Home and Hearth

Last week went quickly due to missing 1.5 days (school closed at noon Wednesday and all day Thursday) of work. There was an ice storm, and any time we see sleet in Texas, we freak out. It was nice getting paid leave, though. That almost never happened when I worked at RadioShack. I think because people seem to live further afield (Weatherford, Cleburne, Stephenville even - west, south, and southwest from Fort Worth: http://maps.yahoo.com/maps_result?addr=&csz=texas&country=us&new=1&name=&qty= ) than they did when I worked at RS, the school tends to close down at the first sign of inclement weather. Which was nice. I cuddled up in bed with Brighid, Weyland, Foggy (male gray tabby) and Partly Cloudy (female gray and white shorthair), and watched t.v., eating Jolly Ranchers and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups alternately. Logan baked bread, made homemade chicken noodle soup, beef stroganoff, and angel hair pasta with homemade sauce. MMM! Winter always seems to involve food. Maybe it harkens back to caveman days when surviving the cold months meant packing on the pounds by any means available - eating the fat and gristle from meat, cracking marrow bones for the valuable calories contained inside, spending the long nights huddled around the fire eating calorie dense nuts gathered by the women. Here's an interesting article discussing theories of the caveman's diet: http://www.westonaprice.org/traditional_diets/caveman_cuisine.html

Back to work on Friday, three hours were devoted to our "Annual Meeting", or rather, our Christmas Party Which We Can't Call a Christmas Party for Reasons of Separation of Church and State and the Medical School is a State Institution. After the party, we goofed off for at least another hour or so. Your tax dollars at work. So this week, I'm rather swamped, taking into account that I'll be off from December 23rd to January 1st. We get winter break off, paid. It's a pretty nice perk, I think.

Well, now today is the 17th, and I'm worn out from shopping, forgot my previous train of thought, and need to go wash dishes and listen to the second hour of A Prairie Home Companion. I'll write more later, and publish this now.

Back to Work

Thanksgiving spent at my sister Grace's house was nice. She has a beautiful new HUGE house outside of Weatherford. Lots of amenities such as a shower and laundry room right when you enter from the garage, a workout room, an ammo/hunting supplies/sports equipment room (a must have when you're the lone woman in a household with three testosterone poisoned guys who like to kill furry woodland creatures, play all sorts of ball, and leave their various acoutrements scattered all over hell and gone), a fireplace in the master bedroom, and a shower with two jets coming at you from different directions. The upstairs is the twins' sanctuary, with identical bedrooms, connecting bathrooms, and a parlor sort of area that holds their pool table and the antlers of several bambi (singular bambus?) they have killed.

During my vacation, I managed to get the kitchen mostly clean. Clean enough that we can cook again. Logan baked light bread last night. It was pretty good. Not as good as Granny used to make, of course, but pretty darn good. Just about nothing beats a supper of hot homemade bread with sweet cream butter, a bowl of beans, and a tall glass of cold milk.

I was pleased that I was able to pay all my bills this month and have a bit of money left over. I've canceled my membership at Hollywood Video so I don't have almost $17 automatically deducted every month, my Sprint contract is up on the 12th, and I'm going to cancel then so I don't have a bill of almost $50 every month (I'll be using Logan's second line which he got free when he had to buy a new phone after dropping his old one in Joe Pool Lake.), and we've vowed not to eat out at all this month. We're going to attempt to economize by using up all the food in the pantry and freezer. It needs to be rotated from time to time anyway, and it will help save money for Christmas if we cut our food expenses. Of course, we'll still have to buy milk, yogurt, cheese, fruit, and some fresh vegetables, but we have plenty of meat and frozen veggies in store to tide us over for quite a while.

We're starting early on spring cleaning. Logan has found a house in between Alvarado and Venus, about 25 miles south of where we now live. It's around 2200 square feet, which is more than double what we currently have, and is situated on 2 acres. Being further from work would add about 15 - 20 minutes to my drive every morning, but having a nice big lot almost out in the country would improve Logan's disposition and give the kids a nice, big yard in which to play. The kids are dead set against moving, but the crime in our neighborhood has increased in the last couple of years. I want the kids to grow up feeling safe. Being in a new school district would be an adjustment for sure, but it would also give Weyland an opportunity to start anew with a teacher he doesn't hate from day one.

Vacation, all I ever wanted, vacation had to get away, vacation meant to be spent alone

Today I start my Thanksgiving vacation since I'm taking MTW off and get ThF off paid. I am feeling very happy, and after dinner (sandwich made with a croissant, smoked turkey, swiss cheese, spicy brown mustard, red onion, tomatoes, crispy green leaf lettuce, washed down with a glass of a nice sweet red wine), I'm sure the stress and tired feeling I have will melt away.

I was going to write a lot more since I've neglected this for a while, but Weyland is tugging at my arm, trying to convince me to let him play his Harry Potter Lego Creator game he just found languishing in the desk drawer, and Logan just walked in from depositing Brighid at the Pajama Dance at schoool (wearing pajamas, of course) and hitting all the grocery stores selling turkeys at bargain basement prices. He has plans to go to his friend Richard's house tomorrow to deep fry said turkeys in Richard's neighbor's deep fryer set up for the famous (well, to them at least) Turkey Drop.

So more later.

Can't Think of a Good Title

The doctor called a week ago Thursday, and my iron content has improved, so I'm down to taking two iron supplements a day. The bill is in the mail.

I hope to post some Halloween pics soon, but don't have them now, so I will resort to posting pics I've shamelessly snagged off the 'net. Brighid went as Edward Elric. I fashioned her costume from thrift store finds, and she looked great. Here's what Edward Elric looks like:
I'm not sure why Brighid wanted to go as a boy, except that last year she went as one of the incredibly long-legged Sailor Moon friends (Sailor Mars? Sailor Venus?) which entailed spraying her hair dark with temporary dye, and it was a disaster. She sweated. It ran. 'Nuff said. Anyway, she looked great this year, and was even recognized by a few other kids (not a lot of Fullmetal Alchemist fanatics around our house), and got raves from a couple of young bachelors who were watching Fullmetal Alchemist when she trick-or-treated their house.

Weyland went as a Crusader, which I found to be a somewhat unsettling choice. He just wanted to carry a sword and wear a helmet, I think, and we don't have any Muslim neighbors, so I guess I shouldn't be so worried. Anyway, the kids took my cell phone and went together since Sarah and Fiona were both sick and Weyland's friends go to a party at their church. Weyland came home way before Brighid did. He was tired, and, he said, Brighid was greedy, trick-or-treating all the side streets as well as the entire length of Sheridan Road. Ha! I remember Geoffrey and his buddies would leave around 6 p.m. and not get home until 10 or 11 p.m. with a trash sack damn near FULL of candy. Wimps.

I have to wonder about Halloween. It started as Samhain, the Celtic New Year, to celebrate the harvest and honor the ancestors. When the Catholic Church came to the Celtic lands, they demonized Samhain, added the witches and goblins, and tried to get everyone to celebrate November 1st, All Saints' Day, instead. Well, it didn't take, though the whole spooky-evil-scary thing did catch on once Irish immigrants brought Halloween to the United States. In the past 15 or 20 years, the religious right aka NUTS have professed Halloween as demonic, and are promoting HARVEST festivals instead. So we've come full circle.

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday since dressing up, assuming another identity, really appeals to me. And you can't beat free candy, either.

Well, lunch is over, and I didn't manage to go walk today. But I have to go to Sam's today after work and get flowers and a dessert since it's Girls Night In at Herbie's tonight. Susan is picking me up from work, and we'll get our exercise in at the huge warehouse store. I hate Sam's and especially Wal-Mart, but sometimes it's the best choice, at least money wise. What I can get for about $15 at Sam's would cost me $30 or more at Central Market.

Leeches

I don't know how it slipped my mind, but I went to the doctor about a month or six weeks ago or so, complaining of headaches and lightheadedness, tests were run, and it was determined that I was extremely anemic. So anemic that the doctor almost put me in the hospital. I was put on an iron supplement (not the usual over the counter kind) which I'm taking THREE times a day. Which means I have to eat lots of fiber or suffer the consequences. I was even tested for hereditary hemachromatosis, the "Celtic blood disease", which can cause anemia, but is actually a condition wherein the body stores way too much iron. Generally, it can only be treated by - I kid you not - bloodletting. Luckily, that wasn't my problem. My problem was regular, run of the mill anemia caused by poor diet. In other words, I don't eat enough meat. I'm not wild about red meat, and chicken doesn't have as much iron as beef. So I've been trying to eat a bit more, eat more spinach, and cook in a cast iron pan. I go to the doctor's on the 31st to have my blood re-tested. So I guess I have leeches on the mind. Both kinds, actual blood suckers and then the wallet suckers, doctors and labs.

world's shortest personality test

shamelessly stolen from Deawn's blog (www.deawn.blogspot):

Your Personality Profile

You are nurturing, kind, and lucky. Like mother nature, you want to help everyone. You are good at keeping secrets and tend to be secretive. A seeker of harmony, you are a natural peacemaker. You are good natured and people enjoy your company. You put people at ease and make them feel at home with you.

