It has been entirely too long since I've blogged. I say that so often, because so often I get lazy with my blogging. Sometimes I'm distracted, sometimes I am away from home, sometimes my life is just so boring that I can't think of anything worthwhile to blog about. Last week was excuse #2, yesterday was excuse #1, today is excuse #3. Although I'm going to type anyway, no matter how pointless the information is.
I never did blog about my friend's baby a couple weeks ago. There was a lot of drama in K's relationship with J way back when. They did the on-off thing, although in the year before they got married it was extreme. On=pregnant, off=m/c. Seriously. They got married during pgcy #3, which resulted in a beautiful little girl (they oh-so-deserved a perfect baby after what they'd been through, even though I wasn't sure I liked him marrying her). For the record- K is a guy, my best friend, I know I've blogged about him before, in my 100 things. Anyway, their little girl is 2 1/2-ish. New baby just came out a couple weeks ago, they induced at 37 weeks because J was in so much pain and had been on bedrest since 16, strict bedrest since 22wks. I don't know all the details from early on, because they nearly divorced over this baby. My dearest K is not the daddy and he knew it from the beginning. They have resolved all baby-daddy issues and are happy now. I'm still slightly conflicted. Although hearing the wonder in K's voice when he talks about his new son, it melts me. As long as K is happy, so am I.
Last week I disappeared on Tuesday. Snow was forecast for Wednesday and Thursday, the two options for when I could go downstate to get Little H (I pick him up on Thurs, but sometimes go down a night early and hang out with Uncle Tattoo and such). So, R rushed me into packing my stuff and we took off. You see, the truck has a seemingly exploded brake line, so my car is our only vehicle. And he needed it for work for the week, so he dropped me in town with Uncle Tattoo and made arrangements for me to use my mom's car to pick up Little H from school. 2 days before I could pick up Little H, stranded in town with no car (I could have gotten a ride to my mom's house when my dad got out of work, but stranded in town is SOOOOO much better than stranded at mom's), didn't bring my laptop. Holy wow that sucked. But I did get to watch some awesome tattoos being done, saw some amazing artwork, and got to hang out with the crew at the shop. I used to spend whole days there over the summer, so I really missed being there.
Thursday was yet another snow day for Little H. And his mom's house is impossible to get to without 4wheel drive and a winch. So I decided that I'd just wait and pick him up from school on Friday. His mom threw a fit. Apparently she likes getting rid of her kids whenever possible and demanded that I drive out there and get him. It's over an hour from my mom's house, the last 4 miles of roads are NEVER plowed, and she lives on a hill with huge pits at the end of her driveway that suck in cars and seriously upset the super-winch on the tow truck getting the car out. NO WAY. More bitching from her, but she eventually gave in when the only option was for her to meet me in her town- she has no car so she couldn't do it at the time the court order says the exchange is supposed to be. Another snow day on Monday, more whining from her. I ended up dropping off Little H with R's grandma for a little while until the mom's boyfriend got out of work to pick him up. At this rate, the kid won't get out of school in the summer until July. They've had 5 snow days during R's days, plus another 4 that I can think of, and probably more than that. They get 3 free (as in, they expect at least 3 snow days so they start the school year with 3 more days than required, so they can pretend they're not making up as many actual days), but they've gone way beyond that already. And we aren't done with the storms yet, so there is a possibility of 2-4 more snow days before winter is over. Then they have the possibility of cancellations due to fog. Yep, he'll be in school till July.
My mom is up visiting right now. She brought her 3 1/2 month old puppy. I have pictures- on the desktop- I will try to be less lazy and post some soon. Tiffany took 2 days to tolerate him, but now she'll wrestle and everything. Argos liked him well enough from the start, but does no real playing even now. But they are so cute together, all 3 of them. Yes, I promise pictures this week, I can't help but share the adorableness of it all.
*note about my last post- I have learned to never leave home without my Valium. It was prescribed to help me sleep (an not have wacky-vivid dreams that prevented relaxation), but I know all it's uses and know it would help me if I were to ever have another panic attack. It takes up a lot of valuable space in my purse- only one type of tattoo ointment fits now- but just knowing it is there is actually very helpful. Yay drugs.*
13 February 2008
29 January 2008
Heart? Where did you go??? (edit at the end)
Have any of you had a panic attack before? I've heard them described, but never truly understood until yesterday. Remember that whole going in the ditch thing around Christmas? It's actually in the post below this. I didn't say much about it, just that it rained and the car went in the median and we needed a tow. I briefly mentioned that a slightly further distance sliding could have ended up with the car flipping, but the whole paragraph is written in an amusing sort of way. Yesterday I realized that it wasn't so amusing.
