It's never going to end... or maybe it has...

Talking to the best friend this afternoon, which doesn't happen much anymore, now that the boyfriend is in the picture. Yes, I think I'm experiencing a spot of jealousy, but that's for another time...

But the conversation today may the one that pushes me over the edge... hang on to your seat...

Her: "John came over and spent the night again last night."

Me: "Ah"

Her: "He said he thinks he's going to have to go back to the doctor"

Me: "Back to the doctor? That doesn't sound good..."

Her: "Yeah, he told me it's something that used to happen before, when he masturbated..."

Have you picked yourself up off the floor yet?

I have no idea what exactly she said after that, because I put the phone down for a few seconds while I cleared my head... something about feeling blood pounding in his jugular vein and being afraid he was going to have a stroke.

I'm STILL speechless over this one, and the conversation took place about 8 hours ago. I so very much want to scream "When did it become okay to talk about things like this??? I don't want to know this!!! I don't care that we've known each other forever, STOP TELLING ME THINGS LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Maybe I'm a prude. Maybe I'm more conservative than I ever dreamed I was (God help me). This whole thing is making me SOOOOOOOOOOOO uncomfortable, yet I'm afraid of what might happen if I say anything. We've known each other all our lives, yet we're just not the type of people that really talk about our feelings.

Must come from being Presbyterian.

Well, I finally have a desk of my very own, in my new department, at the Casa de Insurance. I succeeded in evicting the infidel who refused to vacate said desk. Some time ago, before I transferred to this department, someone with a Magnetic Poetry set left the message 'You are a pain' on one of his filing cabinets. He left this for me when he moved (while throwing a rather loud temper tantrum, mind you, that quite a few people could hear). This was Friday.

I was struck with what I thought was a brilliant idea over the weekend... and Monday morning I left a message at his new desk, taken from my own Magnetic Poetry set, that read simply 'Too bad, so sad.'

I was rather proud of myself for that.

My veggie boy

W.T. tried asparagus for the first time today. He seemed to like it. He's always been a vegetable-boy, so I'm not surprised. He looked so cute with the little flecks of green around his mouth when he was finished.

The only bad thing was that it was, in fact, the green-colored crayon called "asparagus" in the Crayola 64-pack. Yes, he'd chewed on about 1/2 an inch of it. Heaven only knows how much he actually swallowed. Thank heavens they're non-toxic.

I thought about telling K when he gets home from school, but I think it will be more amusing to wait for the phone call at work tomorrow that will start out with "Is his poop supposed to be green?"

81 days and counting...

YEAH BABY!!!

My dad at 22, in 1942.

Lot's of anniversaries this week. Anniversaries make me contemplative, introspective, and all the other synonyms of looking inside yourself to try to figure things out. Why have things turned out the way they have? Lots of 'what if's'... what if I'd gone on to graduate school after college? What if K hadn't answered the personal add I put in the small, local newspaper (have I ever mentioned that's how we met?)? What if the birth control we were using had done its job the way it was supposed to?

Life would be so much different...

But this too shall pass, I'm sure.

Today is the first anniversary of my father's death. Is that even possible? It really doesn't seem like it.

I haven't talked to my best friend much the last 2 weeks, since the whole birthday extravaganza. I've called several times, only to be blown off with 'Oh, John (remember him, with the big yoo-hoo?) is supposed to be calling. Can I call you back later?' No return call was ever received later in the evening. Ouch - that smarts. I called today... just a little bit ago. I stayed home from work today, and she's off on Wednesdays.

"We're just sitting here watching a movie. What's up?"

"Just hadn't talked to you in a while. I stayed home from work today, thought I'd call and see what was going on."

"Stayed home from work - that's always fun..."

At this point, I reminded her what the day was... "Oh! Has it been a year? I can't believe that."

"Yeah, I think I'm doing okay, though. No big outburst of tears yet."

"Well that's good. Listen, can I call you back later tonight, once John's gone?"

Thirty-five years of friendship, and I don't rate more than 5 minutes on the phone on the anniversary of the death of a parent? I'm still speechless. Slap me in the face, why don't you? Maybe I'm overly-sensitive right now, but to me that seemed rather a bitchy thing to do. Don't get me wrong - I'm thrilled that she's found someone that has true prospects of being THE ONE, but this is taking it a little far if you ask me. I just don't know where to go with all this. This isn't the first time in our 35 years of knowing each other that I've had feelings like this, but we're not the kind of people that express these things. Everything is repressed. We were both brought up in families that didn't talk about anything, ESPECIALLY feelings. Are we growing apart after all this time? Could be, I guess. It's a very lonely feeling.

Me & K at our wedding 12/05/97

Sometime this week, the 12th, maybe, it will be 10 years since the mr and I met... hard to believe. We still look pretty much the same. The part in his hair is a little wider now, if you know what I mean, and my hair isn't quite so big these days, but that's us. And he has a wonderful smile, just not when you put him in front of a camera (ever see the 'Friends' episode where Monica & Chandler are getting their engagement picture taken?).

So that's us, for anyone who might've been curious.

10 years... 120 months, 520 weeks, 3650 days. 87,600 hours. At times it's flown by, and at times it has dragged unbelievably. We've been through so much crap that it makes the head spin. Many times, I've had to step back and remind myself what it was that made me fall in love with and marry him, and I'll admit that I've wondered more than once if it was all a mistake.

But then he leaves to go to his evening classes, or to study at the library, or I leave in the morning to go to work, and as soon as we're not in the same place together, I miss him. So would I do it all over again?

Yeah, I would...

See what happens when I have too much free time on my hands... K is at school studying, and the boy is playing quietly by himself with the Little Einsteins on the Disney Channel in the background. My father-in-law called just a little while ago to ask if I was bored, since I wasn't at work and had nothing to do (insert confused look here).

