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.