocked.
This past week has been painful. You all know I had surgery on Tuesday. I don't know if all of you were aware that I was having a biopsy done on my thyroid. I had a complex issue with the cyst. ew. I know that's gross. Anyways. Friday, I waited patiently enough to get the results. I finally received them at 4:30 in the afternoon. As of today (the same as last 3-24-06) I am cancer free!
Enarda= 2 cancer=0
Booyah!
Few hours later I talked with Yaya (other grandma). She had a biopsy on the same day and was awaiting the prognosis. Guess what. She has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Fuck. Another year. I'm gonna stay positive, but with me getting it, my yoga instructor dying from it, Yaya getting it, and another friend's momma getting it, I'm getting REAL annoyed with our science community not being able to figure out what in the FFFFF is going on.
PA's momma has diabetes and a host of other diseases that make it harder for a 70 YO woman to live life comfortably, and now she gets to add another on the list. However, my momma the Judybat RN said that they've pulled people out of becoming sows' earbags before and they could certainly do it with her.
????
Don't ask...I have no clue what that meant exactly. Except that they've done near miracles.
So as you can see my emotions are pretty mixed up right now. I'm not sure how to feel. If I feel relief then I feel like I'm being insensitive. If I start fretting then my stomach and everyone around me suffers. I'm a drama queen at home. Don't tell me how to feel either. I'll get annoyed. I'm just gonna keep my eye out for that bluebird of happiness and maybe its cousin, the redbird of health, will come and stick around for us all this year.
This past week has been painful. You all know I had surgery on Tuesday. I don't know if all of you were aware that I was having a biopsy done on my thyroid. I had a complex issue with the cyst. ew. I know that's gross. Anyways. Friday, I waited patiently enough to get the results. I finally received them at 4:30 in the afternoon. As of today (the same as last 3-24-06) I am cancer free!
Enarda= 2 cancer=0
Booyah!
Few hours later I talked with Yaya (other grandma). She had a biopsy on the same day and was awaiting the prognosis. Guess what. She has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Fuck. Another year. I'm gonna stay positive, but with me getting it, my yoga instructor dying from it, Yaya getting it, and another friend's momma getting it, I'm getting REAL annoyed with our science community not being able to figure out what in the FFFFF is going on.
PA's momma has diabetes and a host of other diseases that make it harder for a 70 YO woman to live life comfortably, and now she gets to add another on the list. However, my momma the Judybat RN said that they've pulled people out of becoming sows' earbags before and they could certainly do it with her.
????
Don't ask...I have no clue what that meant exactly. Except that they've done near miracles.
So as you can see my emotions are pretty mixed up right now. I'm not sure how to feel. If I feel relief then I feel like I'm being insensitive. If I start fretting then my stomach and everyone around me suffers. I'm a drama queen at home. Don't tell me how to feel either. I'll get annoyed. I'm just gonna keep my eye out for that bluebird of happiness and maybe its cousin, the redbird of health, will come and stick around for us all this year.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
New Years Resolution: less scars more tats
Here I go. About to walk out the door to start my year off. This year I will kick the 84 kinds of ass I was told I kicked last year. I will make sure that the asses are easier to kick. As I see it, I maybe losing a thyroid, but I'm gaining two ta's.
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