Is this new template obnoxious? The other was absolutely getting on my nerves. The extra-wide margins were just irritating. It had to go. None of the other Blogger templates appealed to me, and I'm not savvy enough to re-configure the old template to look how I want it to look, so I must rely on the talent of others for a fresh new look. I've requested the 'Blogging for Dummies' book from the library, but my name is far down on the list.

My best friend's new boyfriend...

Finally, a few much-needed days off from work to relax, spend time with the punkin, and catch up on blogging. I could use 2 weeks off, but they are stingy with the vacation days at the Casa de Insurance, so I'm only taking 3 days.

Do I have a desk yet in the new department I've moved to?
No.
Does my new supervisor seem overly concerned about the fact that I've worked for her for a month and a half now and still haven't relocated to her area?
No.
Has my old supervisor hired a replacement for me?
Yes.
Will he soon be needing the desk I'm still occupying for the person he's hired?
Yes.

The guy I've replaced is still refusing to move from his current location, and the new supe isn't really doing a whole lot about it. This does not bode well for the future.

On top of everything else, I'm vaguely annoyed with my best friend right now. Let's call her Mary...

At the end of March, Mary had been dating a guy for about 6 weeks, when he unexpectedly dumped her BY SENDING HER A TEXT MESSAGE. How crappy is that? She'd never used the text message feature of her phone, so this was the first text she'd ever gotten. Even crappier. Understandably, she was feeling pretty blue. Her birthday is at the end of April, so I decided, being the good friend I am, to make it a blow-out this year, to cheer her up. I planned the entire afternoon and evening, sent her an 'invitation' to the birthday extravaganza, even made a commemorative mix cd for the occasion.

About 3 weeks ago, just about 1 or 2 weeks after being dumped electronically, she met a new guy. Apparently, this could be the one. Don't get me wrong - I'm happy for her. She's an incredible person and it always astonishes me that someone hasn't already snatched her up. She has been talking about this guy constantly - let's call him John - and it all sounds great.

But...

I hate to say it, but I'm a little hesitant to meet him. She describes him as a 'not afraid to speak his mind, don't ask him a question if you don't really want to hear the answer' kind of guy (which is a good thing), yet some examples she's given of this make him sound just downright rude. He goes to church (as do we), but has commented to her several times about how boring he thinks our church sounds. His church has flashy video screens and they dance and clap their hands when the spirit moves them, and they serve bagels and juice. We're Presbyterians. Presbyterians just don't do stuff like that. But we do serve cookies & punch after the service. She doesn't want to bring him to our church on a Sunday morning because "I know he'll hate it!" That offends me. I get the feeling from the way she talks about it that she's almost ashamed of this church that we've gone to since we were babies together in the nursery.

And then there's the sex. I've never been one to share lots of bedroom details with people. I'm not a prude, and I'm not afraid to talk about sex, but I don't need to know your nitty-gritty details, and I probably won't be telling you mine. Mary's always been the same way, but suddenly with this guy, I have to hear ALL ABOUT EVERYTHING that's been going on. I've said several times "No really, you don't need to tell me all this stuff...", but to no avail. Uck.

So here we are this past Friday, which was her birthday. She got to my house a little after 1pm. I had lunch ready (a salad of baby spinach, dried cranberries, slivered almonds, thinly sliced red onion, feta cheese & balsamic vinaigrette dressing, crusty bread with herb butter, sparkling water, huge homemade lemon squares for dessert... Yummy!). We ate... she got a call on her cell from John.

We relaxed for a bit after lunch, then headed out for our first stop - manicures at the shop where I get my hair cut. I love my hair-girl. She's a miracle worker. She does great with nails, too. Mary seemed a little irritated when we got there, and kind of argued a little with my hair-girl about not wanting any color on her nails. Then she got a call on her cell from John while I was getting my nails done.

Manicures completed, we headed towards Cincinnati for dinner and a show at a place I'd found online called the Shadowbox Cabaret. Two hours of comedy skits and live music, think Mad TV. Cincinnati is about an hour-ish from where we live, which translated into lots of talk about John-this, John-that, in-between calls on the cell. Twenty miles into the trip and I was already extremely annoyed. This is completely unlike her, but I'm so glad that she's found someone that she's this enthusiastic about, I don't want to say anything. Somehow the (limited) conversation wound around to the fact that he's 5'6" tall, kind of short for a guy. "He's not shy about walking around naked after sex." Okay, that's a comment I can handle. "It's good that he feels that comfortable with you already," I reply. To which she responds, while laughing, "Yeah, well, um... he's a short guy with a big dick, and he wants everyone to know it!"

What???? Back the truck up, Nelly!!

Had I not been in rush-hour traffic on a bridge crossing from Ohio into Kentucky, I very well might have pulled the car over. This is NOT the kind of information I want or NEED to hear about this guy. Not to mention the fact that I've never heard her use the word 'dick' before, as hard as that may be to believe. I'm so taken aback by this comment that all I can do is let out a pathetic laugh, while muttering "Which exit are we supposed to take on the other side of the bridge?"

Thank heavens we were headed to a place where the music was loud, making conversation nearly impossible. At the intermission of the show there was, of course, another phone call. Apparently he was working until 9pm and was very bored because business at the furniture store where he's a sales person has been slow. 46 years old and he can't find anything to occupy his time while he's at work? Hmmm....

This should be interesting...

So.......................

.................. about a month ago (and I can't believe I haven't put this up here sooner), the hubby and I were in the bedroom (don't worry, this is G rated). It was about 8:15pm. The little punkin was in bed, I was watching television, and the husband was looking at some of his school assignments. He got up to go to the kitchen... turned the doorknob... turned the doorknob again... turned the doorknob again while muttering curses under his breath. Guess what?