The World's Shortest Personality Test

just a few thoughts

Well, I got very busy at work, and forgot all about going to the DO, dammit! I needed a good rub, too.

The latest installment in Madelina's Medical Maladies comes under the heading of "too much of a good thing". Last Sunday, Logan was feeling good, better than usual, so we had a nice romp that lasted most of the afternoon, fooling around, napping, spooning, talking, reading, watching tv, more fooling around, & etc. Lots of etc. Apparently, Dr. Hantes took a few extra stitches than he should have because I've been walking around all week feeling like a newlywed. Some people question why I stay with Logan considering the combative nature of our relationship. So for those inquiring minds, I have two words: well endowed. 'Nuff said. I have an appointment scheduled with Dr. Hantes so see if there is any actual damage. Logan said he felt something strange, sort of scratchy and plastic like. My fear is that some of the mesh used to repair what got "to' up" (due to four natural childbirths) is poking through, which means another surgery to fix it. *heavy sigh*

Other than that, I've been feeling pretty good, though the lower back pain is flaring up. I wish I was one of those freaks of nature who actually likes exercise. I would just as soon poke pins in my eyes as hop on a treadmill, go for a walk, lift weights, or any other physical exertion that doesn't involve "horizontal refreshment". I have to find some way to get motivated, though, because exercise (and subsequent weight loss) is really the only way to fix back pain. I only know one person who has been helped by back surgery, but I know several who have been made worse.

Lately, I've been having random thoughts about odd topics:

1. Women are either stupid or crazy (or perhaps both) for wearing high heels. Pundits say 90% of all visits made to podiatrists are made by women. I switched to "sensible shoes" back when I was pregnant with Brighid, and haven't gone back to heels. I own one pair of dressy black flats, which I've only worn twice (to a wedding and to a funeral), and wear casual shoes the rest of the time. At home, I'm usually barefoot.

2. Everyone thinks he has good taste, whether he really does or not. I find trying to keep up with the latest fashions tedious. Even back when I considered myself cool (Now, I just consider myself grown up.), I dressed in an eclectic manner, prefering "vintage" (aka at least a decade old as far as fashion went) to trendy. A simple black suit and classic white shirt can take one just about anywhere.

3. I am one of the least fickle people you will ever meet. I still have a crush on Bob from Sesame Street and Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees.

4. When I was much younger, I used to believe in ghosts. After my parents died, and I became aware that my parents weren't trying to contact me from the beyond, I became less inclined to believe in ghosts, and began to seriously question the existance of an afterlife or even God. The one thing that makes me 99 & 44/100ths % convinced rather than 100%, though, is this experience: before I was pregnant with Brighid, Logan and I had a huge fight. He got mad and went outside, and I was laying on the bed in what was still his mother's old room (nothing had yet been touched since she died), face down, crying. I was startled to feel someone touch my back, shaking, me, saying, "Jane, it's ok." I jumped in fright, looked around, and saw no one in the room. Odd. Or was I dreaming?

5. Used car salesmen and TV evangelists can often be mistaken for each other when the mute is engaged on the television.

6. Altoids raspberry sours are wonderful. Also good are tangerine sours and apple sours.

7. I must be getting old. Lately, I've had an intense desire to smoke a joint and listen to Pink Floyd. And I only did that once as a young adult. As a teenager, I only smoked pot a couple of times with the guys who lived across the street, Tommy and Brian Lewis. We sat on my front porch, in front of God and everybody, toked up, and listened to the radio which seemed to be playing Eddie Money and Walter Egan a lot, when it wasn't playing Captain & Tenille, Peter Frampton, or Chicago.

8. I'd rather have a hot tub than a new car, though the new Passat looks mighty nice.

de D.O.

MMMMM. There is a soft tissue clinic tomorrow. I think I'm going to go after work. For 30 minutes, an osteopathic doctor in training will manipulate my "soft tissue". heh heh It's really not the same as a massage, but it can be almost as relaxing. And did I mention, it's free? I'll have to report back on the 13th how it went. Here's what the wikipedia has to say about osteopathy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osteopath

What I like about seeing an osteopathic doctor is that he will do manual adjustments instead of always immediately prescribing medicine. Once, I had a bad pain in my shoulder. It was caused by carrying a heavy backpack on one arm. Nothing had helped, not aspirin, not ibuprofen, not a heating pad, not hot baths, not alcohol. He felt my shoulder for a few minutes, then crack!, and my shoulder seemed to fall back into place, and the pain was gone. I started carrying the backpack correctly, hooking a strap over each arm, and the pain never returned.

Well, lunch is over, and I need to go train some more with Janis, as today is her last day in our department, and I have to take over the reins tomorrow. She is so gonna be put on speed dial.

Weekend Update

Well, it's official. I was offered the position, and I accepted it. I start on the 12th, so I'm training until then. My current job is most likely going to be posted today, so as soon as my boss hires my replacement, I get to train her. Most likely it will be a her because few men ever apply for this type of position. That, and I've told three friends about the job, and they are all women.

Thursday night, Crystal came over and helped me clean out my old dead Taurus(which is going to be junked today if Logan finds a suitable buyer), and then worked some more on cleaning Brighid's room. Next time she comes to clean, she should finish up Brighid and Weyland's rooms and maybe start on the bathrooms. The kitchen will likely take several hours, and I need to wait for my next paycheck in order to be able to have her over before we tackle that.

I just found out my raise is going to be more than I was originally told at first, which is good. But it's crass to talk about money, right? So enough of this.

I've been furiously trying to tie things up at my desk, getting old issues resolved, so that the new person doesn't have to worry about old stuff and can jump right in easily. So I've been busy busy busy, not engaging much in IMing with Eric, though I did talk a little with Susan today. I spent some time at her house Saturday evening, watching Monster-In-Law since Jane Fonda is not allowed in our home. We had pizza, spinach salad, and "slippery dicks", Bailey's Irish creme liquer, butterscotch Schnapps, and half-and-half. Oh, my. They were fabulous. I could have drunk several of them (which would have made me drunk), but limited myself to two. Susan opined as slippery dick would be a marvelous ice cream flavor, that, or slippery nipples, which is Bailey's and butterscotch Schnapps, but no half-and-half.

Susan and I sat and sipped our drinks, knitting, and just generally amusing each other. The highlight of the night was when a HUGE palmetto bug (aka water bug aka giant cockroach) landed on her lap. She shreiked so loudly she scared me. The rest of the night was spent winding yarn skeins into balls with her nifty ball winder and lusting over yarn she bought while up in Montreal.

When I got home, I found Weyland asleep in my bed, holding a toy sword in one hand and a rubber ball that lights up when it bounces in the other. He looked so sweet and angelic, it was hard to imagine that he was probably whacking his sister with the sword and teasing the kitten with the ball. And he is now too heavy for me to lift, so I scooted his rangy self over and tried to sleep. Even though it was around 2 a.m. when I got home, and I was tired, it still took me almost two hours to fall asleep. Now I know what my dad meant when he said old people pounce on any opportunity to nap because sleeping gets harder as one gets older. I suppose it's due to physical pain and mental worry.

I don't know why I should worry so. Mommy always said the worst thing that could happen would be to starve to death, but then we'd die and be with Jesus, which is supposed to be the best thing that happens, so really, why worry?

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

It looks like I'm being promoted at work. A co-worker took a promotion in another department (Being promoted is about the only way to get a raise at a state instituion.), and my boss asked me to apply for the vacant position. It's only a little more than $100 extra a month, but it puts me in line to inherit the travel office some day, which is two pay grades up, and a salary that's almost decent.

In other news, I'm kicking around the idea of moving close to work. If gas prices keep going up, it will make sense to rent an apartment right next to campus. That would help with my relationship with Logan as well, I think - absence making the heart grow fonder, and all. Of course, there's always out of sight, out of mind, but I suppose I could risk that.

I love Logan dearly, but I'm tired of being treated like a second-class citizen in our relationship. For example, there's the issue of dinner. He never has dinner ready when I get home, and rarely bothers to fix any dinner. He tells me to heat up a hot pocket - loaded with fat and cholesterol and no vegetables to speak of. So I end up fixing my own supper. Not such a big deal, I know, but back when he was working, he INSISTED that I have dinner ready when he got home from work. Keep in mind, this man was raised during the 50's by a woman who had nothing better to do than to wait hand and foot on the males in her family.

My biggest problem with moving, though, is the issue of the kids. I can't afford an apartment big enough to bring them with me. And I just can't leave them behind. My oldest sister raised my daughter, Beth, and I placed my first son up for adoption when he was born. It is just too difficult emotionally to be away from my kids.

Doggone It!

