Dear Readers,
Oh how I've neglected you. I'm afraid that sometimes I sensor what I say, feeling I'll drive all 3 of you away with my extreme negativity.
Like the stock market, it's been a volatile ride at my house this week. Also like the stock market, the ride has been all gut-wrenching drops, not many trips up to the top of the hill. And that's no fun, is it?
In short, I got rid of the DVR yesterday. That speaks volumes on the week I had. You mess with my TV, you better watch your back! Necessity dictated I dump it. When we cut back on cable, Internet speed, and DVR box, we chopped our bill from $140, to $60. You can't argue with that. Probably the funniest/saddest/most pathetic event of the week was explaining to the kids that we couldn't pause their programming while they piddled during Spongebob. You would have thought I took away their beloved blankets. Seeing their reaction proved to me I was doing the right thing. We have many Mormon nights of family board game playing ahead of us.
Today I looked into renting the house. If worse comes to worse, we will do this. I'd rather have the ducks in a row and know where we stand now, then have my hand forced later. So I have someone coming out to the house on Monday.
Scot got some encouraging news today. He spoke with one of his recruiter friends, and a position that had been put on hold will be interviewed for shortly. Hopefully he will be one of the 347 candidates who get an appointment for that (have you seen 'Dick and Jane?') The one job he interviewed for has still not been filled and the hiring manager is on vacation for a week (obviously he has never been out of work. The interview occurred 5 weeks ago.) Every day is an eternity.
Scot and I played "Sergio" and "Maria" today, and cleaned the house in 2 hours. Record time! Not sure everything is spic-n-span, but it sure smells dandy.
We are going out for dinner with my parents this evening. Our first meal out in 6 weeks. With that, and our weekend daytime temps in the 70's, there is hope on the horizon.
Thanks for all the continued support and love.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Feeding Frenzy
Another week begins with a quiet inbox. Sigh.....
And not that the stellar world market is helping.
So, let's forget our troubles and eat!
So it was during lunch that I fully understood the term "unconscious eating." After having an exofuckulent tuna melt (Scot and I watched 'The Savidges' last night and it gave me the idea) I dug into the kids cold mac-n-cheese. I doused the pan in Penzeys spicy seasoned salt and downed the remainder with a wooden spoon. I'm feeding the pain.
Last time I went through a depressed period in my life, I wasted away. But that was clinical depression. Currently I'm just an angry motha, and my my appetite has not been affected. Honestly, planning and eating dinner is the best part of my day. Today I wrote Scot's 4 choices (sweet-n-sour chicken, chicken Paprikas, pizza, or Thai noodles) on a piece of paper for his perusal. He gave me his choice and I got to work getting the ingredients ready for prep. The spices are on the counter, and the pan is on the stove. The remainder of the day will be spent preparing the meal, and anticipating the appropriate beer match for the dish. I'm always a bit obsessed about planning meals, but lately I've ratcheted it up because it's the one pleasant thing I can control in my day.
Sometimes I like to pretend all the ingredients work for me. I wonder if the chicken feels neglected that I threw him in the sink so harshly, or if the Japanese beer fears I will choose the Chinese beer over him tonight. Where it gets really interesting though is when I decide how many beers I will hire for the evening.
And not that the stellar world market is helping.
So, let's forget our troubles and eat!
So it was during lunch that I fully understood the term "unconscious eating." After having an exofuckulent tuna melt (Scot and I watched 'The Savidges' last night and it gave me the idea) I dug into the kids cold mac-n-cheese. I doused the pan in Penzeys spicy seasoned salt and downed the remainder with a wooden spoon. I'm feeding the pain.
Last time I went through a depressed period in my life, I wasted away. But that was clinical depression. Currently I'm just an angry motha, and my my appetite has not been affected. Honestly, planning and eating dinner is the best part of my day. Today I wrote Scot's 4 choices (sweet-n-sour chicken, chicken Paprikas, pizza, or Thai noodles) on a piece of paper for his perusal. He gave me his choice and I got to work getting the ingredients ready for prep. The spices are on the counter, and the pan is on the stove. The remainder of the day will be spent preparing the meal, and anticipating the appropriate beer match for the dish. I'm always a bit obsessed about planning meals, but lately I've ratcheted it up because it's the one pleasant thing I can control in my day.
Sometimes I like to pretend all the ingredients work for me. I wonder if the chicken feels neglected that I threw him in the sink so harshly, or if the Japanese beer fears I will choose the Chinese beer over him tonight. Where it gets really interesting though is when I decide how many beers I will hire for the evening.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
One big, lovely mess
Another day, another dollar. Actually $45 dollars. I had one charge today, Maddy, my baby I watch. I kept Maggie home from school again, because of fever.