It was raining, slightly. Late afternoon, the sun was hiding behind clouds and preparing to set. Whatever, I've driven in blizzards before, it had been warm all day so I knew there was no ice on the roads. Hmmm, I'm going 65 when the speed limit is 70? That's fine, a bit of caution never hurt anybody. OK, some more caution and I'll slow down to 60 (and get passed by a driver's ed car). Ummmm, the water looks deeper, I don't like going 60. 55 is a good speed, I like 55. But the water's even deeper, at least 6 inches of water on the road and it gets deeper every time my wipers go across the window. Every time I blink I feel the car floating on top of the water, so I have to force my eyes to stay open so the car will stay on the road. Please, God, help me. I start singing songs from my college bible study group, they have calmed me through so many rough drives. My voice is so quiet and shaky that even I can't tell if I'm saying a word. Oh no, the water is at least a foot deep, I can't see the road anymore, just a flood of water.
Oh, please, where is that rest area, I know it's at mile marker 174, how far is that from here? 11 miles. I can stop there and take off my coat and relax for a minute, then I'll be fine. 8 miles, if only there was somewhere else to stop sooner. 7 miles, I need the rest area, I have to get out of the car. 4 miles, ok I'm almost there, I can do this. 3 miles, I can't do this, please, God, direct my car and keep me safe, I can't do it alone. 2 miles, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 1 mile, my hands are shaking, I can't let go of the steering wheel or even slide them to a different position. The offramp, 100 more yards to the parking area. The very first parking space. Call R, stop breathing, cry in panic.
By the time I got out of the car (and ran away from it), my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it. Except my heart was nowhere inside my body, I couldn't feel it anywhere. My throat was closed, but I was breathing so hard I felt like my lungs would explode. Nowhere felt safe, I could still smell the rain, hear it when the door opened, feel it where it had attacked me and wet my hair as I ran inside. I could see my car through the window, the vehicle that would surely float down the river that used to be a road and crash into everything in sight.
It took R, my mom, my brother CML, and my aunt (who just happens to be a nurse) to calm me down over the phone. And that took 45 minutes, plus a couple backslides when the rain picked up and I could hear it hit the skylights. It was 30 minutes after that before my brother got there to pick me up (he was an hour away, and it took 15 minutes to coordinate the pick-up), including a couple more calls to mom or R or my aunt when something else caused me to panic again. It felt like the entire world was conspiring to make me as scared as possible, and it was succeeding.
I stayed with uncle Tattoo last night (his house was the closest one to get to and even in the back seat, rocking, with my eyes closed I couldn't handle being in a car any longer than absolutely necessary). We rented a couple movies. He mocked me for being scared of the rain but wanting a shower to help me relax (yes, I do see the irony there, but they are totally different in my head, and that's all that matters). Yeah, we're at the point where we can make fun of me with words. My brother thinking he's being funny and squiggling the steering wheel? Not ready for that yet. He realized his mistake on that one and begged me not to shoot him in the head once the car stopped. I obliged, but I've made the mental note that I get one free super-bitchy moment to make up for him scaring me.
Why didn't R come get me, since I was pretty much halfway? That would be because the brake line in his truck blew over the weekend. I don't have the exact details, such as hole vs. broke in half, but I do know it's broken and the truck does not stop. So, he couldn't come. He called both sets of neighbors and neither was home.
I did drive home today, in the mist/sprinkling rain. But it was daylight and I wasn't hallucinating lakes in the road. R asked me to pick him up from work, since he had to get a ride in today due to the brakes on the truck. I can't do it. I got here from the rest area, but only because I had to. Stepping out of the car is the safest feeling I've ever had, I can't handle getting into it unless I have no choice. I don't have to drive again until next Thursday when I pick up Little H again. Pray for no rain for me.
*edit* Although I say that the water was a foot deep, it really wasn't. There wasn't even a layer on the road, just that the road was damp. But when you're freaking out, a little hallucinating is to be expected...
It was raining, slightly. Late afternoon, the sun was hiding behind clouds and preparing to set. Whatever, I've driven in blizzards before, it had been warm all day so I knew there was no ice on the roads. Hmmm, I'm going 65 when the speed limit is 70? That's fine, a bit of caution never hurt anybody. OK, some more caution and I'll slow down to 60 (and get passed by a driver's ed car). Ummmm, the water looks deeper, I don't like going 60. 55 is a good speed, I like 55. But the water's even deeper, at least 6 inches of water on the road and it gets deeper every time my wipers go across the window. Every time I blink I feel the car floating on top of the water, so I have to force my eyes to stay open so the car will stay on the road. Please, God, help me. I start singing songs from my college bible study group, they have calmed me through so many rough drives. My voice is so quiet and shaky that even I can't tell if I'm saying a word. Oh no, the water is at least a foot deep, I can't see the road anymore, just a flood of water.