I haven't written in several days. Not because nothing has happened, but because I just didn't feel like it. I have been grieving for Elmer, who was dognapped. Or fled the country. Elmer was wearing a blue harness, but didn't have a tag yet because he wasn't quite old enough to get his rabies shot. So no one could call and find out where he belongs if he did find him. :(

About three or four weeks ago, we were given a Jack Russell terrier by a lady here at work. His name was Spencer, but because he liked to terrorize a stuffed bunny and would desperately look for it when I hid it under the covers, I renamed the dog Elmer (as in Fudd, "Be Vewy Quiet! I'm hunting Wabbits!"). Elmer was a fun dog. His whole body would wiggle when he was happy, and he was usually happy. He loved playing with the kittens, and even tried dragging one across the floor by its tail, which didn't make Elmer any points. Elmer even made friends with our muttweiler (part Rottweiler, part German Shepherd? part Labrador Retriever maybe?), Bashful, who is scared of cats but terrified of kittens.

So Elmer started staying in the (fenced) backyard on the days that he didn't ride with Logan (Elmer loved Logan, even licking Logan's bald head and trying to clean Logan's ears for him, despite the fact that I got Elmer to be Weyland's dog.) to take people to their morning destinations or pick me up from work in the evening. So it was disturbing to come home one day last week to find Elmer gone. He probably squeezed under the fence and ran down the sidewalk in pursuit of neighbor children on their way home from school.

Logan has checked the dog pound, to no avail. He has been meaning to put up signs, but hasn't gotten around to it yet. Whoever took him in (unless it was a coyote or the huge hawk that lives in a giant nest in the top of one of our pecan trees) is probably keeping him, since he's so cute and playful. I am sorely aggrieved at losing Elmer, and find this odd in myself, since I'm an avowed cat person. To use Brighid's animé notation, *heavy sigh*. *teardrop*.

Take Two Aspirin and DON'T CALL ME!!

I usually hate getting smarmy emails replete with trite sayings, angel wishes, chain letters that predict dire outcomes for failing to continue the chain, and the like, but I found this genuinely funny. Not a clue as to the original author:

To those of us who have children in our lives, whether they are our own, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, or students, here is something to make you chuckle. Whenever your children are out of control, you can take comfort from the thought that even God's omnipotence did not extend to His own children. After creating heaven and earth, God created Adam and Eve. And the first thing he said was...

"DON'T!"
"Don't what?" Adam replied.
"Don't eat the forbidden fruit," God said.
"Forbidden fruit? We have forbidden fruit? Hey Eve! We have forbidden fruit!!!!!"
"No Way!"
"Yes way!"
"Do NOT eat the fruit!" said God.
"Why?"
"Because I am your Father, and I said so!" God replied, wondering why He hadn't stopped creation after making the elephants. A few minutes later, God saw His children having an apple break, and He was angry!
"Didn't I tell you not to eat the fruit?" God asked.
"Uh huh," Adam replied.
"Then why did you?" said the Father.
"I don't know," said Eve.
"She started it!" Adam said.
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"DID NOT!"
Having had it with the two of them, God's punishment was that Adam and Eve should have children of their own. Thus the pattern was set, and it has never changed.

BUT THERE IS REASSURANCE IN THE STORY!

If you have persistently and lovingly tried to give children wisdom and they haven't taken it, don't be hard on yourself. If God had trouble raising children, what makes you think it would be a piece of cake for you?

THINGS TO THINK ABOUT:
1. You spend the first two years of their life teaching them to walk and talk. Then you spend the next sixteen telling them to sit down and shut up.
2. Grandchildren are God's reward for not killing your own children.
3. Mothers of teens now know why some animals eat their young.
4. Children seldom misquote you. In fact, they usually repeat word for word what you shouldn't have said.
5. The main purpose of holding children's parties is to remind yourself that there are children more awful than your own.
6. We childproofed our homes, but they are still getting in.

ADVICE FOR THE DAY: Be nice to your kids. They will choose your nursing home one day.

AND FINALLY: If you have a lot of tension and get a headache, do what it says on the aspirin bottle: "Take two aspirin and KEEP AWAY FROM CHILDREN"!!

Pitiful Redux

Logan told me the most horrifying story last night. His friend, Loren Stroup (a guy in, I think, his 70's, who has a patent on some sort of helicopter blade ( http://www.pra007.org/newsletters/007_Sept_2003_newsletter.pdf#search= ), got a call from a friend. Seems the friend of Logan's friend (I'll call him FOAF, friend of a friend from here on out.), upon learning of the devastation in the gulf coast, loaded up his Suburban with food, water, & etc., drove to Louisiana, and distributed said items. FOAF then loaded the Suburban with 20 displaced poor blacks, drove them back to his home in Texas, and let them stay with him. All was well and good over the weekend, but come Monday, he took his small car to work. Upon returning in the evening, he found his Suburban gone (hotwired, presumably), the black family gone, and the entire contents of his home gone. Neighbors reported the Suburban pulled up earlier in the day with a U-Haul trailer, and then drove away just a few minutes before FOAF returned from work. HEY, CHUCKLEHEADS!! DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU TO THINK SOMETHING WAS AMISS? DID FOAF MENTION HE WAS MOVING?? Gawd, I'll bet his neighborhood even has a crime watch group and a Home Owners Association. Proof once again that no good deed goes unpunished.

More on the birthday evening: I failed to mention (and was lambasted as a result) that the WONDERFUL, FANTASTIC, FAB-ULOUS friend (or fiend as the case may be) of mine, Eric, made a run to the store the night Herbie & Susan were baking and I was just getting baked, and brought back: #1 more wine (which tasted far better than the one Herbie initially supplied, but hey, if you ain't buyin', you don't get to complain, right?), #2 Bluebell French Vanilla ice cream, and #3 a cheesecake so good I felt like going to confession -- caramel turtle flavor, with ooey-gooey caramel, pecans (pronounced puh-CAHNZ, for those of you unfamiliar with the proper Texan way of saying one of the best nuts besides those I know personally). There were even (a token 5) crazy curly candles on the cake. His efforts went a long way to making me feel special. He even made my birthday card. I will try to get it scanned this weekend and posted. It's just too funny to describe. You have to see it.

I'd write more, but I took an early lunch due to a birthday party for one of the accountants in my department, so it's nose back to the grindstone time for me.

Poor Pitiful Me

Saturday was my 41st birthday. It was such a bad day, it made me cry. Logan argued and harangued the kids all day, so there was much screaming, crying, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. Nothing went right. Logan told me happy birthday, but no card, no present, not even a kiss. The kids had even forgotten it was my birthday. The day was only redeemed (and only slightly) by spending the evening with Herbie, Susan, Eric, and Heather.

I went over to Herbie's to help bake for her daughter's bake sale which benefitted the Red Cross, but I was so cross that all I felt like doing was knitting (repetitive movements tend to calm me) and drinking red wine (numb the brain, doncha know?). Luckily, Susan and Herbie swung into full Happy Homemaker mode and baked up a storm. I was impressed. The bake sale made somewhere around $250 last I heard.

Monday, I got a gift card to Hobby Lobby in the mail from Louise. I bought (on sale) an encyclopedia of knitting (half price), several different sizes of knitting needles (half price), and some yarn (not on sale). I've started a lovely forest green scarf for Logan, then will make a variegated green (kelly green, dark green, white, and cream) one for Weyland. Once I'm skilled enough, I'll make a shawl for Brighid in black, and something for Louise (haven't decided yet). I wonder if I'll someday be able to make socks like Susan. She's gotten very good. Other things in the works are cross-stitched pieces, but they are not quite so interesting as knitting to me now.

In other news, Weyland finally had a sucessful dental appointment. He was able to see a lady pediatric dentist since I switched insurance companies to one which agreed that a 9 year old was still a child. (Everyone at Aeta DMO is going to hell when they die, to appropriate Granny's curse. She used to say all doctors, lawyers, and preachers would share that fate, but HMOs and DMOs weren't invented yet in her day.) He didn't even have to be sedated, which pleased me. He liked the fact that the dentist had video games he could play, the chair was his size, and she positioned a mirror so that he could watch what she was doing. Apparently, control was an issue for Weyland. I'll have to keep that in mind for later.

Out with the Old, In with the Old

I've been busy cleaning house for the last few days. I was finally able to get the huge green stacking unit in my bedroom cleared off and set out on the curb where it was quickly claimed, and most of the clutter cleared away from Logan's closet, which he hasn't been able to use in oh, at least two years. I sort of went on strike one day when he pissed me off. I quit hanging up his clothes and quit folding his clothes, and just tossed all of them, shirts, pants, socks, drawers -- everything -- on top of his dresser. Then I got the stacker and used it in lieu of a desk/vanity. I used to hang all his clothes in a very orderly (some would say anal) manner: shirts arranged by color and by sleeve length, pants by degree of <ahem> casualness. That is to say, dress pants nearer to the wall and torn, stained, welder-burner, blacksmith-coal smelling, raggedy-assed jeans nearer to the door of the closet, since that's what he wears most of the time. But when I went on strike, he was left to fend for himself, and he didn't seem to mind (at least not enough to motivate his dead ass to do his own laundry) having his clothes piled on top of the dresser.