This morning Scot and I took the kids (including Maddy) for a walk. We brought Bernice, our grand dame doggy, and walked in the early morning to avoid the heat. On our way, Bernice stopped every two minutes to void some extreme diarrhea. The poor dog is probably scared shit less her standing in the house has changed with the arrival of Patrick. She needn't worry. She's the first, and the best.
When we returned home from the stroll, I took Maggie to the doctor while Scot sat with Maggie and Maddy. My fear today was that the e-Coli Maggie had in the spring was rearing its ugly head. Although we treated with antibiotics in June, I lazily blew off retesting her when we returned from vacation this summer. She tested negative for strep today, but had a fever. The doctor asked for another urine sample to test for e-Coli, which is like asking water from a stone. Maggie cooperated with 2 drops. The initial in-house test proved positive for protein, infection, and blood. Naturally Mags did not provide enough to be sent out for culture. Is anything easy? After a promise of a new Curious George doll, I got my sample later this afternoon and drove it to the doctor's. We will know in a week what the results are.
No news on the job front. Sigh... The good news is that this evening it seems Bernice's diarrhea has ceased, and Maggie's fever is gone. Scot is home this evening, and I am thankful to have him.
The whole family (along with Maddy) visited Barnes and Noble this afternoon to make do on my promise of the new George toy. When we walked to the entrance, I noticed a dapper old man standing on the curb by the front door. He appeared to be about 80 and was wearing perfectly pressed khakis and a blue shirt and had a wonderful head of silver hair. He watched my family walk in the front door. When we exited the store a half-hour later, the man was still standing in the very same spot. Again, he watched us intently. I imagined all the dramas, heartaches, and joys this man has probably seen in his life. He took us in as someone would study a famous painting. A dreamy, nostalgic look glazed his face. I wondered where his ride was, and why he had been left waiting so long. Did he have a wife, and who was still around to love him? I hoped at the very least he had children nearby who checked up on him to make sure he was eating. I looked at my family and realized that although life is hard as the dickens right now, we are together in this lovely big mess. And I can get through anything with that much love.
This morning Scot and I took the kids (including Maddy) for a walk. We brought Bernice, our grand dame doggy, and walked in the early morning to avoid the heat. On our way, Bernice stopped every two minutes to void some extreme diarrhea. The poor dog is probably scared shit less her standing in the house has changed with the arrival of Patrick. She needn't worry. She's the first, and the best.
When we returned home from the stroll, I took Maggie to the doctor while Scot sat with Maggie and Maddy. My fear today was that the e-Coli Maggie had in the spring was rearing its ugly head. Although we treated with antibiotics in June, I lazily blew off retesting her when we returned from vacation this summer. She tested negative for strep today, but had a fever. The doctor asked for another urine sample to test for e-Coli, which is like asking water from a stone. Maggie cooperated with 2 drops. The initial in-house test proved positive for protein, infection, and blood. Naturally Mags did not provide enough to be sent out for culture. Is anything easy? After a promise of a new Curious George doll, I got my sample later this afternoon and drove it to the doctor's. We will know in a week what the results are.
No news on the job front. Sigh... The good news is that this evening it seems Bernice's diarrhea has ceased, and Maggie's fever is gone. Scot is home this evening, and I am thankful to have him.
The whole family (along with Maddy) visited Barnes and Noble this afternoon to make do on my promise of the new George toy. When we walked to the entrance, I noticed a dapper old man standing on the curb by the front door. He appeared to be about 80 and was wearing perfectly pressed khakis and a blue shirt and had a wonderful head of silver hair. He watched my family walk in the front door. When we exited the store a half-hour later, the man was still standing in the very same spot. Again, he watched us intently. I imagined all the dramas, heartaches, and joys this man has probably seen in his life. He took us in as someone would study a famous painting. A dreamy, nostalgic look glazed his face. I wondered where his ride was, and why he had been left waiting so long. Did he have a wife, and who was still around to love him? I hoped at the very least he had children nearby who checked up on him to make sure he was eating. I looked at my family and realized that although life is hard as the dickens right now, we are together in this lovely big mess. And I can get through anything with that much love.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Tuesdays suck when you are out of work. There is no promise of the mind-numbing weekend (filled with beer) and the hope of Mondays emails has worn off.
Today, the kids are sick, Scot has class, and the economy has me fearing a foreclosure is in my future. Not one of my best days.
I'm angry that our wonderful (insert sarcasm here) politicians couldn't rise above it all to get the bailout through. McCain had to pretend he saved the day, and Nancy Pelosi couldn't help but rub the Republicans noses in the mess they've helped create.