Oh, please, where is that rest area, I know it's at mile marker 174, how far is that from here? 11 miles. I can stop there and take off my coat and relax for a minute, then I'll be fine. 8 miles, if only there was somewhere else to stop sooner. 7 miles, I need the rest area, I have to get out of the car. 4 miles, ok I'm almost there, I can do this. 3 miles, I can't do this, please, God, direct my car and keep me safe, I can't do it alone. 2 miles, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 1 mile, my hands are shaking, I can't let go of the steering wheel or even slide them to a different position. The offramp, 100 more yards to the parking area. The very first parking space. Call R, stop breathing, cry in panic.
By the time I got out of the car (and ran away from it), my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it. Except my heart was nowhere inside my body, I couldn't feel it anywhere. My throat was closed, but I was breathing so hard I felt like my lungs would explode. Nowhere felt safe, I could still smell the rain, hear it when the door opened, feel it where it had attacked me and wet my hair as I ran inside. I could see my car through the window, the vehicle that would surely float down the river that used to be a road and crash into everything in sight.
It took R, my mom, my brother CML, and my aunt (who just happens to be a nurse) to calm me down over the phone. And that took 45 minutes, plus a couple backslides when the rain picked up and I could hear it hit the skylights. It was 30 minutes after that before my brother got there to pick me up (he was an hour away, and it took 15 minutes to coordinate the pick-up), including a couple more calls to mom or R or my aunt when something else caused me to panic again. It felt like the entire world was conspiring to make me as scared as possible, and it was succeeding.
I stayed with uncle Tattoo last night (his house was the closest one to get to and even in the back seat, rocking, with my eyes closed I couldn't handle being in a car any longer than absolutely necessary). We rented a couple movies. He mocked me for being scared of the rain but wanting a shower to help me relax (yes, I do see the irony there, but they are totally different in my head, and that's all that matters). Yeah, we're at the point where we can make fun of me with words. My brother thinking he's being funny and squiggling the steering wheel? Not ready for that yet. He realized his mistake on that one and begged me not to shoot him in the head once the car stopped. I obliged, but I've made the mental note that I get one free super-bitchy moment to make up for him scaring me.
Why didn't R come get me, since I was pretty much halfway? That would be because the brake line in his truck blew over the weekend. I don't have the exact details, such as hole vs. broke in half, but I do know it's broken and the truck does not stop. So, he couldn't come. He called both sets of neighbors and neither was home.
I did drive home today, in the mist/sprinkling rain. But it was daylight and I wasn't hallucinating lakes in the road. R asked me to pick him up from work, since he had to get a ride in today due to the brakes on the truck. I can't do it. I got here from the rest area, but only because I had to. Stepping out of the car is the safest feeling I've ever had, I can't handle getting into it unless I have no choice. I don't have to drive again until next Thursday when I pick up Little H again. Pray for no rain for me.
*edit* Although I say that the water was a foot deep, it really wasn't. There wasn't even a layer on the road, just that the road was damp. But when you're freaking out, a little hallucinating is to be expected...
06 January 2008
Too Long (kid mentioned)
It has been so long since I've blogged. I let it slide because I was preparing for our vacation to Louisiana. Then I was gone for 6 days. Then my excuse was that we were recovering from the long drive. Then we had to unpack and re-organize Little H's room to fit the new toys. Then I had a sudden undeniable need to move the furniture in our bedroom. And then I just became too lazy. I really like lazy, but it's time for me to snap out of it.
The trip down wasn't bad, although there were a few bumps in the road (Little H's mom freaking out in the middle of the school and sobbing that she can't survive without him for 6 days- hey, bitch, don't ruin the kid's vacation, and what about those times when he was 4 months old and 9 months old and a dozen times when he was 1-4 years old when you'd drop him off for 2-6 weeks straight and not bat an eye?... Oh, and we drove 1300 miles without stopping except for food and gas... And Little H was woderfully blessed with a thankfully minor case of some stomach bug and threw up in a McDonald's bathroom in Mississippi). Everybody loved everybody, we had a great vacation. Little H rode horses, I finally got to bond with my mother-in-law, there was no snow. Boatload of presents which barely fit in the car to come home, snuggle time at the Christmas Eve bonfire Mama built, roasting marshmallows and falling in love with that entire side of R's family. It was just about perfect.