The door wouldn't open.

Now, this particular doorknob has given us problems since we bought the house (almost 8 years ago), and I'd been asking the husband (for about a month) to put some WD-40 on it, which usually takes care of the problem (but he didn't). The inevitable had finally happened. The latch on this thing was completely sprung and would not move a millimeter. My husband, God love him, was trying with all his might to get the door open... turning and twisting the knob and pulling as hard as he could and cussing the whole time, but nothing was happening.

Husband's idea #1: Take the doorknob off and pop the latch. A great idea but... 1) we don't keep a screwdriver in the bedroom (silly me) and 2) the screw for the doorknob is on the other side of the door.

Husband's idea #2: He'll crawl out the window and come in the front door and open the door from the outside. Another great idea but... we're settled in for the evening, so the front door is locked. Neither one of us has our keys with us. Mine are on the dining room table. His are in a basket by the front door.

Husband's idea #3: Try to jimmy the door open using a plastic card from his wallet. Although the problem was not that the door was locked, he gave it his all, but to no avail. And now his library card is ruined.

Notice that, yes, all these ideas are coming from the husband. I wasn't in the background panicking. There are times when it's best for me just to step back and let my husband do his 'man-thing', and I try my best to oblige him whenever these situations come up. Plus, it was a Tuesday and House was about to come on.

Husband's idea #4: Call his brother, who lives about 10 minutes from us, to ask if he still has the key we gave him when he house-sat for us about 4 years ago while we were on vacation.

I'm sure it doesn't come as a shock that I don't really care for my brother-in-law all that much. He has a very irritating personality. He is constantly trying to impress my father-in-law. For the first 18 months of my son's life, he would pretend to offer the boy a beer and a cigarette whenever he was over to play cards. Apparently, this was supposed to be amusing. Several times, he compared caring for our child to he and his wife caring for their dogs... "Well, when one of the dogs acts up/won't stop whining/whatever, we smack it on the nose with a rolled up newspaper." This was supposed to be amusing, also, but one night I'd had my fill, snapped at him after one of these comments, stormed out of the room and slammed the bedroom door so hard that (I'm not kidding) a picture fell off the wall. At that point, my father-in-law looked at my husband and said "She doesn't really think that he thinks the boy is a dog, does she?"

Oh my God.

But here we were, stuck in our bedroom, the boy asleep across the hall in his crib, and our best option for getting out of this alive is calling the brother-in-law that makes my eyes roll back in my head. Couldn't we call 9-1-1 instead? Isn't this an emergency? I can feel the oxygen supply decreasing rapidly, and too me that makes it an emergency.

But not really.

So the husband calls...

"Hi M, it's K. Is E home?"
(pause)
"Can you ask him to call me when he's done?"
(pause)
"Okay, thanks. Hey, do you know if he still has the key we gave him when he house-sat for us a few years ago?"
(pause)
"No... we're not locked out of the house. There's something wrong with the latch on our bedroom door, and we can't get the door open."
(It was at this moment that our humiliation became etched in the family history books. Did I hear laughter coming through the phone? I hung my head in shame.)
"Yeah, just have him come over whenever he's done. And can you ask him to be kind of quiet when he comes in? W's already asleep."

Twenty or so minutes later, we heard the front door quietly open and close. Then the doorknob rattled as E tried to open the door from the hallway. Then, a quiet knocking on the door. Did he think he'd be interrupting something?

"K? It's E." Would there be anyone else standing in our hallway at this moment? "I'm going to have to take the doorknob off. Where are your screwdrivers?"

They worked for over an hour, first getting the doorknob off, then prying apart the latch. It was as if the latch had fused itself into the door frame, and the only way to get it out was to completely destroy it with a screwdriver and a hammer. I got a very dirty look when I helpfully said (still annoyed that we were in this situation in the first place, and convinced that we would not be if he'd listened to me and oiled-up the door like I'd been asking him too) "Hopefully the house won't catch on fire while we're stuck in here", so I laid on the bed and watched House. I think my brother-in-law could sense that it was best not to make any comments on the situation once we were freed, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was storing away all sorts of smart-ass comments that he would unleash on K the next time they play cards. Like he needs any ammunition for his 7th-grade sense of humor.

And, of course, our son slept through the whole thing.

I am not sure we rewrite history when we think about those we love that have died or if we just forgive them their humanness and remember their spirit.

I've been thinking a lot, not surprisingly, about my dad lately. Two weeks from Wednesday will be the first anniversary of his death, which I just cannot believe. I hate that time seems to move so much faster now that I have a child.

I ran across the quote above on another blog I was looking at, about 2am Saturday when I couldn't sleep. I read it and suddenly many things that have rattled around in my head this past year came into sharp focus.

My father was not a perfect man, or father, by any means. I think I've said on here before that I don't think he ever truly wanted to be a father, but rather accommodated my mother by agreeing to adopt 2 children since she could not bear any of her own. He worked hard as a civilian fork-lift operator at the Air Force base we live close to, up at 5am Monday thru Friday for 10-12 hour days. He wasn't overly affectionate, and when he was angry he could be mean. I don't remember him ever playing games with us, or helping us with our homework, or reading us a book. That's what Mom did when her health permitted. I'm sure he was overly-strict, especially with my older brother. Their relationship was never good, and when my brother left for college he didn't look back. Rejection, plain and simple. He seemed to want to forget where he came from. To the day he died, my father was so proud of my brother, of the fact that he followed our grandfather's example and became a minister, of his first two grandchildren that he rarely got to see. Both of my parents understood that he had his own life to lead and family to take care of, so they gave him his space to do so and didn't interfere, never complained that they rarel got a visit or even so much as a phone call from their oldest child.