"Class- listen up!" I want to say to them all. Immature schoolchildren who can't help but throw punches on the playground.
I feel like curling up in a ball and listening to Phil Collins "The Roof is Leaking". Good choice of lyrics for today. Feel free to join me in my wallowing. Here's a sampling of the lyrics.
The Roof is Leaking - Phil Collins
The roof is leaking and the wind is howling
Kids are crying 'cos the sheets are so cold
I woke this morning found my hands were frozen
I've tried to fix the fire, but you know the damn thing's too old
And me, I'm getting stronger by the minute
My wife's expecting, but I hope she can wait
'Cos this winter looks like it's gonna be another bad one
But Spring'll soon be here,
Oh God I hope it's not late
Today, the kids are sick, Scot has class, and the economy has me fearing a foreclosure is in my future. Not one of my best days.
I'm angry that our wonderful (insert sarcasm here) politicians couldn't rise above it all to get the bailout through. McCain had to pretend he saved the day, and Nancy Pelosi couldn't help but rub the Republicans noses in the mess they've helped create.
"Class- listen up!" I want to say to them all. Immature schoolchildren who can't help but throw punches on the playground.
I feel like curling up in a ball and listening to Phil Collins "The Roof is Leaking". Good choice of lyrics for today. Feel free to join me in my wallowing. Here's a sampling of the lyrics.
The Roof is Leaking - Phil Collins
The roof is leaking and the wind is howling
Kids are crying 'cos the sheets are so cold
I woke this morning found my hands were frozen
I've tried to fix the fire, but you know the damn thing's too old
And me, I'm getting stronger by the minute
My wife's expecting, but I hope she can wait
'Cos this winter looks like it's gonna be another bad one
But Spring'll soon be here,
Oh God I hope it's not late
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Here's Your sign!
There are times when the Universe tells you to stay home. These are the days when you drop the eggs, you scrape your knee, and you break a plate. All by 11 a.m. You know what this is like. Zen bullshit aside, we all have times when we are walking disasters and are dangerous to ourselves and others. Not just a bad day. But a day when you are tempting Darwin to take you out of the gene pool.
Many years ago, my mom and I got ready to go to the gym together. My mom was driving. As she proceeded to back the car out of the garage, she failed to notice my dad's car parked in the driveway. "screeeetch." A long thin scratch was etched into both cars' side panels. She had "keyed" the entire length of both cars. My mom promptly pulled the car back into the garage, calmly got out of the car, and went into the house. "I'm not going to the gym today, " my mom said. "My biorhythms are off."
What? What the heck did that mean? Was that akin to people acting crazy during a full moon? Whatever she meant, I filed it away to deal with later. But I started paying attention. Soon enough, I had a bizarre day of missteps and Mr. Magoo tragedies. Instantly it hit me; my biorhythms were off! Many years have come and gone, and being a bit of a sleep deprived ditz, I've had many "off" days. Sometimes it just takes me a little longer to recognize what a hazard I am.
Saturday I left the house with the girls to return a jacket and to buy Little Mermaid sheets. The first parking lot came loaded with a crazy woman in a Jag, zigzagging through the rows. My purse hit the floor as I slammed on the brakes to avoid her. She was completely oblivious. This was my first sign. I hit The Rack to return the jacket and was stunned at the line. It was one central line, with no return desk. The girls and I waited our turn, and after 20 minutes of bright lights, crying babies and over stimulation, we were out the door. Next stop was Target . Walking by a mirror I caught a glimpse of myself and was horrified. Bags were under my eyes from Friday's late night, and my hair looked crispy and electrocuted. I had thrown on a baggy peasant blouse to hide pizza sins, and realized the front of the shirt was skimming the top of my boobs. Please God don't let me run into anyone, I thought. We blew out of the store and headed to Wendy's for lunch. Only two stops on the freeway and the hungry children would be fed.
Wouldn't you know it; the highway was closed southbound after my exit. Everyone was funnelled down to one lane and 4011 cars crawled the next mile . Voices from the backseat started chirping hunger cries, and it suddenly dawned on me that my foot kept slipping off the brake. While idling forward at 5 mph , I had narrowly averted a dozen fender bumps by slamming on my brakes just in the nick of time. What the hell was wrong with me?