I cried when we left, I needed more time. I needed weeks with Mama, I needed a few relaxing days in the South without holiday plans and trying to make up for sleep lost on the drive. The South agreed with me, it didn't want us to leave either. So, the South rained. It rained until the roads became rivers. It rained until an especially deep road-river wiggled us around. It rained until a second road-river 10 yards further up the road kept us wiggling and wouldn't let us recover to steer straight. It rained until we were sliding through the median. It rained just enough so that the car dug into the mushy Mississippi ground and stopped before hitting a culvert that would have guaranteed to have flipped the car. It rained while Little H awoke from his nap with a start and asked what state we were in and why we were stopped. It rained while we waited 2 hours for the damn tow truck (because we had to go through our insurance company to find a tow company that they contracted through to have it covered). It rained while sensors were covered in mud and caused the heater to blow cold air. It rained while over 2 dozen cars stopped to make sure we were ok and regretfully mention that they'd left their tow straps at home (when I say cars, I mean huge pickup trucks with beefy men or adorably tiny women driving them).
OK, you get it, there was a lot of rain. Eventually we got pulled out and rinsed off and the car was running fine. There's some Mississippi mud stuck inside the rear driver's side wheel well, but everybody loves souvenirs. A small question about whether the exhaust was fine, but the car wasn't any louder than before, so it must be fine. At exactly the Missouri state line, that questionable exhaust broke in two. Several stops and a duct tape and Red Bull can fix job later, the car was made right again. Which only last 56 miles. Back to the noise. In the middle of the night, while Little H was sleeping. He didn't notices a thing until after breakfast the next morning when he mentioned that the car farts really loud now. Just what I need with 200 miles left to go, fart jokes.
Anyway, the gifts are put away, most of the travel gear is out of the car, and I've caught up on most of the missing sleep. And the bedroom furniture is all rearranged, making one large open area instead of two long-ish skinny open areas. It required R and I to switch sides of the bed, he nearly jumped on top of me when his alarm went off for the first time. It will take some getting used to, but R hasn't gotten used to me being on the wrong side yet, so he doesn't steal all the blankets from me. That will change, but I'm liking the brief amount of time where he tugs blankets from the floor and not my side.
Which brings us to now. I have been really sucking in the "me" time. After weeks of listening to R whine about our nonexistent sex life and catering to every other aspect of the house, I have decided that his penis doesn't matter and I'm taking care of what I need. Yeah, I let my XH come over one day for a couple hours (told R about it way ahead of time), but what about every other weekend when I am forced to see his ex when I pick up or drop off Little H? What makes him so loving and patient and giving (his claim was that he's so much of all those things that he's earned some sort of "reward")? He met my XH once! "But I never married Little H's mom..." (so somehow what I've done in past relationships is worse than him, so he has a right to be resentful that XH was coming over) Nope, you didn't. But me marrying XH meant that once the divorce was final it is 100% MY decision if I ever see him again. You knocked up Little H's mom, which means that we have to see her every time anything special happens in Little H's life, and every other weekend. Wait, not US, since R is working during scheduled drop-off and pick-up times, so it's ME that has to see her constantly. So, who is loving and patient and giving? One 90 minute meeting, then nothing for the rest of your life? -or- EVERY time one of us wants to see Little H for the next 12 years (assuming that he lives with her until he's 18) PLUS every significant event for the rest of his life- graduation, moving away for college, wedding, babies, etc?
So, R, your penis can shrivel up and fall off for all I care. Even now, I'm still giving and not getting much in return except bitching about when I'm going to want to have sex. The answer- NEVER! Quit assuming that you rubbing my feet after I spend all day cleaning the house (and getting ready for YOUR son's visit) is ever going to guarantee you sex. Yes, you do more than you did before the separation, but it's still not more than what I do and therefore does not demand sexual reciprocation. Maybe that's why I still refuse to put out, because you act like the things you do are only to get sex. Rub my back because you want to, help with the laundry because 75% of it is yours, quit riling up the dogs 15 seconds before you walk out the door and expecting them to behave after that (it's not them being hyper that pisses me off, you fucking moron, it's the fact that they were calm and sleeping until you started wrestling for less than a minute and left them hyper when I had told you to leave them alone because I knew you were on your way out the door).
And, yes, I do get to sleep until 8:30 every morning, but that's not sleeping in for me. So on weekends when you whimper about me wanting to go to bed at our normal time and force me to stay awake until 1am, telling me that I "always get to sleep in" so it's your turn, is total BS. Keeping me up 2-3 extra hours is stealing my sleep and making me feel like weekends are twice as much work for me as weekdays. No wonder Monday is my favorite day of the week, it's the beginning of my weekend and getting to sleep normally again. And 3pm is not sleeping in, it's sloth! Go to bed earlier during the week, you're the one keeping me up and then complaining that you're exhausted every day. And when I turn you down for sex (because you waited until we had been in bed talking for 20 minutes- when I was already exhausted- then trying to fall asleep for 10 minutes... if I'm nearly unconscious, I'm NOT HORNY), don't get pissy and get out of bed for 2 hours, just jerk off in the bathroom quick and go to sleep. No wonder you're worthless on weekends.
OK, I have to stop bitching. Besides, I have a house to clean and R is too busy building websites to be any help at all...