No, he was not the ideal father, but I can't say he had much of an example to learn from. My father was the son of Presbyterian missionaries. He was born in Toledo, OH in 1920. He lived with my grandparents in the French Cameroons in west-central Africa until he was old enough to go to school, then was sent back to the U.S. to either attend boarding school, or live with a family willing to board a missionary's child and attend whatever school the family was in the district of. He moved almost yearly, and didn't graduate from high school until he was 22. The visits to him and his two older brothers from their parents were few and far between until they retired from mission work in the early 1960's and settled in Florida.

My father and I became very close after my mother died. I was amazed, because my relationship with him had never been wonderful... not as bad as his relationship with my brother, but we had our share of knock-down, drag-out fights. He opened up about things that I don't think he'd talked about in 30 years. He told me about his experiences in WWII. He told me about his first wife and that it was she that left him for another man, which I'd never known before. He was a special person and I miss him very, very much (some of you reading this may be gasping with shock, but it's true!).

No one's childhood is perfect. Some are far worse than others, yes, but ours was not that bad when you get right down to it. We didn't have excess, but we never lacked for anything. My mother was manic-depressive, for God's sake. Pile that on top of two kids, and it's amazing that my dad stayed the course. I realized as a young adult that they did the best they could, and that's all that should matter. I wish my brother could see that... I've tried to make him see that... but I don't think he ever will. And that's a shame.

I'm quite certain they're going to take away my blogging privileges soon. I've just blinked my eyes and the month of April is almost gone. It's almost as if I can hear time whooshing past me. Work, eat, sleep... work, eat sleep... work, eat, sleep... you get the idea. Nothing new here. It all feels very tedious.

4 weeks into it and I'm already wishing I hadn't taken this new job. The new supe still has not found a desk for me in the new department. The guy I replaced is still sitting in his 'old' desk, as he still works for the Casa de Insurance but now reports directly to our corporate office instead of to anyone locally. Another desk/space/whatever you want to call the blue-fabric lined cubicles we sit in was found for him, but he refuses to move to it because it's too small for him. A step down from what he has now. It is a smaller desk area, but 1) it's temporary until another area of the building is renovated and 2) stop whining, you big baby, the supervisor has told you have to move so I can have your seat, so move! My former supe has already filled my spot in his department, and will soon need the desk that I still occupy. I have a feeling I'll be pushing my belongings around in a Walmart shopping cart before the end of next week.

Perhaps this weekend I'll be inspired with some witty prose to post on here...

Toto, I don't think we're in Ohio anymore...

An important anniversary slipped quietly by me this past Monday. I can't believe I didn't think about it until several days later. If you're curious, or just don't have anything better to do some afternoon, Google '1974 Xenia tornado'.

April 3, 1974... during a 24 hour period, 148 tornados hit the South and Midwest. The Super Outbreak. As far as I know, it's still the worst outbreak in history. The theory is that several smaller tornados came together to form the monster F5, one of six F5 tornados that day, that hit Xenia, OH. That's a picture of it up there, as it was coming into town. It was on the ground for over 9 minutes, and the path it cut through the town was almost a mile wide. It killed 33 people and destroyed over 1300 homes & buildings. The city was declared a national disaster area, and the National Guard was called in. It took nearly 3 months to haul all of the rubble and debris out of the city.

But hey, Richard Nixon came to visit.

I grew up in Xenia. Lived there until I got married at 27 and moved to where I live now, about 20 minutes or so away. I was 4 when the tornado hit. It's sounds very cliche, but I do remember it quite vividly. I was in pre-school with about 100 other kids at the Nazarene church. I'd gone out to the drinking fountain and was going back to my classroom when the fire alarm in the church went off. Being the polite child that I was, I tried to push past the teacher so I could get into the room and get at the back of the line, but she grabbed me and shoved me in front, then started marching us down the hall. We huddled there for what seemed like forever. The electricity went out pretty quickly, but what I remember most is the noise. It was just incredible, this deafening roar of wind. I can still hear it in my mind.

Then it was over. No one in the church was hurt, although as I was looking back over news stories of the day, I read for the first time that a man who'd helped the teachers get the kids to the basement was killed near the church as he was trying to get back to his home. We sang songs, and the teachers gave us Cheez-its and cold tomato soup for supper. The memory of it gets fuzzy at that point. The church above us was destroyed. I'm sure there was considerable debris removal that had to be done before they could get us out of the basement. Pardon me for waxing religious for a moment, but it truly was a miracle that none of us were hurt.

I was one of the last kids to have someone come for them. My dad had tried to drive through town to get me, but the roads were blocked so he had to take the car home, then walk from our house to the church, about a mile I think. It was still raining. Somebody gave him a scarf to put around my head, and he carried me home. I remember looking back over his shoulder at the church, or, I should say, the enormous pile of bricks and boards that used to be the church. When I think about it now, the first thing that comes to mind is that I can't imagine what my dad must have felt when he first saw where the building I was supposed to be in used to be standing. My mom was fine, sitting at home with a friend that had been visiting that afternoon. My brother was fine. Our house sustained very little damage - we were at the very edge of the path the tornado cut through town. Some shingles blew off, and a tree in our yard was uprooted. My mom had refused to go down into our storm cellar, which as it turned out was a smart move. The storm cellar was tiny, maybe big enough for 3-4 average size adults to stand shoulder to shoulder but not bigger. The top of the tree in our backyard that fell landed directly on the storm cellar door. Had they been down there, there's no telling how long it would've taken someone to find them, and I can't imagine they would've made it very long, considering how small the space was.

Maybe it's silly after all this time... strong winds and bad storms still give me an anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I always breath a little easier when the month of April is over. K thinks I'm silly, but everytime there's a tornado warning in our area, I remind him what the plan is if one is spotted and we need to take cover (he grabs the boy, I grab blankets and pillows, and we jump into the tub in the bathroom that's in the middle of our house, him on one end, me on the other and the boy in between). At the same time, though, movies like Twister and programs about storm chasers just fascinate me.

