Mommy on the Edge

Say "Yes!"

2009-05-19T15:29:00.000-07:00

Last week, Rob and I watched "Yes Man" with Jim Carrey. My opinion on the movie: it was okay. Not his best work (for my money, nothing beats "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind") but not his worst. The message of the movie, however, blew. me. AWAY. Seriously! It made me think of all the times I've turned down going out or doing something for no good reason. Maybe it was too late in the evening for me. Or I just thought it wasn't for me. I wouldn't fit in.

How are you supposed to experience life if you keep saying no? I'm almost 30 years old and I haven't had a girls night out since...um...2001. YEAH. That long. Eight years. So I have a new policy: if it's not illegal and there's no good reason to say no, I'm saying yes. I've even said yes to myself. Two weeks ago, I was watching "The Biggest Loser." All season, I've been in awe of these people. This was, by far, the heaviest set of contestants TBL has ever seen. I said to myself, "This is ridiculous. There are women on there bigger than you, in worse shape than you with less hope than you. What is stopping you? You've got a lot of weight to lose and you always seem to have an excuse. No more excuses! The changes start now!"

So I started with just walking. About three miles, I'd say. I threw in a few jogging spurts, about 30 seconds each. That was two weeks ago. Now I do a 3-4 mile route 4-5 days a week, and in that, I run 1-minute spurts 8-10 times throughout it and I'm gaining every day. My pants are already loose and I'm not stretching out t-shirts when I put them on anymore! I'm low-carbing it now and I'm down to only a couple of diet sodas a day, the rest is water. I feel great!

I'm aiming to run a 5k. I don't know if it'll be late this fall or early next spring but either way, I'm going to do it. And my mom? The woman who, despite all my desperate efforts, never thought I did good enough on anything? I want her ass standing at the finish line to watch her daughter - the one who didn't take enough interest in the piano, the one who didn't try hard enough in college, the one who had that hare-brained idea to move to California where only evil is born, the one who apparently doesn't know fuck-all about her own children and their needs - cross the line, 100 pounds lighter and a whole lot healthier.

She doesn't believe I can do it and I'm well aware of her disdain for my conventional methods of weight loss every time I mention what I've done that day. Instead of saying, "Well that's really great!" or "I'm really proud of you," all she can say is, "Keep it up" and "Cut back on what you eat and you'll lose even more." It's been this way my whole life. It's no wonder I have self-esteem issues and I'm constantly convinced it's not worth trying since I'll probably be no good at it anyway.

Meh.

I'll show her.

On taming the male species...

2009-05-05T15:54:00.000-07:00

We were driving home from Pittsburgh - yet again - yesterday and a Faith Hill song came on the radio. "Mississippi Girl," I believe it was. Anyway, Rob got all indignant for a minute and yelled at Faith (via the radio, of course) for sucking the soul out of Tim McGraw. You see, when Tim McGraw first showed up on the country music scene, this is what we were introduced to:

Tim McGraw More CMT Music More CMT Music Videos

He's no Hank Williams but he's a country boy.

Now, this is what we get:

Tim McGraw More CMT Music More CMT Music Videos

Meh. He's been neutered. Demasculated. He wears tight-fitting turtleneck sweaters with cowboy hats and still calls himself country.

In line with the "neutering" thought, Rob has decided that once I am gainfully employed with benefits and all, he'll undergo the snip-snip. We know we're done having kids, we're ready to sit back and watch them grow up. No more sleepless nights, no more bottles, no more teeny-tiny diapers.

Now, to tie those two thoughts together: we were talking about how Faith neutered Tim when they married. Rob says, "You kind of have to though. If men were left to be as wild as they always were, they'd never get around. They'd be pissing in the hamper and lighting the couch on fire."

I suppose it's one of those stories you have to be there for in order to understand why I got a serious case of the giggles over that. But surely you've cracked a smile?

He's right, too. Men need women in their lives in order to prevent chaos from ruling the world. We keep them calm, centered even. They don't need to be in the rut, sparring for the Alpha Male position; they already won a female. And they ensure that we don't...well...let's put it this way: we're not involved in the rut either. *wink*

Finally, someone who understands...

2009-04-23T11:23:00.000-07:00

I first read Dorothy Allison as a freshman in college. My Interpreting Literature professor, Dr. Covey, had "Bastard Out of Carolina" on his syllabus. I'd never heard of her prior to this class, but it was one of the first books we read that semester and I literally could not put that book down. It took me two days to finish it because every spare moment I had I devoted to losing myself in the story.

Then, in 2005, I discovered "Cavedweller." You'll note that my Blogger address includes that moniker. I so loved this book, too. This woman is an unbelievable storyteller. Until today, however, I had no idea she had other literature. I thought she was just kind of a flash in the pan. Nope. My next read will be "Trash." Check out her bibliography:

She Who. A novel, forthcoming (Penguin Putnam)

Trash, A Collection of Short Stories, 2002, Plume.

Cavedweller. Dutton, 1998.

Two or Three Things I know for Sure. Dutton, Fall, 1995.

Skin—Talking about Sex, Class & Literature. Firebrand Books, 1994. A collection of narrative essays.

Bastard out of Carolina, Dutton, 1992. A finalist for the National Book Award, a selection of the B. Dalton Discovery program, and winner of both the Ferro Grumley and Bay Area Book Reviewers Awards for fiction, Bastard Out of Carolina has been translated into more than a dozen languages and published in more than a dozen countries. In 1995, it was made into a movie directed by Angelica Huston and premiered on Showtime.

The Women Who Hate Me, Poetry 1980-1990. A chapbook. Firebrand Books, Ithaca, New York, 1991.

Trash, Short Stories by Dorothy Allison, Firebrand Books, Ithaca, NY, 1988.

The Women Who Hate Me, Poems by Dorothy Allison, Long Haul Press, 1983

I was so excited to learn how much more of hers there is to read. Yay! Anyway, this page, found on her website, speaks volumes about where I'm at in life right now.

So I may get a job after all...

2009-04-21T06:04:00.000-07:00

So I took the test yesterday down in Pittsburgh. First of all, let me say that I LOVE downtown Pittsburgh. I've never really been there, save for one two-block walk from a parking garage to the Mellon Arena for a hockey game in college. Rob dropped me off at the Pennsylvania State Office Building on Liberty Avenue at about 12:40 p.m. yesterday and I felt at home. This is where I need to be. LOVED IT.

Anyway, I made my way up to the 15th floor of a building so old, I'm sure I saw pillbox hats, a-line skirts and heard the click-clack of a mechanical typewriter behind a door with an opaque glass window. I walked into the office marked "Civil Service Examinations" and got sent through another door into the quietest room ever. The test proctor (that term always makes me giggle, the 14-year-old kid in me rearing its head) sent me over to a computer after giving me instructions on how to take the typing test. I managed to finish that with a score of 78 words per minute with only 6 errors.

The next section was a 135-question multiple choice test that scored me on comprehension, basic arithmetic, alphabetic and numeric filing, checking for spelling and grammatical errors or inconsistencies, and office etiquette. They give you 2.5 hours to finish it. I finished it in 45 minutes. I raised my hand (because that's the quiet way - and the only way - to get the proctor to come see you) and she came over and said, "I can't believe you're already done!"

That made me nervous. It's one of those situations where you finish a test so quickly you figure there are only two possible outcomes: a) You blew it. No chance in hell you did well. b) You kicked some serious ass. But I tried to shrug off the worries and went outside to call Rob to come pick me up. Want some free advice about Pittsburgh? Take the T. Much more convenient and much cheaper.

We had left the kids at my mother-in-law's for the afternoon so, despite the rain, we went down to South Side and poked around a couple of used book stores. We grabbed some onion rings and a big Diet Coke at Burger King and went back up to get the kids.

This morning, I checked my score. With civil service tests, your score ranks you among all the other people who've tested for that position. The results show you how many people are ahead of you on the list, how many are equal, and how many did worse. I got a 91. I had no idea what that meant until I clicked on each of the positions I tested for and there were four, apparently: Clerk Typist I, Clerk Typist II, Clerk Typist I (local government) and Clerk Typist II (local government). I applied for employment in five counties: Erie, Crawford, Butler, Allegheny and Washington. Here's how I did:

Allegheny County: Fifteen people did better than me, nine were equal to me, and 334 did worse than me. YAY!

Butler, Crawford, and Erie Counties: Roughly five people did better than me, a couple were equal and about 150 did worse.

Washington County: NOBODY did better than me, one was equal, and about 100 were worse. YAY!

So now I sit and wait. Stay tuned for next week's update, when I test on the 27th for Income Maintenance Caseworker. I'll have the details on the 28th of how I did.

Time Marches On

2009-04-16T16:13:00.000-07:00

So I'm still unemployed. Big news of the day, eh? I've e-mailed or snail-mailed about another dozen resumes in the last week, three going out tomorrow to Sarris, First National Bank of Pennsylvania, and to Duquesne University. I really hope something turns up. I don't think we can make it on two part-time incomes and live in the greater Pittsburgh areas.

I officially became a Pennsylvania resident today. I'm trying to contain my excitement. I thought I'd be okay with relinquishing my California residency...but it sucks a little bit. If things had gone like we'd originally planned - if Rob's work had been steady and he'd gotten steady increases in pay - we could have done really well. I know it's all said and done and that it just didn't work out but if you've never had to start over at nearly 30 years old, you don't know just how much it can suck. But the nice lady at the DMV in Meadville punched a hole in my pretty, yellow license and the nice old man (who, oddly enough, worked with Rob six years ago at AutoZone) handed me my temporary license with my god-awful picture on it. Same license number I had six years ago, same address. Meh.

Also, can someone explain to me how our country was so blind as to believe Barack Obama could be good for our country? This man is out of control. Oh, but he's not a socialist. Nope. Not a chance. MEH.

I'm feeling very cynical today. Do I have any readers who live in or near Pittsburgh? Do you know of anyone hiring? Any tips would be greatly appreciated.

And a big, belated congratulations to Kate, my college roommate and one of my bestest friends, who gave birth to a baby girl last week, Kelsey Jo. YAY!

Stipulations and such

2009-04-06T12:59:00.000-07:00

So apparently, when you sign a contract, you actually have to hold up your end of the bargain. For example: you ask a company to allow you to run their ads on your blog. They say, "Sure! Even though your blog is small and hardly noteworthy, you get maybe four hits per week, you can run ads through us and you'll get a hearty percentage of the hit value." I'm stunned; I was under the impression that only big, important blogs - even ones who take a walk on the controversial side and suffer the loss of readership for their efforts - got to run ads on their site.

So anyway, one of the stipulations was that I had to update at least once weekly or they'd pull my ad code. My last post was March 25th. Whoopsie!

I will, from now on, attempt to update at least weekly, if not more often. The thing is, where before I was living in an 850 ft² apartment, I'm now living in a big-ass house (relatively speaking) where kids can roam freely. My hands are full. Thus, I have little time to sit and focus on a blog. So to both BlogHer and my faithful three readers, I apologize for not blogging as often as I contractually should.

So what's happening here? Rob flew out to California this past Thursday to buy a pick-up truck and haul our stuff back to Pennsylvania. He found a 1989 Ford F-150 and rented a small U-Haul trailer; he and his brother are loading everything up as I type and are departing in the wee hours of tomorrow morning. Yay! After that, we'll officially become Pennsylvania residents again. Oy. Unnerving, really, especially since I'm still unemployed and didn't get that job at the high school.

Did I mention it's snowing today? Yeah. It's April and it's snowing. Up to a FOOT by Wednesday morning. I miss California.

"My life has a superb cast but I can't figure out the plot." ~Ashleigh Brilliant

2009-03-25T11:19:00.000-07:00

We've had a lot going on lately and yet nothing's really transpired. Well...that's not entirely true. I did go on another interview last week. This time, in a curious turn of events, it was for a local job. What's more, it's my aunt's job at the high school I attended. She's been there for 35 years and is retiring in June. She says 90 people applied for her job. Out of them, 10 were interviewed. So we'll see.

The kids are adjusting to life here kinda-sorta well. Bubba's doing great. His speech is exploding and he understands so much. You can't slip anything past this kid! Beth is riding the rollercoaster of "I'm still in a new environment AND I'm four years old. Wheeeee!" She still talks about going "home" and how she just wants "to get out of here." We have to keep explaining to her that, for now, this is home. It breaks my heart. Quite frankly, I like calling this domicile "home" about as much as I like raw onions. For those of you who know me, you know nothing makes me gag as much as tasting a raw onion.

Living in my mom's house has been, to say the very least, trying. She's lived alone for the last six years and has become accustomed to her solitary life. Then we come straggling in with our two small children and their toys, wreaking havoc on her simple, quiet home. We're up at 7:00 a.m. every day, there are Cheerios, Kix, and occasional cookie crumbs strewn about her floor, and dinner is a three-ring circus. We're cooking with seasonings and flavors she's never cooked with and she informed me that she's eaten more vegetables since we arrived then she's eaten in the last year.

With all that comes her belief (or, at least, what I suspect is her belief) that since I'm "home," I need to be led around and parented like the child she must think I am. She's meddling in my job search, brow beating me into working at that damn Cracker Barrel and trying to make me feel bad for not wanting to work into the evening. They only want to hire a prep cook for the afternoon/evening shift. My availability clearly states that I want to be home by 6:00 p.m. I want to eat dinner and bathe my kids and be there for bedtime. That's extremely important to me. Mom doesn't get that. She seems to think that this is the Best Job on Earth and that I should kiss the toes of the manager who's planning on calling me to try and convince me to work in the evenings. Good luck with that.

I really hope something comes along soon so we can move the hell out of this house. I don't care where it is. I need my own space back and my kids need to be free to have fun and yell. THEY'RE KIDS! Let them be kids!

And then there's the nebby, gossipy canary about town who's telling people I'm some oppressed housewife with no opinions and no chutzpah. I've got an idea of who it is and frankly, I'm not surprised. Conneautville is the very definition of Small Town, U.S.A., and what better to talk about than the person who moved out of this town a beer-loving, wildly independent party girl and came back a calm, settled wife and mom who appreciates the art of compromise and doesn't feel the constant need to be a hard-nosed, stand-offish bitch who keeps everyone at bay to avoid getting hurt. I went through a very rough five-year period before I met my husband. I lost my dad, my grandparents, an aunt and an uncle. I had two different boyfriends cheat on me with good friends of mine. I had friendships fall apart. By the time I met Rob, I had lost a lot of respect for myself and was sick and tired of getting hurt.

But when he came into my life and stayed, didn't hurt my feelings or make threats of leaving, and showed me that it was okay to let people in and that he wasn't there to use me, and most importantly that nothing was going to shake his love for me, I softened. I calmed down. I trusted him. And what people didn't bear witness to over the last six years was the metamorphasis I went through. I started seeing life differently, especially after having children. My values changed, my opinions changed, and I wanted different things out of life. I guess some people write that off as a character flaw and are bent on sharing the news with everyone.

Maybe all that city livin' in California did me some good. It taught me to mind my own business. It also taught me to stand up for me and mine. My politics may have changed, and I may not be as wild and crazy as I used to be, but I'm a whole lot stronger now than I ever was. So if the gossip hound reads this, pass this along, too: I don't need anyone's approval to be happy. I absolutely love my life and that's all you need to know.

Now I'm a bi-monthly poster...

2009-03-14T05:59:00.000-07:00

I'll be surprised if anybody reads this. Seriously, I will. I do still love writing, and I miss blogging, but the days just run away from me like hungry cheetahs after a wildebeest. I wake up, feed the kids, feed myself, feed my husband, and then he does schoolwork in the morning, we usually have somewhere to go in the afternoon, and then there's dinner, baths, and bedtime. I usually squeeze in 15-20 minutes between baths and "Jeopardy," but that's not enough time to check and reply to my emails, breeze through Facebook and MySpace (both of which, in my world, are only slightly more active than this blog), and see if there are any jobs to be applied for on Craigslist.

In other news, and in case the previous sentence didn't give it away, I'm still unemployed. I went on two interviews for the same job last week. First was with a staffing agency who was doing the legwork for a small company in Bridgeville. My interview was at 10:00 a.m., where I basically just filled out an application and W-4's, told the lady who was handling my case that I could start immediately, and had her tell me that if I didn't hear from them by Friday to call them and see what was going on. Four hours later, she calls me and asks if I can do an interview with the company the next morning. Clearly, I impressed somebody. So we hauled our cookies back down to Bridgeville Wednesday morning, left the kids at my mother-in-law's, and went to the interview. I thought it went well, the girl interviewing me seemed friendly and the company is a perfect fit for me. I have no idea how soon she'd be calling, though, if she wanted to hire me so I'm sitting on pins and needles here. I assumed by Friday but maybe that's too soon?

As a result of the joblessness, we're still at my mom's. I think it goes without saying that this situation SUCKS. She's 70, she's used to being alone, and she's definitely not used to having small children underfoot. Small children who, part in parcel, come with small toys and small bits of food. Oh, and loud voices. She spends her time at home yelling at them to stop running, stop jumping, stop yelling, stop touching anything that isn't a toy (and some things that are toys), and either belittling our parenting or completely disregarding it, as though we're the babies in this situation. We have got to get out of here.

So that's about it with us. How've you been?

Am I seriously down to once a week?

2009-02-28T06:08:00.000-08:00

Oy. My apologies to whomever still reads my blog. I've been busier than a one-armed paper-hanger lately. We've either been driving back and forth to Pittsburgh or I've been plastered to the computer trying to find a job. Initially, I wanted to find a job in Pittsburgh. Now, I just want to find a job anywhere...Pittsburgh, Erie, Cranberry, Meadville. All up and down the western side of Pennsylvania, I'm open to suggestions. I've got about a dozen resumès/applications out, most of which were sent yesterday. I've even sent unsolicited resumès to the Meadville Tribune and the Post-Gazette. I need work.

In other news, my children have run amok. Nay, not "children," I mean to say "child." Beth has gone completely wild. It's almost as if she's never known any rules in her short four years on this earth. I'm trying to attribute it to the move, with her being out of sorts and confused and whatnot, but I think it's more to do with her being four. Do all four-year-olds suddenly develop a need to push you at every turn? To challenge every rule? To drive you to the brink of insanity and laryngitis? Oh. My. God.

Ah, sweet DSL.

2009-02-20T16:24:00.000-08:00

Windstream finally showed up (a day late) and installed our DSL. Seriously folks, do they really need someone to do that? They don't let you do it yourself, apparently, they have to do it. It's all very Big Brother. They don't use a software installation CD - like AT&T did in California - so that it's easy peasy. No, no. The lady hooks up the modem and then opens Internet Explorer, types in Windstream's URL and does it for you through their website. I don't much care for the process but I wanted my internets back too bad to object. Besides, the woman doing our installation was an alumni from my high school so we had a nice little chat about people we both knew. She's eight years my senior so the connections were few, but it was a nice chat.

So now...to find a job. We're very confused about what we want to do from here. Do we stay in this charming little podunk town and live a simple life (which is, ultimately, what we kind of want) and work jobs we really don't care for...or do we try to make a go out of Pittsburgh? And if we go with Pittsburgh, do we find a place to live first and then hope like hell I find work really quick? History shows that living on unemployment income alone while looking for work doesn't pan out too well. Or do we try to find me a job first and then scramble like mad and hope to hell we find someone willing to rent to us within a week or two?

Very confusing. Very. Thoughts?

Welcome back, Mr. Kotter.

2009-02-15T10:45:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting here in what's now my mom's office. It was first my bedroom, then my playroom, then it was a piano room for a while (even though we kept calling it the toy room), and after we moved out, it was mom's office. Don't get confused: she doesn't actually need an office. But it's where she keeps all her papers and stuff.

We've hooked up our desktop PC and it's all less-than-conveniently shoved on to one corner of the desk, tower parallel to the monitor, sitting directly behind it, printer perched on top of the tower. We're using dial-up until the Windstream people come and install the DSL on Wednesday. I told mom to tell whomever she spoke with that I was capable of installing a DSL modem but apparently she either didn't or they ignored her. So we signed up for free Netzero until they get here. Bah. Dial-up is so. friggin. SLOW.

My travels were as smooth and easy as can be expected. All of my flights left on time. Southwest is exceptionally punctual. We left within five minutes of our scheduled take-off with both of my flights. My only complaint? I wish I could have flown alone. I understand I couldn't leave both kids with my husband and take the easy way out and that the intent of the generous ticket purchase was to alleviate the mind-numbing terror of driving for three days with a young toddler...but it would have been so relaxing to be without the inherent worry for a child all day. Not to mention the inevitable tears and frustration that goes with being stuck in a carseat all day, the pressure that builds up in his little ears despite incessant binky suckage, being too excited to eat, the hassle of security, and the whiplash he must have after the pilot hit the brakes in our 737 in Pittsburgh. The poor kid was conked out right through our descent but snapped to (quite literally) when they hit the brakes.

All in all, though, I couldn't complain. Our night with family was pleasant and, thankfully, peaceful. The minute I laid him down he stopped squirming and passed out within ten minutes. We drove up to my mom's work the next morning and had lunch, then mom and I hit the grocery store and drove "home" to Conneautville. The next morning, we met my mom's friends for lunch at the little diner in town. Rob says, when I told him what we were going to do, "You're taking my son to a hen fest?" Indeed, I was.

Everyone I've run into has said, "Welcome back!" or, even weirder, "Welcome home." It's crazy. I know it should feel like home but I still feel like an outsider. I've been gone for almost six years. Should it feel like home? "Home" for me has been in California since 2003. I can tell you it feels good to be here. I feel normal again. In California, I was a little too redneck and a little too...countrified. I'm polite to people, I'll say "Hi!" to complete strangers, I say "please" and "thank you." I hold doors open for people and expect the same from others. Rarely, if ever, did I experience that in California. Also, it seemed like no one was ever happy out there. Back here, I don't know, it seems people enjoy life a lot more. And I dig that.

So, I guess "Welcome home" maybe isn't so ill-fitting.

A Few Things

2009-02-04T15:14:00.001-08:00

I've been slacking lately, I know, but I have my reasons. First of all, I have absolutely nothing to blog about. Scratch that. I have absolutely nothing to blog about that I am willing to write about until we're back in Pennsylvania. My kids haven't done anything truly noteworthy, aside from learning a few new words which, thankfully, isn't uncommon with the younger one. With Beth, between her 2nd and 3rd birthday, every new word was a celebration.

My husband started his first semester ever of college on January 20th. He's doing alright, he learned how to navigate online courses fairly easily and with very little help from me. I have been helping him type the papers because he needs some help with punctuation but otherwise, he's been on his own. But with him studying during the day, I have to watch the kids and that doesn't leave me much time for blogging. See, while we're here at my in-law's place, we have to stay on top of what the kids are doing. We've childproofed the necessary stuff: outlets have covers, stairs are gated, all the doors have child locks on them. But there are certain things, like picture frames, glass decor, and certain cabinets that aren't locked and have to more or less be monitored at all times. I hate blogging in pieces so I try to wait until I can tap one out in a single sitting. It almost never happens here. I think I'm averaging two blogs a week, which compared to my previous five-a-week isn't much. I'm pretty sure I've lost a majority of my readership because of it. I hope that once I'm back in Pennsylvania and we can manage our time better that I can get back up on the horse and blog daily.

I must admit, I'm a bit nervewracked about the trip. My end of things is more or less handled...my husband's, on the other hand, is going to be a bit hairy. Money's going to be extremely tight and there's no telling whether they'll be able to stop for the night at any point. This really worries me because Rob's the only driver. I'm not worried about Beth or the cat, they'll be fine; but he wants to stop and sleep in a Walmart parking lot or a rest area and terrifies me. I realize that with such a tight budget, he'll have to do what he has to do to make it across the country without wrecking the car. I guess I just don't want to know about it. I've told him I just want to see them arrive safe and sound. I don't want to hear any plans; just leave on the 10th and try to be in Pennsylvania by the 13th.

I'm down to three days left here, I depart on the 10th. I'm supposed to have lunch tomorrow with a friend - and this lunch, by the by, is our first meeting; we've only chatted online thus far - and then I gotta get down to the nitty-gritty packing. I have to do all our laundry, pack all our bags, and determine what goes with and what can sit in storage until the first week of June. YIKES. I think I'm most remorseful about coughing up $94.00 a month for the stupid storage unit.

So, my friends, I'll be back next week. On the very good chance I won't get to blog again until next week, I leave you with this: I'll be in town on the 11th, have a birthday party on the 14th, but beyond that, we're free. We'll be broke, but we're available! I know all of you will be beating down our door to see us (ha ha) so all inquiries should be directed through my mom's phone number.

Turn the Page

2009-01-29T11:52:00.001-08:00

Most people will be watching the Superbowl this weekend. Those of us who are die-hard fans for either the Arizona Cardinals or the PITTSBURGH STEELERS will be watching avidly, cheering and jeering for about four hours. Some will look at the statistics and choose a team to root on based on who has the best defense, the better quarterback, or maybe someone like Fast Willie Parker or Troy Polamalu who's just everywhere. I'm just sayin'.

I'll be right alongside my husband and brother-in-law cheering the Steelers on. But we have a very important event around here that will transpire the day prior to the big game. A smart, funny, and whimsical little girl is turning four.

Her Yaya (pronounced yeah-yeah) will be taking Beth, Bubba, myself, her daughters and two other grandsons out to lunch at McDonald's where we'll also have cupcakes. Then we'll spend the afternoon at the house until the guys get back from the midday golf outing - originally meant to be an afternoon with my husband and his dad, sort of a final father-son outing, but it turned into my husband tagging along as my father-in-law goes golfing with his stepson-in-law and some other guy we don't know. Whatever. After they get back, we'll have the real cake and open presents.