The trip down wasn't bad, although there were a few bumps in the road (Little H's mom freaking out in the middle of the school and sobbing that she can't survive without him for 6 days- hey, bitch, don't ruin the kid's vacation, and what about those times when he was 4 months old and 9 months old and a dozen times when he was 1-4 years old when you'd drop him off for 2-6 weeks straight and not bat an eye?... Oh, and we drove 1300 miles without stopping except for food and gas... And Little H was woderfully blessed with a thankfully minor case of some stomach bug and threw up in a McDonald's bathroom in Mississippi). Everybody loved everybody, we had a great vacation. Little H rode horses, I finally got to bond with my mother-in-law, there was no snow. Boatload of presents which barely fit in the car to come home, snuggle time at the Christmas Eve bonfire Mama built, roasting marshmallows and falling in love with that entire side of R's family. It was just about perfect.
I cried when we left, I needed more time. I needed weeks with Mama, I needed a few relaxing days in the South without holiday plans and trying to make up for sleep lost on the drive. The South agreed with me, it didn't want us to leave either. So, the South rained. It rained until the roads became rivers. It rained until an especially deep road-river wiggled us around. It rained until a second road-river 10 yards further up the road kept us wiggling and wouldn't let us recover to steer straight. It rained until we were sliding through the median. It rained just enough so that the car dug into the mushy Mississippi ground and stopped before hitting a culvert that would have guaranteed to have flipped the car. It rained while Little H awoke from his nap with a start and asked what state we were in and why we were stopped. It rained while we waited 2 hours for the damn tow truck (because we had to go through our insurance company to find a tow company that they contracted through to have it covered). It rained while sensors were covered in mud and caused the heater to blow cold air. It rained while over 2 dozen cars stopped to make sure we were ok and regretfully mention that they'd left their tow straps at home (when I say cars, I mean huge pickup trucks with beefy men or adorably tiny women driving them).
OK, you get it, there was a lot of rain. Eventually we got pulled out and rinsed off and the car was running fine. There's some Mississippi mud stuck inside the rear driver's side wheel well, but everybody loves souvenirs. A small question about whether the exhaust was fine, but the car wasn't any louder than before, so it must be fine. At exactly the Missouri state line, that questionable exhaust broke in two. Several stops and a duct tape and Red Bull can fix job later, the car was made right again. Which only last 56 miles. Back to the noise. In the middle of the night, while Little H was sleeping. He didn't notices a thing until after breakfast the next morning when he mentioned that the car farts really loud now. Just what I need with 200 miles left to go, fart jokes.
Anyway, the gifts are put away, most of the travel gear is out of the car, and I've caught up on most of the missing sleep. And the bedroom furniture is all rearranged, making one large open area instead of two long-ish skinny open areas. It required R and I to switch sides of the bed, he nearly jumped on top of me when his alarm went off for the first time. It will take some getting used to, but R hasn't gotten used to me being on the wrong side yet, so he doesn't steal all the blankets from me. That will change, but I'm liking the brief amount of time where he tugs blankets from the floor and not my side.
Which brings us to now. I have been really sucking in the "me" time. After weeks of listening to R whine about our nonexistent sex life and catering to every other aspect of the house, I have decided that his penis doesn't matter and I'm taking care of what I need. Yeah, I let my XH come over one day for a couple hours (told R about it way ahead of time), but what about every other weekend when I am forced to see his ex when I pick up or drop off Little H? What makes him so loving and patient and giving (his claim was that he's so much of all those things that he's earned some sort of "reward")? He met my XH once! "But I never married Little H's mom..." (so somehow what I've done in past relationships is worse than him, so he has a right to be resentful that XH was coming over) Nope, you didn't. But me marrying XH meant that once the divorce was final it is 100% MY decision if I ever see him again. You knocked up Little H's mom, which means that we have to see her every time anything special happens in Little H's life, and every other weekend. Wait, not US, since R is working during scheduled drop-off and pick-up times, so it's ME that has to see her constantly. So, who is loving and patient and giving? One 90 minute meeting, then nothing for the rest of your life? -or- EVERY time one of us wants to see Little H for the next 12 years (assuming that he lives with her until he's 18) PLUS every significant event for the rest of his life- graduation, moving away for college, wedding, babies, etc?
So, R, your penis can shrivel up and fall off for all I care. Even now, I'm still giving and not getting much in return except bitching about when I'm going to want to have sex. The answer- NEVER! Quit assuming that you rubbing my feet after I spend all day cleaning the house (and getting ready for YOUR son's visit) is ever going to guarantee you sex. Yes, you do more than you did before the separation, but it's still not more than what I do and therefore does not demand sexual reciprocation. Maybe that's why I still refuse to put out, because you act like the things you do are only to get sex. Rub my back because you want to, help with the laundry because 75% of it is yours, quit riling up the dogs 15 seconds before you walk out the door and expecting them to behave after that (it's not them being hyper that pisses me off, you fucking moron, it's the fact that they were calm and sleeping until you started wrestling for less than a minute and left them hyper when I had told you to leave them alone because I knew you were on your way out the door).