In 1990, another tornado swept through Xenia. Not nearly as big, but it still left its mark. I wasn't in town that night (although I was supposed to have been), but it brought all those old feelings back. It's almost like my hometown has some kind of curse on it.

Friday Grab Bag

On February 7, 1964, the day The Beatles arrived at New York's Kennedy Airport, Baskin-Robbins introduced a new flavor of ice cream called Beatle Nut to commemorate their first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show. The flavor consisted of pistachio ice cream with chocolate ribbons and walnuts.


Martial arts legend Bruce Lee, who starred in as Kato in the Green Hornet series and then in his own martial arts classics like Enter the Dragon was a cha-cha instructor in Hong Kong, and in 1958 at the age of 18 won the Hong Kong cha-cha championship.


The skull of 18th-century Austrian musical genius Joseph Haydn was stolen from his coffin a few days after his burial in 1809. The thief, a student of phrenology, passed it on to his friends. Eventually, the skull found its way to the Anatomical Museum in Vienna, where it remains today.

My suspicions have been confirmed. I work with 4 year olds. Since it was announced that I'd be moving to another department, the co-workers in my current department have increasingly been giving me the cold shoulder. Big babies. BUT if they have a question about something (normally because they didn't pay attention when I trained them on certain things), why they're just as sweet as honey when they interrupt me at my desk.

I think I've mentioned this before, but just in case... because my former (thank God!) supervisor is such a putz, I'm working 1/2 days for him and 1/2 days in my new department until the end of the month. This, of course, makes me feel un-productive in both departments, which drives me crazy.

I have fantasies of flipping them the double-bird and telling them all to fuck off when I'm finally able to pack up my desk and move.

Instead, I'm hoping to inflict some guilt by baking up a big basketful of cookies and taking them in on the day I move desks, to thank them for being such a good department to work with.

Well crap on a cracker. I've spent about $150 at the iTunes website today. But I got some good stuff... and it made me happy, if only for a little while (there's truly something to be said for retail therapy). I just hope K doesn't peruse the credit card bill too thoroughly next month.

So what's on my iPod now, you ask??

Some additional Sarah McLachlan, some older things of hers that I hadn't purchased yet.

Dido, who I'd never listened to before, until a lady I work with turned me onto her last week.

And I heard a very interesting story on NPR the other day about the South by Southwest annual music festival in Texas, so I found some of the artists featured in the story and bought some of their stuff.

And I made a big pot of chili today.

What a productive Sunday afternoon!

Holy neds, what a blogging dry spell. Where does time go? I just don't understand it. I constantly feel like I accomplish nothing, yet never seem to have enough time to get things done. Work, eat, sleep... work, eat, sleep... work, eat, sleep... you get the idea. Maybe I've avoided getting on here because I don't feel like I have anything good to say right now.

My mental state is iffy at best. I'm exhausted. I didn't think it was possible to be this tired. Getting to sleep is never a problem. The problem is staying asleep. I normally wake up, for no apparent reason, 2-3 times each night. I never reach that deep REM sleep that you need to feel really rested. This has been going on for months. Well, years really. 2 years to be exact. Since the boy was born. And it's amazing how much the lack of sleep can affect. Aside from feeling exhausted constantly, not getting the proper amount of sleep can affect blood sugar readings, and can affect efforts to lose weight. Yes, the two biggest things on my list of what needs to be taken care of right now. I saw the doctor week before last, and broke down and finally let him prescribe something to help with the sleep problem (although it has yet to really start working, but we'll see). I hate that. I hate having one more pill to take everyday.

I kind of started my new position as Case de Insurance this past Thursday (because Thursday was the beginning of a new pay cycle). Because my now-previous supervisor is an idiot and a pain in the ass, he worked out a deal with the new supervisor for me to work 1/2 days for him and 1/2 days for her until the end of the month, then I'll move to my new department full-time. I feel completely unproductive at work, which is very annoying.

And I'm irritated at home. K has been off work since February 3rd. He starts school (finally) on March 27. That's what, about 6 weeks off from work? And he had tons of time off from October to December of last year. He's had more time off in the last 4 months than I've had in the last 3 years. And has he really been doing anything around the house? Guess what the answer is to that question. Well I take that back. He does the laundry. Sometimes. Cleaning? No. Cooking? God forbid. He takes the boy to the park on days it's warm enough, and other days sits at the computer while the boy is watching either the Disney Channel or 'Elmo in Grouchland'. I'm sure the boy's brain is starting to atrophy. He'll end up going to vocational school for auto mechanics and living at home until he's 37. And, of course, K will not be working for the next 2 years while he's in school. He's very happy about that because it will give him so much time to spend with the boy. You know... I'd really like to have 2 years off to spend with my son, but that just ain't gonna happen anytime soon.

Hope you all are doing okay. I promise I'll have more positive things to say next time.

I've been remiss in my blogging duties, and I apologize for that.

I don't sleep very well at night. Getting to sleep is no problem, but something inevitably wakes me up - my husband snoring, the cat jumping on the bed - and after that I just toss and turn until the alarm goes off. I walk around with a permanent feeling of exhaustion. My father-in-law even commented not too long ago that I looked like I was in a daze. Gotta love those in-laws, between this from the father-in-law and my mother-in-law pointing out the dark circles around my eyes. They always know what to say to make me feel special.