I just can't believe four years have passed since I had my first baby. Is she really turning four? How is that possible? I was looking at old pictures when we were packing up the old place, just a couple of weeks ago, and when she was born we still didn't have a digital camera, so all her baby pictures are actually in photo albums. There's one picture of her sleeping on my chest, just a wee newborn, all curled up, mouth hanging open, and looking like the coziest baby on earth. Now, if I stretch her out to lay her head on my chest, it's like hugging a German Shepherd. She's huge in comparison to four years ago.

Her hair is thick and gorgeous and hangs down to the middle of her back. When she was three months old, all her baby hair fell out and she looked like an 80-year-old man. Her eyes were so dark when she was born, they were almost purple. Now she's big ol' doe eyes that shine a caramel-coffee color. She has really fair skin with a rosy glow and a smile that lights up a room. She's overcome a speech delay, having barely said three words by the time she was two. Now we can't pay her to be quiet. She's become such an integral and vibrant part of our life that we can't imagine life without her.

So in case I get wrapped up in something else tomorrow, forget to blog, or decide to hack out a Friday Chronicles post, happy birthday, Beth. You're an awesome little girl who's going to take over the world someday. We love you.

Because Denise was bored...and so am I...

2009-01-25T09:33:00.000-08:00

(TAG! YOU ARE IT! Copy and post this on your blog ASAP!) What is this?

Well, you’re supposed to bold the things you’ve done so readers
can find out how you've led an awesome life so far.

Here's what I have done in bold...

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland [okay, Disney World]
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo's David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day

A Benign Post

2009-01-24T12:12:00.000-08:00

I have blog guilt. I haven't produced a quality blog post in weeks. Every day, I swear up and down that I'm going to carve out half an hour to blog...and then every day, I find out I have absolutely nothing to write about. Things are very humdrum here. We've been driving back and forth to the old 'hood to handle college-related things for Rob but that aside, nothin'.

We've thrown a few more bricks into place regarding our migration back east. I've obtained the kids' birth certificates, finally. It only took me nearly four years to get Beth's and a full year to get Bubba's. This is no fault of the county (although I believe it's a bunch of bull that we have to pay to get the birth certificates, to the tune of $19.00 each). No, no, it's all me. I was just too lazy. We never needed them until now.

We bought the trailer hitch this past week, a Class III, meaning we can tow up to 3,500 pounds. I think Rob's installing it next week. I called Southwest to ensure I would be able to get a priority boarding pass because of having an infant with me. As long as I have the above-mentioned birth certificate, I'll be in Group A. I also got this fantastic contraption, the Travelmate, which will be an enormous help in the airport when I have Bubba in his convertible carseat. I didn't buy it brand-new, I bought it used from a woman in Union City. It's an older model, it's only supposed to fit Britax carseats, and I have a Cosco, but Rob's handy and can make it work. He started to explain to me what he was going to do to make it work, but as soon I heard, "What I'll do is..." my eyes glazed over and my ears powered down.

It's also a good feeling to know you're wanted back where you came from. My cousin invited us to her daughter's first birthday party the weekend after we get in, my college roommate is inviting me to her baby shower in March, and an old friend offered to help us get settled. My best friend is driving up shortly after we arrive so we can meet each other's kids and get caught up; nearly six years is a long time to be separated from your best friend.

I'm really excited and I'm glad things are finally coming together. Anybody else back east want to get together?

Like sands through the hourglass...

2009-01-21T10:18:00.000-08:00

Wow, time's rolling by slowly. We're now T minus 20 days till lift-off and I'm pretty sure if time passed any slower it'd be going in reverse. It's not that things are terrible at my in-law's; if anything they're going better than they did last time. It's just that we're dealing with so. much. crap. these days that most days it feels like my head is swimming with things to do, numbers, and dates. It seems as though we can't catch a friggin' break (save for the massive amount of generosity coming to fruition on February 10th) and there's a roadblock at every pass. It's been this way since November and frankly, I'm not sure how much more I can take! I try to laugh it off. I've always held the opinion that you have to laugh at life, otherwise you'll drive yourself crazy. Lately, however, it's been a real stretch to find the laughter. When will things turn the corner?

In everyday news, my son's speech is picking up like moss on a rolling stone. He's recently added: tree, milk, cereal, ya-ya, Coke, cycle and jacket. Alright, he's actually saying: tee, gul, reh-ree, ya-ya, goke, gye-kul, and gah-ket. But they're his words and we know what they mean! My daughter has suddenly developed a HUGE attitude problem. Hands on hips, shrieking, wrinkling up her nose, making strange noises with her throat...ugh. I tell her daily that I'm trading her in at the Used Kids Store for a less-bratty model. I love that munchkin to death but man alive! She's in for a few years of butting heads with mommy and daddy if she keeps it up.

Rob started his first semester of college yesterday. He's very busy doing homework and posting to online discussions. I'm really very proud of him; he's embracing this whole college thing and trying to figure it all out on his own. It's going to be a rocky first semester what with the move and all, but I'm sure he'll survive. I'm actually a tad jealous. I loved college...and my notebooks. I have a self-professed obsession with office supplies: paper, binders, folders, pens, pencils, staplers, paperclips. I could spend a whole day in Staples. Now my husband has a brand-spanking-new Five Star Notebook just begging me to jot down notes in it. Rawr.

So we're off to the lower east bay again today. We have to buy Rob's books for the semester - provided the college released his funding - and hit up our storage unit to organize and make room for the toolbox. Good times.

Phase One, Complete.

2009-01-18T12:12:00.000-08:00

So we're at my in-law's now. To be honest, the last time I blogged, I was in a bit of a fog, so I can't remember if I told you all this or not, but someone we know (who's asked to remain nameless) was kind enough to purchase two plane tickets so that Bubba and I can fly back to PA while Rob and Beth drive back with the Tracker, bike-on-trailer, and some of our crap. So we actually have an arrival date for all of you who are keeping track and would like to *ahem* be in Conneautville the weekend after we get back. Bubba and I are flying in on February 10th and will be up in Conneautville on the 11th. Rob and Beth will be rolling in probably on Friday the thirteenth. Bwa-ha-ha.

The 11th-13th will probably be spent just recouperating from the trip and unpacking, getting settled, doing some grocery shopping, stuff like that. So if I run into you around town, yay! If not, feel free to stop by my mom's place, we'll be there. We'll eventually be doing a run down to Pittsburgh to let my mother-in-law meet her grandson (if you recall, I was eight months pregnant with him the last time she saw us), so if you're in da 'Burgh, let me know and we'll try to work out a visit.

So who else is excited about the game today? GO STEELERS! I'm actually not a huge football nut but I do get excited about Steelers games, especially when they're vying for the AFC Championship. By the time most of you read this, the verdict will be in, but for now, I'm excited. We bought our play-off food for this afternoon/evening, we have a bigger-than-our-TV widescreen to watch the game on and we are, to bring up an old chestnut, geeked.

I should go. Things to do, things to do. Happy Playoff Day, folks!

Life is a cement trampoline.

2009-01-15T16:16:00.000-08:00

So we're emptying out our apartment and throwing bags upon bags of stuff in the dumpster. Throwing out things that were really just cluttering up our life, taking up space, collecting dust...but it's really very hard to get rid of things that, in one way or another, were a part of everyday life. It's even harder to work up the strength to climb our outdoor steps another time to gather another load of garbage. I'm so damn tired, my limbs doth protest a lot.

Anyway, we're nearing the end of the clean-out. I have to finish up with the kids' room, the bathroom and hall closets, and then attack the kitchen. I think I'm going to round-file most of the kitchen; I'm keeping our glasses and Pyrex pans, and a few of the kids' cups. The rest is kind of junk at this point and it's not worth boxing up and saving. I really just want this to be done and to move on to the next phase of this "adventure."

What's on my mind now, to be honest, is our return to western Pennsylvania. I'm excited about it, I'm hoping we're able to finally live the life we've always wanted: friends and family to hang out with, things to do that won't cost a small fortune, football games we actually give a damn about, fishing, and overall a happier and less stressful existence. But I'm worried about reintroducing myself to a social life again.

I've made all of about three friends since moving out here. One I've never met in real life, one I've met in real life once, and one I've hung out with occasionally. Between spending the last four years immersed in raising my children and effectively removing myself from any kind of social scene since 2003, I feel like my social skills have packed up their bags and taken up residence somewhere in the recesses of my brain. I'm worried that given the opportunity to hang out with old friends and family, I'll end up sitting there like a bump on a log with little to say and what I do say will bore them to death.

I don't know, maybe I'll be fine. I've changed a lot since 2003 though, as one friend put it, I kind of act like an old lady sometimes. I'm hoping the fun me is hiding somewhere inside and I can revive her. I don't want to be the person that everyone invites to parties and get-togethers out of sympathy because once upon a time, she was fun to have around but now we just feel sorry for her awkwardness.

Bah. I worry too much. I should just be excited to see everyone again, right? You all will still love me, right? Just be patient with me. I'll come around again, I swear!

"We all have big changes in our lives that are more or less a second chance."

2009-01-12T20:39:00.001-08:00

~ Harrison Ford

Never thought I'd be quoting Indiana Jones, but that man is mighty quippy.

So here's the rundown, without going into too much gritty detail:

1. We're moving. Yes, we're moving, and not to any other place in the Bay Area. Not even in California. Through a series of essentially uncontrollable circumstances, we're unable to even semi-comfortably stay in California. So all you East Coast folks, you know, the ones I've whined about missing? Mark your calendars, we're packing up and heading back across this chunk of earth and coming to a screeching stop in my old stomping grounds.

2. We're paring down our possessions. Our initial haul will only be bringing what we can fit in our tracker and on a little trailer that will, among other things, be hauling Rob's motorcycle. We sold the fish and their tank today to a man who wanted some easy-to-care-for pets for his kids. I got the impression that all drains would lead to the ocean and although I am an animal lover, I don't honestly care. I just didn't want to be the person to do it. It occurred to us to donate them back to the pet store but we've got too much going on to do that. He said he might do that since they were all healthy fish, so keep your fingers crossed for my daughter's fine-finned friends.

3. We're leaving sometime in early to mid-February, depending on when our tax return shows up. We need to install a hitch on our tracker and pick up the trailer, then load it and tether things. I think Rob scheduled pick-up of the trailer on February 10th, but we'll see if we have the money by then.

4. In the interim, we'll be back at my in-laws. *groan* It'll only be for a month or so, so it won't be like last time, but we know they're going to ask for money this time around. If you need to reach us between January 18th and whenever we leave the state, e-mail me and I'll get you that phone number.

5. When we get back, we're going to be at my mom's until August-ish. Rob's going to finish his semester at Chabot by taking online-only classes through May and I'm probably going to find some part-time job to save up money. We're looking to move down to Pittsburgh in August since Rob plans on enrolling at CCAC for the fall semester and I'm going to find full-time work there. So if you live in Pittsburgh and know of any jobs I'd be qualified for that pay a decent salary, please let me know!

So that's the nutshell. Any questions? E-mail me. God, this sounds like a mass e-mail, doesn't it?

.....................................................................................

I've got a lot of emotions running through me right now. I'm disappointed that our big quest of the west didn't pan out. I'm excited to be moving back to western Pennsylvania where I know my kids will attend better schools and where all my old friends have kids my kids' ages. I'm worried that it'll be just as tough there. I'm anxious as all hell about our move. Rob wants to go balls-to-the-wall and drive straight through. Practical ol' me knows this is entirely too impractical and will be fighting him tooth and nail to at least stop for one night. He and I could manage it but it would play hell on the kids and the cat. Surely he must realize that!

Rawr. Life just can't be easy, can it?

Here We Go, Baby!

2009-01-11T11:27:00.001-08:00

The Friday Chronicles

2009-01-08T22:21:00.000-08:00

I'm always grateful when Friday comes along. Not only is the most annoying ghost-hunting show EVER on, but it's the day I don't have to come up with a blogging topic. I can just rattle off what's happened to me in the week behind me. It's that proverbial Friday that people with a job have. You don't work quite as hard at work as you do Monday through Thursday, you know that you have a two-day break coming up, and you know that no one expects much out of you on that particular day (okay, so no one expects much out of me on any given day, but Friday is always guaranteed to be exceptionally mundane).

.....................................................................................

So let's talk about the Oakland riot that transpired last night. I know I said I'd steer clear of controversial topics until February but I can't just sidestep this giant pile of poo.

For those who aren't aware, here's one of the cell phone videos taken by BART passengers:

Now obviously, you can't hear what's being said between the kid who was shot and the cops, but it's clear there's a struggle. As you can imagine, there's a huge feeding frenzy out here, and they're trying to make it a racial thing. I can't say if it was or wasn't, only the cop who shot him can, and since he immediately resigned from the police force and has moved twice, well, I'll leave it up to you...and the 12 people I'm sure will hand down his judgment. What's stuck in my craw is this:

What good does it do to create mayhem and cause destruction? What did the business owners in the Fruitvale district have to do with that cop and Oscar Grant? Do they really think they're making a point - much less one that should be respected - by setting innocent people's cars on fire and breakout windows of businesses? Furthermore, assaulting people with news crews? They even booed their own mayor, who was trying to sympathize with them while calming them down.

I couldn't do anything except shake my head while I was watching the news last night. I understand that they're upset and angry. But what good can come of rioting?

....................................................................................

I'm trying to get back into the swing of working out. Until we're out of here, I'm using the "spa" (what a laughable term; there's an elliptical, a treadmill, a recumbent bike, and a multi-use weight machine...nothing spa-like in the least) allllllmost daily. Okay, I went twice last week and I went today. I really killed it today though. I'm still sore. I probably overdid it. But hey, if I don't sweat, I'm not working, right?

....................................................................................

I got my daughter to voluntarily eat a prune today. You could have knocked me over with a feather.

....................................................................................

We watched "The Dark Knight" this past week. I gotta say, I wasn't that impressed. The action was mediocre, Batman was way too vulnerable, the Batmobile died, and they kept referring to him as "...the batman..." Not just "Batman," but "the batman," as if to anonymize him. Christian Bale is, by far, the lousiest Batman to ever hit the silver screen and that gravelly voice he uses when he dons the Batman suit is just comical. What's funnier is that he even uses that voice when he's talking to Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman), who knows he's simply Bruce Wayne. What? The Batsuit causes a whiskey voice? I guess I'll stick with what I'm sure of: the originals are always the best. Michael Keaton is unsurpassable.

I will allow this: Heath Ledger's take on the Joker was interesting. Not nearly as campy or polished as Jack's portrayal, and the makeup was incredibly weird, but I suppose we can chalk it up to artistic license? But he did make the character his own and he was completely unrecognizable as Heath Ledger when he was in character.

....................................................................................

So that's about all I have for this week. I'm sorry, again, for my severe lack of blogging. I've had a lot going on and possibly a lot more to come, but when we get everything figured out, I'll have a whole lot of blog fodder for you all. Have a nice weekend!

Husbands Say the Darndest Things

2009-01-07T18:51:00.000-08:00

A conversation between Rob and I, driving home today:

Darcie: You know what used to be so amusing?
Rob: Hm?
Darcie: When you're in elementary school, and little boys conveyed their affections for you by picking on you or chasing you around.
Rob: Yeah, and then a short time after that, it turns into, "Look at my bravado! I will climb and run..."
Darcie: "...and jump off of things!"
Rob: Yeah. You know, it's really funny because girls mature so much faster than boys. By the time you're 15 or 16, girls already have their system worked out. They know how to find a mate. Us guys, we have no idea how to even speak to those alien creatures! Very pretty. That's all we know.
Darcie: [cracking up] Alien creatures?!
Rob: Yeah. And the worst part is that we spend almost the first half of our lives trying to find and keep a woman and then even the nicest among us spend the other half treating them like crap! [And added just now: Or, at the very least, being a huge pain in their ass.]
Darcie: [still laughing] Oh god...you're so the subject of my blog tonight!

Men are funny creatures. Rob's grandmother used to say, "I feel sorry for the girl that marries you!" I never met her in person, we only spoke on the phone a few times, but I have the feeling she was only 60% joking. Rob's a tough guy to live with sometimes. I love the man dearly, but he has a few attributes that I swear are causing me to molt.

But he does keep me laughing and he keeps my ~~irrational, screaming and wild-eyed freak-outs~~hissy fits to a minimum, so I'll keep him around, I suppose!

What's on my mind? Today's List...

2009-01-04T12:24:00.000-08:00

see more puppies

1. Just when you think you're finally going to get a leg up on a situation, you get knocked down two pegs. It gets damn tiresome wearing that proverbial sandwich board that reads, "Kick me!"

2. I'm very tired. Like, curl up and sleep for days tired. I think it's a combination of my lack of sleep last night and all the stress I've been dealing with lately. My body wants and needs to shut down just to recoup.

3. We have a big decision to make very soon. It's a fish-or-cut-bait situation and it's not an easy one. There are pros and cons on both sides and honestly, I don't know which end of things we'll end up on. We're trying to act in the best interest of our kids but we don't want to act rashly and end up regretting it.

4. I put imitation crab meat in my salad for lunch. Normally, I love that stuff. Today? Too much. It's one of those situations where you ate so much of something that the mere thought of it makes you queasy.

5. At the risk of sounding like a true Californian...I. Am. FREEZING. Seriously, it's about 55ºF - 60ºF outside and all I want to do is bundle up in the warmest blanket we own. I can't get warm!

6. The state of California, well, it kind of sucks. A lot. I don't want to say why and even if you email and ask, I still won't divulge, but suffice it to say California, as a whole, sucks.

7. You know how you're not supposed to care about what people think? Yeah, well, I totally do. And if we make a decision vis-á-vis #3, I feel like all sorts of judgment will rain down on me. Judgments about things in general, the way I look now, the way things have turned out, etc. I know it's ridiculous and that I should just shut up about it, but it's on my mind.

8. I really, truly love "Friends." No matter how down and out we are, it always makes us laugh. Awesome show.

Since nobody asked, and nobody ever does...

2009-01-01T20:57:00.000-08:00

A recap of 2008, a lá Darcie:

...Moved out of my in-law's place and into our current place a shabby-chic two-bedroom loft back down in the "real" east bay.

...Watched my husband suffer through 11 months of scant work and disappointing paychecks before getting laid off.

...Helped my husband enroll as a full-time student at Chabot College to begin his degree in mechanical engineering.

...Celebrated my little boy - and my last baby ever - turn one. Much bittersweetness transpired.

...Threw my hat back into the ring for work. I have countless resumès out (okay, about 30, according to my "sent" folders), two handfuls of applications for retail/supermarket positions, and a few classified applications at colleges. I've had three interviews - none of which panned out - and a test for a senior secretary position with the city of Hayward on the 7th.

...Found myself really caring about politics for the first time in my life. Up until this year, I just sort of skated through life, not paying any attention to Washington or even state goings-on. This year though, and especially with the election, I found a passion for it. Yes, November 4th was a disappointment for me (and many others) but it was still a monumental day and year.

...Checked my pride at the door and learned a new level of humility. Gave as much as I could through a holiday season when I didn't have much to give. Taught my daughter the value of sharing and giving when you have more than you need because there are others out there with less than you have. Found the true spirit of Christmas.

So happy new year everyone. I hope I have a better year than I did in 2008 and I hope I end it on a good note.

Just some tunes.

2008-12-29T21:40:00.000-08:00

I love music and sometimes, you just can't help but wonder if a song wasn't written about you. You'll be driving along and some random song you haven't heard in years comes on the radio and takes you back 10 or 15 years and reminds of something or someone. The songs and videos below don't necessarily remind me of anyone or anything...and maybe some do...but I just really dig 'em and thought I'd share.

This one had me crying...

I defy anyone to listen to this and not feel the pain she's expressing...

And then, my kids...two songs really get me every. single. time.

And since this list of videos is getting ridiculous, I'll end with this and maybe do some more this weekend, who knows? Anyway, this is for those of you going through a craptastic patch like we are.

Now That's Dedication

2008-12-29T20:41:00.000-08:00

I admire this kid. I wish I had that kind of dedication. I used to; I was dedicated to school, to organizations I was involved with, to partying...okay, so my devotion to partying sometimes overshadowed the other two, but hey, at least I was dedicated. I could always be relied upon to be a wing-woman at a party. If you wanted someone to go to a party with, I was your girl! I did love a good party.

But now, my biggest dedication is my kids. I'm hoping to find a new dedication in the new year. I'm already dedicated to finding a job, hopefully a job I'll love, but a job either way. I'm dedicated to supporting my family and to helping my husband earn his college degree. I'm dedicated to a healther lifestyle: to eating even better than we do now and to insisting upon that gym membership in February, going every day. We went to the little "gym" our apartment complex offers today. There's one elliptical trainer, one treadmill, one recumbent bike, and a weight machine. I did 10 minutes at 2.8 mph on the treadmill and 10 minutes on the bike at about 80 rpms. I don't know how many calories I burned and honestly, I don't care. I worked out, something I haven't done since right after I had my son.

I'm going back there tomorrow. I hope that woman who was in there today isn't there tomorrow. She'd set the thermostat to about 80ºF and gave us dirty looks the whole time. Whatever. It's for everyone lady, it's not your personal home gym.

Ah, the day after.

2008-12-26T20:45:00.000-08:00

I should have relaxed. Instead, I cleaned like a maniac because at 9:00 a.m., whilst munching on a no-bake cookie and contemplating loafing on the couch doing a crossword puzzle, I saw the notice we'd received on Christmas Eve about apartment inspections occurring on December 26th and 29th. I cleaned like a maniac not because we would be found in violation of our lease agreement or because they'd discover massive amounts of mold in our bathroom but because I have this obsessive need for people to not see just how messy my home can get.

So I spent an hour and a half picking up clutter, shoving things in drawers, and barking at Beth to, and I'm paraphrasing, "...put the damn toys in. your. ROOM!" I also ran the vacuum, sucked out days-old food from the high chair, and hanging jackets in the hall closet. Then I filled a bucket with bleach and water and scrubbed the hell out of our bathroom and kitchen floors, cabinets and appliances. Then, and only then, could I feel free to get a shower and relax for 15 minutes. I just can't have perfect strangers think less of me and see an imperfect home. Even after cleaning, it still looked frightfully cluttered. Ugh.

So how was our Christmas, you ask? Not too shabby. My husband was the most excited of all of us on Christmas morning: he woke up at 5:15 a.m., asked me if I thought we should wake up Beth (to which I responded, "No. Go back to sleep!") and then got up, went to the bathroom, turned on the kitchen light, got a Coke, opened the front door to check for our newspaper, turned on the T.V. and then sat down and waited. Like no one would wake up after all that ruckus.

So then he decides he just can't wait any longer and wakes up Beth. I tell her that Santa had visited and she leapt off the couch, ran to the tree, grabbed the first present she found and started tearing into it! Thankfully, it was a gift for her, but it was very funny. Then, once she'd run through all the gifts, she started helping her brother and we discovered she was more excited about his gifts than hers. Nice. Oh well, at least she had a good morning.

The afternoon at my in-laws was okay. We were more or less ignored as we always are but we knew we would be going into it so it wasn't too big of a shock. She has her family over too, her brother and his brood, and there's eight of them all told, so they way outnumber us. Anyway, it was a nice day. The kids got lots of stuff and came away happy and tired.

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas too!

Sleigh bells ring, are ya listenin'?

2008-12-24T21:56:00.000-08:00

So the kids are tucked away in their crib and bed, TV's on a country music channel playing Christmas music, tree's lit up, and hubby and I are playing Scrabble. Okay, we're not playing at the moment, but nature called so I'm seizing the opportunity to get in a Christmas blog. I know damn well I won't have a moment to breathe tomorrow so this is it until Friday.

Speaking of being busy, guess who was a one-armed paper-hanger today? This girl. In the morning, I cleaned up the living room and plucked through the youngins' toys to find stuff to give to the thrift store. Then I did two loads of laundry so we don't have to go to the family Christmas dinner in dirty clothes. Then we had lunch, followed by massive amounts of cookie baking. My first batch harvested approximately three dozen of these:

About two dozen of these:

And ~~a partridge in a pear tree~~ one tired mama:

We played absolute hell trying to convince Beth that if she didn't go to sleep, Santa wouldn't visit and bring her presents. I think she's smarter than your average bear: she kept refusing to go to bed, insisting on watching "Charlie Brown" (the Peanuts Christmas special we DVRd a few weeks ago). We'd remind her about Santa and how he doesn't visit little kids who are awake when he passes through town, and she'd admit she wanted him to stop, but then she'd say she wanted to stay up and watch TV.

But now she's in bed, snug as a bug. After that last paragraph, Rob came back out and we finished our game of Scrabble. Now he's watching "Bad Santa" and I'm blogging. Sleepy night here in Haytown. Tomorrow will be hell on wheels. Up with the kids, open gifts, eat breakfast, showers, dress the kids, gather the family gifts and cookies, head out on [what would be a 45-minute drive] an hour and a half's drive to the in-laws where we'll be until at least 6 p.m., possibly later, and then drive back home and try to get the kids to bed.

But I'm damn excited about it! For the first time in almost four years, my oldest finally gets Christmas and the whole Santa Claus thing. She's excited and hasn't stopped talking about Christmas since the week before Thanksgiving. And her excitement is contagious. I love kids.

College, Part Deux

2008-12-23T22:31:00.000-08:00

At the outset, Kelly seemed to be fairly normal. She was a freshman and would be running track for SRU. We spoke once before the semester started so we could coordinate who would be bringing what. I still had no idea what happened to Heidi and Angie. What's the first thing Kelly and I did as roomies? Conspired to drive the unknown third roommate (whose name completely escapes me at this point) out of our room. Evidently, Kelly met her before I did and didn't like her, and I was all for having a big room, an extra bed all to myself, and fewer people to deal with, so I was on board. It took one day.

Kate and Little lived in the adjoining suite; we shared a bathroom. Little was my smoking cohort, we were the O.G. smokestacks of the group. Kate smoked occasionally but not truly until the following year, and Jamie smoked only in times of high stress. The thing was, North Hall was completely non-smoking, so we always had to make the journey out to the front steps - and for four or five months of the two semesters, we were dressed like Nanooks of the North - to smoke one lousy cigarette.