And, yes, I do get to sleep until 8:30 every morning, but that's not sleeping in for me. So on weekends when you whimper about me wanting to go to bed at our normal time and force me to stay awake until 1am, telling me that I "always get to sleep in" so it's your turn, is total BS. Keeping me up 2-3 extra hours is stealing my sleep and making me feel like weekends are twice as much work for me as weekdays. No wonder Monday is my favorite day of the week, it's the beginning of my weekend and getting to sleep normally again. And 3pm is not sleeping in, it's sloth! Go to bed earlier during the week, you're the one keeping me up and then complaining that you're exhausted every day. And when I turn you down for sex (because you waited until we had been in bed talking for 20 minutes- when I was already exhausted- then trying to fall asleep for 10 minutes... if I'm nearly unconscious, I'm NOT HORNY), don't get pissy and get out of bed for 2 hours, just jerk off in the bathroom quick and go to sleep. No wonder you're worthless on weekends.
OK, I have to stop bitching. Besides, I have a house to clean and R is too busy building websites to be any help at all...
17 December 2007
I think I have enough time... (kids mentioned)
This is probably my last chance to blog before we leave for Louisianna for the holidays, so here I go. Very quickly, though, because R is in the ceiling right now.
The ornaments were a hit at school. The kids had so much fun. I think "THE" popular girl in the class has a little crush on Little H. And I mean "THE" girl- blonde hair, blue eyes, competes in figure skating, great reader (hey, it's 1st grade, that is a big deal), the works. She blinks her long, perfectly curved lashes just a little bit more when he's around. And she kept talking to him and me, but not clingy like a couple of the girls. Of course, she'll turn into a bitch around middle school and barely look at him because her parents have money and his mom doesn't, but for now I think she likes him.
The puppies are growing so fast. The camera's still out in the car, but I got some great pics so I will try very hard to post again before we leave. They're almost standing on their feet now instead of scooting across the floor. And they go potty on their own (quite gross, actually, but a stage in growing up so it's like an accomplishment), they lick Mama's food sometimes (they love the yogurt that my mom mixes in to help Mama Dog get more calcium and have less gas), and you can see little nubbies in their mouths where teeth will soon come in.
Sorry I don't have time for more, R has now found the leak (he got dripped on last night, out of nowhere). The next couple days will be spent trying to figure out what to do there until Spring (when we will likely have to re-roof the house). Any free time will be spent cleaning, packing, cleaning, packing, and going over my list repeatedly to make sure nothing was forgotten. Would you all mind emailing me every once in a while reminding me to eat? That's not written on my schedule so I'll probably forget. Thanks!
If I don't get a chance before then: Merry Christmas (and Joyful Celebration of whatever holiday(s) you choose to recognize, I only specified Christmas because that is my belief/holiday of choice, I am open and loving of all holidays and times of togetherness and cheer)! And Happy New Year (I should be home by then, but just in case)!
Oh, and a tiny tidbit of ponderful information- I took a "what's the best religion for you" test thing, and it said that I'm 94% in agreement with the Jewish faith. I'm not immensely dedicated to Christianity, there is much I disagree with (I'm pro-choice and I love gay people, just to name a couple arguements). Maybe I should research this some more. I could so light candles and rid my house of flour products once a year, and all that other stuff Mel does. And love every part of my chosen faith, not just "some of the big stuff." I'm not even that dedicated to Christmas, except for the emphasis on family and togetherness, and Judaism has days emphasizing family and togetherness, so I think I could convert well. Yeah, very much wanting to research more. I'll keep you all updated. (R doesn't dig the conversion idea, that may put a damper in my plans. But at least I'll know that my beliefs do fit somewhere, I'm not the worst Christian ever, I just think like a Jew... can I joke like that? is it offensive? because I see it as Jews being way more accepting and Christians being way too judgemental, so thinking like a Jew is a good thing in my experience. I'll shut up now.)
The ornaments were a hit at school. The kids had so much fun. I think "THE" popular girl in the class has a little crush on Little H. And I mean "THE" girl- blonde hair, blue eyes, competes in figure skating, great reader (hey, it's 1st grade, that is a big deal), the works. She blinks her long, perfectly curved lashes just a little bit more when he's around. And she kept talking to him and me, but not clingy like a couple of the girls. Of course, she'll turn into a bitch around middle school and barely look at him because her parents have money and his mom doesn't, but for now I think she likes him.