Well, I guess I've been feeling a bit nostalgic or something because between the closet being unusable and the bed causing his back so much pain that he sleeps on the futon in the front room, I've sort of missed having Logan sleeping in the bedroom with me. So I figured he'd feel more welcome if he could use his closet.

I started my housecleaning venture almost a week ago. Logan went out of town last Thursday to go up to Olney for the opening of dove hunting season. He managed to kill about 15 tiny, defenseless creatures that never did a thing to him. He smiles about it, showing his huge canines. He's had the birdies on ice since last weekend, and only today says they have aged enough to cook. He'll clean them over on the side of the house behind the fence so as to not alarm the neighbors, but to enlist the aid of all the cats in cleaning up the remains. I can hear the growls now. But I digress. So while Logan was out of the house, I was able to start culling through his wardrobe, getting rid of the oldest, ugliest, torn-up clothes, clothes that no longer fit even though he won't admit it, and things he just never wears. My goal was to have his closet ready for him to use by his birthday, which was yesterday. It wasn't quite ready, but I can probably finish clearing the area by this weekend.

Last night, since it was Logan's 53rd birthday, we went to the Lone Star Oyster Bar where Logan had a dozen oysters (ugh!) since they're $5 a dozen on Tuesdays (a happy coincidence for him) and a couple of Rahr Reds (a local brew made right here in Fort Worth: http://www.rahrbrewing.com/rahrred.html ). I had tilapia with lots of nice veggies and a HUGE frozen margarita. We then went to the Shamrock, where Matt bought Logan a shot (a big shot, measuring and pouring at the same time à la Justin Wilson) of Laphroaig, a single malt Scotch whisky, which smells like a peat fire. On the scotch's website, they have some award as the best single malt whisky in the world. Check it out: http://www.laphroaig.com/whiskies/cask_strength/index.asp?expanded=cask_strength

After the whisky, Logan had a Bellhaven or two, his favorite beer next to Guiness, or sometimes instead of Guiness, it's such a close race. I was boring and had a double screwdriver. When we were done drinking, we stopped at Braum's for milk, juice, and brownies. I didn't make Logan a cake, and we forgot to pick one up at Target when we were there before dinner getting 5,897,264 coat hangers. (I told Logan I had to have more coat hangers in order to finish hanging up all his clothes, so he bought three metric buttloads of them, along with sewing needles, pins, and wart remover. Interesting combination. I bought Cokes, tampons, and knitting needles. Another interesting combination as well. But not near as interesting as the couple Herbie saw years ago buying condoms and Vaseline. She wanted to tell them K-Y wouldn't have the same destructive effect as does Vaseline, but figured they would take offense.)

Arriving home around 10 p.m., we found Brighid lounging on the futon, watching anime and Weyland playing Age of Empires on the computer. The dog had not been fed, no one had had his bath, and homework was not completed. I made Weyland stay up til midnight to finish some pages in math, but Brighid claimed she didn't have homework. The report cards next week will attest to the truth or falsehood of that.

In the meanwhile, I've been feeling vaguely stressed and apprehensive, though I can't imagine why. I turn 41 on Saturday, and have been feeling so thankful not to have been living in New Orleans that I don't know why I have an eerie feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it's just allergies. Lord knows the dust I've been stirring has had an effect on my immune system. I've been sneezing my head off and coughing up huge gray loogies which look something like oysters. Which is why I don't eat them. Oysters or loogies.

Cut Off

I don't really feel like writing today, but it's almost the end of the month, so I figure I should say something.

Logan's 53rd birthday is a week from today, and I haven't a clue what to get him. I'm kinda pissed at him right now, so I'm not much inspired. He says he's going up to Olney for the opening of dove hunting season (Sept. 1st, Thursday), and that leaves me and the kids high and dry with no wheels. No way to get to school or work. No one to watch Weyland until Brighid gets home. It's looking more and more like I'm going to have to take vacation time just to sit at home and cool my heels.

I can't think of anything else to say right now, so more later.

Binge and Purge

It's lovely to sleep until having to pee wakes you. I slept through the night with no weird dreams like I had when doped up following my surgery. (One memorable dream involved me and Weyland moving back to my childhood home with the wonderful closet in which I used to play as a child. You'd open the door to find two metal bars double hung on either side of you rather than in front, and these bars made excellent rungs for pretending to be a gymnast or a trapeeze artist. Anyway, the house, which was built in the 40's, is no longer standing, having been burnt to the ground by my ex-finace who killed my parents and one of my sisters.) I woke up with my CPAP mask still on, which is good because earlier in the week, I'd been pulling it off in the night due to my nose getting stuffy when lying down. Wednesday at work, I began sneezing. I used up what must have been half a box of kleenex. My eyes were watering, my nose was itching. I attribute it to the high fungus count in the air due to recent rain or to the annoying sprinkler malfunction in my boss' office.

Wednesday, a milky white liquid (fire retardant?) started dripping from the sprinkler heads in Pete's office. It smelled horrible. Unfortunately, it occurred around 4:30 p.m., so that by the time Rita Frost, our extraordinarily tanned Accounting Director, came across the hall to find out what the bad smell was, it was already almost time to leave when she asked us why we hadn't left. At that point, what was the point? I had already called Logan to come get me, and short of calling him on his cell and yelling, "drive faster!", I didn't see a reason to quit working. I might as well finish what I had laid out to do until 4:55 p.m.

I started writing the above on Saturday, but got distracted and didn't finish. Here it is Monday, and I'm here at work with not much more accomplished.

The reason this entry is entitled "Binge and Purge" is because that's what I've been doing lately. I binged on honeydew melon Saturday morning. It was wonderful, too juicy, and very sweet. I ate enough that I don't want anymore for a while, and there was still enough left for Brighid and Logan. It was a big honeydew melon. I've been cleaning my room, sweeping under everything, going through boxes, cleaning out nooks and crevices, packing things to store out of the way. I'm being unmerciful in what I purge. If it's broken and I can't fix it with a minimal of effort, I toss it. I have a stack of mending I've decided to get done this week or make into rags by next weekend.

I've been binging on movies lately, renting several at a time, getting caught up on culture, such as it is. I saw the very good "Being Julia" this weekend, along with the so-so "Ladder 49", which Logan liked. We also watched "The Snow Walker", which must have been a direct-to-video production because I don't recall it being publicized. It was a nice movie, but nothing to write home about. Then Brighid and I watched the latest incarnation of "Phantom of the Opera", which Brighid disliked for all the singing -- despite me telling her it was a musical! Yesterday, I caught the last hour or so of "Beyond Borders", which was passing fair. Last night, I watched "Cold Mountain" again, though I don't know why except that I was having trouble falling asleep.

It made me wonder how many times women actually get pregnant the first time they have sex. This seems to be a common plot twist in romance stories, and it did happen to me with Wesley's father and again later with someone with which I had a one-night stand. (Mike, I think his name was -- I met him at a club, he tried hitting on my friend first, so I guess I was better than going home and resorting to self-abuse. I ended up having an abortion because I just couldn't go through giving a child up for adoption again. Having to give up Wesley was just too fresh and painful. I couldn't see anyway that I could keep the child, so made what has turned out to be, at least for me, far less painful mentally than placing a child for adoption was.) Wow, what a tangent. I didn't really mean to go there. But, what the hell. So out of 5 pregnancies, I've gotten pregnant twice on the first time I had sex with the father. 2/5 = 40%. Ack. Maybe it's not such a far-fetched notion, after all.

Speaking of purging, I never had morning sickness until I carried Logan's babies. There are all kinds of theories about why women have morning sickness and what causes it. I like the one that says morning sickness forces women to eat a bland diet so as to avoid toxins in the diet which might affect the developing fetus. I also like the one that claims a woman is more likely to suffer morning sickness when the man who impregnated her is significantly different from her, genetically speaking. Curiously, women who have morning sickness are less likely to suffer miscarriges. I think the two are somehow linked. In other words, if you are a mouth-breathing cousin fucker, you're less likely to have morning sickness and more likely to have a miscarriage or a deformed child. Which is why you shouldn't marry your cousins.

Funny, when I was pregnant with Logan's bairns, I somehow felt more pregnant. I guess having the male parental unit nearby made a difference. And when I would get sick (which I did often with both Brighid and Weyland), Logan would be quite accommodating. So I got looked after, which was a great improvement over the previous pregnancies. I always loved the physical aspects of being pregnant, once the morning sickness was done in about the third trimester. Of course, it was great having my menstrual cycle go on hiatus. And having an excuse for sleeping and resting with one's feet up is great. But the best thing, I think, was how in love Logan acted when I was pregnant. I sometimes regret having my tubes tied after Weyland (the boy with the giant head) was born. I always loved holding my babies, nursing my babies, sleeping with my babies curled up next to me.