I wasted a few months of my time that winter on a guy, a guy whose antics and charades caused my grades to nosedive and nearly cost me a few friendships. Unsurprisingly and, when all was said and done thankfully, after three months I found out he was cheating on me, confronted him about it and then he had the girl he was cheating on me with break up with me for him via Instant-freakin'-messenger. What a sad sack. I should also mention that I pulled a very big friend faux pas with him: he was the very recent ex-boyfriend of Jamie, the girl who slept across the hall in her own room but may as well have lived in our suites. My faux pas caused much rifts between me and all of them.

But they forgave me. Yay!

After we broke up in January, I made it a point to move on. I pulled my grades out of the gutter and started to enjoy life more. Got my second tattoo. Discovered the frugal evils of MD 20/20. Landed my first waitressing gig at Cracker Barrel the day I moved out in May. Two weeks into that gig, I got a second waitressing job at Stable Pit 'n Pub in Conneaut Lake, Pennsylvania. I'd work the Barrel from 8 or 9 a.m. till 4ish, then PnP from 5 till midnight. Guess who went home with pockets full of cash every night? Guess who also didn't have a social life?

My sophomore year was fun. I joined the Association of Residence Hall Students because Jamie roped me in and ended up actually having fun. I met a small group of guys from Pittsburgh, one of whom Jamie ended up dating for six or seven years, and through whom I would finally meet Rob. It would be two years down the line, though. I also changed my major that year: I started off a psych major and during the first semester, thanks to much prompting from my writing professor, changed it to English. Best. Decision. Ever.

College, Part Un

2008-12-22T22:17:00.000-08:00

I mean, if you can't steal their ideas for a blog post, then may as well kick them to the curb, right? *smile* Thanks, Amy!

As most of you know by now, I went to Slippery Rock University in western Pennsylvania. Look at a map of Pennsylvania, find Pittsburgh and Lake Erie, draw a line and find the midpoint. You're in Slippery Rock. Yes, it's a real town. And yes, more often than not, it is slippery.

I spent a total of 34 months there, give or take a few weeks, between 1998 and 2002. I lived in three different residence halls and one set of on-campus apartments. I changed majors once and even declared a minor - but only because they made me do it. I had six different roommates. I participated in one organization and one on-campus protest. I learned how to drink AND how to smoke (cigarettes, that is, for the most part but more on that later) and discovered the inherent beauty of the Hangover Hat. Let me tell you about it. College, not the Hangover Hat.

I started SRU in Fall 1998. My roommate, whom I'd never met but only spoken to briefly, was Megan. We thought we'd be alright with out a TV, so neither of us brought one, but after about four days we we were bored out of our tree. I went home that weekend and brought one back with me. Maury Povich at 10 a.m. became the only thing we had in common. She had an emotional basketcase of a boyfriend who'd started at SRU that fall too and man alive, was he a mess. We went through a week or so of him calling every. five. minutes. in the middle of the night because he was homesick and panicked about being a school. Sometime after Christmas break, she stopped sleeping in our room; she'd stay at her boyfriend's dorm every night and hardly spoke to me for the rest of the semester. I never did figure out what that was about.

I made the majority of my friends in my dorm on my floor, primarily Sara, Pam, Becca, Cary and Erin. Cary and Erin took me to my first fraternity party. It was a finger-painting party, we had to wear plain t-shirts, drink and paint other people. It was my first foray into drinking and I got lost in the beer. I came home that night with a pair of handprints on my boobs, reportedly from a gay guy (hey, it was Phi Kapps, a fraternity with mostly male band geeks in it, and I say "geeks" endearingly: I served my marching band with pride in high school).

Any drinking I did that year, I did with them, save for my trip to London. That's right, across the pond. See, I was a member (for all of three semesters) of the honor's program and that entitled me to an invitation for a week-long trip to London and a day trip to Edinburgh, Scotland. Wheee! I don't remember what it cost me but the college footed most of the bill. It was freaking awesome. I made a friend on the trip, Beth, and because the legal drinking age there is 19, we all had a good time. Americans to the core, we dedicated a night to drinking at - where else? - TGI Fridays! It was a few blocks from our hotel. I also had a bottle of MGD at the first pub I ate at. I had fish 'n chips. I'm such a tourist.

I majored in psychology when I enrolled at SRU and was still a psych major when I wrapped up my freshman year. I'd accumulated about nine credits in the psych department at that point and thought I was well on my way. I'd taken College Writing I and II with the same professor though, Dr. DiMarco, and she was like the English teacher I'd never had in high school. One who saw how much I loved writing and encouraged it and was NICE. Cohorts from CVHS remember D. Baker. NOT nice.

I never returned to Harner Hall after my second semester wrapped up. I'd found new roommates in North Hall, the all-girls dorm at the top of Cardiac Hill on campus. I was supposed to room with Heidi and Angie in a suite. I got my roommate assignment letter in July with my roommate's name on it, and it definitely didn't say anything about a Heidi or an Angie. It said Kelly. I hadn't the foggiest the ride I was in for with Kelly or the hooligans in the adjoining suite, not to mention the neighbor across the hall who, for all intents and purposes, lived in the suite too.

To be continued...

"He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree."

2008-12-21T21:34:00.000-08:00

~ Roy L. Smith

Something weird came over me today. I left the kids at home with Rob and I took off around 10:00 a.m. I was heading to Wal-Mart, Sears, and the grocery store. I picked up what I needed at Wal-Mart and headed out the door only to be met by a man soliciting for money for a miscellaneous cause that I didn't catch wind of. What I did catch was a twinge of guilt when I told him, "Sorry, I'm not carrying any cash today." The truth was, I really wasn't carrying cash. The guilt was for that very reason. I wanted to drop a buck in the locked box. Normally, I don't think twice about brushing off a solicitor. I never have the spare cash and I cynically assume that a portion of that money will go towards salaries. I realize, logically, that in most cases that simply isn't true, but I use it as justification for not coughing up fifty cents.

I felt even worse when he said, "Thank you anyway, have a nice day," and his voice carried that resignation and sarcasm. I was pushing a cart with a box of diapers, and three bags, two of which had gifts in it, a gift each for my step-nephews; how could I not have cash? Or maybe my guilt is manifesting this.

Then I get out to the car and as I'm climbing into the driver's seat, I look over across the cart corral and see a woman flipping open the top of a garbage can, collecting cans and bottles for recycling, probably to earn a few bucks for a meal. Any other day, I'd just go about my business, paying her no mind. What did I do today? I started digging around my floorboards for a bag to gather up our used bottles and cans, hoping to pass a quarter's worth of recycling on to her. By the time I realized I had no bag and only one can to offer, though, she was on to the next aisle.

My ten-minute drive to Sears was filled with an odd feeling. I could almost feel Christmas stirring my soul. I was smiling, I was singing at the top of my lungs, and all I wanted to do was finish running my errands so I could get home and figure out how to give this Christmas and from now on. We have a truckload of stuffed animals the kids don't play with that we'd like to donate, a bunch of old clothes, some toys. I guess I'll post most of them on Freecycle since no shelter will take used clothing or toys. I may also donate some old blankets and sheets to the local animal shelter. On Christmas Eve, we're going up to Antioch to help my father-in-law and stepmother-in-law feed the homeless and needy. They provide a huge, hot meal and hand out blankets and warm clothes, it's a really great thing they do.

It's just really strange that at a time when we have very little and are facing down a grim immediate future that all I want to do is give. Maybe it's because the shoe's on the other foot now and I'm seeing just how tough it can get. Or I've realized that I have so much more than a lot of people have: a healthy family, a roof over my head, food in the refrigerator, a car to take me places that isn't falling apart (actually, it kind of is but it's holding up nicely all things considered), and a place to go on Christmas.

I don't know...I always knew what the true meaning of Christmas was, I just never really felt it until this year. Then with all that soul-stirring going on, it made me wonder (again), if there isn't something to the whole belief thing. I don't know if I ever explained it in its entirety, but I was born and raised a Catholic - got confirmed and everything. Then I left the Catholic church in 1998 for the Church of Christ and was baptised in June 1999. Sometime over the next two years, however, I started to question my beliefs and found that I didn't really believe in the bible. I'd always taken it in stride, assumed it's truth because that's what I'd been taught: to believe and not to question. I got more into the science of man and evolution and whatnot...I declared myself Agnostic and have never looked back.

But with all that's been going on lately, and the random acts of kindness thrown our way - that I haven't blogged about because really, it's kind of personal - I can't help but wonder. My problem lies here: what do I do with the scientific facts that can't be explained away? Specifically, evolution? One time, in a discussion about evolution, Darwin, and pre-historic times, this transpired:

Rob: Well, if the bible is historical fact, then how do you explain dinosaurs?
Father-in-law: Well, maybe they just didn't exist.

How can you deny the existence of dinosaurs? Or evolution? I don't know. I'm pretty confused about the whole kit 'n caboodle. I guess that's part of life, right? To figure out what works for us and what doesn't?

The Friday Chronicles

2008-12-19T23:42:00.001-08:00

Oh, what a week...actually, it wasn't a huge week, but it's ending with a mix of ups and downs and most of what I have to talk about happened over the course of the past 12 hours.

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Every year since Beth was born, she's always sat on Santa's lap at Rob's company potluck, held every Christmas Eve (they'd "work" half a day and the party would start at 11:30 a.m.) at the office. Santa was one of the Bobcat salesman and he'd sit inside a Bobcat in the lobby and take pictures with all the employees' kids. This year, obviously, no Christmas party. So we decided to brave the pre-Christmas mall and take her to see him there. The good news: she met Santa and told him what she wanted with no hissy fit and got the picture taken. The bad news: we paid about $17.00 for one 5x7" picture.

Free picture

$17.39 picture

*For those scratching their heads about our lack of finances and our ability to afford that mediocre picture, my mother-in-law very generously sent the money she was going to spend on our kids directly to us to get them what we knew they wanted; that way she wasn't left guessing, so we put some towards a Christmas picture.
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We've discovered that California, as a state, SUCKS. With Rob's first unemployment claim form, it questioned him about the first two weeks of December. One would be inclined to believe that he'd get paid for both weeks. Nope. One week. Why? A "waiting period." Waiting for what, I don't know. So now, we can't make any car payments. We can pay our insurance, but that's it. It'll be another two and a half weeks before he gets two checks and in that time, our utility bill will be late, our rent will be late, and we'll definitely be late with both car payments. Guess maybe I should start garnering moving boxes?

The dining room in our old place, October 2007

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I read an article in "O" today that has the wheels a-turnin' in my head. It was an article on "simple living," which is attached (not exclusively) to The Simple Living Institute. Basically, it means downsizing your life, in varying degrees, to your basic needs. It reminds me of vegetarianism: some vegetarians only cut out red meat, some cut out all meat save for fish, some cut out all meat all-together, some cut out all meat and dairy, etc. You can say you buy too many Starbucks coffees and stop buying them. You can move to the woods in a two-room cottage and live off the land. Or you can land somewhere in the middle.

This intrigues me. With all the stress we're dealing with right now, less would indeed be more for us. We aren't sure what we're going to do just yet, but we're definitely going to simplify. Digital cable will probably be the first to go. We're going to go through all of our stuff tomorrow and find stuff to sell or give away. We need to downsize! Learn to live simply! I feel like a hippy but it's liberating to think of having less and worrying less.

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I saw in the news that the human remains found in Florida were that of Caylee Anthony. Folks, my blood boils when I hear about things like this. Caylee, Rachel & Lillian Entwistle, and Laci & Conner Peterson...it absolutely shatters my heart that there are people out there cold enough, cruel enough, subhuman enough to do things like that. It will be six years ago on Christmas Eve that Laci went missing and to this day, I get very upset when I think about it too much. I was very pregnant with Beth when Scott Peterson was convicted and I remember standing in my living room, holding my belly, bawling tears of relief that justice had been served and yet tears of despair that that trial had to occur at all.

So I guess this is my way of saying: Go hug your kids, your husband or wife or significant other, your dog or your cat, call your mom, your sister or brother, your best friend. Life is so precious and so short.

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I gotta go. I've cried once already today, I can't handle another episode right now! Have a nice weekend, everyone.

A Tad Disappointing

2008-12-17T13:59:00.001-08:00

Rob and I saw "The X-Files: I Want To Believe" last night. Let me tell you, totally not worth the $1.09 we spent at the Redbox to rent it. I was all kinds of excited about it. I watched "The X-Files" when I was a teenager and loved it! They had me believing in extra-terrestrials, rooting for Mulder and glaring at Scully for her scepticism, and wanting to jam that smoky cigarette down Cancerman's throat. You can imagine my anticipation for this to come to DVD. They made it sound just like the old days, out looking for evidence of aliens and whatnot.

It wasn't. Not at all.

I won't ruin it for those of you who think I'm full of it and rent it anyway, but let me tell you, don't expect a whole lot. It was a good movie, decent plot, but definitely not the "X-Files" I remember. No E.T. No spaceship. It was more about Scully and Mulder's relationship than anything else.

Now I'm looking forward to "Paul Blart: Mall Cop." [insert uncontrollable giggles here]

Thankful Tuesday...on Wednesday

2008-12-16T23:06:00.000-08:00

My friend, Denise has been doing Thankful Tuesday for a while now and I haven't participated. I know I've had a lot to be thankful for but when it gets overshadowed by the hardships, it's hard to want to talk about it. But in the name of the holidays and the smile on my daughter's face when I turn the Christmas tree lights on in the evening, I'm doing it this week.

However, I'm putting a spin on it, a lá Mimi. I'm doing one serious list and one fun list.

Fun First! Here's a short list of Hollywood-related things and people I'm thankful for:

1. "Grey's Anatomy" I love this show. I've loved it since Day One and it never disappoints. It gives me one hour of respite from the stress in my life and lets me focus on their stress. I also have empathy for the characters in their struggle to figure themselves out. A lot of shows focus on characters about my age and it's like living through "Dawson's Creek" all over again. You're growing up with the characters.

2. Phyllis Smith You'll probably only recognize her if you watch "The Office." She plays Phyllis Lapin-Vance, one of the salespeople in the office and Angela's antagonist. I love her character because she's quietly smart and very unassuming but always comes out on top with her head held high. But I love her the most because when she was a cheerleader and a burlesque dancer! You don't have to be thin to be beautiful and confident, girls!

3. Patrick Dempsey I'm thankful for his general presence in television and movies. I don't always care for his movies (I only saw a few minutes of Enchanted but that was enough) but he's good-looking enough that it brightens my day a little bit every Thursday.

4. American Idol More specifically, the auditions. We haven't watched a full regular season since Carrie Underwood won, but those auditions are worth every hour wasted in front of the TV. Personally, I can't really carry a tune. I can hum Brahm's Lullaby to my son more or less in key and I won't attract tomcats to my front door, but Martina McBride I am not. AI auditions remind me that it's not about how well you can sing, it's about chutzpah, and those kids have it. Rock on, young 'uns!

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And now for my serious list: What I'm really thankful for.

1. My kids I know that sounds very clichè, but it's true. Things have been down and out lately but we've managed to keep things as normal as possible so they don't know anything's different. And bless their little hearts, they make mommy smile all day long! If it weren't for them, I may just cry instead of laugh.

2. My husband's sense of humor He knows things are bad right now but he's keeping his sense of humor sharp and on the ball. You wouldn't know how funny he was unless you know him really well and he acts like himself around you but trust me, he's a riot! I laugh until I cry around him many times each day and no day should go by without laughter.

3. My friends This week, one in particular. We've never met face to face, we've only chatted and emailed, but she was really there for me and I don't know if I can thank her enough! She and I have got to get together one of these days! Also, for Diana who sent us two very adorable pictures of her daughter for Christmas which put a smile on everyone's face, especially my daughter, who now wants to meet "Kay-dee."

4. My blogging friends A few of you have left encouraging words and I'm really thankful that you're all there. Not just "there" in the sense that you leave sentiments in my comments but "there" in the sense that you still read my blog even though it's taken a depressing turn and there are days I don't blog at all, and "there" in the sense that you all still write and give me something to lose myself in for a few minutes and remember that we all have troubles and we all come through on the other side, one way or another.

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Thanks, everyone!

I'd love to say something interesting happened today...

2008-12-15T22:09:00.001-08:00

...but it didn't. We woke up, ran an errand for a friend, ate lunch, I went to a focus group in Pleasanton, went to Safeway and bought a few things, and came home. Ta-da! My day.

No calls today for jobs. I finally put my application in at Wal-Mart. I've been doing it in pieces: one little bit of it in Fremont, some of it in Union City, and I finally finished it at home. I didn't know you could do that at home, I thought you had to apply at those computer kiosks, but the woman I babysit for said she got her friend a job at Wal-Mart that way so I checked it and whaddya know? I'll probably go back to it tomorrow and apply for something administrative too, if I can.

So on that note, I'm going to go relax and watch something funny with my husband. I need to chill. And "chill" I will: it's 39ºF outside right now with a chance of snow in our hills, at about 1000 ft.! Can I get a big "BRR" from my peeps on the lower left coast?!

This is the Bay Area's idea of snow, folks. I can hear you east coast suckers growling and groaning...

The Friday Chronicles

2008-12-14T13:32:00.000-08:00

So I'm a couple days late again. I can't help it; lately, I've been so stressed out and busy that sometimes my blog falls to the backburner and it's a constant cycle of "I'll get to it in the morning, or I'll blog tonight before bed." Neither happens and the next thing you know it's been two days.

Anyway, my thoughts for the week...

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We discovered today that California's technology is a few steps behind Pennsylvania's, at least as far as the state's concerned. You know how you can call pretty much any office and get a full-service automated menu? [Aside: Does anyone else get really annoyed when you call a company's phone number and can't seem to get a real person on the other end of the line? What happened to the days when you called a company and a person answered the phone?] Well, when I filed for unemployment from Pennsylvania when I lost my job in January 2004, I was able to phone in every other week and re-file my claim. Out here, apparently, you can't call. You have to fill out your bi-weekly claim and mail it in. Like, snail mail. THEN, you have to wait up to 10 days before you get the checks. I understand having to jump through hoops for this sort of thing but c'mon...you can't provide an automated service with a 1-800 number? Join the new millenium, California. You're the friggin' pioneer state of technology.

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Buy shoes that fit. I cannot emphasize this point strongly enough. Ill-fitting shoes will make you want to take a hacksaw to your feet after three blocks of walking in them. Remember Saw? Okay, maybe it's not that bad. But you get the idea.

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I am absolutely loving this cold spell we're having here! It's 50ºF here, which may not seem cold to all of you back east or in the midwest, but it's cool here and at night, we get down to 40º and it's AWESOME. Don't get me wrong: I don't miss the snow. Not in the least. But when you only get two seasons per year (summer and "winter") you look forward to either being cold or hot. So I'm totally relishing wearing jeans, socks, slippers, t-shirts and sweatshirts. I even got to put a blanket on my little boy when he took his nap today - he wrapped himself up like a burrito!

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I'm really hoping something happens this week, job-wise. Things are getting kinda scary here. I need an office job, something that pays a decent salary, because in order to collect unemployment, Rob has to keep actively looking for work (that is the idea behind Unemployment Insurance) but if he's offered work, he has to accept it. The idea is to get me working so he can focus on school. And if I'm working, I have to make enough to support us right off the bat. So keep your fingers crossed - or pray if that's what you do - for a Christmas miracle. We need one.

It's a small thing, really...

2008-12-11T22:12:00.000-08:00

So I had my interview at Sears today. Let me start with what I wore: black dress pants, black dress flats, a white shirt under a tannish-cream blouse. Sounds benign, right? Yeah, well I bet it wouldn't sound so benign if I told you I nearly tore my foot off wearing those damn shoes. See, I was on a pretty tight budget when I bought the pants and shoes - two items I didn't have but needed for interviews - and whilst in Payless, these shoes were the only ones not designed for a cocktail dress that didn't cost more than I could spend. However, the only ones available with the little "Sale: $11.00" sign on the box were 1/2 size too big.

I was really stuck between a rock and a hard place: do I buy the too-big shoes and run the risk of blisters or do I not buy shoes at all and look like an asshole with black dress pants and cheap brown flip flops from Old Navy? Blisters, it is.

They were so frickin' comfortable when I got them home and wore them around the apartment! I loved them for about 10 minutes. The next day, I walked three city blocks in them in Oakland (this was a week ago, by the way, for another interview) and then another three blocks back to the car. I tore off about 1/4" worth of skin that morning. I vowed to never wear them again.

But then I got the interview at Sears. So I emailed Diana, who works in retail, and asked her if I should go uber dressy or uber casual for department store interviews. She told me dressy was my best shot. I trusted her instincts, she's been in retail for years.

So back to those blasted shoes. Luckily, there was minimal walking today but if I'm going to wear those scalpels with straps ever again, I have got to buy some booties for them.

Cute, right? Yeah. Cute like that creepy dinosaur in "Jurassic Park" that killed Newman.

Anyway, I go to my interview. I sit there for half-a-damn-hour waiting for my interviewer. Then I find out, halfway through the interview, that they don't offer full-time AT ALL and then, in my second interview (yes, I had the pleasure of being interviewed twice), that I'd only be making $8.00 an hour - not that unexpected but still a bit of a letdown when, in your last job, you made $10.00 an hour - and that I wouldn't be eligible for benefits until I'd been employed for a solid year. I need health care for my kids, like, NOW. But I have to take whatever job I can get for the time being, just to pay the bills and keep a roof over our heads. I just hate being without health care. That's when shit will go wrong, you know? Someone will fall off the couch and break an arm or they'll get an ear infection and I won't be able to help it.

This sucks. I hope one of the million office jobs I've applied for recently calls me soon!

What A Loser.

2008-12-10T08:52:00.000-08:00

Now, don't laugh, but I watch "The Biggest Loser." Okay, I guess you can snicker. Or maybe let out a guffaw. But seriously, it's a very inspirational show and once we get our gym memberships in February, you can all kiss my ass. Anyway, let me tell you about Vicky.

What a petulant little bitch! She's been out to win the money, plain and simple, weight loss is just a pleasant side effect. If you watch her during the challenges, she puts out minimal effort. Just enough to get it done, really. She always comes in last or just plain gives up. If you watch her when she talks to Bob, she rarely looks him in the eye or she'll roll her eyes and you can tell she's just providing lip service; she means nothing of what she says. She's playing the game.

And that wouldn't bother me on any other reality show. Hell, that's what competitions are about in most cases. But TBL is different: it's meant to change lives overall, not just monetarily. People apply to be on this show because they've discovered that they can't do it on their own. They need support, guidance and resources to learn from. And this bitch rolled into town and went from sweet, southern-drawl Vicky to a hateful, conniving bitch whose ass I long to kick.

RAWRRRR!!! Rarely do I let people on TV get under my skin like this but it's really stuck in my craw this time. I don't wish for her to gain her weight back, I think she's done a hell of a job losing it, but I wish she were in it for the right reasons.Here's a good piece that can say better what I'm trying to convey.

Two, Please.

2008-12-08T21:48:00.000-08:00

Interviews, that is. Yay! I applied to Sears online today and at the end of the application, it scheduled me an interview automatically. That'll be Thursday. My other interview is tomorrow with Sports Authority, who called at 6:30 p.m. to talk to me. Who calls that late? Anyway, I'm excited. I know it's just a sporting goods store and plain ol' Sears but it's work. I'd prefer an office job of course, but hey, it's paying the bills, buying groceries, keeping the roof over our heads. I swear I'll never complain. Much.

I turned in applications to Office Depot and Lucky Supermarket. Between the two, I'd prefer Office Depot just so I could get high off office supply fumes (I'm an office supply store junkie, I can't get enough of pens, paper and collapsible folders), but Lucky would be much more convenient since I could walk to work every day.

Overall, I hope none of these interviews is just for seasonal employment. In the interest of paying the bills, I'll have to accept the job but I really need something long-term. So keep your fingers crossed! I forgot how much I hate looking for jobs.

Rob and I had a bit of a fight this morning over the whole issue. He found an ad on Craigslist for me last night that he thought I should apply for. It was from a head-hunting company - Dialogue Direct - who hires any Joe/Jill Schmoe off the street to work in teams to convince wealthy corporations and such to sponsor Children International. Now this isn't to say that CI isn't a wonderful organization, it absolutely is. What I couldn't stomach was the idea of public speaking. I HATE IT. Vehemently. It makes me panic. Sweat. Shake. Stammer. Feel faint. The whole nine yards of a panic attack.

But I applied. Because I'm a pushover like that.

This morning, I got a system-generated email asking me to come in for an interview tomorrow afternoon in San Francisco to see "..."if Dialogue Direct is the right fit for me..." Let me save them and me the time and, in my case, $14.00 to ride BART into the city: Dialogue Direct is definitely not the right fit for me. Job duties aside, my hours would be from 10:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., Monday through Friday. That means I'd have to get on BART before 8:30 a.m. to get to San Francisco on time and I wouldn't be home until 8:30 p.m. or thereabouts. I would never get to see my husband and kids, plus I'd have to hire a babysitter in the evenings between 6:30 p.m. and whenever I got home, when both kids were sound asleep. Totally not worth it.

But when I explained most of the above sentiment (the not-seeing-the-kids-and-husband part didn't occur to me until two minutes after the argument), he got all belligerent and upset, saying "I guess we'll just start turning down interviews and job offers, [blah blah blah]!" I stopped listening. I did, however, start bawling and locked myself in the bathroom.

How could he not understand the pressure I'm under? We have, like, no money, bills are due, Christmas is coming, rent is just around the corner, and it's all on me to start making money A.S.A.P. I'm experiencing a large quagmire of stress right now, the last thing I need is a heckler. Not to mention a heckler who, in a moment of lapsed judgment, completely disregarded his wife's feelings. Rawr.