The puppies are growing so fast. The camera's still out in the car, but I got some great pics so I will try very hard to post again before we leave. They're almost standing on their feet now instead of scooting across the floor. And they go potty on their own (quite gross, actually, but a stage in growing up so it's like an accomplishment), they lick Mama's food sometimes (they love the yogurt that my mom mixes in to help Mama Dog get more calcium and have less gas), and you can see little nubbies in their mouths where teeth will soon come in.
Sorry I don't have time for more, R has now found the leak (he got dripped on last night, out of nowhere). The next couple days will be spent trying to figure out what to do there until Spring (when we will likely have to re-roof the house). Any free time will be spent cleaning, packing, cleaning, packing, and going over my list repeatedly to make sure nothing was forgotten. Would you all mind emailing me every once in a while reminding me to eat? That's not written on my schedule so I'll probably forget. Thanks!
If I don't get a chance before then: Merry Christmas (and Joyful Celebration of whatever holiday(s) you choose to recognize, I only specified Christmas because that is my belief/holiday of choice, I am open and loving of all holidays and times of togetherness and cheer)! And Happy New Year (I should be home by then, but just in case)!
Oh, and a tiny tidbit of ponderful information- I took a "what's the best religion for you" test thing, and it said that I'm 94% in agreement with the Jewish faith. I'm not immensely dedicated to Christianity, there is much I disagree with (I'm pro-choice and I love gay people, just to name a couple arguements). Maybe I should research this some more. I could so light candles and rid my house of flour products once a year, and all that other stuff Mel does. And love every part of my chosen faith, not just "some of the big stuff." I'm not even that dedicated to Christmas, except for the emphasis on family and togetherness, and Judaism has days emphasizing family and togetherness, so I think I could convert well. Yeah, very much wanting to research more. I'll keep you all updated. (R doesn't dig the conversion idea, that may put a damper in my plans. But at least I'll know that my beliefs do fit somewhere, I'm not the worst Christian ever, I just think like a Jew... can I joke like that? is it offensive? because I see it as Jews being way more accepting and Christians being way too judgemental, so thinking like a Jew is a good thing in my experience. I'll shut up now.)
09 December 2007
Festively... decorative
Half the ornaments are done (the round ones, they're so much easier). The other half are hopefully getting cut by the awesome machine at the copy shop tomorrow afternoon. Which means tomorrow evening and all day Tuesday are scheduled for folding and gluing (every second, because it took 2 full days to fold and glue the easy ones).
And now, the pics. Hello? Crafty McCrafty? You here to see them? You requested. And I'm doing pretty good at that pictures in every post thing so far... I'll be lazy later, right now I want to show off.Please ignore the extensive dirtiness of my floor, the grout never got sealed (that is the least of my complaints about the shitty contractor the guy we bought the house from hired) and one little grain of sand can make the whole floor look black. Instead, focus on the gigantic pile of ornaments that R and I made. And the measly 4 pointy ones, which means we have 56 left to do.
07 December 2007
Festively Barely Dressed
Last night was it, T-day, the time to finally get a picture of my tattoo (stage 3 of ?). Took a shower, shaved my legs carefully, applied lotion (and leg make-up to hide the fact that my tan is beyond faded away and there are stretch marks on my butt- way to be a late bloomer, Roy). Cute little skirt, lacy boy-short panties because I had to lift my skirt a little to expose all of it, sexy black heels. It's a picture of my leg, no need to put on a shirt, right?
R took a little creative license with the photography. Cut out the shoe once, trying to get a good angle and catch me not covering my boob. Hello, the shoes are important, I love those shoes! Anyway, I guess I should post the evidence now. And a reminder from when I first got it done- NEVER TATTOO YOUR ASS! I'm hoping for stage 4 next Wednesday, although I'm not looking forward to it because I'm really not excited for the pain. What we do for beauty (or what we consider beauty, because I'm sure there are some out there that don't think my tattoo is anywhere near beautiful, but I'm in love with it)...
06 December 2007
Volunteering to be crafty- why it's the stupidest idea ever! (kids mentioned)
Little H is adorable. He's in first grade. By default of age and size, pretty much his entire class is adorable. As well as the other first grade class in his school, located in the classroom across the hall. The things they do are adorable. The things they say are adorable. The cheap crap they make at school is adorable. And now, storytime:
So...... one day a gorgeous, intelligent, lovable stepmother was making paper Christmas ornaments. Her mom and aunt had gotten a book of them at some craft store for her birthday in August, knowing that she would love it (and that it would take her those entire 4 months in between to actually get them done, because her craftiness comes in very short spurts). Her adorable stepson wanted to help. That's a big N-O. After spending hours cutting them out, gluing them together, and adding glitter paint and beads and pieces of random jewelry that nobody wears anymore, there was no way she was going to let little 6 year old hands screw it up.