In retrospect, though, I suppose it's a good thing I haven't had more children. Aside from all the zero population arguments, having children is just weary work sometimes. Since Brighid and Weyland were born, I've felt myself incapable of just running away when overwhelmed. One has to stay put, take it, and just deal with it. Sometimes it's almost too much to bear, and I wish I could abandon my baggage, including children, by the side of the road, like in "The Joy Luck Club". But then there are the moments when a child, out of the blue, hugs me and says, "I love you, Mommy," and the desire to purge is gone.

Waiting for the Weekend

I saw the doctor Monday, and he could barely find the external stitches, they've healed so well, but the internal ones still feel weird. He said the muscle cramp in my left calf was in no way related to the surgery (but in my estimation, it's related to wallering up in bed all day). I'm to bulk up on things with potassium, calcium, and drink more milk. Today is Thursday, and I've had Logan rub it all week with Target brand Ben-Gay, and it's almost unnoticeable today. I opined that it was related to my surgery in that I had to be on a liquid diet, which meant I didn't eat anything that caused heart burn, thus, I didn't consume a couple of Tums a day for the past week, so my calcium level dropped. Add to that the laying in bed eating bon-bons, and voila'! Muscle cramp!

I've become less enraptured with blogging while I was laid up in bed. I'm still tired, and can't seem to wake up before 7 a.m., which makes getting to work on time dicey. It took me only a week to get accustomed to having a nap every day, and now I miss it.

Interestingly, it's taken me only three days to get caught up to where I was before I took off 7 days from work for the surgery and recovery. That, or the mail has been slow.

Not much else of import to impart. Just sort of stunned that my baby brother turned 36 on Monday. I made him a pan of Rice Crispy Treats and bought him a very plush stuffed monkey. I almost want to keep it, it's so soft. I just hope his little dog doesn't chew it to bits.

Saturday is the last Girls' Night Out before school starts back up and getting anyone's schedule to coordinate becomes much more difficult. Herbie's fixing New York strip steaks, baked potatoes, salad, and banana splits. Hey, my doctor said I need to eat more red meat and bananas. Plus, potatoes have lots of potassium, right? Oh, and we're going to make daiquiris or pina coladas or some other foo-foo drink. Summer's over, in some respects, so we should toast the liberation of having the kids in school during the day!

Well, lunch is almost over, too, and I'm out of ideas, so that's all for now.

Surgery Update

Obviously, I survived having my nether region cut and sewed. I got sick in the recovery room, though, and puked up my empty guts. I felt horrible until I got to go back to sleep and have some morphine. I was home the next day, and spent a week basically in bed, as sitting up made me tired -- still does. Eric called me "Frankenpussy". Lovely. Susan spent a lot of time up at the hospital, just watching me sleep for the most part, helping me do things, and being my advocate to the nursing staff. She's very good at it, so I told her I would hire her for all my hospital stays.

A week ago, I started feeling pain in my left calf. It has hurt all week, getting progressively worse. So I've spent the past week fairly doped up, taking Darvocet, aspirin, and some of Logan's muscle relaxers. I go to the doctor tomorrow to have my stitched looked at, and will have the doctor examine my leg as well. It felt a little better today, but still hurts. At first, I was afraid it was a blood clot, but have since decided it is a muscle spasm.

That's all for now. Like I said, I'm tired.

addendum

Oh, and Eric gets his pick from my albums.

Piddling Affairs

Tomorrow I go in for pre-op, which means waiting, filling out paperwork, and probably getting my vitals checked. The hospital has to check to make sure I'm fit for surgery, and of course, that my insurance will pay for it. Then I get to drink potassium citrate and have an enema. Reamed in more than one way. Add to that the joy of having only clear fluids tomorrow (I asked Eric, "does vodka count??"), and I'm going to be one bitchy person tomorrow. But hallelujah! Friday I get my "fundament" repaired, as my grandmother would say. It will be good to get off the piddle pad regimen.

Last night, Logan and I watched Diary of a Mad Black Woman, which couldn't make up its mind between being a comedy or a drama. There were funny moments, but rather schmaltzy moments as well. Earlier, we had eaten the Tuesday special, $2.99 taco plates at Rosa's, with kids in tow. Monday, Logan left the kids at home and after picking me up from work, took me to eat fish and shrimp at Long John Silver's. Yeah, I know, no great shakes as far as the food goes, but Logan was making a point to spend time with me before my surgery.

I've been inexplicably nervous about this surgery. I'm not afraid of the actual operation, for I know the doctor is skilled - I've read up on him. I'm wary of being put under, and how my heart might react. I have no history of heart problems, but given my weight, cholesterol level, and blood pressure, I'm worried. Add to that the weird head things I've been feeling the last two days - dizziness, almost blacking out sitting here at my desk doing nothing strenuous, and feeling a burning sensation in my head along with a slight fever and headache - and I'm making myself paranoid.

Today or tomorrow, I have to get a will written, a durable power of attorney assigned to Logan, and decide what I want on a medical directive or "living will", should the worst happen and I end up in a vegetative state. It's not just the impending surgery causing me to think of all this, it's the fact that I've made contact with my son who was adopted out at birth and that I'm talking a lot more with Beth, and developing what seems to be turning in to a good relationship with her. I know I need to plan especially for Brighid and Weyland, since they are closer to me than my grown children, and know me as their mother, but I want to make some sort of provision for my first daughter and son as well. I just don't know what to leave them, since I don't have much of value. It seems ridiculous to make a list of all the various and sundry items, but I know how much ill will has been and can be caused by not being specific enough in one's will. I had two aunts who didn't speak to each other for years over a dispute about their mother's sterling silver charm bracelet. The main thing I want to leave everyone with is a warm place in his heart for me. (Ok, grammar police, "his" is correct - everyone = singular = his, for the masculine is correct when gender is not specific.)

I've told Logan that I want him and Susan to have final say in my funeral if they are both still around. I want a wake, a loud, boisterous, happy party. I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT want a somber viewing at a funeral home where everyone speaks in hushed tones, mumbling pleasantries, all the while wondering how long they have to stay for form's sake. So fer cryin' out loud, throw a party. With a three drink minimum. Spend the money on booze, music, food, and fresh flowers. I'd like a Dixie-Land jazz band, the kind they have in New Orleans, where they play music, carry umbrellas, and dance in the streets. I'd like a full gospel black choir singing "When The Saints Go Marching In". Hell, maybe even a mariachi band. But of course, a piper at graveside. I'd like to be buried in my Lindsay kilt or failing that, my favorite blue jeans. I want to be planted next to Pappy in a wooden coffin of the European style. Put coins on my eyes. Hire a couple of 20 year-old studly looking actors to keel and wail and throw themselves into the ground after the casket is lowered, just for kicks. But most important, I don't want a Baptist funeral or a Catholic one. As far as I'm concerned, the jury is still out as to whether or not there really is a god, so keep that in mind. It's ok to mention God in passing - cover all the bases, as it were - but for godsakes, don't make a production about it. Get the burying part over, and get on with the celebrating.

Blog Envy

I tried several times yesterday to get somewhere on the Internet, anywhere, but kept coming up blank. It must have been stuck. I mean, I even tried running spybot, ad aware, and a couple other virus scanners on the computer, tried disk cleanup and defrag, and still couldn't get anywhere, even after re-booting a couple of times. I talked to Eric and Susan yesterday, and they had trouble as well, so I'm hoping it wasn't just inept me.

Yesterday, I had to go in for jury duty, got put into the replacement pool, and didn't get selected, so I went home, tried to nap, and ended up working all three crossword puzzles in the paper, and starting a pulp fiction kind of mystery book by Gary Krist called Bad Chemistry. I guess I just needed a little mental exercise and then relaxation. I read crap books for utter enjoyment, one of my few guilty pleasures (not that I have many besides listening to and owning records by The Bee Gees and eating ice cream from the container), since I always think I should be setting my literary goals at a much loftier level, but have yet to make it through the first page of Cervantes' Don Quixote without falling asleep, and have never made it past the first paragraph of War and Peace.

I read about three or four blogs on a regular basis, and am frequently confronted with an inane and pointless irritation - finding myself jealous of other writers. I'm either jealous that they can write so well, or I'm jealous that they have all kinds of cool experiences. I'm mean, it's truly pathetic to be jealous of another person's life, isn't it? Yet there it is. I'm not hip, urbane, living in a foreign country, working at a fantastic job, being madly courted by a suave, debonair chevalier, or having erotic poetry written for me. I'm starting to think that I need to get myself back into psycho-therapy to find out why I'm so dissatisfied with my life. Seriously, I'm relatively young and healthy, I have two beautiful children at home and two grown ones out on their own, so genetically, I'm successful, I have a decent job, a roof over my head, plenty to eat, clothes on my back, and several very close friends. So why am I feeling so empty? I'm having a sneaking feeling that another episode of depression is creeping up on me, and I'd like to be able to head it off at the pass.