The big news is that I'VE GOT A NEW JOB!!! Well, a new position, really. No, I'm not leaving the Casa de Insurance, just moving to another department. I'll be making a rather slow transition over the next 4 weeks to this new position. My current supervisor bargained for this so that I could train my replacement, which is fine. He was surprisingly good to me when it came to my year-end review for 2005 and my bonus for last year, so I'll throw him a bone before I go. Thankfully, the review and bonus were approved and signed before this job offer came about, otherwise I'm sure they would've been much different. That's the kind of person he is. And yes, this will mean saying goodbye to the woman that sits in the cubicle behind me. I'm sure I'll do some kind of farewell post, probably around the beginning of April. But don't despair. There are plenty of interesting folks in the department I'm moving to.

The Charles Schultz philosophy

I received this email as a FW: FW: FW: today.  Since Snoopy is the unofficial spokesperson for the insurance company I work for ( Hmmmm... did I give too much away?  Although let me make an important distinction by saying that I do not actually sell  the insurance.  I don’t think I could ever do that job!), the subject line piqued my interest.  Call me naïve.  Call me sappy.  This really made me stop and think when I read it.  I spend so much time focusing on what I think is wrong with my life, lamenting what I think I’ve been cheated out of because things haven’t gone according to the little ‘plan’ I made for myself when I was younger.  It’s so easy to get caught up in all of that self-pity and let it take over, pushing out the really good things.  I thought it was worth passing on.


Charles  Schultz  Philosophy

The  following is the philosophy of Charles Schultz, the creator of the  "Peanuts" comic strip. You don't have to actually answer  the  questions.  Just read the e-mail straight through, and you'll get the  point.
  
1. Name the  five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the  last five Heisman trophy winners.  
3. Name the  last five winners of the Miss America.  
4. Name ten  people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.  
5. Name the  last half dozen Academy Award winner for best actor and  actress.  
6. Name the  last decade's worth of World Series winners.



  
How  did you do?

  
The point  is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday. These are no  second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields. But the applause  dies. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten. Accolades and  certificates are buried with their owners.


Here's  another quiz. See how you do on this one:

1. List a  few teachers who aided your journey through  school.  
2. Name  three friends who have helped you through a difficult  time.  
3. Name five  people who have taught you something worthwhile.  
4. Think of  a few people who have made you feel appreciated and  special.  
5. Think of  five people you enjoy spending  time  with.

Easier?
  
The lesson:  The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the  most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones  that care.
  
"Don't worry  about the world coming to an end today. It's already tomorrow in  Australia." (Charles Schultz)

So, I'm cruising around on Ebay the other night. I'm always amazed at what you can find on there.

And I run across this tie, pictured to the left. Nice looking necktie. 100% silk, according to the description. Put out by the Pfizer pharmaceutical company. Guess what? The little light blue ovals inside each square created by the wavy dark blue lines are..................

Viagra tablets!

The picture doesn't zoom in close enough to show whether or not the name Viagra is actually 'inscribed' on the tablets. I'm guessing it probably isn't. Which would mean that unless 1) you were familiar with what Viagra looked like and 2) you knew it was made by Pfizer (the label on the back of the tie does show the Pfizer logo) and 3) were smart enough to put 2 and 2 together, you probably wouldn't know what the little light blue ovals were.

Which is why I would LOVE to get this tie for several men I know... my brother, my father-in-law, and my brother-in-law. My brother is a minister, and has many occasions to wear neckties. My father-in-law is retired, and my brother-in-law is between jobs, so neither of them would really have much of a use for it.

But I sure would get a chuckle out of seeing any or all 3 of them wearing one of these. Is that wrong?

It's been 8 years today since my mom passed away. At the time, a woman I worked with was telling me that her dad had passed away 5 or 6 years before, she couldn't remember exactly when. That astounded me, because I thought this is a day, an anniversary I'll never forget. But I guess everyone's different. I found this photo strip in a box of things from my dad's house. It's from the Christmas of 1974. I was 5 years old. I think we went to Florida that year to see my grandparents over Christmas break.

I've heaped quite a bit of guilt and regret on myself concerning her death. I should've gone to see her more once I'd moved away from home. I should've been more insistent that she see a different doctor. I shouldn't have moved in with K before we got married. I could go on and on. It's taken a long time, but I think I've finally let most of that go.

Now, when I cry over it (which is still often, especially now that my dad is gone, too, and usually in my car when I'm alone), I miss her. I wish I'd appreciated her more while she was still here. She had her faults, no doubt about that, but she did the best she could. I wish I could take back the horrible things I said over the years, in the heat of arguments (Such as 'You're not my real mother, so you can't tell me what to do!' I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for that one.). I wish she'd been around to see my son born, to have lived close enough to one of her grandchildren to see them regularly and be the kind of grandmother she dreamed of being.

I hope there is a heaven. And I hope I've done enough good things to get there one day. And when I get there, I hope I get to see her again, so I can tell her all these things I didn't take the time to say while she was still with me.

Martha Louise (Schneider) Love

August 16, 1934 - February 28, 1998

Monday

For the 4th time this morning, I am listening to the saga of the woman that sits in the cubicle behind me’s furnace going out this weekend.

I have my the volume of my headphones up so loud, to drown her out, that I think I’m risking serious eardrum damage. And I can still hear her.


OH





MY




GOD………………

Ah yes....................

For Christmas, the woman that sits in the cubicle behind me received a Barnes & Noble gift card from the woman that sit behind her, and I bet you'll never guess what she bought with it!

Yesterday, after the weekly Friday morning discussion of Thursday night's episode of Survivor, we got a chapter by chapter run down of this fine work. Apparently, is it absolutely riveting and if you only read one book in 2006, this should be it. Run out to your favorite bookstore now before all their copies are gone.

A quick note...

How very frustrated I feel at not being able to sit and write longer. I have several topics in my head that I'd like to expound on, but fixing dinner for my 2 yr old and 38 yr old children beckons.

Stay tuned...