But we're over it now. He apologized in his patented, not-actually-saying-I'm-Sorry kind of way and I stopped crying. Temporarily. Ha ha. I've been crying a good bit lately, mostly due to stress, partially due to seeing the excitement on my daughter's face at the prospect of Christmas and knowing that although Grandma Betty, Grandma Lynette, and Papa and Yaya will be buying her presents, Santa Claus may be MIA this year. She probably won't know any better, she is still very young. But we know and it sucks. But whatever. It's about new beginnings this coming year and I swear, if it means I have to knock off a liquor store, they'll have a kick-ass Christmas next year!

Need help Christmas shopping?

2008-12-06T19:39:00.001-08:00

Then go visit Debateur Debates and enter her giveaway to win one of two Amazon gift cards valued at $25.00 each! I know we could certainly use the help this year. I'm new to her site but I'm always up for debates so I'm sure I'll be back there!

The Friday Chronicles

2008-12-05T12:59:00.000-08:00

We caught this commercial on TV today and I was, to say the least, floored. Lisa Kudrow's doing commercials? Really?? Is this what she's reduced to? Or am I missing a key piece of Hollywood news?

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We're pulling out all the stops with my job search, not just looking at professional/career-type positions but ones in retail too. It's a temporary thing to create a bit of a stop-gap until something more, um, financially rewarding comes along. So today I tried like hell to apply for a job at Wal-Mart and of the three different stores I went to, NONE OF THEM had working kiosks to apply. Love that craptastic Wal-Fart. I did manage to put in an application at Target.

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We laid a fish to rest this morning. You remember the fish? And the Moor? All of yesterday, he kept floating his way behind the return ramp for the filter and getting trapped. I kept having to take the lid off, pick up the filter/motor contraption and wait for him to frantically swim out. Then, just as I fed them for the evening and was going to turn out the light, I noticed a lump on his lower abdomen. I did some research online and found out that it was probably one of two things. It could have been a) a tumor which, unless you want to take your goldfish to the vet, is incurable; or b) some kind of worm which, if it gets too big and it bursts out of the fish (effectively killing the fish), can be swallowed or otherwise absorbed by other fish in the tank and will eventually kill them. I didn't want to explain six dead fish to my daughter. Rob insisted we take a look at it the next day and this morning, the lump was not only still there but some of it had turned white and clearish stuff was making its way out. Gross, I know. I tasked Rob with removing the fish and giving Beth her first lesson in death via a trip to the toilet. She seemed to take it well. We went with the lesson of: sometimes animals - and people - get sick and they don't get better, and then they have to go away. I imagine it'll be a bit harder when a grandparent passes away, but hopefully she'll be much older.

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And finally, my baby turned into a little man today. He got his first haircut. His curls were getting wild on the back and it wasn't a cute kind of wild. It was a, "Wow...his parents must never comb his hair. He looks like he just got out of bed!" Initially, we tried to just use scissors but when he wouldn't hold his head still - and when Rob took a HUGE chunk off the back - we had to get out the clippers. The first guard we tried was the 1", which trimmed it down but still looked weird because he seems to have a natural mohawk: thick up the middle and down the back, but thin on the sides. So we used the 1/2" guard and he went from this...

to this...

*sniffle*

My Weekly Writing Assignment

2008-12-03T22:18:00.001-08:00

I'm doing my homework this week, too.

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Tag! Post and write about the 6th picture from (the 6th folder of?) your Flickr account and then do the same for the 6th picture of the 6th folder on your computer.

This was taken in June of this year. That orange sugarsicle you see my daughter eating is the first one she ever had and she loved it. It was about 100 degree at 10 a.m. that day and shortly thereafter, we decided to go to the beach. That resulted in a trip to Terror Beach but an otherwise lovely day.

Okay, so the 6th picture in the 6th folder on my computer was another picture of Beth. That didn't seem fair. So I went to the 7th folder. But there were only four pictures in there. I checked the 8th - this is picture #6. It was taken in January of this year at Valeta's place with her daughter. A playdate, if you will!

So I'm Letting the Cat Out of the Bag

2008-12-03T21:46:00.000-08:00

Alright, alright. Enough people have noticed that I've not been blogging daily like I used to. You might say I've been busy, preoccupied, harried, aggrieved, distressed, or fretful. I've been troubled. Excited. Nervous. Excited but nervous.

Here's what you know: Rob was laid off the Friday before Thanksgiving.

Here's what you don't know: His last day of work was November 7th. He got his "severence check" on 11/26 for two-week's pay. I air-quoted "severence check" because although it may be company policy, two week's pay as severence for five years worth of loyalty and hard work seems a mere pittance. But what do I know?

Anyway, the check just covered the rent. I got paid for one week of babysitting. Things. Are. TIGHT.

It's been decided throughout the last month, however, that Rob is going back to school. We talked and talked, and since it costs next to nothing to go to school when you're a resident of California, he would enroll full-time at Chabot for night classes with an unofficially declared major of mechanical engineering. After he earns 60 credits at Chabot, he'll apply for transfer to UC Berkeley! He should be done with everything in about 5-6 years.

Initially, he was also going to work full time while going to school. Then we had a brilliant idea: send me back to work. I wasn't too keen on it at first. I have no clothes (why do women always go to that first? "I have nothing to wear!") that aren't stained, fading, or growing holes in them. I haven't worked since early 2004 - who's going to hire me? Will I really want to spend 9+ hours a day away from the kids I've spent every day with for the last four years? Am I even cut out for the professional life anymore?

But I put my nose to the grindstone, pulled together my resumè and a generic cover letter, and pulled the proverbial trigger. I've got about 30-or-so resumès out. It's only been about a week and a half and although I've had no call-backs yet, we're hopeful!

So that's what I've been up to. I didn't want to say anything officially but I'm becoming more and more comfortable with the idea. If you know anyone in the SF East Bay area who needs an administrative assistant, please let me know! Or you can contribute to the Keep Mommy on the Edge's Family Afloat Fund!

Please bear with me. I plan on getting back to blogging on the regular but it's hard; I spend my evenings looking for jobs and sending out resumès and it kind of cuts into my blogging time. I do miss writing and I miss all you lovely people.

Holy Smokes, Batman!

2008-11-28T19:57:00.000-08:00

So my father-in-law is being ordained on Sunday. Not as a minister, but as a pastor for his church, which is one of those born-again, non-denominational churches that looks more like an office building than a church. He's been going to their "school of theology" every Thursday for the last year and a half or so and I guess Sunday is his graduation. They've asked us to come. It starts at 10:45 a.m. and we have to drive 45 minutes to get there. I checked their website and that's when their Sunday service starts; I'm guessing the ordination is at the end of the service. So we have to sit through an entire service before the big event.

Oh, and by the by, we're Agnostics. Actually, Rob's more or less an Atheist. I'm pretty sure the building will be a pile of embers by the time we leave, what with our non-believing ways. I hope they have a cry room so I don't have to leave the baby with the daycare center. I have no problem leaving Beth in there, but Bubba still has a bit of a separation problem with me in that he loses it whenever I walk away from him.

With all that's been going on lately, though, I'm starting to wonder (actually, we're both starting to wonder) if a little faith wouldn't do us some good. I mean, my father-in-law has been "putting his life in God's hands" for years now and it's brought him more strife than peace...but there's a lot of people in their church that seemingly have few problems. They're always smiling, going around in their nice cars and clothes that aren't faded and stained because they can shop for clothes on the regular. They don't seem to have financial struggles and although they're all busier than mad hatters with that church, they don't seem stressed out. Is that because of faith or just good luck?

I don't know. Maybe it's just all the bummers we've been dealing with lately, or maybe it's the holiday season, I just find myself questioning stuff like that. What about you? Thoughts?

Why?

2008-11-26T19:47:00.000-08:00

So as we approach the end of the year and a pretty big crossroads in our life, Rob and I have discovered that in order to turn things around, you have to wade through a giant steaming pile of shit.

I really can't let on about what's going on. All you need to know at this point is that Christmas is looking really damn bleak. Our daughter is so excited about Christmas...every time we go to the store, she finds all the Christmas decorations and babbles on and on about Christmas and Santa Claus and presents and the trees. She got so excited about it, we ended up putting our tree up yesterday.

I want to be excited with her. I do. But I'm having a tough time of it. I hate to be such a downer but it really sucks when all the Christmas presents you were going to get her and her brother will have to wait until their next birthday or maybe just be a random gift some time next year. All they'll have is whatever the grandparents send. AARRRGGHH!

Damn company my husband used to work for. By hook or by crook, you found one more way to screw us over one last time.

Hopefully my Thanksgiving post will be a tad more happy. Hopefully.

Another Award! Yay!

2008-11-24T21:33:00.000-08:00

Many thanks to Denise at Laughing With Spoons! I don't know if I deserve one lately, what with my lack of blogging but I do appreciate it.

Here are the rules for this one:

1. Mention the blog that gave it to you and comment on their blog to let them know you’ve posted your award.
2. Publish these rules.
3. Share 6 values that are important to you and 6 things you do not support.
4. Grant the prize to 6 people.

Six Important Values/Beliefs:

1. Find something positive to say about every day.
2. Trust is something you earn.
3. You get what you give.
4. Murphy's Law touches my life daily.
5. "Life's a dance you learn as you go."
6. You can teach an old dog new tricks.

Six Values/Beliefs I do NOT support:

1. Adultery ever being okay.
2. Skinny jeans being "in."
3. That income = intelligence.
4. That taking away my guns (and the guns of law-abiding citizens) will solve the gun violence problem.
5. Abuse of domestic pets. Ever watch "Animal Cops?"
6. Bullying.

Okay, I don't have six people to award this little prize to, so I'm giving it to...

1. Slick at Slick Sumbich
2. AJ at Confessions of a Fat Girl
3. Amy at Inside the McMind

Busy, Busy, Busy!

2008-11-22T19:56:00.000-08:00

We've just had so much going on here lately. Most of it I still can't confirm, but I can tell you this: the times, they are a-changin'. So I'm stealing a survey-type thing from Lazy Crazy Mama, and it's only stealing because she didn't tag me. I look like the Lazy Mama now. Ah well. Writer's Block has me by the tail. So sue me.

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1. What is your funniest childhood story? Oy, I have to pick just one? This actually involves my cousin, Jake. Every Christmas Eve, my dad's family would get together at either my grandparents' place, my aunt and uncle's place, or my other aunt's house. For reference's sake: Grandma's, Uncle Ed's, and Aunt Marilyn's. So this particular year, it was at Grandma's and all but two of the cousins were across the road at Uncle Ed's. Steve, Maureen, Jake, Jess and I generally always retreated somewhere to get away from the raucous adults and older cousins (sorry Tracy, but you were among them!). Anyway, we were playing Pictionary and about an hour or so into it, we got a phone call from Grandma's that it was time to come back over to open presents. We get outside and it wasn't a particularly snowy year so we decided to race back across the road. Most of us were just lightly jogging because out in the country, you have only the moonlight to guide you anywhere. Jake threw caution to the wind and just took off. Took off and smacked directly into a giant fir tree. I mean, we actually heard the thump of his head hitting the tree. No worries, he was fine! But it was fun-nee!

2. What would your dream dress look like if you could design it? Um...I don't wear dresses. Ever. I wear a skirt maybe once a year.

3. What weird habit does your hubby have? He holds his head crooked. This affects his shaving habits in that whenever he shaves, his sideburns and goatee end up crooked. That's right: one sideburn is longer than the other and if you look at the goatee line under his chin, it's at a terrific angle.

4. How many cookbooks are in your kitchen? I'll go count. I have 24 cookbooks. HOLY CRAP! The best part: I only use one of them!

5. Granny panties or loyal Victoria's Secret girl? Here's my confession, everyone: I've never bought VS. Nope, not even once. I've been in there once or twice but I have always assumed (without actually researching the first point) that a) they don't make VS items in my size, and b) I can't afford to shop there. That said, I don't wear granny panties. I opt for boy-cut or bikini.

6. My favorite memory from 2008 so far is...the presidential campaign and election. Seriously. I know it didn't turn out the way I wanted it to but it was the first time in my life I've ever been seriously passionate about politics and how all of Washington's and Sacramento's decisions directly affect me. It was a very big turning point for me and despite the outcome, it's hands-down my favorite memory.

7. I secretly...love Adam Sandler movies. Not the more recent ones, which I openly admit I like, but the old ones. "Happy Gilmore," "Big Daddy," and "Billy Madison" are among them. I play it off like they really annoy me and that I can't stand his roles in them, but it's totally the opposite. What does annoy me is Rob Schneider's token role in all of Adam Sandler's movies! What is up with that?

8. I could really go for...some Mucinex, Campbell's Tomato Soup with a grilled cheese sandwich, a box of soft tissues, and some Carmex for my raw nose. I've been sick for all of 24 hours and I feel like I'm dying.

9. We are going to have a big snow storm and you will find me...standing at the kid's bedroom window with my face pressed against the glass, wondering how in the HELL we're having a snow storm the in the San Francisco Bay Area!

10. I knew he was the one...the moment I saw him. I'm not kidding, either. It's SO clichè, but it truly was "love at first sight." I loved his eyes, his smile, his voice, and a few hours later, the way he kissed. Most of you know the story but the Reader's Digest version reads: we talked every night on the phone for two months straight - while I lived in Pennsylvania and he lived in California - and then he moved in with me. It'll be seven years this week that we've been living together.

My Sincere Aplogies

2008-11-21T11:43:00.000-08:00

I haven't been very bloggy lately and I'm sorry. We've had much afoot these days and it's taking up my internet time as well as preoccupying my mind. I'm going to try to blog a real post tonight, so stick with me!

I'm Going For Extra Credit This Week

2008-11-18T19:09:00.000-08:00

I'm doing two prompts. Today's homework:

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1. The last time I laughed really hard...

About a week and a half ago, Rob and I were sitting on the couch watching Ghost Adventures. I'm not a huge fan of the show but it is about ghosts 'n such, so I'm willing to give it a whirl now and again.

Anyway, we're watching it and during a commercial, we were talking about how these types of shows could be completely staged. You know, actors instead of real ghost hunters on a sound stage instead of a real haunted place, sound crew in the background making noises, props falling over, laser pointers, etc. Then my husband pipes up with possibly the funniest statement he's ever made:

"When I took a ninja training class..."

That's all I heard. He lost me there. I fell into fits of tear-filled laughter that went on for about five minutes. How many times in your life do you get to hear someone say that, let alone your husband? Besides, can you picture this guy learning how to be a ninja???

It was just too damn funny. When I finally got all my giggles out, he went on to tell me that when he and his brother were living in Pennsylvania with their mom, they came out one summer to spend a few months with their dad. The day they flew in, he picked them up at the airport and took them directly to this class which was being held and taught by his wife's brothers, both black belts in karate. So it was a legitimate class. I had just one question for him when he was done talking:

"So, did you get a little certificate or something when you were done? Like, you're a certified ninja now?"

He wasn't amused.

So I Wasn't Tagged...But That's Okay.

2008-11-17T21:41:00.000-08:00

I'm doing it anyway, Mimi!
Truth be told, I'm very tired and have little to talk about. That's a lie. I have a LOT to talk about but only a small portion of it is set in stone right now. Hence, I can't really start flapping my gums until a few more things come together. Don't be mad. I don't want to hold out on you all but I kinda have to. For now. *mwah*

Five Things On My To Do List
1. Clean the bathtub. I cleaned the rest of the bathtub but I'm all out of Comet. Once I get the Comet, I clean the tub.
2. Clean the fish tank. I hate cleaning that damn thing.
3. Find gainful employment (more on that to come later).
4. See doctor about my nose on Wednesday.
5. Read "A Girl From Yamhill" before the 29th, when it's due back at the library.

Five Things I Like To Snack On
1. Cookies
2. Cake
3. Crackers and Sweet Pepper & Apple Relish
4. Pretzels
5. Chips & salsa

Five Things I Would Do If I Was a Millionaire
1. Buy a huge lot and build our own house in the country
2. Furnish said house with all new furniture
3. Sock away probably 1/3 of it for savings and kids' college funds.
4. Go back to school and get my psychology degree.
5. Boob job. No, I'm not kidding.

Five Places I Have Lived
1. Conneautville, PA
2. Slippery Rock, PA
3. Fremont, CA
4. Brentwood, CA
5. Hayward, CA

Five Jobs I Have Had
1. "Sales Associate" at Country Fair
2. Server at Cracker Barrel and Stable Pit 'N Pub.
3. Cashier at Giant Eagle
4. Receptionist at WHCI.
5. Mom. Best full-time gig I've ever had!

The Five People I’m Tagging
1. Amy at Inside the McMind
2. Jen at Cheaper Than Therapy
3. Diana at What A Novel Idea
4. That's it. I don't want to bother anyone else!
5.

Mr. Lady's Contest

2008-11-16T18:52:00.002-08:00

Mr. Lady is holding a recipe contest in honor of America's Thanksgiving - as opposed to Canada's, which was about a month ago - and food, glorious food (Oliver!, anyone?). You don't even have to enter a Thanksgiving recipe, just a recipe that you love. So to do my part and boost her number by one more entry, here's my recipe - er, Mom's recipe - for Pretzel Salad.

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Ingredients:
- 2 cups crushed pretzels
- 3/4 cup butter, melted
- 3 tablespoons white sugar

- 1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
- 1 cup white sugar
- 1 (8 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed

- 2 (3 ounce) packages strawberry flavored gelatin
- 2 cups boiling water
- 2 (10 ounce) packages frozen strawberries*

1. Preheat your oven to 300º F.

2. Mix pretzels, butter, and 3 tbsp. sugar together in a bowl. Press firmly into the bottom of a 9x13" baking dish.** Bake for 8-10 minutes and set aside.

3. In another bowl, mix together the cream cheese and 1 cup of white sugar with a hand mixer until well blended. Fold in the whipped topping. Spread mixture onto the cooled pretzel crust, making sure to seal up the edges. If you don't, your gelatin layer will drip down to your crust and make it soggy.

4. In a large saucepan, boil 2 cups of water. Dissolve gelatin packets in the boiling water. Reduce heat to low and add strawberries; cook over low for about five minutes. Remove from heat and carefully pour liquid and strawberries over the cream cheese layer (this is why you sealed the edges in Step 3).

5. Cover dessert and place in the refrigerator; allow it to set overnight.

*If you buy the frozen blocks of strawberries, the strawberries in your gelatin will be a bit more like they are in yogurt. If you buy bags of whole strawberries, slice them into ¼" slices while they're still frozen and it'll look prettier and be neater to eat.

**I don't recommend using an aluminum pan for this dessert. The sides of those pans aren't very sturdy and tend to bend and get all floppy with too much pressure. Also, they tend to be ridged and that allows the gelatin to run down to the crust. You'll want to use either glass or metal.

Don't use this...

Use one of these...

The Friday Chronicles

2008-11-14T21:57:00.000-08:00

Oh what a day. What a week. What a cruel, cruel world!

My day started at 5:00 a.m. because Boy showed up at 5:10 a.m. Rawr. I normally get up at 5:30 and so it was only half an hour, but it's that last half hour that means so much to me! Of course once he got here, my kids woke up and shortly thereafter, my husband. So much for any faint hope of catching a nap before the sun came up.

Boy was here for about 13 hours today. We tried to take the kids to the park just up the street after lunch, but we weren't there 10 minutes and some guy walks up with a brown paper bag - suspiciously shaped like a 40 oz. - and starts drinking it not 15 feet away from the kids. He took a big swig, put it down, and put his cowboy hat over the top of it as if to trick me into thinking he wasn't up to anything. We packed up the kids and went home. This guy was old and alone, who knows what he was hanging out at a park with little kids for? What, he couldn't go get drunk at home? Or at the Eden Greenway across the street? So I yelled at him as we were walking away, being all kinds of passive-agressive. Jerk.

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So Rob was home sick through Wednesday. He tried to go back to work on Thursday. He calls me at 8:18 a.m. Thursday morning to inform me that he's on his way home; there's no work. He was told to call this morning before he came in to see if there was work, so he called. No work. His boss's instructions for Monday? Call at 10:00 a.m. to see if he was able to "scare anything up."

Rob's calling the service manager Monday morning and demanding to be laid off. That whole bit a while back about him going on the road? It never came to fruition, he's still in the shop. Not that it matters: all the shop mechanics are workless, too. So cross all available appendages that the service manager does, in fact, have a heart beneath his slicked-back hair and blanket of cologne and lays my husband off.

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I think I have a deviated sceptum. A few days ago, my son head-butted me directly in the shnozz. It didn't bleed, it didn't swell, it just caused a blinding pain felt only twice in my life prior to that moment and that pain was felt about two and a half feet lower. I didn't think much of it until the headaches started the next day. Despite multiple doses daily of Extra Strength Tylenol, I haven't been able to shake the headaches, they just lessen and worsen throughout the day. Also, there's a big bump on my sceptum inside my nose. I'm waiting on a morning call-back from the doctor's office to try to get me in tomorrow afternoon.

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Finally, in "How Darcie Managed to Look Like A Jackass" news: I wore my t-shirt inside out to the grocery store this afternoon. I had no idea. People kept smiling at me and I thought that maybe they were just happy it was Friday. Some bordered on laughing. I just couldn't figure it out. Then I got home and was walking back to our apartment when I felt something brushing against my arm as I walked. Sure enough, it was the tag. Then it all made sense. I was embarrassed for all of about five seconds. After that, I figured that I had done a good deed for the day without realizing it: I made several people smile. :)

My Weekly Writing Assignment

2008-11-13T09:37:00.001-08:00

Time for my homework!

This week's prompts:

1.) Write a haiku about what you see out the window. (if you don't know what a haiku is click here.)

2.) Begin with "I thought I saw..."

3.) If I could live in any era of history, what would it be -- list 10 reasons why.

4.) Write a light hearted piece on how to get along with an enemy.

5.) The first time you...

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IF I COULD LIVE IN ANY ERA OF HISTORY...

I'd give my left pinky toe to have been born circa 1940, slightly pre-baby boom. How amazing it would have been to realize all the optimism of the post-war era versus the stagnancy of the new millenium.

Here are my 10 reasons (wow, I'm kind of a Top Ten whore these days, aren't I?):

10. The Music I know it's not for everybody, but I simply adore the music from the 1950s and 1960s. I also love music from the late '60s up through today, but the music from my mom's heyday (she graduated in the class of '56) is innocent, pure and had a really good beat. That's my seque into #9...

9. The Dancing People actually danced in the '50s. I mean, a boy and girl stood facing each other, assumed the dancers position and danced as a pair, and no groin areas ever really touched, and if they did it wasn't intentional or sexual. Dancing wasn't equivalent to dry-humping. I, to quote Denise, "super puffy heart" dancing and wish I could convince my husband to take dance lessons with me. I want to learn the jitterbug, swing, waltz, two-step, cha-cha, and even line dancing. I dance daily around our place. I don't need music, I just dance. My husband, unfortunately for me, thinks dancing is for girls and refuses. *sigh*

8. The Clothes They were pretty uniform and back then, girls didn't strive to wear as small a size as possible. Curvy was considered attractive. I'll grant you, I'm a bit more than just curvy, but still. Clothes were forgiving and brand names weren't really an issue then. Hell, it was still fashionable to sew your own clothes. And if anyone's interested, I found a really good site for Marilyn Monroe pictures. It's in Russian, but the pictures are awesome.

7. The Cars You can't beat the cars from that era. Cars built up through the early 1980s were built to last, bodies made out of steel, not plastic. The cars were roomy and designed to be aesthetically pleasing, not necessarily compact and efficient. They were showy. People took pride in their cars, washed them every weekend, serviced them regularly. They didn't cover them in bumper stickers, ignore the much-needed oil change, or allow Cheerios to be eternally lost to the backseat.

6. The Furniture Their furniture was...well...interesting. Odd colors, not that comfortable, but it belongs solely to that generation and they own it. I'd love to decorate a room with their furniture, namely my kitchen. It'd be themed a la the Prime Time Cafe at Disney-MGM Studios Theme Park. We ate there during my and my mom's 1997 trip to Florida, it was awesome.

5. The Way They Reared Children It was a no-bullshit mentality. Kids did what they were told, there was no room for negotiation, and if you didn't do it, you were punished. I'm sorry if I offend anyone here, but in my opinion there are far too many parents out there who want the kid to make all their own decisions, have their own way, and by the time the kid is 16, they're a spoiled little brat who's never been told no and who will whine, cry, and lay down on the floor kicking and screaming until someone bends to their will. It annoys the everlovin' hell out of me! Kids NEED discipline and structure! They want boundaries! They need parents who say, "NO!" Bah.

4. A Handshake Really Meant Something My mom has a waterbed (purchased circa 1983, yeah, it's that old) with the drawers underneath it. In them, she stores old things: pictures, my drawings and stories from the first grade, my baby blankets, and most importantly, my grandmother's jewelry box. I sifted through it once. Mostly costume jewelry. But among all the big necklaces and clip-on earrings, I found my grandfather's credit card for Montgomery Ward.

Credit wasn't always so complicated. "Credit" meant you could go to a store, get what you needed and they'd keep track of what you owed them. If you didn't pay, it didn't turn into a dozen phone calls a day, credit scores tanking, and thousands of dollars in debt. If you didn't pay, your creditor (Montgomery Ward, Sears, the car dealership, etc.) showed up and took back what you couldn't pay for. Your word and your handshake were all that mattered. It's just not that simple anymore.

3. The Novelty of Technology Television. Your own private phone number at home instead of party lines. Electric kitchen appliances. We take it all for granted now but I'd have loved to see it all when it was shiny and new, making life easier for us. We get some of that feeling now, but it's more improvements on current technology than something actually new. We're a lackluster generation: nothing surprises us and we're always wanting the next best thing.