Instead, the fabulous, genius that she was offered to come into his classroom for an entire day and decorate some (made of construction paper) with all of his classmates. The stepson with the pinchable cheeks consented to that idea. The caring, stunning, amazing stepmother made the same proposition to the teacher. The teacher beamed with delight.
Two weeks later, the alluring, radiant, astute stepmother and the teacher met to look at the template, decide how many, and set a date. The teacher asked if both classrooms could do it. The giving, naive stepmother happily agreed (the teacher had made it a point to rave about the gullible stepmother to the other first grade teacher right in front of her, so the moronic stepmother was in an all-to-ambitious mood).
Now the doltish, witless stepmother is attempting this impossible feat. She has managed to print the template onto the construction paper, but the remainder of the project seems insurmountable. Cutting out 6 designs per ornament, folding them, gluing them, starting all over again for the next one. 120 ornaments, that's 720 pieces. Sure, half of them are circles (which are easier to cut, but harder to fold), but the other half resemble squares with spades attached to each side. A mere 40 pieces have been cut, which has rendered the scissors dull and the haggard stepmother's hands cramped.
Only one week left to finish them all. They go to the teacher on Thursday to be punched and string added to hang them with. The stepmother is driving downstate on Wednesday to do some necessary picture-taking for the tattoo-shop website (and some sitting around, because the crew there is awesome and fun). So, really only 5 days to complete the project. The stepmother has begun wondering if there is anything short of the flu that will get her out of this. But she knows that even if she was near-death with the flu she would feel guilty about messing up the teacher's craft time plans and never forgive herself for it (this stepmother is very good at causing/pointing out guilt, so much so that she overwhelms herself in her own). So, the cramped hands take a short break and then return to their arduous task.
Those adorable children better be excited, lest the fatigued stepmother have a mental break down and be unable to maintain her cheerful facade in their presence.
Seriously, I'll fucking scream and rip the ornaments to shreds if those little brats don't enjoy my hard work. Those were my favorite scissors, damn it, and now they don't cut anything. Off to buy at least 2 more pairs of scissors, hopefully they will make it through.
So...... one day a gorgeous, intelligent, lovable stepmother was making paper Christmas ornaments. Her mom and aunt had gotten a book of them at some craft store for her birthday in August, knowing that she would love it (and that it would take her those entire 4 months in between to actually get them done, because her craftiness comes in very short spurts). Her adorable stepson wanted to help. That's a big N-O. After spending hours cutting them out, gluing them together, and adding glitter paint and beads and pieces of random jewelry that nobody wears anymore, there was no way she was going to let little 6 year old hands screw it up.
Instead, the fabulous, genius that she was offered to come into his classroom for an entire day and decorate some (made of construction paper) with all of his classmates. The stepson with the pinchable cheeks consented to that idea. The caring, stunning, amazing stepmother made the same proposition to the teacher. The teacher beamed with delight.
Two weeks later, the alluring, radiant, astute stepmother and the teacher met to look at the template, decide how many, and set a date. The teacher asked if both classrooms could do it. The giving, naive stepmother happily agreed (the teacher had made it a point to rave about the gullible stepmother to the other first grade teacher right in front of her, so the moronic stepmother was in an all-to-ambitious mood).
Now the doltish, witless stepmother is attempting this impossible feat. She has managed to print the template onto the construction paper, but the remainder of the project seems insurmountable. Cutting out 6 designs per ornament, folding them, gluing them, starting all over again for the next one. 120 ornaments, that's 720 pieces. Sure, half of them are circles (which are easier to cut, but harder to fold), but the other half resemble squares with spades attached to each side. A mere 40 pieces have been cut, which has rendered the scissors dull and the haggard stepmother's hands cramped.
Only one week left to finish them all. They go to the teacher on Thursday to be punched and string added to hang them with. The stepmother is driving downstate on Wednesday to do some necessary picture-taking for the tattoo-shop website (and some sitting around, because the crew there is awesome and fun). So, really only 5 days to complete the project. The stepmother has begun wondering if there is anything short of the flu that will get her out of this. But she knows that even if she was near-death with the flu she would feel guilty about messing up the teacher's craft time plans and never forgive herself for it (this stepmother is very good at causing/pointing out guilt, so much so that she overwhelms herself in her own). So, the cramped hands take a short break and then return to their arduous task.
Those adorable children better be excited, lest the fatigued stepmother have a mental break down and be unable to maintain her cheerful facade in their presence.
Seriously, I'll fucking scream and rip the ornaments to shreds if those little brats don't enjoy my hard work. Those were my favorite scissors, damn it, and now they don't cut anything. Off to buy at least 2 more pairs of scissors, hopefully they will make it through.
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