Casa de Insurance Energy Conservation

We received this email yesterday afternoon from our building manager…



Good Afternoon Everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Per the directive from XXXXXXX and XXXXXXX & XXXXXXXXX, the facility will begin an energy conservation program. A few weeks ago I sent an email to all regarding the limited lighting at the facility on the weekends. This week we have begun to eliminate one bulb in each light fixture, these are only in the fixtures that have three light bulbs in them. This will completed throughout the entire facility. It may take a bit to get used to, but the initiative is being taken throughout the entire portfolio. The end result will be extremely large amounts of energy and money conserved. Please feel free to contact me should you have any questions or concerns. I am hoping we can make this as positive as possible considering............

Thanks in advance for your tremendous cooperation !

Getting to know you...

This meme is the invention of the oh-so creative Pax... open to anyone who cares to answer the questions! As he suggest - if you answer them on your blog, leave a comment so I can check out your answers!


1: Black and White or Color; how do you prefer your movies? Depends on the movie. Some things are meant for b & w, like 'Good Night and Good Luck', or 'On the Waterfront', but I can't imagine lighthearted fare such as 'Pillow Talk' in b & w

2: What is the one single subject that bores you to near-death? My husband and his dad talking about playing cards

3: MP3’s, CD’s, Tapes or Records: what is your favorite medium for prerecorded music? CD's right now, although my iPod is a very close 2nd.

4: You are handed one first class trip plane ticket to anywhere in the world and ten million dollars cash. All of this is yours provided that you leave and not tell anyone where you are going … ever. This includes family, friends, everyone. Would you take the money and ticket and run? No

5: Seriously, what do you consider the world’s most pressing issue now? The direction the US is headed in

6: How would you rectify the world’s most pressing issue? Electing a democrat in 2008

7: You are given the chance to go back and change one thing in your life; what would that be? Getting my teaching degree, instead of just a BA in music

8: You are given the chance to go back and change one event in world history, what would that be? The bombing of the World Trade Center

9: A night at the opera, or a night at the Grand Ole’ Opry – Which do you choose? Opera - love it, love it, love it!

10: What is the one great unsolved crime of all time you’d like to solve? The Lindbergh kidnapping.

11: One famous author can come to dinner with you. Who would that be, and what would you serve for the meal? Chaim Potok... and I make a mean lasagna

12: You discover that John Lennon was right, that there is no hell below us, and above us there is only sky: what’s the first immoral thing you might do to celebrate this fact? Wow... there are so many things to choose from. It's almost impossible to pick just one.

Tuesday

Did I stay home from work again Tuesday?

Yes, yes I did.

Do I feel bad about it?

Not at all.

I will be the first to stand up and admit that I have a very bad attitude about my job right now, for reasons that extend beyond the woman who sits in the cubicle behind me. First, my boss is a fucking moron. Stupid and worthless is he. He has no business being a supervisor. We (the unit I work in) think the company is just shuffling him around until they find an acceptable reason to fire him. He's come close several times to be charged with sexual harrassment, and is known to have tried on at least one business trip to get the female co-worker traveling with him into bed. He has barely a vague clue as to what our department does. He's a schmoozer. When K met him, he told me later that Dave reminded him of a used car salesman. The sound of his voice sends chills up my spine in the same manner as fingernails on a chalkboard. My desk is about 10 feet diagnally outside his office, which apparently makes me his de facto assistant. There are times that he, rather than picking up the phone or walking the 10 feet to my desk, just shouts out my name if he needs to ask me something. I ignore him when he does this.

Second, the job I do seems very insignificant right now. I work for an insurance company. I rate and process policies that our computer system won't support. I push papers from one side of my desk to the other. It's very unsatisfying, but it's my lot in life right now. Somedays, though, it's just too much to deal with.

I really need a vacation.

Shhhhhhhhhhhh..... I'm playing hooky from work today. I just couldn't face it and decided about 6:30 this morning to take a mental health day. I can justify it by saying that this way, K had the chance to go to school and register for the evening classes he needs (today is the first day of registration) without having to worry about making arrangements for someone to be with W.T. Sure, the in-laws probably would've taken him, but we (read I) don't want to wear out our welcome with them. My f-i-l made the comment while I was pregnant that he didn't retire to become free baby-sitting for grandkids, and that has stuck with me (as things like that do).

It's weak, but it's all I've got.

Blah, blah, blah...

Well, I’ve survived the weekly Friday morning re-cap of Thursday night’s episode of Survivor. I’ll admit it… I do watch it occasionally, and I’m in the office pool. But who can pass up the chance to win $200 for just a $10 investment? I’ve endured a 30 minute discourse from, you guessed it!, the woman that sits in the cubicle behind me as she extolled the virtues of Neal Boortz and his ‘Church of the Painful Truth’ to the woman that sits across from her – one of her conservative AM radio converts. My putz that I work for supervisor is working from home today (hallelujah), and has finally put away his lap top because the barrage of emails from him has stopped.

Is it time to go home yet?

Everything seems to take so much effort right now.

Our darling boy’s monster side is showing itself more and more. Partly the terrible two’s, yes, but mostly (I think) from lack of sleep, since he won’t take a nap most days and averages probably 10-11 hours a night (where everything I’ve heard and read says they should get 12-15 hours per day, including a nap). My mother-in-law was even nice enough to point out the dark circles under his eyes one day, wondering if maybe he was coming down with something, and then wondering if maybe dark circles under the eyes were something hereditary, because she’d often noticed the dark circles under my eyes, too.

That made me feel warm and fuzzy.