2. No Convenience Foods People were expected to prepare every meal from scratch. There weren't any individually wrapped granola bars, snack-sized bags of chips, big-as-a-Buick Costco-sized containers of pretzels. There were candy shops and TV dinners, but much like the cars I mentioned above, meal preparation was something women took pride in. Of course, they also used a TON of butter and even lard (EW.)

1. The Optimism Everyone was so damn happy! Happy to be alive, happy to have won the war, happy to get married and raise their families. People had dinner parties, they dressed nicely every day, they were proud of what they had and aspired to do more. The American Dream was alive and well in our little chunk of earth and I feel like it's all gotten lost amid politics, the rising cost of living, and a lack of hope. People are too willing to sit on their backsides and wait for life to happen to them - or the government to provide them a better life, but that's a story for another blog - and in the meantime, they're wasting precious time. You only get one ride around this sphere, make the most of it!

This is at a rest stop on our journey out west. We planned this adventure in a matter of about two months.

Rob and a brand-new Bubba

Beth and Me, summer of 2007

What Moms Can't Do

2008-11-12T11:04:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I figured there wasn't much mom couldn't do. I knew she couldn't fly an airplane and that brain surgery probably wasn't in her realm of knowledge, but that aside, moms (and dads, of course) were all-knowing and all-able. Then I became a mom and boy, did I ever change my tune! So here's my Top Ten List (a la David Letterman) of things moms can't do.

10. You can't have five minutes of silence if they're awake. Inevitably, someone will yell, cry, shriek or come up with the neverending soliloquy. Then, as they have a way of doing, the other one will pipe up with one of the aforementioned verbalizations and all you'll hear is this loud drone of noise that drills into your brain like a Dremel.

9. You can't fix a plate of food and expect to have it all to yourself. No matter how yummy and scrumptious and enticing their food is, yours will always look better. Before you know it, you have a herd of strays at your feet meowing for a scrap. Crumbsnatchers.

8. You can't leave on a fifteen-minute shopping excursion without a chorus of goodbyes and sobs of despair - because you obviously hate them and will never return - and subsequently, you can't return without running into a wall of complete apathy. They spirits were broken when you left and they couldn't care less when you come back.

7. You can't go into another room without a barrage of questions. It's the Spanish Inquisition. ["The Inquisition" song, from History of the World, just popped into my head.] What are you doing, mommy? What are you making? Are you getting the butter? Are you stirring? Are we having lunch? Are we having dinner? Are you going potty? Wash your hands? Get a diaper? Jesus H.

6. You can't go grocery shopping without hearing about one specific item in the store that they simply must have the whole. damn. time. It doesn't stop! From the moment you pull into the parking lot till the moment you leave the store, it's all they can talk about. It gets especially bad if you don't buy it for them.

5. You can't watch R-rated movies anymore. You can't watch them while they're awake because the violence scares the crap out of them and you're too tired to watch them by the time the kids go to sleep. It's all PG-13 and up for the next 15 years.

4. You can't have a clean car. You swear up and down that you won't allow any more food in your car and you especially won't allow any in the backseat. A month later you're at the carwash, carseats sitting on the ground outside the car, vacuuming out four weeks worth of Teddy Grahams, Cheerios, a chunk of quesadilla, and a rock-hard chicken nugget. Or you have ants.

3. You can't have a clean carpet for more than a week. I must vacuum three times a week and even though we steam-clean every six months, there are innumerable stains on the damn thing. From forgotten apple pie cookies that got slobbered on and then mashed into the carpet to a wayward strawberry, your carpet ends up looking like a Jackson Pollock.

2. You can't get anywhere on time. You get there way late because it took you 10 minutes longer than you thought it would to get the kids dressed, three attempts to get out the front door before you remembered everything (including one trip all the way down to the car before you remembered you forgot the diaper bag), and then, as Murphey's Law indicates, you encounter traffic. Or, conversely, you get there entirely too early because you overcompensated for how long you figured it would take you to get everything done and you end up sitting outside your destination for half an hour.

1. You can't go to the bathroom alone. Believe me, I've tested this theory over the last 3.5 years. You can be by yourself in the bathroom with the door shut and locked - provided you're fast and move like a ninja - but rest assured that one, if not all, of your kids will either sit vigil outside the bathroom door and make noise whilst you do your business or will keep coming back and trying the doorknob to see if maybe you'd unlocked it yet, you know, just for them. Because you desperately need their assistance with everything.

Veteran's Day

2008-11-11T10:49:00.000-08:00

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention it; it's an important holiday and I feel it's necessary that were remember all veterans today, living and deceased, and remember the sacrifices they've made. And let's not forget the sacrifices their families make: time with their loved one, nobody to help parent the children, many women have to give birth without their husband present, mom's watch their babies go off to war, babies watch their moms and dads go off to war. It breaks my heart to think of how hard that must be, no matter how many times you have to do it. I don't care where you stand on war, soldiers devote their lives to defending all of our great freedoms and I am full of pride, admiration, and gratitude not just today but every day.

My dad and his brothers were all in the military, as was my aunt. My mom's brother was in the Navy. My cousin, until very recently, was active duty Army. The woman I babysit for, she's active duty Navy. I had friends in high school enlist; some are still in, some left after their four years were up. I remember listening to two friends, one of whom was in the Army, the other in the Marines, argue about which branch of the military was superior to the other. I remember thinking at the time how they were acting like little boys with the whole, "My [insert whatever object comes to mind here] is bigger than your [same object]."

I have a much deeper appreciation for all that our military does for us now and I'm so proud to be an American. So if any of you are military families or are in the military, thank you so much.

"This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave." ~Elmer Davis

A Fresh Start

2008-11-10T11:39:00.000-08:00

So you'll all be happy to know that I'm moving all my political mumbo-jumbo to a new blog, aptly titled California Misfit. Let's face it, the only time my presidential vote matters is during the primaries, otherwise it's only for my own satisfaction and that of my party's. So anyway, you won't hear about it here! I'm getting back to parenting and family and life in general. It was getting way to negative in here!

As for life in general, things are peaceful here. We're not-so-pessimistic about Christmas this year. Provided work stays steady, we should be able to eke out a decent Christmas for the kids and not break the bank doing it. My husband, unforunately, is sick. He started not feeling well yesterday and between last night and this morning has developed hot flashes and chills, a very congested head, and aches and pains. He's home today with plans to return to work tomorrow, but we'll see. On the upside, the rest of us are okay. The kids both had their flu shots at the end of October so they're just starting to kick in. Beth had a low-grade fever two days ago and a little rash on her chest, and she's developed a bit of a night cough but I'm really hopeful that's all it will be. I feel so bad for kids when they get sick! There's no easy way to explain to them that it's only temporary and that they'll be better soon; you can only watch them suffer through runny noses and being hot.

So anyway, that's what's going on here today. Well, that and my unbridled enthusiasm to watch Chuck.

The Friday Chronicles

2008-11-07T10:38:00.000-08:00

This week, despite one sad day - for a little less than half the country - smack dab in the middle of the week, went fairly quickly. And in the interest of not inciting a riot or ruffling the feathers of The Three Democrateers [D, I didn't mean to make you typescream at the computer. I know that's what you were doing. *smile*]of Pennsylvania, I'm done talking politics for a while. I'm tired of it, it's played out, and no one cares anymore. What's done is done and I'm sure there'll be plenty to talk about come February, so I'm taking a breather. Here's to the next four years, for better or worse!

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Funny conversation I had with Beth:

Beth had just done something mean to her brother and I was working an apology out of her. We've been focusing on not just getting the "I'm sorry" out, but also on the "why" of the situation.
Me: Thank you for apologizing. Now why are you sorry?
Beth: Because I'm lazy? (A common affliction and cause for apology from her. She's now smiling impishly.)
Me: No, you weren't being lazy. Why are you sorry?
Beth: (She's looking at me out of the corner of her eye waiting to see my reaction) Because I'm a dingbat?

At least once or twice a day, Beth does something very Me-like - in otherwords, airheaded. So we jokingly say, "You dingbat! That's silly!" and we'll move on. Evidently, she's picked up on it.

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I can't believe how cheap gas has gotten out here! When I make a trip to the drugstore last night, the gas station across the street has regular unleaded at $2.49/gallon. I almost had an accident! Automobile accident, not tinkling accident.

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Mom left on Tuesday morning and I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief. We get along so much better when we aren't cohabitating. I think she knows that, but her memory gets clouded when she gets it in her head that we need to move back home. I know she's lonely back there. My aunt is still around but she has her kids and grandkids to keep her busy. All this weight rests on my shoulders, like it's my responsibility to make sure mom's taken care of, or at least that's what I imagine. I'm sorry that she's lonely and more or less alone, I really am, but I have to keep reminding myself (Rob helps me with this a LOT) that I have to do what's best for my family which is, at this point, staying here and treading water. There are too many financial uncertainties back there and for now, we're able to pay our bills without running into big trouble. No certainty of that back there. So tread water we will...

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Did any of you catch "Grey's Anatomy" last night? How touching were those two old people? They say goodbye and kiss before each of her surgeries. I won't ruin the rest of that storyline for all of you who've DVRd it and have yet to watch, but make sure the tissues are nearby.

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My son is really trying to talk now! He has:

~ Mama
~ Dada
~ Beh-ee (Belly)
~ Goo-ka (Cookie)
~ Beh (Beth)
~ Rob swears he tried to say "weiner" last night. Ha ha.

Beth can write her first name all by herself and can draw recognizable pictures of trucks, houses, Spongebob Squarepants, and fish. My kids are awesome.

"A peacefulness follows any decision, even a bad one." ~ Rita Mae Brown

2008-11-05T13:04:00.000-08:00

I've spent all morning going back and forth in my head about how to handle today's post. I can't not address what transpired last night because it's like the big white elephant in our proverbial room. It's sitting there, staring at me, waiting for me to say something. It's also smirking at me. Bastard elephant.

We lost. Not by a grand margin with the popular vote- currently, CNN's reporting it at 7% - but by fairly remarkable electoral vote, which has given Obama 349 and McCain 163. I could go on about where I think the campaign went wrong, where voters definitely went wrong, and how terrified I am of the next four years. I could direct you to a couple sites that offer perspectives I agree with and I could rant for many paragraphs about how I really feel about Barack Obama. But I won't. What good would come of it?

So I'll report on how the propositions I was concerned about turned out.

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Proposition 2. Standards for confining farm animals. Initiative statute.
- The long and the short of this is that farm animals raised for food - cows, chicken, pigs, etc. - be kept in larger, roomier cages allowing them to, "...fully extend their limbs or wings, lie down, stand up and turn around..."

Result: Yes. Damn. People just can't seem to think beyond the animals themselves. "Oh, those poor animals ~~who'll be beheaded and butchered in a few months anyway~~ and those awful cages!" Let's see how sympathetic they are when the price of their chicken goes from $2.99/lb. to $5/lb.

Proposition 3. Children's Hospital Bond Act. Grant Program. Initiative Statute.
- It would provide "...$980M in general obligation bonds towards construction, expansion, remodeling, renovation, furnishing and equipping of eligible children's hospitals..." It'll cost the state a LOT of money.

Result: Yes. I'm happy but a little nervous. It's a necessary thing, keeping up with current medical technology and accomodating all the needs of all the children, and one I'm happy to shell out for. But...$980M is a lot of money.

District Measure WW
- I'm assuming it's a measure, since it's not a proposition. All it's heading says is, "District." Anyway, it provides up to $500M to continue restoring urban creeks, protecting wildlife, purchasing/saving open space, wetlands/shoreline, acquiring/developing/improving local and regional parks, trails and recreational facilities in the East Bay Regional Park District.

Result: Yes. Yay! Hooray for nature!

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So my feelings after all is said and done? I'm resigned to the fact that my candidate - who I'll maintain to the day I die was far more qualified than Obama to run this country without running it into the ground - lost the election and that come February, I'll have a man I'm terrified of as my president. I'm resigned to the fact that the Democrats still have house majority and damn near senate majority as well (although, thankfully, not the two-thirds necessary to complete the monopoly and really turn Washington and our great nation on its ear as well as eliminate the extremely-necessary system of checks and balances) and that the next four years will be riddled with liberal agendas, government-sponsored healthcare, and small businesses having to close up shop due to an increase in their taxes. In my mind, I see a very long, very depressing four years ahead of me.

I hope I'm wrong and I hope Obama and his administration prove me wrong. That's the great thing about pessimism: you're never disappointed and occasionally, you're pleasantly surprised. So we'll see. And with that said, congratulations to all my Democratic readers. You won, fair and square. Well, a little superstition never hurts either. *wink*

My Weekly Writing Assignment

2008-11-04T19:04:00.000-08:00

So I caught a little flack for being predictable last week. I always write about my past, my memories, etc. However, what the commenter doesn't know is that I'm horrible with creativity. I took a Fiction Writing course in college and never wrote a fictitious story. I took stories that actually happened, changed the names, and submitted it. I swung a B in the class. So I'm sorry if it's disappointing to some, but with my weekly writing assignment, I'm going to be predictable yet again. Here are the prompts, though, if you're interested:

1.) You awaken with amnesia in what looks to be an igloo. You have $4 and a rock in one pocket, and a toothbrush in the other. Someone is staring at you. Write this scene.

2.) Write a 16-line poem (rhyming or non-rhyming) about a moment from your childhood that changed your life for the better.

3.) You're sitting at work one day and receive a text message from an unrecognized number. The text says, "I have the money and hid the body." You think this is a practical joke from a friend, so you play along at first. But the more texts you receive, the more you realize that it isn't a joke. Write the text conversation you have with this unknown texter.

4.) 10 of my absolute worst pet peeves...

5.) Fictionalize an event that happened to one of your parents, friends, or siblings.

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10 of My Absolute Worst Pet Peeves

10. Nonsensical arguments. Don't pick a fight with me, or try to debate me, if you have no basis for your side of the debate. You'll end up plucking total nonsense, seemingly out of thin air, and try to sling it at me like a fireball. You end up sounding incredibly stupid and I've got nothing because I can't argue with stupidity.

9. Dog-earing pages of books. My husband is totally guilty of this and it drives me up the damn wall. I don't care if it's our book, the library's or someone else's. You DON'T dog-ear pages! Preserve the damn book! Use a slip of paper, a string, or - here's a novel idea - a bookmark.

8. The fact that the California Drivers License Handbook comes in nine different languages-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------+
. This is AMERICA! Did you know that until 2006, we didn't have an official language? It's absolutely absurd to me that people are allowed to take their driver's license exams in one of 8 other languages - aside from English - and get their license. Of course, that brings me to Pet Peeve #7.

7. That one can become a legal citizen of the United States of America and not want to embrace our language and culture. It's infuriating that there are people out there who simply want to make money here, send it back to their home country for years at a time, and the whole time they're here, bitch about America. "America sucks, Vietnam's great!" is a tune Rob hears at work all the time. Yeah, but the money you make here, that's no so bad, eh? The guy who chants his America Sucks Mantra every day also dragged an animal trap into work one day. Rob asks him, "Hey [name here], what's the trap for?" The response: "Cats." Yeah.

6. Maintenance staff, mechanics (other than my hubby, of course), and any man I deal with in the general public assuming I'm a complete idiot and treating me like one. The maintenance guy I get up here every time something in our apartment needs fixed automatically thinks I broke whatever he's fixing and that I'm just some dumb woman. I'm not stupid, I know how/why/when it broke and how to not break it again. Jackass. My hoo-ha doesn't knock 40 points off my IQ.

5. The gap in between my two front teeth. I had it before I got braces in 1992. The braces I wore through 1994 closed it. Then I got lazy about wearing my retainer and by the time I was 19, it was back. Now I have a gap that food gets stuck in constantly. So if I'm eating, and I make a disgusting thhhhhhtttt sound, you know why.

4. Parents that refuse to restrain or even watch their kids in public places, namely stores and restaurants. There is nothing more irritating than trying to do your shopping or lunch-gnoshing while there are small children running around, screaming, knocking things off of shelves with nary a parent or guardian to be found. Who lets their kids run wild? Don't they worry about kidnapping? Or even something so simple as their kid breaking something and them being forced to buy it? Aye yi yi! WATCH YOUR KIDS! I've taken three children under three years old to a store before, it's not asking too much, I swear.

3. Holy Rollers. Bible thumpers. Soldiers of God. I don't have a problem with your Christianity. Believe what you want to believe, you won't hear a peep out of me because that's the beauty and whole premise of America: your freedom of religion. In that same vein, I enjoy the freedom of not having to believe in any deity or dogma, so please stop waving your bible in my face, stop reciting passages from it, and stop telling me that all of life's answers are in it. The bible is your cheat sheet. If you need a bunch of mostly-fictitious stories to answer life's tough questions or you need a printed and bound moral compass, then by all means. But it's not mine and you can't force-feed Christianity. Besides, what about the Golden Rule? My religious beliefs, or lack thereof, shouldn't be a factor, right?

2. The reset time on my digital camera. I get my kids all set for a second picture, or I get the perfect smile on someone, and then they have to wait for the damn thing to reset. By then, I've lost that wonderful smile, nobody's looking at the camera, and the moment's over. I need this camera in my life. Seriously.

1. Opportunists. I'm not talking about my husband, although he is an excellent example of an opportunists. I'm talking about people who know you're relying on them for something and take every opportunity to use you. Rob and I have this happen to us time and again and it's really very frustrating. We never want to slight people and we're both helpers: we help even when we really can't or shouldn't. It's a compulsion, really. Anyway, we're often taken advantage of and it starts to suck. You want to believe in people, you know?

Eager Beaver

2008-11-04T14:55:00.000-08:00

Wow, that sounded dirty.

I, like the rest of America - and some of Canada - am champing at the bit to start seeing election results tonight. I've been watching cable news all day (and no, not just Fox News, there's some MSNBC and CNN thrown in the mix, too), watching random interviews, a few exit polls, and prattle about young voters. It goes without saying that a lot of young voters are going to flock to Obama; the same thing happened with Bill Clinton in 1996. I would know, I flocked with the young herd. I was 17 when he was elected, thus having no say, but I saw him on MTV and thought he was the coolest president ever. I guess it's all a matter of perspective, huh?

Anyway, I'm wetting-my-pants excited about the evening that lies ahead of me. Naturally, the presidential election is my top concern, but beyond that, there are a lot of propositions in California that are on my mind.

Proposition 2. Standards for confining farm animals. Initiative statute.
- The long and the short of this is that farm animals raised for food - cows, chicken, pigs, etc. - be kept in larger, roomier cages allowing them to, "...fully extend their limbs or wings, lie down, stand up and turn around..."

Initially, without thinking too deeply about it, I wanted to vote Yes on this. Then I really thought about it: if animal farms are forced to accommodate these new standards, it'll cost them money and space. They won't be able to raise as many animals. They may have to raise their prices drastically, move their business to another state or close up shop all-together. All of these effects will adversely affect California's revenue. a rise in the cost of meat will cause a lower demand, and a move to another state or a closing will deprive California of the sales tax.

Proposition 3. Children's Hospital Bond Act. Grant Program. Initiative Statute.
- It would provide "...$980M in general obligation bonds towards construction, expansion, remodeling, renovation, furnishing and equipping of eligible children's hospitals..." It'll cost the state a LOT of money.

I hate voting for anything that'll cost the state that much money, but I can't look at my kids and say no. Children are innocent; they don't ask for health problems and certainly did nothing to warrant the horrors of the types of illnesses that land them in children's hospitals. It just takes knowing one child who's in and out of children's hospitals, or seeing a commercial about St. Jude's, to realize how much these hospitals mean to these kids AND their parents.

District Measure WW
- I'm assuming it's a measure, since it's not a proposition. All it's heading says is, "District." Anyway, it provides up to $500M to continue restoring urban creeks, protecting wildlife, purchasing/saving open space, wetlands/shoreline, acquiring/developing/improving local and regional parks, trails and recreational facilities in the East Bay Regional Park District.

It's impact on property owners? No more than the current rate of $10/year per $100,000 of assessed property evaluation. My family and I love all the East Bay parks, especially Lake Elizabeth, Lake Chabot, Del Valle, Quarry Lakes and Niles Pond, and the Hayward Regional Shoreline. I want to see them stay around as long as I'm here! So much of California is a concrete jungle anymore and one can only imagine just how beautiful California was before "progress" came in and mowed it down.
All it takes is one trip down Highway 1 to see what I'm talking about. Or this...

Lake Chabot in Castro Valley

Central Park in Fremont

Del Valle in Livermore

It's just another anxious Monday...

2008-11-03T15:15:00.000-08:00

I've got two things to yap about today, both of which are causing me great anxiety. First, we'll address The Eagle (for those just tuning in, that's codespeak for my mom who's been here since 10/23).

Tomorrow morning can't get here fast enough. I don't know if it's that we're too much alike, too different, or if the cheese is sliding off her cracker but we are almost constantly at odds. She's spent the better part of her stay here trying to overrule our parenting, browbeat me with reasons we need to move out of California - ignoring all the reasons we can't right now and won't be able to unless Rob gets laid off, fired, or we've paid off a vehicle - and make thinly-veiled jokes about our weights. I'm pretty sure 10 days should be the time limit. She's been here 12 days and I. Am. Done. She's still very much convinced that I know nothing about parenting and said as much. I was in the middle of addressing a disciplinary issue with Beth and was handling it just fine. Mom butts in and tries to overrule me again so I say to her, "Mom, I've been raising her for nearly four years, I think I can handle it." She says, "Yeah, well I've been doing it since 1959. I think I can handle it."

*blink*

What???? For starters, she hasn't been raising Beth since 1959 and furthermore, she hasn't dealt with a four-year-old in 25 years! The woman needs to BACK OFF.

My other anxiety-attack-in-waiting is the election. I'm confident in my choice for candidate, can't wait to vote, and am eager to watch this election go down in history, no matter the outcome. However, I'm anxious because although I'd like to believe in the Bradley Effect, I'm worried about the Bandwagon Effect. What if America is full of lemmings and they all just vote for who they assume is going to win, just so their vote isn't "wasted" on a candidate who isn't going to win? It stresses me out that there are people out there who would actually do that.

That aside, we're eager as hell to be glued to the TV tomorrow night. Wheeee!

The Friday Chronicles

2008-10-31T19:19:00.000-07:00

It's been a long damn week. The Eagle has been here for eight days now and although I'm still happy to be spending time with her, her overt opinions are driving me a bit nuts. I know she doesn't agree with a lot of our decisions and that she desperately wants us to move back to Pennsylvania. But does that mean she has to proverbially beat me in the head with a two-by-four of it?

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Our car is falling apart. Sitting at a railroad crossing today, my temperature gauge started climbing alarmingly quickly. Luckily, we were already on our way to meet my husband at work and I had him check it out. He threw some water in the radiator and coolant reservoir and then he checked all the other fluids. The prognosis: We need to change the oil and filter, flush the cooling system and start fresh, figure out why the brake fluid is low (which involves taking the brakes apart to see if there's a leak), and change the transmission fluid. All this in addition to the two new front tires we need to replace the ones that are warped and balding. Anybody have a few hundred bucks falling out of their ass? Send it our way.

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I'm pretty sure I'm being haunted. Haunted by a friendly spirit, but haunted nonetheless. I've talked about this before, so this is an addendum. The other night, I was trying to rock Bubba back to sleep in his room and was getting really frustrated because he just would not calm down. Out of nowhere, I felt a hand on my back and it stayed with me for probably 10 seconds or so, swaying with me. I tried shifting a little bit to see if maybe my shirt was just sitting on my back - right between my shoulder blades - but it wasn't. I suspect my dad or aunt Joann, just offering me a little extra support.

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I'm pretty sure I've gained 10 pounds this week. My mom has a sweet tooth and a need to spoil her grandchildren...and me. We've had ice cream, cookies, brownies, candy and potato chips (not sweet, but definitely junk food) all in the last week. How much of this do I normally buy? Ice cream, maaaaybe once a week. I keep a cup on the kitchen counter and I put my spare change in there. Once I have $7.00 or $8.00 saved up, I'll go buy two pints of ice cream. It's the Ice Cream Fund. Like I need one.

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Evidently, I need to leave my comfort zone. With my weekly writing assignment, I generally pick the topic that recalls a memory. I love my memories, I cherish them. I pride myself on having a great long-term memory and I embrace any and all opportunities to remember something from years ago. However, there are those who feel I need to step up my game and try a writing prompt that I'm less okay with. We'll see.

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My son's first birthday party is tomorrow and I have to admit, I'm excited. For as much as I bitch about my in-laws and all their annoying attributes, I like family get-togethers and love focusing on my kids. My son has turned one and he's absolutely amazing. Happy birthday, little man!

Fresh out of the oven...

Four months old...

Eight months old...

Three days ago...

My Weekly Writing Assignment

2008-10-30T06:21:00.000-07:00

This week's assignment is as follows:

The Prompts:

1.) Write from the point of view of a glass at the edge of the table.

2.) Describe a typical day during your Jr. High years.

3.) Why do you write?

4.) When I'm around too much negativity I...

5.) You've been hired as a writer for "Late Show with David Letterman." Your first assignment is to come up with a witty, nonpolitical Top Ten list for him to read on air.

......................................................................................

A Typical Day in April of 1993, Spring of my 7th Grade Year

I wake up at 7:00 a.m. because I had to be on the bus at 7:45 a.m. Yes, I only gave myself 45 minutes. For some reason, it took me a lot less time to get ready back then. Maybe it's because I didn't have kids OR a giant purse. Hm. Anyway, I got my shower and headed back upstairs, turned on the 1"-barrel curling iron and got dressed. I was probably wearing a pair of straight-leg jeans that were docked, a dark green turtleneck bodysuit (you remember them - just like a baby's onesie but a lot bigger and more chic, ha ha) and an oversized white cardigan sweater. Then I did my hair: I pulled it back into a slick ponytail and doused my bangs with hairspray. I wrapped the top half of them around the curling iron, rolled it back, and held it for a few seconds and released. Curled the other half of them down. Then I properly feathered the top half and re-sprayed, just for insurance purposes. Don't need flat bangs by lunch!