It's been several months since I've been seriously depressed, and I usually get over it pretty quickly. I do one of four things, cry, eat, drink, or have sex, and that usually works to get me over a blue funk. But then sometimes I get a spell that's worse than normal, and it lingers for days, sometimes weeks. I haven't had one of those in several years, but I can normally feel them coming on, now that I know what they are. It just feels like I'm spinning my wheels sometimes, is all, I guess, and I don't know how to get out of the hamster habitat. I know these fits are probably fostered by outside situations rather than by a true bipolar disorder, but they sure make me feel manic-depressive. The impetus today was probably the discussion which would have become heated if given enough time (thankfully, arriving at work curtailed it) in which Logan and I had major disagreements over whether or not to buy the new house, buying a new car, and generally our relationship with each other.

I'd write more, but I feel like I might cry, it's so frustrating. Besides, I've only got 15 minutes left in which to grab some lunch, drink some water, and go walk. That, or read more of the trashy thriller....

The Drama Queen Abdicates

Today, I'm feeling glad that my life does not have as much drama as it used to have. I keep up with a couple of blogs other people write, and I swear, if my life had as much drama as their lives, I'd be hospitalized for exhaustion. Mommy used to say be happy for boredom, as it means nothing terrible is happening. I've had my headlines, now I'm happy to just read them, though sometimes just reading them is exhausting, too.

Last night, I stayed up til 3 a.m. watching Dances With Wolves, only because Weyland started watching it, as he'd never seen it, but took off to bed when the kissing part began. I don't know why I got hooked on watching it 'til the end, since I've seen it at least three other times, but I found myself wide awake when it was over. I fell asleep quickly, though, thanks in part to taking my Neurontin and wearing the CPAP mask, since the sound of the air being pushed at me and being pushed by me out of the mask is oddly calming. When the alarm went off at 6:45 a.m., I hit the snooze, then again two more times before I managed to drag my dead carcass up from the mattress at 7:20 a.m. Gawd, I'm tired today. When I get home, I may very well just break the cardinal rule of no naps after 3 p.m. and take one. I'll probably sleep til midnight anyway, get up and pee, have a snack, and then go right back to bed.

I paid all my bills on Friday, paying a little extra on some to bring the balances down, and I have not quite $7 until the 1st. Gad. I'm dying for a Coke, as I need the caffeine kick to help me stay awake, but I just can't get myself to go downstairs and write a check for $5 or $6.

Logan and I have been going back and forth in our minds about whether or not to make an offer on the big house in Arlington. Logan finally said that if the house is still available at the end of the month, he'll make an offer. If this all comes to pass and we do get the house, it will be worth it in that our stress will be reduced by having more room, and a place for everything. I'm tired of living among clutter, tired of having tiny bedrooms and tiny closets. Our kitchen is not even big enough to have a kitchen table in it, and the dining room table is being used as a computer desk. I don't know how we got so much stuff, but I'd sure like it spread out.

This week, I have to get my paperwork in order - a new will and a medical directive with a durable power of attorney for Logan so that if anything happens, it won't be all left up in the air. I've seen what horrible things happen when people just assume their so called loved ones will do the right thing. More drama. And I want no part of that.

Why Bother?

I'm seriously starting to wonder why I should bother blogging. I go for days at a time either forgetting to do so, or not finding time to do so. Last week, for example, my youngest daughter turned 13, to no fanfare of any kind. That's because for over two months, she had been threatened with having her birthday cancelled if she didn't get her room cleaned. I reminded her regularly, once a week for six weeks, then once a day for a week, then several times a day up until her birthday. Come Bastille Day, her room still was dirty. Not just dirty, filthy, a health hazard. I can no longer enter without fear of falling and not being able to get up. No one would be able to find me, either, the clutter is so deep. There is a fruit fly infestation (which is what started my dire threat in the first place), things are lost, and I fear the two missing cats may have lost their way in there as well. I hate having to be Mean Mommy, but once I gave the "old tomato" (ultimatum), I had to follow through.

My thirteenth birthday went unnoticed by my mother as well. I recall my dad came over to chaperone the party held at the house my 17 year old sister and I live in alone, unsupervised, but he left around 10 p.m. or so, when the party broke up, unaware I was on my way to Mario's house less than a block away, where I was deflowered for my first birthday as a teenager.

Logan did bring home a chocolate cake for Brighid, but I suspect he used that as his excuse for buying it. It was a sinfully fudgey, chocolatey cake with shaved chocolate curls embedded in the frosting, and fudgey, gooey filling between the layers. Just a small slice made my teeth hurt. Man, was it good.

Yesterday, I embarked upon a cleaning jag. I took everything off the shelf Brighid broke in my nice wooden bookself, repaired (after a fashion) the shelf, and then rearranged the books so that the heavy ones aren't on the broken side. I went through scads of paper and mail, sorting it into recycle, shred, and file piles. I folded about four baskets of laundry and hope to get it put away today. I am quite the procrastinator when it comes to actually putting away the laundry. I've got a bit more to do tonight, such as take the trash from the bathroom and the bedroom to the kitchen, but after that, my room should be back to normal.

Logan has been looking at houses, and has found one that might work for us. It's in south Arlington, and has over 3400 square feet. That's more than triple what we have now. It would make a huge difference -- we'd be able to unclutter the house. Just having a kitchen big enough to swing a cat in would be grand, and having a huge master bathroom with double sinks and a giant bathtub would be wonderful. But it would cost around $600 a month at least, and I'm not sure we should take the plunge yet. The best idea is to spend a year paying down debt, getting our vehicle situation in good shape, and making repairs to the house we own now. But the idea of having a nice, new, huge house is almost too tempting to turn down. Logan thinks we'd be able to make some improvements to the house and be able to sell it for a profit in a couple of years. I'm just nervous about the whole thing, but I'm hoping the best thing is the new house. It would certainly help with the impetus to clean and de-clutter this one.

Well, I'm tired, and need to go fix dinner. More later.

I once was lost, but now I'm found

I found the missing sack yesterday. The croissants were moldy, but luckily, my needlework was safe in a plastic bag. I have sorely missed doing a bit of cross-stitch every evening. Funny how quickly one can get into a routine, and how much one dislikes a routine being disrupted.

The fridge cleaning I intended to do the other day didn't get done until today. Well, I admit, it's only partially done. All the science projects have been cleared out. What still remains is washing every shelf and drawer. I think those will get done one a day for the next week or so. It's such a pain in the ass (and the knees, the back, & etc.) cleaning those things, especially when some of them will have to soak in warm water because some child or Logan spilled something sticky which was allowed to set.

Since I'm having my fundament repaired at the end of the month, I'm trying to get some things in order such as getting a will written (just in case, not that I'm expecting it to), getting a living will made out, and on the day of surgery, signing a durable power of attorney so that Logan can have the plug yanked if something does go wrong and I end up gone while forgetting to die. I didn't think about this sort of thing when I was twenty. I might have accidentally gone ahead and grown up on myself without planning to do so. Scary thought, in some regards. Probably only 40 years left, if that much. That is scary.

Random Notes

Tomorrow is July 4th, and the sailboat won't be ready. So I guess we're going to go up to the party at work and watch the fireworks and have a picnic. I'm seriously considering making a spiked watermelon: cut a hole in the top, pour in everclear, put the plug back in, let it sit & soak.

My surgery has been scheduled for July 29th. I'll go in bright and early Friday morning and stay just a day, provided everything goes well. I got the bill for the Urinary Distention Study - mein Gott in himmel! - over $3,000.00. My share, incredibly, is only $22.00. But $3,000.00 to measure how and when I pee in a cup?? No wonder a lot of companies can't afford to offer health insurance. I can't begin to say how glad I am my insurance is free. All the more reason to hang on to my job.

I've got to clean out the fridge, and I'm dreading it. It hasn't been done in at least six weeks, probably much longer, and it shows.

I cleaned my room the other night, and still haven't found the sack from Shellie's which had some croissants, a book for Eric, and my needlepoint. I'm starting to suspect Logan has alzheimer's, since he says he didn't move it from the back of the van, and I know I didn't. I seriously miss my needlework. I was cross-stitching some pillowcases in pretty colors of green and purple, leaves, vines, and grapes. No one seems to do handwork anymore, so I have to start back up. I've even been talking to the gals about us all getting together and learning to quilt.

Nothing much else of note, so I'll shut up now.

Lost Weekend

Saturday morning Logan got up bright and early and ran off to work on his sailboat. He was careful not to wake me up, but Eric had already beaten him to that punch. Mr. Excitement called around, oh, 7:22 on a Saturday morning wanting to know what I was doing. In a perfect world, I'd be shagging the brains out of some gorgeous 20-something stud enamoured with me for my fabulous writing, but the cold reality was I was alone in bed with a plastic CPAP mask attached to my face (which greatly amuses Weyland, who loves space operas and aliens, and thinks my breathing apparatus makes a great costume). I tried getting back to sleep, to no avail. Eventually, I got up and tried to rouse the kids. We made it to LMRA in time for the picnic being held by my department at work, ate a little watermelon (None of us were very hungry, but we'd had a late breakfast at Sonic.), and then spent the next two and a half hours swimming. I got a little more sunburned, but Brighid is starting to tan. When we got home, I took a brief nap, then took the kids to bardic.