Wendy's was empty as I had totally missed the lunch hour. The two famished children picked a high top table and I ordered lunch at the counter. While we ate, I was aware of someone looking at me. I turned to the left and saw a man sitting two tables over from us, alone. He looked to be in his upper 20's. I smiled a genial smile and looked away. I proceeded to eat but felt eyes boring into my body. I didn't want to look, because I knew the single man was still staring at me. But not looking at him would have been like not looking at a wreck on the road; you're drawn to it in a sick way. I turned my head quickly and looked again. Wink. He winked at me. "smack," went his mouth. Did he just blow me a kiss? You could have called to tell me my house had been robbed and my panties stolen. That's how violated I felt. When an old man winks at you, it's endearing in a slightly corny, pathetic way. When a 25-year old winks and blows a kiss, you feel naked. I tried not to perspire and kept my focus with the girls. Five minutes passed and perv picked up his cell phone and made a call. Always able to be in on two conversations, I chatted with the girls' and listened to the voice mail my admirer was leaving.
"Hey Cory, it's Ken." "Give me a call man." "I just got out serving 5 months in jail for attempted." "Come out to Arizona and we can chill together." "Say 'hi' to Dan for me."
Attempted. Attempted what? Attempted wife-snatching and pillaging in the Wendy's parking lot? Hark! A sign. At once, I saw the moon wax and wane, heard planets crash together, and felt my alignment go out of whack.
"Girls, get in the car. Mommy needs to go home."
Many years ago, my mom and I got ready to go to the gym together. My mom was driving. As she proceeded to back the car out of the garage, she failed to notice my dad's car parked in the driveway. "screeeetch." A long thin scratch was etched into both cars' side panels. She had "keyed" the entire length of both cars. My mom promptly pulled the car back into the garage, calmly got out of the car, and went into the house. "I'm not going to the gym today, " my mom said. "My biorhythms are off."
What? What the heck did that mean? Was that akin to people acting crazy during a full moon? Whatever she meant, I filed it away to deal with later. But I started paying attention. Soon enough, I had a bizarre day of missteps and Mr. Magoo tragedies. Instantly it hit me; my biorhythms were off! Many years have come and gone, and being a bit of a sleep deprived ditz, I've had many "off" days. Sometimes it just takes me a little longer to recognize what a hazard I am.
Saturday I left the house with the girls to return a jacket and to buy Little Mermaid sheets. The first parking lot came loaded with a crazy woman in a Jag, zigzagging through the rows. My purse hit the floor as I slammed on the brakes to avoid her. She was completely oblivious. This was my first sign. I hit The Rack to return the jacket and was stunned at the line. It was one central line, with no return desk. The girls and I waited our turn, and after 20 minutes of bright lights, crying babies and over stimulation, we were out the door. Next stop was Target . Walking by a mirror I caught a glimpse of myself and was horrified. Bags were under my eyes from Friday's late night, and my hair looked crispy and electrocuted. I had thrown on a baggy peasant blouse to hide pizza sins, and realized the front of the shirt was skimming the top of my boobs. Please God don't let me run into anyone, I thought. We blew out of the store and headed to Wendy's for lunch. Only two stops on the freeway and the hungry children would be fed.
Wouldn't you know it; the highway was closed southbound after my exit. Everyone was funnelled down to one lane and 4011 cars crawled the next mile . Voices from the backseat started chirping hunger cries, and it suddenly dawned on me that my foot kept slipping off the brake. While idling forward at 5 mph , I had narrowly averted a dozen fender bumps by slamming on my brakes just in the nick of time. What the hell was wrong with me?
Wendy's was empty as I had totally missed the lunch hour. The two famished children picked a high top table and I ordered lunch at the counter. While we ate, I was aware of someone looking at me. I turned to the left and saw a man sitting two tables over from us, alone. He looked to be in his upper 20's. I smiled a genial smile and looked away. I proceeded to eat but felt eyes boring into my body. I didn't want to look, because I knew the single man was still staring at me. But not looking at him would have been like not looking at a wreck on the road; you're drawn to it in a sick way. I turned my head quickly and looked again. Wink. He winked at me. "smack," went his mouth. Did he just blow me a kiss? You could have called to tell me my house had been robbed and my panties stolen. That's how violated I felt. When an old man winks at you, it's endearing in a slightly corny, pathetic way. When a 25-year old winks and blows a kiss, you feel naked. I tried not to perspire and kept my focus with the girls. Five minutes passed and perv picked up his cell phone and made a call. Always able to be in on two conversations, I chatted with the girls' and listened to the voice mail my admirer was leaving.
"Hey Cory, it's Ken." "Give me a call man." "I just got out serving 5 months in jail for attempted." "Come out to Arizona and we can chill together." "Say 'hi' to Dan for me."
Attempted. Attempted what? Attempted wife-snatching and pillaging in the Wendy's parking lot? Hark! A sign. At once, I saw the moon wax and wane, heard planets crash together, and felt my alignment go out of whack.
"Girls, get in the car. Mommy needs to go home."
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