I grabbed my backpack, skipped breakfast completely because I wasn't hungry and I didn't have time anyways because I'd redone my bangs four times just to achieve the proper height and proportion. Ran out to the corner and hopped on the bus just as it came up the sidestreet to pick up me and Kim, my neighbor and good friend who was two years my senior.

My school day, though littered with eight classes and a lunch period (this was in the days before block scheduling and different classes in different semesters; we had eight periods a day, same classes all school year long), was spent SOCIALIZING. Seriously folks, for every ounce of nerd in me existed an ounce of wanting to be liked. I was a joiner. That year, I'd participated in junior high basketball, junior high intramural volleyball, marching band, concert band and concert choir. Okay, I only lasted about six weeks into basketball. Evidently, you need to be in the know as far as rules of the game and how the game is played in order to not be last-ditch, gotta-be-fair-and-let-them-have-court-time third string. Hm.

I wrote notes. I now half-heartedly and somewhat sheepishly refer to myself as a writer when in close company - in other words, in front of people who won't laugh at that idea - and I earned a degree in it, so my note-writing obsession was probably just a little hint of what was to come. I used to save my notes. Up through the end of college, I kept an old Utz Pretzel jar in my closet with a batch of notes from grades 7-12. I finally trashed them when I met my husband. Fire hazard, anyone?

I chased boys, although I went about it in completely the wrong way. I thought my best way in was to be a friend first. This failed in multiple ways, but none that I was aware of until I was much older. To begin with, once you're a friend, it very rarely transpires to anything more, especially with teenage boys. And then you end up being the girl the guy goes to when he's have problems with the girl he actually likes, and that girl isn't you. Then you feel like crap for weeks. Finally, I realized that the whole "friend" thing was an easy way out for the guy: he didn't have to tell me what he really thought about me. I'm thinking those things varied: you're not interesting, you have a bad attitude (actually heard this once), you're fat, blah blah blah. Stupid boys.

Boy-chasing was actually a full-time extracurricular among my friends and I. Isn't it that way for most 13-year-olds? Now I can look back and laugh about it, but I was an overly open book about my crushes and all it brought me was humiliation. Ugh. When people ask if I could go back to high school and do it all over...HELL NO! It was awful enough the first time, I'm not that much of a masochist to want to relive it.

Finally, at the end of a day full of note-taking, note-writing, and crush-obsessing, I'd go home, crank out the homework uber-fast and then get on the phone to talk to all my friends about the day's events. There are two things I do well now: write and talk. It was no different at 13.

And so we've turned the corner...

2008-10-29T12:42:00.000-07:00

...in mom's visit, that is. The niceties are more or less done and now it's back to the way we were five and a half years ago when Rob and I still lived with her. We're butting heads. She's refusing to accept that I'm now a mother and am perfectly capable of raising and disciplining my own children and is constantly trying to overrule me with my own kids. At least once an hour, I find myself saying, "Mom, stop. I've got this."

Last night, things reached kind of a head. It started with a disagreement about MyCoke Rewards. She's of the opinion that Coca-Cola is discriminating against people who don't own a computer because you can only do MyCoke Rewards online. "What about those of us who don't want a computer or can't afford one?" she asks. I say, "Well, if you choose not to buy a computer, then it's your choice to not have online contests available to you in your home. What's to stop you from walking two small-town-sized blocks to the library? I'm sure the librarian would be happy to show you how to go to the website and enter teh codes. Same goes for those who can't afford a computer."

Her response? "Well, it's still not fair. What if I don't want to go to the library?"

Oh. My. God. "Then it's your loss." She says, "They should have a 1-800 number to call and enter codes." I say, "Then how would you see all the rewards?" She says, "Well, they could print them on the inside of the box." I say, "There are, like, thousands of rewards and contests. That's an impossibility." She says, "Well, they need to figure something out. It's discriminatory."

I nearly choked on my tongue I was trying so hard not to push it. Then there was the argument about a story we saw on the news. Reader's Digest version: an older woman's house went into foreclosure in February, she was ordered to be out by the end of August. August came, she left, and then repeatedly broke back into her home. Her reason? She didn't know what else to do. Finally, yesterday, police broke down her door and arrested her because she refused to leave.

Mom's take: That poor lady. So sad.

My take: Well, that sucks for her but she had six months to figure out what to do and where to go. I'm sure her mortgage-lenders could have pointed her in the right direction and if they didn't, she could have talked to the local housing authority or homeless shelters. They all have resources for people in her position. What stopped her?

Mom's response to that: A bunch of huffing and puffing about how old the woman was, how she maybe didn't know who to talk to, how upsetting it must have been.

My response to mom: In six months, she couldn't find one person to point her in the right direction? I'm sorry she's in this situation but it's her fault she didn't do something to secure a landing place in the six months they gave her.

Mom's response to me: I'm sorry to hear you say that and I'm sorry to see you thinking that way.

[Big, deep, calming breath and a slow count to ten to stop me from flipping my lid.]

STOP TRYING TO BLAME EVERYONE EXCEPT WHO'S ACTUALLY TO BLAME! It's not Coca-Cola's fault you don't have a computer and it's not their responsibility to ensure your participation in their online rewards program. It's not the police department's fault, nor is it her lender's fault, that the old lady in Oakland couldn't contact the local housing authority during her six-month grace period and that she was dumb enough to keep breaking and entering a house that was no longer hers. She was trespassing and she deserved to be arrested.

RAWR! I feel a little better. Thanks for asking. In other news, I decided to shut my yap - for a change - and graciously allow my stepmother-in-law to bring the pizzas. Can't hurt, right? Mom and I are making homemade mac 'n cheese with cornbread tonight. I haven't had homemade mac 'n cheese in YEARS. Yay!

Oh, and my son has a new word. He can say "cookie."

And that's all the news in Darcieland.

Apparently, I'm just not capable.

2008-10-28T12:41:00.000-07:00

Of planning and hosting a one-year-old's birthday party, that is. Originally, what ~~Rob and~~ I planned was cake and ice cream at 2 p.m., our place. Grandparents and immediate cousins invited, that's it, that's all. Nothing fancy, nothing big, and nothing costly. We haven't been exactly flush with money lately but we want to throw our son his first birthday party. We can swing cake, ice cream and some soda.

So I email the west-coast grandparents to let them know the details. Here's a copy-n-paste from her - my stepmother-in-law's - response:

"...Yeppums, we will be there!! Is there a little Cesar's nearby to your place w/the $5 pizza's?? If so we can buy a couple (3 or 4) there for Saturday afternoon as a contribution to the feed I think, or we can pick some up in [their town] & warm them up in [our town]. And maybe [brother-in-law] can bring something too like a few liter bottles of soda, diet & regular (probably less than $10), then [my mom's] help would maybe be less needed that way since she's already paid for an airline ticket to come visit. Maybe she could buy some chips or something, or salad to go along with the Pizza?? Something cheap & easy...prebagged salad of course!..."

Let me preface my rant with this: I appreciate generosity. I do. And I appreciate the gesture.

But what you all don't know is that she always does this. She can't let someone else control a party she's attending. For every one of Beth's birthday parties, she couldn't let me run the show. For her first birthday, we were going to cake and ice cream, with some chips and dip and soda, in the mid-afternoon. Simple. The kid was one, there were no other kids at the party. What does she do? She nabs up two pans of wannabe Chinese food leftovers from one of their church thingies and whips up a green salad.

For Beth's second birthday, we were going to do the same thing. They insisted on bringing extra chips and soda. For her third birthday, we went all out. Chicken, pizza, chips, dips, cake, ice cream, beer, soda, etc. Good times! What does she do? Brews a pot of coffee and throws her homemade salsa out on the counter. She just can't relinquish total control! She has to have her hand in everything. Fucking irritating!!!

So this year, I announce cake and ice cream because again, the kid's only one and the only other child in attendence will be our three-year-old who only cares about the cake. And what you see in the italicized paragraph is her reaction. I don't know of a tactful way to say, "Stop trying to control and design my kids' birthday parties! Their our kids! Just come, enjoy the company, and eat some cake. Then go home. This isn't your party to throw!"

Oy.

I just don't understand her need to do this. After watching her control family gathering after birthday party after family gathering after holiday...you'd think I'd be used to it. Why can't she respect what we've decided and just leave it at that? Does anyone have any insight to this phenomenon or how to approach her about it?

A Year Ago Today...

2008-10-27T10:47:00.000-07:00

Let's see...what was I doing one year ago today? I was running errands. We were living in a town about 45 miles from where we were running all our errands but since I was due - to give birth to my son - any day and the hospital I was delivering it was in the vicinity, we figured it was safe enough. Around noon, we stopped at ~~Hell-Mart~~ Wal-Mart and I noticed things felt a little different. I mentioned it in passing to my husband but brushed it off as wishful thinking.

Then, for lunch we went to China Cook - a fanTAStic Chinese take-out place in Hayward. Because I was a gestational diabetic, I had to go with egg foo yong and a medium hot & sour soup. I love hot & sour soup. I was trying all the old wives' tales to induce labor: sex, castor oil (Yes, I really did try it. Nothing happened. NOTHING.), rides on bumpy roads, walking, and spicy food, which is what landed me at the hot & sour soup. Two nights before, I'd had the Prego Pizza from Skipolini's. I had high hopes...but nothing had happened.

We got home around 4 p.m. and I made dinner which, if memory serves, was kielbasa. I started feeling contractions around that time. By 7 p.m. they were pretty bad, so I took a shower and called the hospital. We took off around 8 p.m. and I endured a hellish ride to the hospital. It only took about half an hour but it felt like three hours because we were on 580 west, possibly the bumpiest, crappiest road in the east bay. We got to the hospital around 9 p.m.

They checked me in and put me ~~on Skid Row~~ in the observation room - just click on "Observation Room" to the right - to make sure I was truly in labor. Yeah, I KNOW. I can barely stand up, I'm hollering for an epidural, but they need to be sure I'm in labor. 'Kay.

Turns out, I was about 7 centimeters. Transition time. They had me in the L&D room - just click on "Birthing Suite" - within minutes and I was going through an awfully quick labor. Despite my begging and pleading for an epidural, the nurse anesthetist took her sweet-ass time, asking me the same series of questions at least three times, and finally tried to administer it when I was NINE CENTIMETERS. Who waits that long?

The epi never took and about five minutes later, I started pushing. I was in horrible, shiver-inducing pain. Most of the pain centered around my left hip and lower back. Terrible. At 12:10 a.m. on October 28, eight short hours after my contractions began, my son was born. I posted this today because I spent the 27th in labor. Seemed fitting. Just after midnight tonight, I'll tiptoe into my son's room and stroke his hair and cheek and whisper "Happy birthday, Budda-Boy."

That's right: Budda-Boy. My nickname for him.

The day before I went into labor.

The Friday Chronicles

2008-10-24T12:41:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a busy week and not a lot has transpired, save for the organization and disinfection of my home and a trip to San Francisco International Airport whence I picked up The Eagle. With that said, only two weeks into my new "tradition" of posting The Friday Chronicles, I'm going to thieve this idea from Mimi because it sounds like fun. I love reminiscing!

So my crushes from, we'll say, 1992 - I turned 13 that year - were, in no particular order...

Tommy Puett! What? You don't remember him? He was Becca's boyfriend - before Jesse came along - on the TV show "Life Goes On." HOT. At least he was in the very early '90s.

Yeah, I'll admit it. I was a fan of Jeremy Miller, who played Ben Seaver on "Growing Pains." And not only was I a fan, I was a member of his fan club. Oh yeah, it was bad. Ha ha.

Bret Michaels baby! I searched and searched for the same poster I had on my bedroom wall, but apparently nobody felt like posting it online. He was the bad boy in my would-be man harem.

Mmm. Actually, all the guys in 90210 were yummy, but I drooled extra hard for this guy. Ever seen "8 seconds?" You should. I have a thing for guys in cowboy hats. My husband owns two. *wink*

So tell me. Who were your crushes when you were 13?

The Eagle Has Landed

2008-10-23T22:49:00.000-07:00

She's here and so far, so good. No comments about my weight, our financial stupidity, or any decisions we've made, save for a few remarks on how she can't believe - and for which she gives us credit - we've stuck out California for over five years.

We did some shopping, got Chinese take-out, and have vegged all night watching TV. We'll see how tomorrow goes.

I've been tagged!

2008-10-22T20:18:00.000-07:00

By Jennifer, an awesome Okalahoman whose points of view I regularly agree with.

So I've fulfilled Rule #1. Rule #2 might prove to be a bit difficult since I just posted a blog containing 100 random facts about myself, but I'll give it a whirl.

1. I've never seen the Star Wars trilogy. Ever. I'm okay with that; they just don't interest me and I make no apologies.

2. Seaweed freaks me out. Not the kind they wrap California rolls in. I'm talking about that brownish-yellow bulbous stalk-type things you see wash up on the beaches. EW. It looks slimy, like tentacles. I won't go near it. I can't really explain why. It just freaks me out.

3. You know how I'm afraid to drive in the snow? I took my driver's exam in the snow. My three-point turn? Yeah, it was a five-point turn because the local plow-trucks only plowed the lanes. They didn't plow the berms. I passed, by the way.

4. I like my toast barely toasted. Most people prefer to hear a *crunch* when they bite into their toast. Not me. By the time I get the butter on it, I want it to more or less melt in my mouth.

5. I make lists all the time. Then I ignore them. I don't know what it is; I like to feel organized but I don't actually like to be organized.

6. I'm fascinated with disspelling the myth of Christianity. Some feel differently, but I read The Da Vinci Code and have watched those shows on The History Channel ad nauseam. I'm also fascinated with secret societies - past and present - and all the mysteries in history.

7. I've never had a pedicure. I've always wanted one, but I'm never sure of whether a salon has a good reputation or not and I'm afraid I'll step into one that hasn't exactly received rave reviews from the health board. Plus, I'm never willing to plop down money for something like that on me.

Okaaaay...Rule #3.

I tag:

Amy, because she's a sucker for things like this.

Diana, because she's my best friend and if she doesn't do it, I'll dedicate a post to all her shenanigans.

Valeta, because she's barefoot and pregnant and longs to do survey-type things.

Mimi, because she gave me an award a while back and since I don't currently have any awards to give out, I'll give her blog fodder.

Denise, because, like Amy (and myself), she's a sucker for things like this.

Mr. Lady, because she's awesome and knows it would mean the world to me. *wink*

Erin, because I love the name of her blog - and also don't really get it - and because she needs another reason to avoid her email replies.

And, like Jennifer, I'm not following Rule #4. I want to see if any of these knuckleheads read my blog.

Ballot Cattle!

2008-10-22T14:28:00.000-07:00

Please watch this video and visit his website and his YouTube videos. He makes innumerable fantastic points and needs to be heard. And please pass along this video!

A Game of Scrabble

2008-10-22T13:57:00.000-07:00

As always, I'm doing my homework. I've always been kind of a nerd in that respect. I do my homework. Unless it's Joe McCarren's Traditional Grammar class, in which case I'll never do it, skip five classes (it was a night class, once a week, you'd think I could have been bothered, but it was a total snoozefest), and pull an A. *shrug*

Other than that, I do my homework when it's assigned. Here were this week's prompts:

1. Complete the sentence "I'd walk a mile for a ________." and continue writing about it.

2. Describe in detail a person who leaves no stone unturned.

3. When out to lunch with co-workers, you bump into a close friend who refers to you by a nickname. Because of its unusualness, the nickname catches the interest of one of your co-workers who asks for the story behind it. Start your story with, "This may come as a surprise, but ... " and end it with, "And that's how I got the nickname (fill in the blank)."

4. Write about an intense game of Scrabble that takes an ugly turn for the worse.

......................................................................................

So, for the not-too-swift of you who didn't read the title of today's post, I'm writing about Scrabble. Unfortunately, I can't say it takes an ugly turn. It was intense, in that it was intensely funny, at least to a bunch of 15- and 16-year-olds.

It's 1995. Possibly early 1996. It was my sophomore year of high school, I can be sure of that. I'm sitting in my Spanish II class with, among others, Amanda, Eric, Lisa, Jeff, and Jeremy. We had a student teacher at that point, I don't remember her last name but I think her first name was Kristen. One day, as an activity to engage us in Spanish speaking, she set us up to play Scrabble but we had to use Spanish words only. As you can imagine, that got old really fast, especially since she wasn't really paying attention. I think she just wanted an easy day.

So we take a notion to start spelling out dirty words. In English. We're hysterical, practically falling out of our seats with laughter (one might say we were LOLing), and arguing over which words are acceptable. I think that's a trend in any Scrabble game. My mother-in-law actually has the Scrabble Dictionary to end such disputes.

Anyway, Kristen notices the ruckus and comes over to see what's so funny. (As an aside, this girl was one of those timid, mousy types who feigned naiveté but you knew was a much more fun girl when the school day was over.) She took one look at our board, gasped, and we delightedly watched her face turn all kinds of red. "No no no no NO!" she squeaked out, and although she was trying to insist that we start the game over and get those obscene words off the board, you could see her stifling laughter. Who wouldn't laugh at the sight of "BOOBS" and "HUMP" on a Scrabble board?

Admittedly, again, no ugly turn for the worse. But it did take a turn and it was intense. I hope Mama Kat accepts this for my assignment!

100 Random Facts About Me

2008-10-21T12:39:00.000-07:00

You know, in case you have an extra few minutes you won't mind never getting back.

1. I'm addicted to Diet Coke.

2. I took 10 years of piano lessons.

3. I took 7 years of guitar lessons.

4. Between the ages of 12 and 16, I learned how to play the clarinet (and all its lower-toned counterparts), the saxaphone (and its lower-toned counterparts), and the trombone. Loved the trombone.

5. I love to sing. Most don't love to hear me sing.

6. I love, love, LOVE to dance. I'm not trained or anything, I just love gettin' down wit' my bad self.

7. The first movie I saw in the theater was "Follow That Bird."

8. The first time I saw "E.T." I ran out of the room crying when it was thought that E.T. died. I had to be coaxed back in by my mom with reassurance that E.T. did not, in fact, die.

9. I was born on September 10, 1979 at 6:58 a.m.

10. My dad played my birth time, 6:58, as his Daily Lotto numbers for a full 16 years.

11. I hate feet. All feet. They freak me out. Except baby feet, I love baby feet.

12. I get a headache if I go for more than 24 hours without showering. You laugh, but my head hurts if my hair's too dirty.

13. I suffered from pretty bad migraines before I had my first child. They went away with my pregnancy with her. Since having my son, they've come back.

14. When I was little, I wanted to be a pediatrician. Then I discovered that science was my 2nd worst subject in school.

15. Math ran the slot of "Worst Subject in School."

16. My senior year of high school, I opted out of pre-calculous to take Art III. I never took Arts I or II.

17. I was born and raised Catholic.

18. I left the Catholic church when I was 18 and started attending the Church of Christ.

19. I abandoned all Christianity and became an Agnostic when I was 20.

20. My dad passed away on August 20, 1996, just three weeks shy of my 17th birthday.

21. My uncle, his brother, passed away on August 19, 1995, one year and one day earlier, of the same exact form of cancer.

22. I love reading Dr. Seuss to my kids.

23. I love cold weather.

24. I kill every plant I attempt to keep. I even killed a cactus.

25. I wore braces from 1992 through 1994. It closed the gap between my two front teeth. I was horrible about wearing my retainer and now, 15 years later, the gap is back. Damn.

26. I love carmelized and sauteed onions. I HATE raw onions.

27. I'm a Republican but I support gay marriage and think the Right's defense of and reasons for banning it are absurd.

28. I started off college majoring in psychology. Switched to English during my sophomore year.

29. The older I get, the darker my natural hair color gets.

30. I wish I was more girly.

31. I spent 10 days in London, England and Edinburgh, Scotland when I was a freshman in college.

32. I absolutely love the Pacific coastline. Beats the pants off the Atlantic coastline.

33. My first CD ever was Bryan Adams "Waking Up the Neighbours."

34. I got it with my first CD player, built into a JVC boombox, for Christmas in 1993.

35. I can't wear cheap jewelry, it causes my skin to break into an itchy rash.

36. I'm very prissy. I hate getting dirty.

37. On the right day, I'll make a total ass out of myself in public for the sake of a laugh.

38. I sing in grocery stores. Pretty loudly.

39. I was a pack-a-day smoker for five years. Marlboro Lights, mostly.

40. I graduated high school in a class of 83 people.

41. I love music, all decades, almost all genres.

42. I consider very little rap to be music. I prefer old-school rap, like, pre-2000.

43. "Drops of Jupiter" always makes me smile. It reminds me of the lazy, drunk summer before I met my husband.

44. My eyes are hazel, but change color depending on what I'm wearing or if I'm crying.

45. I have allergy problems almost year-round.

46. I was a high school cheerleader.

47. I love watching reruns of '90s TV shows. "Roseanne," "Home Improvement," and "Friends," mostly.

48. I never really liked "Seinfeld." Blasphemy, I know.

49. I've never ridden a public bus. The Happy Bus doesn't count.

50. I slammed the middle finger on my right hand in my dad's truck door when I was seven. The nail hasn't grown right since.

51. I've lived in the Bay Area for 5.5 years. Thursday will be the first time I've driven over a trans-bay bridge by myself. My husband always does the driving!

52. I adore sad songs, especially sad country songs. Ever hear Vern Gosdin's "Chiseled in Stone" or George Jones' "He Stopped Loving Her Today?" You should. That is, if you're in the mood to be sad.

53. I have four little, girly tattoos, all flash art. I want to get a huge back piece done, or possibly something on my arm.

54. I was the choir accompanist for four years in high school.

55. I have a fantastic long-term memory. My short-term memory sucks.

56. I wish I'd grown up in the 40s and 50s. So idyllic and simple.

57. I miss smoking.

58. I hope to someday furnish my house with Pottery Barn furniture. Ha ha. Better start playing the lottery, huh?

59. I have no patience for stupid people. Seriously. They fry my brain.

60. I hate wine. I can't stand the taste of it. Give me a beer!

61. I gnash my teeth when people confuse "redneck" with "white trash." THEY'RE NOT THE SAME!!!

62. When I was younger, I worshipped the sun.

63. I'm a obsessive shampoo & conditioner tryer. I still haven't found the perfect combination for my hair. I'm open to suggestions.

64. I can't go into animal shelters unless I know for sure I'm taking an animal home with me. Otherwise, I'll spend the day feeling guilty and crying.

65. I have no hobbies. How sad is that?

66. Celebrities I can't stand: Rosie O'Donnell, Paris Hilton, and Oprah Winfrey. See tomorrow's blog to find out why.

67. Every time I get address labels from St. Jude's, I feel guilty as hell for using them when I can't afford to donate money.

68. I love riding beach cruisers in beach towns. I've actually only done this once, in Cape May, New Jersey, but it was fantastic!

69. I used to have seven piercings in my left ear and six in my right ear. Now I'm down to one in each lobe and I rarely wear earrings in them.

70. I keep a change cup on my kitchen counter and when I have about $7.00, I buy hubby and I a pint of ice cream. Bad idea, healthwise? Yep. Tasty? You betcha.

71. I'm the nosiest person you'll ever meet. I'll ask intrusive questions, I'll snoop, I'll spy...and I'm pretty damn stealthy about it too. I know it's rude, but I can't help it, I need to be in the know.

72. For all my talk about how strained my relationship with my mom is, I'm scared to death of her dying. I don't want to be parentless and I sometimes get angry that she had me so late in life that I'll be losing my mom when I'm in my 30s.

73. I hate speaking in front of large crowds. Thankfully, I haven't had to do this since college. I clam up, I stutter, I turn nine shades of red, and I have enormous brain farts.

74. I had the typical, small-town life growing up and I wish I could make my husband see that our kids would benefit from that kind of life.

75. I miss seeing the colors of the fall in the northeast. It's just not the same out here.

76. I love traveling. I wish I could do it more often.

77. I'm not afraid to create a scene if there's been an injustice. It's only happened a few times but on all those occasions, I was loud.

78. I'm very curious about Big Brother. Not the TV show. You know. The Eye in the Sky. The Man. I would kill to be a fly on the wall in certain rooms of the CIA.

79. I kind of want to be a Mythtern. You know, work with the Mythbusters on the Discovery Channel. How fun would that be?

80. I have a small obsession with office supplies. I can't go into a Staples, Office Max, or even the office supply aisle at Wal-Mart without getting a high off the reams of paper and ballpoint pens.

81. One of my guilty pleasures: "reality" shows on MTV marketed towards teens and college students. "Parental Control" and "Next" are among them.

82. I really enjoy taking pictures. I'm not particularly good at it but I love capturing faces.

83. I don't like ice with my fountain drinks. Two reasons: It waters down the soda and if I'm paying $1.50+ for a drink, I'm getting my money's worth. No sense using up cup space with ice.

84. I secretly, in a non-malicious way, wish that one of our fish would die. It's the Moor in the tank, and since day one he's had a swim bladder problem, and all he does is float around, upside down, at the top of the water. I don't have the heart to flush a living fish, but it's annoying to see him taking up space, sucking in oxygen that would better serve the more lively fish.

85. I love TV. It's such an easy escape. For a few hours every night, my mind catches a break from all the stress and worry in my life and I watch a few dramas, some comedy, and some real-life stuff that make me laugh. I love laughter and I feel you can never have too much laughter in your life.

86. I always pictured myself working in some city high-rise, living in a shoebox apartment in some major metropolis, eating Chinese take-out every night.

87. My kids are the best decisions I ever made. They're beautiful, smart and funny and they are truly the lights of my life.

88. I'm a grammar and spelling snob. I even joined the Facebook group: "I judge you when you use poor grammar." I also get annoyed when people misuse words they obviously don't understand.