Padraig never showed (well, he hadn't showed by 11:15 p.m., which is when we left), so no one felt like singing. They act like he's the only bard in the world. I may not be a guitar player, but I have a passing fair voice, and can usually carry a tune. And Padraig even said I needed to attend bardic because he wanted to hear me sing. So I was a little put off by the underwhelming welcome I received.

I stopped playing actively in the SCA several months ago because I just wasn't having fun anymore. After I was turned down for membership in House Mac an Gabhain because they don't like Logan (as if Logan would even join!), I lost a lot of desire to even be around those people any more. Then when I spent the night in the tent of a certain "gentleman", waking the whole encampment several times with the noise of our ardor, I think I was instantly branded a hussy and silently shunned (this from the organization nicknamed "Society for Consenting Adults" and the group known for singing very bawdy songs such as "Barnacle Bill" at the top of their lungs!). After last night, I'm really starting to doubt I will ever go to another SCA function. I've never been treated by anyone as a true friend in that I'm never confided in, never asked to be a part of any hijinks or behind the scenes, secret goings-on. I've tried to bond with people at events, but I guess I'm just too weird for them.

Yesterday, I laid in bed a lot, watching design shows like "Designing Cents" and "Curb Appeal", just relaxing, letting my back stretch out. I had tried coaxing Logan into bed with me, but he rushed off again to go work on the sailboat. So after a bit of fun on my own with an electrical device (I'm almost getting tired of this particular relationship, as it's so one sided. I'd really like a massage and a kiss sometimes instead.), I took a brief nap, then took the kids to the video store to return the old movies and get new ones. We stopped for shaved ice snow cones on the way home. I had my favorite, blue coconut. I only like it to be blue. Sometimes coconut snowcones are white, in which case I don't want them. Once home, I tried to watch "The Life Aquatic" but after 30 minutes, gave up in disgust. It was just too stupid. After the news was over, a really good show, "The Ultimate Survivor", all about the evolution of man, came on. Weyland and I tried to watch it, curled up in bed with the very affectionate cat, Cruack, but we only made it to about 12:15 a.m. before I was overcome with sleepiness and had to shoo Weyland off to his own bed.

Today, I'm at work, eating tortilla chips for lunch because I don't feel like going downstairs to get American-Chinese buffet and I didn't bring anything. Here in a bit, I'll get a glass of water and then go walk down the hall, down the stairs, up the hall, and back up the stairs. Just that little bit of exertion raises my pulse from round 75 up to 136, so I'm not really going to increase the amount of exercise until my pulse doesn't jump quite so much. Yesterday, I mentioned to Beth that she might come over and go for a walk with me. She didn't manage to do so, but maybe today.

I seriously need to take better care of myself, but this morning, I felt like I might have a slight fever and I have a sore spot on my neck which might be a swollen lymph gland. I so do not want to have a summer cold or the flu. If I'm coming down with something, then I just want to crawl in bed and have chicken soup. Mostly, I think, I'm just tired.

Life in Nada Pasa

I can't believe it's been two weeks since I've written. I've been incredibly busy at work since Jeanine is on leave until July 15th, having had a hysterectomy about ten days ago.

Last weekend, Logan, the kids, and I spent the weekend at Cedar Hill State Park. Logan went out in the boat, fishing, and caught only one small catfish. The kids and I went swimming and all caught sunburns, despite slathering gallons of SPF45 sunscreen on our bodies. I took off Saturday evening to go to Girls' Night Out at Shellie's, where we ate lots of good food, didn't drink much, and played Mystery Date. When I got back Sunday morning to the campsite, the kids were enjoying feeding apples to squirrels who left for a while but came back with friends. Funny how that happens. Logan has lost about 25 pounds since getting his little boat fixed up and on the water. Maybe I need to start rowing.

I'm trying to slowly change my life style by doing things such as cutting out Cokes, drinking more water, eating more raw fruits & vegetables, and walking during lunch, but today I broke down and had a Coke. I don't drink coffee, and sometimes I just need that caffeine kick.

Took a break and didn't get back to this until today. I'm starting to wonder just what the hell the point is to all this blogging. My main frustrations this weekend have been spending all my money when I had the kids in tow (It ALWAYS works out that way when I take them out.) so as to be unable to take Logan out to eat on Father's Day (not that he's my father, but the kids seem to like him, so I guess I'll keep him around), and not being able to figure out how to hook up my DVD player and the satellite box at the same time.

Eric and I may hit the Shamrock this week, perhaps Wednesday. I'm seriously looking forward to it since Logan took the weekend off, and I couldn't.

Madame Resident

At the family reunion this past weekend, I sorta volunteered to be the president of the Sitton Family Association since no one else seemed hip to do it again. Robbie has done it, what, 6 or 7 times? I was told all I have to do is write a couple of letters, one wrapping up the past family reunion, and one about a month before the next one giving details of the arrangements. I may have been lied to and there's more to the job, but I don't think it could be much more laborious than that.

I have a couple of ideas I want to put into action - a Yahoo! email forum, Sitton family t-shirts with perhaps a picture of Daddy Frank and Momma Jane on the front, and perhaps a Sitton family directory complete with addresses, phone numbers, email addresses, and most important to me, who hasn't seen most everyone in several years, pictures.

The family reunion was nice, if small (about 25 - 30 people showed up), so it pretty much began and ended Saturday. Sunday, I helped clean the hall we had rented for three days at the Best Western, and the kids swam in the cold pool. They tricked me Saturday, telling me the water was warm, so I got in for a few minutes, but quickly hopped out when they started splashing me. After we packed up and checked out, we made our way to Denton to Jessica's house in order to visit with Sue, who didn't make it to the reunion. Elaine's husband, the Swiss-born Jean-Marie, Jessica's husband, Miles, and Logan all took off in search of what Jean-Marie considered decent coffee, and we (me, Jessica, Elaine, TR, and Sue) all played cards well into the night. A good time was had by all. I'm glad I went to the reunion and then to Jessica's.

I'd forgotten that I really do like my cousins, and they seem to like me. Mommy always kept us home, as she believed the Sittons didn't like her. As a result, I grew up not knowing my cousins very well. I've decided I'm not going to be the reason my kids don't know their cousins. I'm going to make an effort every year to at least go to Cisco for the reunion, if not other holidays. Of course, this means I need to make an effort to get up to Wise County as well for Graveyard Working each April. The kids need to know their Bridges relatives, too. Now if only Logan and his brothers could resolve their differences. They have several first cousins from that bunch. I guess I shouldn't forget Lindsay in Virginia, either. I need to get in touch with her. I haven't seen her since she was four years old, and now she's, what, 20?

Logan took the kids to Eagle Mountain Lake today. I don't know if they've gone fishing or swimming or both. Logan seemed uninclined to talk on the phone a while ago, so I don't have the details. I wish I was out on the water. Jeanine went in for her hysterectomy today, a couple of weeks early, so I get to enter the invoices rather than do my job. She's going to be out 4 - 6 weeks. Let's see, Mary was out 2 weeks, then Jeanine was out a week, back one week, then will be out 4 - 6 weeks. It'll be September before I get caught up on my work. We're trying to get a temp, and I'll get to train him/her, but for now, the majority of the load falls on me. Oh, well - job security.

a brief brief

busybusybusy

The kids, for the most part, have hogged the computer at home all week, and aside from that, I've just been busy.

The wedding of my oldest niece Saturday was fun. Danced, ate barbeque, sat and drank with Beth. Grace was absolutely lovely, and surprised me by wearing a gorgeous -fake- diamond & citrine ring she got from a sidewalk vendor in New York for $3! Brighid caught the bouquet, and I made a joke of trying to get her to give it to Beth, her older sister. A good time was had by all, and no doubt Allison & Trey are enjoying St. Lucia where they went for their honeymoon.

Stayed busy all week, trying to clean house, get stuff done in anticipation of our trip tomorrow to Cisco for the Sitton Family Reunion.

Took Brighid to see the doctor today to get a referral to the Child Study Center for treatment for Asperger's Syndrome. Dr. Levine put Brighid on Strattera, which we'll try for a month, then reassess, and also got a prescription for an acne medication, which I forget the name of just now.

I'd write more, but it would interfere with my enjoyment of my lunch break and IMing Susan about knitting, so I'll have to catch up later.