89. Margarine seriously disturbs me. Anything that's supposed to resemble butter should melt after two minutes in any microwave. Margarine won't. That, or my microwave has a fundamental opposition towards margarine. Oh, and I don't normally buy margarine. I prefer real butter. Sometimes, though, the budget only allows margarine.

90. I'm one of those abides-by-every-traffic-law-known-to-man people. I annoy myself sometimes.

91. I do a crossword puzzle every day. We get two newspapers and I do the crosswords in both of them, sometimes the Word Jumble, and the Asimov Test. Rob does the Sudoku.

92. My wedding rings are yellow gold. I wish we'd gone with platinum.

93. I wish we didn't have a checking account. But then we'd have to remember to pay all our bills and chances are because we pay all but one bill online and chances are, we'd forget.

94. I can recite the script, in sync with the movie (it has to be playing) "Dirty Dancing." Same can be said, more or less, for "Office Space."

95. I love board games, especially Monopoly. The problem is, I always lose, and I'm a pretty sore loser.

96. I bowl and play pool best when I've been drinking.

97. I believe, 100%, in spirits and the afterlife. I've spoken to them in dreams and believe that they're around us all the time and "communicating" to us in other non-verbal ways.

98. When I was really little, two of my older cousins told me that if they stuck a piece of paper in our grandma's 8-track player that the world would blow up. I believed them. I ran out to the driveway and hid behind my grandparent's station wagon.

99. Said cousins labeled me the Queen of England, I think because of my penchant for always getting them in trouble. I was the youngest (in the geographic area; we had two younger cousins in New York) and I got teased a lot and tricked into a lot of things and so I did a lot of ratting out. Heh.

100. I played softball and volleyball in elementary school and junior high. I was pretty good at both but I quit both when I was 15 - figured I wasn't good enough for high school level sports - and I always wish I'd tried.

Welcome to my meltdown.

2008-10-20T11:17:00.000-07:00

Stage 1: My weekend.

Saturday was intended to be the day we steam-cleaned the carpets. The original plan was to clean them right after breakfast and then go out grocery shopping and errand running the rest of the day to allow time for it to dry. What did we end up doing? Jack shit in the morning and an hour on the phone with AT&T's tech support trying to figure out why we can't establish an internet connection. Said phone call took me on a ~~snoozefest~~ journey of "ipconfig" on the DOS screen and switching cable ends to trying to find our LAN and it dropped us off at "Yeah, your ethernet card is fried." So we shuffled off to Fry's to buy a new one. Then we went to ~~Hell-Mart~~ Wal-Mart to get a few other things. Then we bought our anniversary dinner on the way home (Chinese take-out, we're classy, folks) and called it a day. So much for the carpet.

Sunday, we finally did clean the carpet. Right after breakfast. Husband picked up, I ran the cleaner. You might be saying, "Should he be doing this?" No. Why? He'll do a slapdash job. He's into ~~getting un-fun things done as quickly as possible so he can watch the 49ers game~~ efficiency and he wouldn't get the edges as meticulously as I would and he certainly wouldn't take that extra sweep over the wet stuff to suck up just a little bit more. So I run it and I'm happy about it. As for the results, well, I can't complain. I didn't pretreat with stain remover so all I was able to do was lift all the nasty dirt and pet dander and hopefully alleviate some of our allergy troubles for a few months, but that's fine by me. We don't exactly host dinner parties up here.

Then it was off to the grocery store where we threw a bunch of stuff into the cart, leaving me to have to go shopping again tomorrow because, again, he wanted to get home in time for the game. Admittedly, I'm not sure if he was trying to see the 49ers or the Raiders. I don't really pay attention. You see, if the Steelers aren't on, he'll try to watch the 49ers (he wants them to win) and the Raiders (he desperately, vehemently, savagely wants them to lose).

So what happens over the next 12 hours? My daughter drops the can of Diet Coke she's taking to my husband - it's closed and she's carrying it with both hands, she's such a good kid - and it slips out of her hands, hits the floor, and explodes. Okay, it didn't exactly explode, but it definitely sprung a leak and fizzed all over my fresh carpet. Grr.

This morning? The cat yaks up his breakfast on it. RAWRRRRRR. Why did I bother cleaning the carpet again?

Stage 2: The Eagle lands on Thursday. A bi-product of a 1950s childhood, raising little ones in the 1960s, divorcing and remarrying in the 1970s, being a working mom through the 80s and 90s, and still working through her late 60s and into her 70s because it's all she knows and wants to do. This woman has seen a lot and yet seen nothing. She's lived in western Pennsylvania for the majority of her life, save for about 15 years in south Florida. She's seen the Civil Rights movement, the Hippie movement, the modern feminist movement, and five wars. However, she watched it all go by while carving out her life in a once-booming-but-now-very-quiet little town and decided that that town was all she'd ever want or need. Occasionally, she'd say, "I've always wanted to see [insert far-off location here]. Oh well. Someday." But that day would never come and I think, after a while, it made her really bitter. So when Rob and I moved out here she made up her mind, I believe, that any place other than her hometown was just plain awful and completely uninhabitable.

Now that you have all that background information, you understand a little better why I'm a bit apprehensive about her visit. She knows I miss living back east. What she doesn't get, though, is that I don't mind it out here either. Were I to have to pick between the two, I'd pick Pennsylvania, but for now I'm content to live here. She takes that little grain of knowledge though and she browbeats me for the entire duration of her stay. This browbeating kinda makes me want to stay here a little more, that petulant teenager in me rearing its ugly head, simply out of spite.

Stage 3: Mom is that proverbial Suzy Homemaker. Her carpets were always clean, her table and countertops always wiped down, her plants watered and healthy, and her furniture without blemishes. You rarely saw any of my crap laying around because she was on my ass to put it away when I was done with it. She kept her lampshades dust-free, her picture frames all matching and perfectly arranged, and it always smelled of roast beef, some sort of casserole, or fresh laundry in her house. You know the type. They make the rest of us look bad. Real bad.

I'm attempting to clean the HELL out of my apartment to eliminate as much criticism as possible. I only have about 850 square feet to attack before Thursday morning but it's making me a bit panicky. I still have to mop the kitchen and bathroom, put a dent in our laundry pile, take down the "Condemned by Health Department" sign hanging on our bathroom door and disinfect it from top to bottom, and then attempt to clean the kid's room in the ten minutes before we leave for the airport so that it resembles something close to neat. If I do it any sooner than that, it'll look like a cyclone hit it before I walk out the bedroom door. Oh, and I need to dust everydamnthing. All before about 10:30 a.m. Thursday morning. The Eagle lands at 11:35 a.m. I have to haul a preschooler and a toddler strapped into a stroller through SFO and then keep them entertained until the Eagle gets off her plane and through the terminal. God help me if her flight's delayed.

So, welcome to my meltdown. This is Day One.

The Friday Chronicles

2008-10-17T16:15:00.000-07:00

I'm [somewhat un-]officially starting The Friday Chronicles. In it, I'll jot down all the things/thoughts/funnies that happened during the week that may or may not have made it into my posts from the past week. Enjoy.

......................................................................................

- Ah, Joe the Plumber. The media wasted no time, did they? They lapped that up like barn cats in the milkhouse. The guy was just outside, playing with his kid, when Obama came sauntering up the street, politicking old-school. Joe seized the moment and asked Obama a question that forced him to tell the truth (oh, where are your campaign advisors when you need them, huh, Barack?): he will raise taxes and he wants to "spread the wealth." Mm-hmm. On to my next point...

- I'm light-headed and considering slamming my head in a drawer.

- *rendering myself unconscious* *twitching*

- Jesus Tapdancing Christ. There's a Socalism activist group alive and well in the United States? And Barack Obama signed a contract with them in 1996 when he first ran for a seat in the Illinois state senate.

- Enough with Obama. We all know I'm a moderate Conservative and that I vehemently oppose Barack Obama. If I'd had to choose between the lesser of the two evils, Hillary would have been easier to accept.

- You'll note that I said I'm a moderate Conservative. Why "moderate?" Because Prop 8 is going to be on my California ballot next month and I'll be connecting the little arrow - I vote by absentee ballot, no standing in lines for hours for me, thanks, and yes, I'm okay with not getting the "I voted!" sticker - that says, "No." It's the one point my husband and I are at odds on. We can't discuss it, really. We both get mad.

- I had a really nice day today. My kids and I went to ~~Hell-Mart~~ Wal-Mart, got the carpt & upholstry cleaner for our Hoover Steamvac, I jammed out to music all the way there and all the way back, and when Rob came home early due to lack of work - shocker, I know - we reminisced our seven years together. Our 6th anniversary is Sunday and we're just in a really good place. Yay!

.....................................................................................

Have a nice weekend, folks!

Fan-freakin'-tastic!

2008-10-16T14:27:00.000-07:00

My Weekly Writing Assignment

2008-10-16T13:23:00.000-07:00

Time for my weekly writing assignment.

I chose Prompt #2: "I wish someone told me..."

......................................................................................

I wish someone told me..."

...that childhood is fleeting. Enjoy it. Savor it. Remember it and all its inherent joys. Like Kenny Chesney sang, "...you're six years old and you take a nap; wake up and you're twenty-five..." It goes like that. [snap your fingers, please]

...that when placed in the hands of a shopaholic college student with a penchant for American Eagle clothing, buying shit she doesn't need at Walmart, and Marlboros, a credit card is a bad, bad, bad idea. Don't sign up for credit cards just because you get a free t-shirt!!!

...to give college more of an effort. You're smart and you could do really well if you'd just try.

...to demand healthier food as a teenager. Don't assume that you have to eat what your mom makes just because she does the shopping. And learn how to say no to sweets!

...to start exercising at a young age. Start a running program! You started one right before your senior year of high school. It lasted all of one day because your first route was out Thatcher Road. Hills Galore. Not a good route for your first day out! Talk about discouraging.

...that when your college opens the new rec center, USE IT. Go work out! Join an intramural volleyball team. Try the rock-climbing wall. Don't be afraid to use the free weights just because there's a gaggle of football lineman using them too.

...to ask more questions about your family history. Talk to grandma, grandpap, your great aunts, start a family tree. Now you know next to nothing and it's extremely disappointing!

...to be okay with who you are as a whole, not just certain aspects. And don't bury other aspects because you fear scrutiny, abandonment, or rejection. Those that do any of those three things weren't meant to be there in the first place.

...be nicer to your dad when he gets sick. Yes, you're a teenager being forced to grow up faster than you think you should, and yes, it sucks to watch your dad slowly wither away. But he's suffering too, in ways you can't even begin to imagine. Not just physically, between chemo and radiation and all their side effects, but emotionally. He knows that someday - sooner than he'd ever planned - he's going to be leaving you and your mom alone. He struggles with the knowledge that you and your mom are having to take care of him. He prays for God to take him as soon as possible so he can "stop being a burden" on you. A burden?????? He's your dad. He'd never be a burden. Remember all of that when you heave a big sigh of indignation when he asks you to make him a cup of tea or to help him up the stairs. When he asks you to drive him to outpatient chemo, don't pitch a fit because you wanted to go to your friend's house. Help him. And hug him more often. Please make sure you have no regrets when it comes to your parents.

24

2008-10-15T12:41:00.000-07:00

No, not the TV show. The last 24 hours of my life. Why do you care? Oh, who are we kidding, you don't. You thought I was going to talk about it's impending Season 6 premier in five weeks. Or maybe you thought I'd talk about Keifer Sutherland. No such luck.

In the last 24 hours, I've received a phone call from New York City, my husband's been given word of promotion, and my interest in science has once again been piqued. Allow me to elaborate.

My phone rang around 11:00 a.m. yesterday; I was just setting my son to feed him his lunch. I looked at the number on the caller ID, didn't recognize it, and therefore didn't answer it. The answering machine picks up and this perky voice says, "Hi Darcie, this is Mandie from the Rachael Ray Show..." and that's all I heard because I immediately knew what she was calling about. This past Friday, I emailed the RR Show in response to this. In short: Email their show if you need a new wardrobe but don't have the dough to achieve that goal on your own.

So I immediately called her back and we spoke for a few minutes; I had to answer a few questions about what kind of wardrobe I needed, why I needed it, etc. Basically I had to plead my case. Then she asked me to email her three or four full-body pictures of myself.

Um. I don't have any.

Well, that's not entirely true, I had a few, including one I up and snapped about two minutes after the phone call ended. I then sent a head shot so she wouldn't think I was too frumpy. I looked frumpy as HELL in all but one of those pictures. She emailed back and said she would let me know via email or phone if I was chosen for that particular show and if I wasn't, they'd hold on to my information for future episodes. Holy crap! If they called and told me they were flying my ass to NYC and putting me up for a night or two so I could BE ON NATIONAL TV and then get to go SHOPPING...well, I just might pee my pants.

Then again, I might pee my pants at the scariness and unfamiliarity of all that. I've not flown since April 2001. Pre-9/11. Even after seven years of no air terrorism, I'm still leery. Read this for some laughs about that. I've never been to NYC alone. Scratch that. I've never been to NYC. I really doubt the show would fly me and my crew out to the east coast. I'd probably be going solo. Finally, and most importantly, I've never been on TV. Not really, anyway. My mom and I were on Erie, PA, news for my hometown's flood in 1996. The Lt. Gov. - then Mark Schweiker - visited our house. That doesn't exactly rank anywhere near Rachael Ray.

So that's that.

Then my husband comes home, gets changed, eats dinner, waits until "Jeopardy" is starting (two hours after his arrival home) and says, "Oh, by the way, I heard from both [service manager's name here] and [head road mechanic's name here] that in two weeks, I'll be on the road."

"What does that mean?" you ask?

It means, we think a raise, a company van, and better hours. That is to say, 40 hours per week, just as it should be. To quote Shannon, "Squeeeeee!" More money, less gas money out of our pockets, and full paychecks? Cover me in oil and call me Slick. But we'll see if any of that actually manifests.

And for my interest in science. Fringe science, that is. I freakin' LOVE this show! It's very reminiscient of The X-Files, but with more action, much more humor, and a tad less secrecy. I love the repartee between Peter and Dr. Bishop, the creepy Agent Broyles, and all the scary-yet-intriguing cases they deal with. I was horrible with all science classes in high school, from 7th grade Physical Science to Chem II and Physics, I scraped by. As a friend's mom once put it, I'm "...the artsy-fartsy type." But this show makes me want to go back to college and major in everything scientific. Fascinating, I tell you!

Holy Giveaways, Batman! Er, Batgirl.

2008-10-14T15:04:00.000-07:00

SITS, a.k.a. The Secret is in the Sauce, is a fantastic little blog that helps out us little bloggers. Every day, they have a featured blogger. If you sign up at their site, eventually you'll be the featured blogger. For that day, that one fantastical day, you'll get tons of hits and comment love. I figure it's worth it!

And today, they're doing a blogathon and having a giveaway every hour!!! Please go visit them, sign up for their giveaway, sign up every hour! Wheeeeeee!

UPDATE:
Didn't realize I had to gab about five blogs I love...so here I go.

Laughing With Spoons I love Denise's blog. She's wife to a fireman, mom to a beautiful little girl, and she writes from her heart. She also saw NKOTB last week, so she will forever rock as far as I'm concerned.

Inside the McMind Amy's new to the blogging world but she's a good writer. Hey, she has a career writing. She's got a dry, dry wit and a ~~giant smear~~ touch of pessimism, but she's a good read.

Rachel Lucas She's a die-hard Republican, and an unapologetic one, and I admire her for her in-your-face demeanor. She's informative and funny and although I know she won't be for everybody, the idea here is to write about blogs we love, and I love her blog.

Slick He's offensive. Often. And he's a he, not a common denominator among most of us bloggers. But he's also very funny and if you can handle manspeak and outright crudeness, then you'll enjoy his blog!

The Burgh Blog I just found this blog and love it to pieces. I'm not originally from Pittsburgh but I've spent time there and went to college nearby. My husband and I spent a lot of time there when we lived in Pennsylvania, it's carved out a little place in my heart, and it's good to get a touch of home.

You should have to take a test before you vote.

2008-10-14T09:08:00.000-07:00

It should test your knowledge of the candidates. Basic stuff: where they stand on the issues, their running mates, etc. Why?

THIS is why:

When Mommies Attack...

2008-10-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure I've earned the Bad Mommy of the Year Award today. Well, between Saturday night and this morning, anyway.

Saturday night, I'm standing up in the living room, holding the small one and rocking him. Beth's behind me, hanging around my ankles for no good reason, and I think she was trying to tickle my feet. I kept asking her to stop. I moved away from her. She stuck to my legs like frickin' glue. I asked her, again, to stop. She didn't. So I tried to kick her hands away, you know, with those quick little shuffles of the feet similar to scraping something stuck to the bottom of your sock. The good news: I got her to stop tickling my feet. The very, very bad news: my heel nailed her in the chin.

DAMMIT.

I felt so damn bad. She didn't bite her lip or anything, it just surprised the hell out of her and I'm sure it had to hurt. I think it mostly just hurt her feelings that mommy kicked her. It broke my heart. What kind of mom kicks her daughter???

Fast-forward to this morning. I'm sitting on the floor, playing with Bubba. He and I are dancing (and by "dancing," I mean I'm holding his hands, doing a little mock-swing dance with him) and Beth's behind me playfully pushing me. As I lean forward with Bubba, she's pushing me. I feared I would head-butt Bubba, so I asked her to please stop pushing me. She wouldn't stop. I asked again, a bit more urgently, to stop. Still no stopping. I whipped my upper torso around to look at her and demand that she stop, and to explain why she had to stop, and BAM! Elbow to the cheek.

SHIT SHIT SHIT!

I just can't win. This time it's actually bruised. I cried for a half an hour over this. Who does this? Who has such misfortune? I'm one of those get-down-on-the-floor-with-her-kids, play-like-there's-no-tomorrow, live-to-hear-my-kids-laugh moms. Do things like this happen to moms like me, or worse yet, to happy-go-lucky, gives-one-hundred-and-ten-percent little girls?

Again, with Murphy's Law, it touches every aspect of my life. If things can go wrong, they will. Just give it time.

Ugh.

So you can use too much body butter...

2008-10-11T22:09:00.000-07:00

Who knew?

Oh get your mind out of the gutter.

I'm talking about this stuff. My mom bought it for me last year from her store and I fell in love with it. Used it on my legs every time I shaved, which, being pregnant, was maybe once every 10 days. Fabulous stuff.

Eventually, I was using it on my arms, hands and feet. You can't have too much of a good thing, right?

Wrong.

After my shower this evening, I ran upstairs to grab my sweatpants. I saw it sitting on a shelf; I had more or less forgotton about it since we moved last October. Hm. "I know it smells yummy. I'm using it." As I was putting some on my legs, my daughter took notice and wanted to help me. "Help" in Beth's World is using two fingertips to help me rub it in to my skin. So I let her. Hey, I take help whenever and wherever for whatever reason. I do not discriminate.

This turned into, "Mommy, I put the lotion on your arms?" I'd already done my arms, so I told her, "Why don't you put it on my back? It hasn't seen moisturization in years."

This pleased her. For 20 minutes, she put what felt like gobs of this stuff on my back. Then my shoulders. Then my hands. My face. My arms. My neck. If it was exposed, it got body butter. Oy.

Finally, I called it quits. My husband left the computer at that point and joined us over on the couch. He informed me that the smell of "that shit" was really strong; strong to the point of making him nauseous. I noticed that I was a bit nauseous too. I decided to take a shower to start fresh. As I stood up, I realized it was more than nausea...and I nearly tossed my cookies right then and there.

Moral of the story: Don't let your three-year-old handle your moisturizing needs.

And as an aside to Fruit Frappé Pink Grapefruit Tangelo company: Please put warnings on your products that if used in mass quantity, the smell will induce vomiting. Please.

"I have my faults, but changing my tune is not one of them." ~ Samuel Beckett

2008-10-10T07:33:00.000-07:00

My final thoughts before the weekend...

...I want everyone to read this article. Yes, I know it's written by a conservative and it's on NRO's website, a right-wing news site. But it makes some very valid points and maybe food for thought?

...Yesterday, Rob asked his boss to lay him off. His boss's response? To offer to put him on the road, part-time, when there was no work in the shop. Pfft. We'll see if that ever happens. His boss is known for empty promises.

...Two weeks from now, mom will have been here for nearly 24 hours. If I'm able to post here on the 24th, you'll know I'll survive the nearly two-week visit.

...I've found very little to smile about this past week, save for my children. The Office, last night, made me truly smile again. I almost fell off the couch laughing when Michael went in for the hug with Jim and knocked him over. And with that thought comes this worthwhile tangent:
= Directly after that scene, before the intro to the show, Rob paused it. He turns to me and says, "I want to tell you something. I really want to thank you for bringing laughter back into my life." I was a bit taken aback: he's been a funny, easy-going, jovial guy the whole seven years I've known him. To sum it up, he told me that before he met me, he didn't laugh a lot, at least not as animatedly as he does now. He said when he was a kid, he laughed all the time and they were those big belly laughs; he said he'd laugh his ass off at everything. After his parents split up, and his mom moved him and his brother across the country, he became very serious and hardly ever laughed at anything. Then he met me, and it's like he found his laughter again. I think that's the best compliment I've ever been given.

...I'm so glad the weather's finally cooling down. If you know anything about California's climate, there are two: summer and winter. Summer is in the 80s or warmer (lately it's more like 90s and warmer) and consistently cloudless with unending sunshine. Winter is always cloudy and in the 60s or lower, sometimes accompanied by rain. I prefer winter. I love my jeans and sweatshirts.

...I can't believe that in two and a half weeks, my baby will be ONE. My last baby EVER. *sniffle*

Writing Prompt #2: A memory attached to a holiday

2008-10-09T12:37:00.000-07:00

If there's one thing I am, without question, it's indecisive. I can't decide where I want to live (although as of late, it's less and less California), what to make for dinner, which pair of jeans to wear, or which memory I'd like to talk about. So with that in mind, I'll be telling you about a memory related to all the major holidays in my world.

New Year's Eve & Day: It's 2000. My friends and I braved a winter storm coming off of Lake Erie to drive up to Erie for a party our friend was hosting at his college apartment. Needless to say, we were there for the evening, which worked out well because by 11 p.m., the majority of us had drank our weight in alcohol. Some time after midnight, and after watching a guy I knew hit relentlessly on a girl I didn't know but felt sorry for because he was kind of a tool, I found myself to be ten feet tall and bulletproof, so to speak. I stood up, stumbled a little, marched up to him and punched him directly in the eye. I don't remember if he swung back or whatever, I was too drunk and after that, people pryed me off of him and shortly thereafter, he was told to leave. Sucker. I was told the next morning that everyone was happy I did that, they were looking for an excuse to kick him out all night.

Memorial Day: I honestly don't have any big memories tied to this day. I know my daughter was conceived sometime around Memorial Day, but that's all I've got! I can tell you that it's a holiday I strongly revere due to its significance.

Fourth of July: It's 2002. I'd been at work all day and was really excited about going to the fireworks that night. I had a new pair of jeans, a new shirt, my hair had survived eight hours in a hat and Rob was waiting outside with a Diet Coke, a fresh pack of smokes and the car running. We drove to the east side of Conneaut Lake and parked right where Route 18 splits off into 618. We saw all of about seven minutes of fireworks and about 10,000 mosquitoes. I spent my fifteen minutes there swatting at mosquitoes and not enjoying the seven minutes of crappy fireworks.

Halloween: Oh, the places we could go with this holiday! But we'll just go one place - Halloween of 2001. It was to be my last "I'm still a kid and I'll milk this trick-or-treating thing for all it's worth" Halloween since I was graduating from college that coming spring and was going to have to grow up. My plan was to go as a Goth Chick. The end result was a Goth Hooker. Only one of my roommates has documentation of this. I've emailed her asking for a copy. If I get one, I'll surely post it. It's hysterical.

Thanksgiving: To stay with my theme of indecisiveness, I can't pick one for Thanksgiving. It'd be any Thanksgiving my mom hosted, which were all when I was really young, probably 12 and younger. I remember dusting off the two leaves for the dining room table, getting out the good plates and silverware, all the old-school serving dishes, and the ceramic gravy boat. I remember all the smells wafting through the house: turkey, sweet potatoes, Waldorf Salad (instead of celery, mom used green seedless grapes), pumpkin & pecan & cherry & apple pies, deviled eggs, stuffing, and the list goes on.

Christmas: Hmmm. Our first Christmas together, 2001, Rob was still unemployed. No money. My mother-in-law's husband loaned Rob $20 and he bought me a MagLite because my car didn't have one. He's thoughtful like that.

I love memories. Thanks for the trip down Memory Lane, Mama Kat!

My Weekly Writing Assignment

2008-10-08T13:26:00.000-07:00

It's that time of the week again: my weekly writing assignment from Mama Kat. Here are the prompts I've chosen for this week:

1. My 10 biggest fears [Will be doing this one today]

2. Write about a memory related to a holiday [Will be doing this one tomorrow]

*ahem*
My 10 Biggest Fears

10) Driving in the snow. Don't laugh, I'm serious! I hate driving in the snow if the roads aren't plowed and de-iced. If I have to drive through fresh snow - or worse: slush - I panic. I'll have the wheel at 10 and 2, white-knuckling it all the way, arms stiff as a board, creeping along at 10 miles per hour.

9) The dark. I said don't laugh at me. I'm not afraid of the dark, per se. I can sleep in the pitch dark. What I don't like is walking into a dark room with no light source at all. I have an illogical fear of what could be lurking in the corners or at my feet. What if a very large, very crunchy bug made its way into the room and has strategically positioned itself in my path? (On the record: as I typed that last sentence, I envisioned the scenario and a got a huge case of the heebeejeebies.)

8) Fire I have only one even remotely close to personal experience with a house fire. When I was 14, my then-boyfriend's house burned down. I got there towards the end of the fire. They lost everything as far as I can remember. I remember their mom being heartbroken. I remember the chaos, the destruction and the sadness and worst of all: the smell. To this day, I never leave anything cooking if I'm leaving the apartment, I make sure all electrical appliances are turned off and that in case they aren't and I don't realize it, I make sure everything flammable is far away from the stove and toaster. A bit obsessive-compulsive? Maybe. I'm okay with that.

7) Home invasion We live in a gated apartment community. Theoretically, no one except residents should be able to get in, but I've seen people jump the gate before and I've seen people wait until residents open up the gate and they tailgate in. Now, we could shut and lock all doors and windows at night but when the unit has no air conditioning and no heat, you have to rely on the great outdoors to keep the temperature tolerable. To add fuel to my fire, our loft bedroom upstairs has two window, both of whose sills are about 12 inches from the roof. That is to say, if a person had a good ladder, could climb a tree, or lived here and left out of another apartment's bedroom, they could skitter across the roof and step into our bedroom with little to no effort. Of course, we have implements of protection in place, and aren't afraid to use them if necessary, but it still frightens the bejeezus out of me.

6) Reptiles I don't know what it is but they freak the everlovin' HELL out of me. "They" being: snakes, frogs (yes, I know they're amphibians but I still lump them into this category because they're cold, creepy, and swift), small lizards, et al. I can get within 10 feet of a frog or small lizard. But snakes? I'll pee my pants. If I see a snake at any distance that isn't in a terrarium, I hyperventilate, I start to sweat, I run in the other direction and quite literally, PANIC. Rob likes to make fun of me for it, as well as other things on this list, and that really pisses me off. I think it's only because he has no unfounded fears so he can't grasp how real they are to me.

5) Falling I'm not afraid of heights. If I'm in an enclosed environment like a plane, treehouse, skyscraper, stuff of that nature, I'm just dandy. But if I'm in a hot air balloon, at the top of a lighthouse, on a big bridge, going down a steep trail or road on foot, I freeze. I clam up. I'm like a donkey: I will. not. budge. I'll sit, but I won't move forward. I can't explain this one. I'm just afraid of falling.

4) Drowning I think this kind of ties in with falling. I did fall into a pool when I was 3 or 4, and nobody came in to rescue me, presumably because they thought I knew how to swim, and I had to pull myself out by climbing up the steps. I don't know if that's the root of it but nobody was ever able to teach me how to swim or tread water. So now I'm scared to death of any water that goes over my shoulders or has a tide. Needless to say, I've never spent an exorbitant amount of time in the ocean. In pools, I cling to the shallow end or swim a lap to the deep end, gather some air and swim back. No diving and no pool games for this girl! It's sad, really, nearly 30 years old and I can't enjoy a pool.

3) Dying This isn't to say I'm afraid to die. I have two theories on death: either I'll go from being alive in the physical world to being alive in the spirit world or everything I deny is true and I'll go to heaven. Guess that's a wait-and-see game! That aside, I'm afraid of being dead. I'm afraid of watching my husband move on - even though he swears up and down that he'll never remarry, I'm constantly insistent that if I do die, I want him to find someone to spend the rest of his life with - and of watching my children grow up without me. I'm afraid of never meeting my grandchildren. I'm afraid of not getting to grow old. I actually want to grow old with my husband and family around me, watch my hair go gray, and watch me turn into my mom, flawed and all.

2) Losing my husband He's my everything. In the seven short years we've known each other we've become inextricably part of each other and to abruptly have him gone from my life would be like ripping off an arm and telling me to go about life like I always have. I couldn't. I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Who would I share stupid jokes with? Who would I turn to when I'd had a crappy day? Who would I enjoy life's little mysteries with? What would our kids do without their daddy? How would I explain that to them? I've gone through nearly half of my life without my dad and I wouldn't wish that on anyone whose relationship with their dad was a good one.

1) Something happening to my kids I mean this in every sense. I'm afraid, first and foremost, of something happening to them: terminal illness, kidnapping, car accident, etc. Something that would be out of my control. I hate not being in control and having no say in what concerns my children. I get sick at the thought of them being harmed in any way. They are the most precious things I've ever called "mine" and I get super-paranoid about stuff like this.

I think I need a drink now. Or Valium.

Did he really just say that?

2008-10-07T22:05:00.000-07:00

I'll be honest: I didn't watch the whole debate. I was busy bathing children, cleaning the kitchen, putting the baby to sleep, etc. I listened to as much as I could and I even sat down and watched some. Two snippets I heard, well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I was STUNNED at Obama's ignorance regarding insurance costs for children. Take the fingers out of your ears when it hits about 58seconds.

A few years ago, when Rob thought about switching jobs (and as it turns out, he's looking into that again), we researched the cost of insuring Beth until his coverage kicked in again. I fell off the chair when the first quote came back at about $300/month. The subsequent quotes were similar. Cheap?! Is he freaking kidding me? Evidently, he wouldn't know "cheap" if it slapped him upside the head.

Then there was this. Start listening at about 35 seconds in.

Now call me crazy, but didn't we intervene with the holocaust? I would swear up and down we entered World War II in 1941 and, according to all the history books, kicked a large amount of ass. But I'm just a mommy blogger, I could be wrong.

To Whom It May Concern

2008-10-07T09:42:00.000-07:00

TO: Company My Husband Works For

FROM: His Wife

DATE: October 7, 2008

RE: The Status Quo

We need to talk about the service department at one of your Bay Area branches and more specifically, the management. You see, there are four mechanics in your shop. My husband is one of them. He's been with your company for over five years now. He's never done wrong by the company, only missed work in cases of family emergencies, personal illness, and in the last year in the name of "...there's just no work."

Now I realize that to you, this means nothing. "Oh," you say, "a day off here and there. Must be nice!" Yeah. Here and there would be one thing. In the last six months, it's been at least one day per week, sometimes more. A month ago, he had 42 hours on what should have been an 88-hour paycheck. I know that doesn't sound like a problem to you, but it was most definitely a problem for us. You see, I'm a stay-at-home mom. Yes, it's a choice, a choice we made four years ago when I was pregnant with our oldest child, Beth, who's three and a half. We've since added a boy to our family, Robby, who'll be one at the end of this month. We knew that having me stay at home would make things a bit tight. What we didn't know is that the economy would tank due to the mortgage crisis and that we'd be having to survive in the Bay Area for two weeks on one week's pay.

Have you ever tried to buy two weeks worth of of groceries for a family of four (plus one extra kid for dinner four days a week) on $60.00? Are you aware of the managerial practices being used in your Bay Area shop?

Your shop foreman is playing favorites. He has his pet, G, whom he's presumably grooming to take over his job when he retires - which is hopefully sooner than later - who's been working 40+ hours per week, no questions asked. Then there's Speed Racer who tears through jobs like his ass is on fire. Sure, he gets them done in the quoted time but did you know that more than half of the time, those jobs come back or end up being a mess a road mechanic has to clean up because Speed Racer worked too fast, overlooked major things, and now it needs repaired again. This guy works every day. Finally, there's D. He's been there for 30+ years; he's more or less a fixture. He's also damn close to retirement. He works at the speed of turtles humping, puts time down on jobs that he pissed away cleaning the threads on a bolt. He works every day. Nobody ever tells these guys to call before they come into work.

But my husband has to. Why? No one knows. When he is there, the foreman treats him like the village idiot and is extremely rude to him, nay, he's an asshole. So my husband talks to your service manager. What does the service manager tell him? "File for partial unemployment. We'll get the papers ready for you." My husband asks to be put on the road, which would provide more working hours. "No. I can't." No explanation, not even an, "I'm sorry, dude, I know it's tough."

Why is it that the other guys, one of whom is intentionally slow-moving and one who moves too fast and causes costly errors, get full days and full weeks, and my husband is begging for work? Are we the only ones who see the flaw in this? We're pretty sure we are. My husband is a good, hard worker who actually cares about the quality of work he produces and takes pride in doing a good job. Yet he's the first one to get shitcanned for the day if work slows down.

And don't get me started on that Stuffed Shirt you call the General Manager.

I guess maybe I should have addressed this letter to the Service Manager. Or write another one to him...

Service Manager,
Please show some mercy and lay off my husband. He's a good man, a terrific father and in ideal working conditions, an excellent provider. Your shop is obviously overstaffed and under a bit of duress. If you can't give him the hours he deserves, lay him off so that he can get a severance package and start collecting unemployment while we decide our next move. For five years of hard work and loyalty, you at least owe him that. You clearly don't understand the mental anguish he goes through and how much strain this puts on our family and you also don't care. You've made that quite clear every time Rob tries to talk to you and you immediately start talking over him just to stop him from telling you any reasons he needs the hours. You know, like glasses to replace the ones that have been broken for three months. I bet you never noticed that he stopped wearing glasses. Or tires to replace the bald and warped ones we're driving around on? Or the bills that we're desperately trying to stay on top of?
If you want to play favorites, fine. If my husband isn't one of them, that's also fine. But have a heart and lay him off. It's a win-win, really. Please.

I won't actually send this letter to anyone. It wouldn't do any good and would probably just make more trouble for my husband. But it feels good to get it out.

Where I've Been...

2008-10-06T07:25:00.000-07:00

To be succinct, I've been preoccupied. Somewhere between Sunday morning and this evening, things have kind of come to a head and we're having to make some pretty big decisions. So please bear with me, I'll have a new post up in the morning that may more or less help you understand where we're at right now and why I'm not up to posting tonight, even though it's only 10:13 p.m., which is usually my witching hour.

And for those who know me/us, no worries. There's nothing wrong with us or our relationship, per se, just the state of things in general. Just can't wait for my post before noon tomorrow? Email me.

Life doesn't care about your vision. You just gotta roll with it.

2008-10-03T22:01:00.000-07:00

~ Ben's dad in "Knocked Up"

My final thoughts for the week...

...That little nugget I've titled my post with couldn't be more true. We've had an amazing amount of bullshit go down in the last couple of months and it's been very trying on us. Apparently, life doesn't care about what we want, it's got its own plan and we can suck a lemon.

..."Sid the Science Kid" is a creepy kids show on PBS. Beth loves it. I have many problems with it. None that warrant changing the channel when it comes on, but all that warrant me leaving the room when its on to avoid twitching. First of all, a five-year-old has the vocabulary and demeanor of a 12-year-old. Their features are disproportionate and their hair plain freaks me out. Teacher Suzie kinda looks like a floozie to me. Maybe I'm old school, or it's because I haven't seen any in-action teachers since 1998, but she's wearing purple Crocs, skin-tight denim capris, a long purple, form-fitting shirt and a hooped belt going around her hips. All her curves are accentuated. But the kids' hair is what bothers me the most.

...My son is growing up abnormally fast. Two months ago, he was just learning how to stand on his own. Now he's walking all over the place, standing on things to reach things on the backside of a table, and tonight, he climbed up on our couch! He can say: mama, dada, nana (banana), dut (duck), baba (bottle), bye, and a form of
"hi" that I don't think I could translate into text. He's 11 months old.

...I have a Diet Coke problem. It's all I drink. I sip on water throughout the night, if I wake up dying of thirst.

...I'm totally unprepared for the holiday season. I'm hosting a small Thanksgiving for my family of four, my brother-in-law, and possibly his girlfriend because my husband's dad and his wife are going to Las Vegas. I've never done this. I hope I can pull it off! Christmas probably isn't going to happen, and if it does, it'll be some meager, buy-and-wrap-stuff-they-need-instead-of-want gifts for the kids.

...My mom is a saint. Truly.

...Our DVD player is broken. I never realized how much we used it until we couldn't use it anymore. Now I'm sad. I want to rent movies, but who wants to watch them on a 19" LCD monitor that sits in the corner of a room? Not this girl.

...I'm very tired. I haven't slept much this week and I fear I won't sleep much the next few weeks due to my anxiety and paranoia about my mom coming to visit. My skin looks like crap and I've got enough baggage under my eyes to move to Zimbabwe.

So that about covers it. Feel free to use my comments section to complain. It'd be nice to know I'm not the only one with gripes.

"Man is by nature a political animal." ~ Aristotle

2008-10-02T19:44:00.000-07:00

I wasn't going to blog about the Biden/Palin debate. I really wasn't. I was going to sit back and watch all the cards fall on the table, read others' blogs about the debate and who they think won, etc. But after the debate, and so much weighing on my mind about Sarah Palin and all the issues buzzing around this campaign, I just can't help myself.

First off, the debate. We all know Joe Biden is a seasoned professional at this. He knows how to politick, he knows how to sound polished, refined, and to just be a politician. No surprises from him. He took the questions in stride and answered them in a very scripted manner. What he didn't do was cite correct facts, but I'll leave that for more political-saavy bloggers like Rachel and Erin. They kick way more ass than I do in that department.

But Sarah Palin really kinda knocked my socks off. She was much more candid, much more informed than has been shown to us prior to this evening, and was quick to answer. I will admit she dodged a few questions and, although it was clearly because she knew she didn't have the meat and potatoes to answer them, I think it was a smart move on her part. As most people have said on the news reports since the debate ended, her "main street" talk, I think, has really reached people. Listening to her, I'm at ease. I feel like I could have a barbecue with her. Talk turkey. Shoot turkey. Whatever.

I can't, in my wildest imagination, conceive of any time Barack Obama and I would cross paths. He comes across as very high-and-mighty, almost king-like in his demeanor. His voice is very affected, he reminds me of a monarch addressing his subjects. And all those Kennedy-esque pictures of him and his family?! Jesus tapdancing christ. I know it's intended to remind people of the Kennedy era and of a Norman Rockwell existence, but it creeps me out.

I'll be the first to admit it: I was nervous about Sarah Palin being on my party's ticket. She was a virtual unknown until five weeks ago and all we know about her now is that she's outdoorsy, has a son in the National Guard who's now in Iraq, a pregnant unwed daughter, wears boxy jackets and rimless spectacles, and that she's evidently fodder for SNL, political cartoons, and jabs from the media. Granted, every politician who steps into the limelight - especially the giant spotlight the VP spot on the Republican ticket - is going to be subject to criticism and mockery. I don't think she's been given too fair a shake but, as I've said before, there's a bit of a bias out there.

She's had her missteps and she certainly has flaws where her candidacy is concerned. She's a bit green on foreign policy and has a small amount of experience compared to John McCain or Joe Biden. Also, I have to wonder how a woman who claims she's on McCain's side regarding our need for energy independence can make that claim in the face of being the governer of a state who does a large amount of oil drilling. Many of her supposed constituents are roughnecks who rely on the paycheck they receive doing what she hopes to abolish the need for.

But what I'm sure of is that she'll do everything she needs to in order to make this work. I'm very excited at the prospect of a McCain/Palin White House and, provided they win the election, I'm very excited about the next four years. If they don't win...well...you'll find two very pissed off conservatives living in an obscenely liberal state contemplating a migration north of the border. The Canadian border. Is there anyone up there looking to adopt some Americans if shit doesn't go the way we think it should?

Finally, does anyone else think Joe Biden looks an awful lot like Bob Barker?

My Weekly Writing Assignment

2008-10-01T19:21:00.000-07:00

Here are Mama Kat's prompts for the week.

The Prompts:

1. Put Shaggy (Scooby Doo's partner) and Batgirl in an elevator and write a 200 word scene.

2. Write about a time you hid from someone, or a time you disguised who you really were.

3. List 10 things worth saving then choose one of those things and write about it.

4. What did you do before we had the internet?

So let's see...

1. I'm no good at writing scenes. Or clumsy pornography.

2. I've never done that. I'm no good at lying!

3. We have very little of value. I'd save the computer; it has all our pictures on it.

4. We have a winner!

Without further ado...

-------------------------------------------

Ah, life before the internet. It showed up in my house in 1997. I was in the midst of my junior year in high school and at first we were AMAZED. My friend, Diana and I would stay up till ungodly hours chatting. I distinctly remember the screen names "Imagoat" and "LilDoscha." Ha ha. We all made webpages on Angelfire and Geocities and actually had to learn some HTML. Layouts were insanely basic and didn't offer columns or anything fancy-pants. ICQ was the only way to chat. And you emailed everyone you knew just because you could.

But before that? God, let me dig into the crevices of my http://mind. I remember spending our summers riding bikes. We lived in a very small town and the majority of my friends all lived out in the country on dirt roads - or paved roads with no lines on them - so to get to anybody's house, you either had to hope you had someone's parent to drive you or you were on the Two-Wheeled Express. One day, my friend and I rode our bikes a total of 30 miles, all in the name of killing time and, you can quote me on this: "You're only 13 once, Lisa!"

I know we spent time at our one friend's place...a LOT of time. They had a big yard, a basketball hoop, and an in-ground pool. Plop yourself in western Pennsylvania in the dead heat of July and try to find a pool. Nobody has a pool in Pennsylvania because you can only use it maybe four months out of the year. This family was POPULAR. Plus, they were triplets, so it was three times the normal number of invitees.

I remember day-long trips to the mall. See, there was this joke of a "mall" in the next town over but it was very old and stores were consistently going out of business there. By the time I moved in 2003, Montgomery Wards had closed, Fashion Bug had moved, the arcade was long gone, NRM had left...all that was left was KMart, Pearle Vision Center, a pizza joint, Dollar General, the Hallmart Store, and a wannabe hair salon that butchered my hair every time I went in there.

One would think I'd stop going...but I'm stubborn like that. I had a strange optimism that someday, they'd get it right. They never did.

Anyway, we had to drive 40 minutes to the Millcreek Mall up in Erie. You leave around 10:00 a.m., get up there and go out for lunch, shop all afternoon, and grab dinner on the way home.

Let's see, what else did we do? Sports! There was summer-league softball, cheerleading, and helping the boy's volleyball team. Then there was band. Yeah, I said it. I was a band geek. I was also a choir chick. I sang, I danced, I marched, and I played a wild array of instruments. I was indispensable. (I can toot my own horn if I want to.)

And as for communication...if memory serves, we hand-wrote letters. For you younger kids, that means we broke out the stationary or lined notebook paper and a pen and scribbled out a letter - not in LOLspeak - and stuffed it in a stamped envelope, put it in the big blue box outside the post office and waited for mail to come to us. We also had land lines. That's the phone that, either by it's base or by it's receiver, is tethered to the wall by a cord. I'm sure you've seen it, hanging out in the kitchen or the office.

Hell, my mom didn't give up the phone-company-provided rotary phone until 1994. Mom has issues with ~~technology~~ change. It was the late 1980s before we saw a VCR, 1992 before we got a cable box, and 1997 before we got the computer.

I almost miss life before the internet came along. It was simple. You had to move your ass away from the glow of a screen to communicate with people. Of course, I also miss life as a child, when responsibility didn't dog you at every step, reminding you that even as you watch 30 get closer, day by day, you're still trying to figure out how to navigate through life.

--------------------------------------------------------

As an aside, although I think it's a pretty important aside: thank you to everyone who expressed concern this morning. I spoke to who I needed to speak to, they were cool (almost too cool, which worries me, but that's a post for another time) and things are going to be fine. No woman, no cry...at least not for now. Thanks, guys.

I'd like to thank the Academy...and Mimi...

2008-10-01T15:09:00.000-07:00

Wait...there's no academy...damn Oscars overlooked me again! But I would like to profusely thank Minxy Mimi for bestowing this wonderful award on me!

Here is how the Brilliant Weblog Award works . . .

The person giving the award chooses blogs that they consider brilliant in their content or design. In return, the recipient is expected to choose a minimum of 5-7 blogs that they like. They leave comments on these blogs to notify the winners. They then post about receiving the award on their blog (like this) and list their choices with links. They also include a mention of whom they received the award and include a link. Pictures are great, but not necessary.

With all that in mind, I hereby award this prestigious honor to:

1. Diana at What a Novel Idea. She's new but I know from experience she's an excellent writer so rest assured, it's going into good hands.

2. The propietor (whose name I'm unaware of) at Lazy Crazy Mama.

3. Valeta at ...um...well I guess it's just called Valeta. Ha ha...

4. Jo Jo at A Mom's World of Madness and Blessings

5. The Mom at Cheaper Than Therapy.

Happy blogging, everyone!

Because my last post was ambiguous and boring...

2008-10-01T10:43:00.000-07:00

Here's something only slightly less boring to fill your day and maybe some time.

1. What is your occupation? Stay-at-home mom and daycare provider to one boy.
2. What color are your socks right now? White with a tinge of brown from being really old.
3. What are you listening to right now? Dora is singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star"
4. What was the last thing that you ate? A cracker from the kids Cheerios Snack Mix.
5. Can you drive a stick shift? I can. I hate it though.
6. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My mom's answering machine.
7. Do you like the person who sent this to you? We've never met...
8. How old are you today? 29
9. What is your favorite sport to watch? On TV, probably football.
10. What is your favorite drink? Diet Coke
11. Have you ever dyed your hair? Lots of times
12. Last time you hugged your child? About 10 minutes ago
13. Favorite food? Hand me the menu from the Mexican place, this could take me a while. Offhand, I'd probably say their chicken quesadilla.
14. What was the last movie you watched? Uh...I have no idea.
15. Favorite day of the year? The day our tax refund shows up
17. What was your favorite toy as a child? Barbie
18. What is your favorite season? Fall
19. Ocean or pool? Pool. You can see the bottom. And things don't kill you in it.
20. Cherries or Blueberries? Cherries
21. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? Honestly, email.
22. Who is the most likely to respond? Maybe Valeta...surveys aren't too common on blogs.
23. Who is least likely to respond? The big fish in our Bloggy Pond
24. Living arrangements? Our 2-br loft apartment
25. When was the last time you cried? This morning
26. What is on the floor in your closet? Some boxes, shoes, a few hats, and a pair of shorts.
27. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to? Diana
28. What did you do last night? Fretted, argued, watched "Fringe" and moped.
30. What inspires you? "The Biggest Loser"
31. What are you afraid of? Snakes, spiders, drowning, falling
32. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? Cheese
33. Favorite dog breed? Boxer!
34. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
35. What states have you lived in? Pennsylvania and California

There. Now you've successfully wasted 1-2 minutes of your day. Hooray for non-productivity!

You can only kick a dog so many times

2008-09-30T22:52:00.000-07:00

...before it gives up. How many times? Who knows? That's like asking how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. All I can tell you is that I (and by "I," I mean "Rob & I") am damn tired of getting kicked.

I won't go into specifics for two reasons. First, you really don't care all that much. Second, if you know us then you can probably take a well-aimed shot at what's wrong this time around and you'd be right. That said, I guarantee you're tired of hearing that same old song and dance so I'll spare you.

But I will tell you this: tomorrow, I have to go, hat in hand, and do something I swore up and down over a year ago that I would never do again. Tomorrow morning, I'll be staring down a barrel of disappointment, disgust, admonishment, disappointment, anger, possible refusal, and disappointment. Did I mention disappointment?

I'm hoping I can chickenshit my way out of this conversation by hearing an answering machine when I call. Then I can just say everything I need to say in about two minutes, tell so-and-so to call me back, and hang up like the phone is on fire. Then I'll cry. How I haven't broken down into a million sorry-ass pieces yet is beyond me. Maybe it's just the resignation of being in this situation again, wondering how many times we're going to get kicked before we either a) give up, or b) finally get a little more sunshine and a little less shit.

Anyway, that's all I've got for today. Well, that and I want some salsa. We were watching "Opportunity Knocks" on ABC, the kid had to taste-test some salsa and it made me want some.

The Big Family Secret UPDATED

2008-09-29T20:13:00.000-07:00

I've got you thinking now, don't I...murderer? Transvestite? Dirty politicians? Torrid affair with the Reverend Dimmesdale? They bought brand name bread instead of store brand? I'm fairly certain numbers 1, 2 and 4 aren't true. Number 3 is up in the air and if they were all like my mom, number 5 is laughable.

No, the big family secret is that my family IS a big secret. Seriously. I kick myself daily for not grilling my grandmother more when she was alive to learn my paternal family's history. All I'm sure of is that her parents came from the Czech Republic sometime in the early 1900s. I know that my paternal grandfather's mother actually gave birth to him when she was 14 or something and so his grandmother raised him as her own, alongside his birth mother. His birth mother's name was Casey. Beyond that, and a couple great aunts and uncles, I know nothing of my dad's family.

And my mom's...it's less of a mystery but still pretty hazy. My mom was one of six children, five of whom lived to adulthood and four of whom are still here. Her mom is from Titusville and her dad is from my hometown of Conneautville. As of today, here's what I know:

- My maternal grandmother had a handful of sisters and one brother. None are alive now, including my maternal grandmother; she passed away in 1974. I know my mom had cousins on that side she was close with while growing up but she lost touch with them years ago and I've never met any of them.

- My maternal grandfather's family, well, I can trace them back to the mid-1800s, all of them in Conneautville. I've got a couple of surnames and burial records, but that's about it. My mom says my great-grandfather was an alcoholic (that's lovely to know) and he was a member of the CCC. He helped dig Pymatuning Lake as a part of that.

- A great aunt (which side, I can't remember) was married to the local district justice. She had two boys. Another great aunt was married to the town dentist.

And that's all I know. Sad, isn't it? It's nearly impossible to get information when all of my ancestors are gone. I've looked at census records and cemetary indexes, but that's where the trail ends. No one has any clear memories of the extended family. As far as I know, there aren't even any pictures. There's never been a family reunion on my mom's side. I've been to one family reunion on my dad's side but they either don't have them anymore, or once the connecting family member passes away, you stop getting invited.

Guess maybe the lineage will start again with me? I should buy one of those family tree programs or something. Paper would be better. I love computers, I really do, but sometimes things seem so much more...genuine on paper. You know what I mean?

So tell me, what are your family secrets? Anything juicier than a lack of family secrets?

UPDATE:
Check this out! No wonder the Bay Area landscape looks like Sim City. New homogenous buildings everydamnwhere.