I just had to share this

fizziecoffee: www.shirleyqliquor.com
fizziecoffee: check out some new betty butterfield
fizziecoffee: and it's a whole new site.
lymadelina: I'll look at it at lunchtime
fizziecoffee: okay, ms. important person
lymadelina: I've got a two inch stack of invoices to put into the system
lymadelina: some of them are mom & pop type places
lymadelina: and a few will be paid by state checks, which can take up to a month to be cut
fizziecoffee: poor moms and pops
lymadelina: the state holds them to check and see if the business owner owes any state taxes, franchise fees, child support, etc
lymadelina: if they do, they apply the check to the outstanding balance
fizziecoffee: are you shittin me. that's AWESOME
lymadelina: nope
lymadelina: da troof
lymadelina: don't you wish you had that kind of power??
fizziecoffee: I also find it cunningly shitty, but for child support, no doubt
fizziecoffee: No, what I wish, is to be the omnipotent ruler of the universe
lymadelina: let's see... you owe me $25 for your share of the drugs I bought the other night
fizziecoffee: omg
fizziecoffee: lol
lymadelina: and I paid for the snacks and beer
lymadelina: so I'm taking $50 from your next paycheck
lymadelina: LOL
fizziecoffee: uh, yeah, your crack balance is overdue
lymadelina: wah!
lymadelina: then there's the dry cleaning bill for my shirt you wore and puked on
fizziecoffee: what's that? you need money for groceries? Okay, you can keep $1.25 for a can of pork and beans from the 7-11, but you'll have to make that stretch for a few days
fizziecoffee: omg, no, puking on my clothes is life imprisonment
fizziecoffee: or indentured servitude
lymadelina: hee hee
fizziecoffee: how's your gumline today?
lymadelina: slightly less holy
lymadelina: or holey
lymadelina: or wholly
lymadelina: or wooly
fizziecoffee: eeeuuuwww
lymadelina: still a tiny bit tender
lymadelina: still have to clean it with a qtip
fizziecoffee: I think there is a disease by that name
lymadelina: lol
fizziecoffee: wooly gums
fizziecoffee: or is that black hairy tongue? i can't remember
lymadelina: hahaha
lymadelina: slowly healing
fizziecoffee: unpleasantness
lymadelina: well, it was unpleasant having pain in that tooth everytime I ate something sweet, cold, or hot
lymadelina: so I guess it was good to get the tooth out since it couldn't be salvaged
lymadelina: well, it might could have, but would have cost a whole lot more
lymadelina: but looking at the tooth, the decay was pretty invasive
lymadelina: I don't see how it could have been a stable base for a crown
fizziecoffee: nah, better to just get a bridge or dentures
lymadelina: they would have had to have done a root canal and put a pin in to hold the crown
fizziecoffee: the screw-in kind
fizziecoffee: yeah, that's what I mean
lymadelina: well, it's the very back tooth on the right side, so it doesn't need a bridge
lymadelina: just learn to live without it
lymadelina: now if it was between two teeth, yeah
lymadelina: or I'd look like ma kettle
lymadelina: LOL
lymadelina: spit watermelon seeds through it
lymadelina: the gap, I mean
lymadelina: or chew tobacco
lymadelina: and spit through the gap
lymadelina: hahaha
fizziecoffee: hahahaha. hillbilly style
lymadelina: oh, now there's an idea: hillbilly barbie
fizziecoffee: it's been done. lol
fizziecoffee: I think if you google that, you'll find plenty
lymadelina: aw, man!
lymadelina: a day late & a dollar short
fizziecoffee: well okay
lymadelina: can't find a website with a hillbilly barbie
fizziecoffee: not through google?
lymadelina: nope
lymadelina: this is good, though: http://www.anomalies-unlimited.com/Odd%20Pics%202/BikerKen.html
fizziecoffee: okay, well, I'm sure there has at least got to be be a redneck barbie
fizziecoffee: that is SO damned funny...and frightening
lymadelina: http://www.chillibomb.com/barbie/pages/goth-barbie_jpg.htm
lymadelina: http://www.chillibomb.com/barbie/ omg, Gangsta Bitch Barbie
lymadelina: I love it
lymadelina: http://www.chillibomb.com/barbie/pages/trans-barbie_jpg.htm
lymadelina: the best
lymadelina: http://www.compfused.com/directlink/29/
lymadelina: http://funnies.paco.to/barbies.html sadly, no pics
fizziecoffee: those are great. See, i figured there were plenty out there
fizziecoffee: too funny
fizziecoffee: trash talker dolls
fizziecoffee: lol
fizziecoffee: go to werewolf barbies' daughter's father's website. Funny geek. Note baby in oven photo. Gotta love it. hahahahaahhah
fizziecoffee: http://www.swcp.com/~mccurley/humor/pictures.html
lymadelina: I'd invite him to a party.
fizziecoffee: uh huh. His pet cow, Blanche
fizziecoffee: lol

$43 and still a hole in my head

It's been a week since I've written. Odd to think about the passing of time, how fluid it seems. When things are hectic, even just busy, time seems to slip away in the blinking of an eye. When relaxed and not pressed to accomplish anything, time seems to stand still. I was reading the newspaper (the "Startle-Gram") Sunday, and found myself surprised that I finished the whole thing, including perusing the advertising flyers, in about twenty minutes. Of course, I didn't read the sports, classifieds, new car or new home sections, only glanced at the Op Ed page, skimmed the political stuff (if you don't have your mind made up by the time you're 40, you're not likely to ever do so, so why bother?), and read only the Obits off the Metro page -- hell, why did I bother opening the damned thing?

In any case, other than having to pick food debris from the hole in my head caused by the tooth extraction, I've had no real excitement this past week. Which is good. Like I just told Eric via IM, it means no fires, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, riots, insurrections, or ugly clothes in sight.

I took the immediate family to eat last night at Chef Chen's (Logan calls it Uncle Ho's for amusement purposes), which serves what Eric and I call American Chinese food (buffet, but this one is good with sushi, shrimp, and raw oysters). Weyland tried and actually like the sushi. Brighid, who is the big fan of all things Asian, balked, and settled for barbequed chicken on skewers and egg rolls, the two buffet items probably least like real Chinese food. On the drive to the restaurant, we were trying to decide where to eat. Brighid said, "we could eat Chinese", to which Logan replied, "but it's so hard to make them stay in the wok". LOL

I got paid yesterday, and after paying all my bills and setting aside the $120.00 we're going to need for the hotel room in Cisco May 28th & 29th (Sitton Family Reunion), I'm broke again. It's depressing, really. Well, at least all the bills are paid for this month. Eric wanted me to take a trip to Las Vegas with him this month, but even if I wasn't going to Cisco, I couldn't afford it. I doubt I could get a plane ticket and a hotel room for $120.00 in Vegas. Besides, the Vegas trip is supposed to be the gang - me, Herbie, Heather, Shellie, and Susan. It's what we've talked about for a while. Susan has been to Vegas several times, and knows her way around. I have to know well in advance when we're going so I can save up for it. I just can't be more spontaneous than say, $43.00 worth of American Chinese food at a time, at least when it comes to money. Sex, on the other hand, is altogether another issue.

I've been enjoying reading Susan's friend Deawn's blog. Make your way there: http://www.deawn.blogspot.com

Another Hole in My Head

Today, I had a tooth pulled. It was a second molar, so I guess I'll be chewing on the left side of my mouth for the most part. I could have gone back to work, but instead, I opted to come home, eat some broth, and take the Vicodin prescribed in case of pain. I'd rather head it off at the pass. When I had my wisdom teeth pulled, my face swelled up like a chipmunk, so I'd rather be safe than sorry. Besides, a nap sounds good about now. The kids will be home in about an hour and 15 minutes, so I need my rest now if I'm going to crack the whip and make them pick up their rooms before they're allowed to watch cartoons, play on the computer, & other fun things. Mean Mommy Mode!!

Beth graduated on Saturday, and we made the almost three hour drive to Abilene. From there, we drove to Stamford so the kids could see where Logan was born. He told them, "when I tell you it's a thorny burned-out patch of nothin', now you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If it doesn't have thorns, it bites, if it doesn't bite, it blisters in the summer sun and freezes in the winter wind, since there ain't nothin' between Stamford and the North Pole but a barbed wire (say bob wahr) fence."

Our journey continued from Stamford on up to Olney, where we roused an ailing Judy (Logan's 1st cousin) from bed, visted about two hours, then drove back to Fort Worth. Our perigrination took, oh, EIGHT DAMNED HOURS, or thereabouts. When we got home, my ankles were swollen from the blood being unable to go back up my legs from my feet. I spent the few remaining hours of the day in bed with my feet propped up on pillows.

For mother's day, Logan and the kids took me to eat at Golden Corral. It was decent, if somewhat bland foot. The fried fish (possibly cod, but probably white fish) was actually good. Afterwards, they took me to see Kingdom of Heaven which was very good. Especially nice was the detail given to the armor. Orlando Bloom isn't bad to look at, either.

Since Brighid had her final three cavities filled last week, and I had my tooth pulled today, the Payflex account is practically drained. I'm not sure if I'll have the money for contacts next week. But I've already paid for my new bifocals, so at least I'll still be able to see, even if I don't do away with the glasses just yet.

Not much else to report other than I've been feeling unusually chipper lately. My worrisome nature tells me the gods will anger soon, and something will come crashing down, just leave it to Hera. Yet I can still hope the good mood continues.

That's all for now.