K is wading through the red tape and bureaucratic crap-ola of getting his unemployment started, and trying to get approval for school through this TAA program that will pay for his tuition and books. Hurry up and wait… they told him at his appointment this past Wednesday that on March 1 he’ll sit down with the person that will be his contact at the unemployment/Job Center office. But we still don’t know if this will be the person that will approve his school program. Registration for the Spring quarter starts Monday. He’s going to register despite not knowing if he’s approved, to make sure he gets the classes he needs at the times he needs them (which means he’ll be at school 3-4 evenings each week, from 4pm until 8 or 9…). Apparently, as they get further into the medical assistant classes, they have to start wearing uniforms to school (to get used to them?). I think he’ll look cute in the scrubs…

And a bad winter storm is supposedly heading our way, so darn-it-all I may not be able to come in on Saturday morning to work overtime after all.

That would be a shame.

For the love of all things good and pure..... I'm speechless. And I think I need to move to a different state...

"Woman died of heart disease 2 1/2 years ago"

This just sums it up so beautifully today.... I wonder if my prescription plan would cover this?

It's February in Ohio...

… and February in Ohio means the return of the Friday night all-you-can-eat fish fries at the area Catholic churches. Note to my Catholic friends before moving on – this is in no way an insult to the Catholic church. Just wanted to make sure we were clear on that. These events are unbelievably popular in the sprawling metropolis of Dayton, OH among Catholics and non-Catholics alike. For usually $10 in advance, or $12 at the door, you can sit for 3-4 hours on a Friday evening and eat all the fish, fries and cole slaw you can handle. Not a bad deal. They also have games and silent auctions of items donated by people in the parish. We used to all go - the in-laws, brother & sister-in-law, K and I. We'd make a Friday evening out of it. One Friday night a few years ago, my sister-in-law went ga-ga bidding in one of the silent auctions... and that night she and my brother-in-law went home with a lovely red kayak for the reasonable price of $250. Do they kayak?

No.

I haven't been to a fish fry since. But K still goes to 2 or 3 each year with his dad and brother.

Now… have I ever mentioned how frugal my father-in-law is? (You had to see this coming… you must know by now that I will take each and every opportunity I can find to blog about the oddness that is my in-laws.) How can I put this nicely? The man knows how to pinch a penny. If pinching a penny would turn it into diamonds, my father-in-law would be the man to see. He rarely buys anything that isn’t on sale, and every time I see him, I get to hear about his latest shopping victory. When we went to his place for Christmas, there were 12-packs of diet Sierra Mist stacked in two rows in his garage – no joke – about 8 feet high. That’s a lot of Sierra Mist. But, what a deal! The store had them on sale 4-12 packs for $10, but you could also pick up a coupon for a $5 mail-in rebate, which meant you were getting them at 4-12 packs for $5, which meant you were getting them for $1.25/12-pack. We regularly get rebate checks, coupons, or gift cards in the mail, because he’s used our address to get an additional discount/rebate/coupon/gift card in some kind of promotion that is restricted to one offer per household. I’ve told him there’s a 10% handling fee for this, but he has yet to pay up.


And he loves fish.


So put 2 and 2 together here…


You’ve got it.


What’s the saying? In Spring, young men’s fancies turn to thoughts of love? February in Ohio turns my father-in-law’s fancies to thoughts of the fish fries. It's like an obsession.

He has a no-fail system to get the most value possible out of your fish fry experience:

Don’t eat anything the day of the fish fry.

Buy your ticket in advance, so that when you get there you don’t have to waste valuable time in the ticket line before getting into the fish line.

When you get to the fish, take two plates. If necessary, tell them one is for your wife/mother/uncle/whoever that’s already sitting down.

Fill your two plates only with fish. Don’t fill up on the unnecessary side-items such as French fries, cole slaw or baked beans.

If possible, get a beer from the beer table without giving one of your beer tickets to the person working the table. This way, you can get more beer without having to pay for additional beer tickets.

Bring and empty bread bag with you, but leave it in your jacket pocket (I swear on the graves of my parents, I am NOT kidding on this. I wish I were.). This bread bag will be used throughout the evening to sneak pieces of fish into, to be taken home and eaten the next day.

Does this leave you speechless? Staring at your computer screen thinking 'These people are absolutely nuts'?

Me, too...

This entire day has just had a strange feeling to it. Today's was K's last day at the vile manufacturing plant. As of 3pm this afternoon, they've shut their doors and locked the gates. This is a good thing in many ways, but it is bittersweet. He's been there over 9 years. And it's always more comfortable to leave a job because you're moving on to something better, not because they're going out of business. He is now officially a full-time dad. He's excited about that, and has enthusiastically volunteered to handle the potty training of our little darling. Who am I to argue? Wednesday he meets with a counselor for the Trade Adjustment Assistance program, which will pay for him to go to school full-time for up to 2 years, and collect unemployment at the same time. He's settling for a medical assistant's program at the local community college, which will eventually (hopefully) lead him to some sort of position in medical records management (long story short, the health records management program at the local cc has a 2 year waiting list, and he can't wait that long). He'd wanted to go into their environmental technology program, but apparently the T.A.A. counselor didn't think there was enough of a demand in this area for that degree.

These next 2 years are going to be stressful, to say the least. But we're used to that. I could give you quite a list of things we've been through since we met, but no one wants to hear me whine about our troubles. And it takes too much energy.

I ran across this today while cruising the net on my lunchbreak. I couldn't pass it up, and I hope no one finds it offensive.

And, or course, I have to comment...

1) It's stories like this that make me proud to be an Ohioan.

2) If you put something in your yo-hoo that isn't meant to be there, you deserve what you get.

3) Perhaps this will teach her a valuable lesson, and the next time she tries to pull something like this, she'll make sure the safety is on.

Are you my mother?

Adoption has been on my mind quite a bit lately. This happens now and again, the unsettled feeling rearing its ugly head. My parents adopted me when I was just 2 months old. My older brother is also adopted, although we're not biologically related. I've always known. It was never kept secret from us. For the most part, it's never been a big deal. There have been instances... in 5th grade, for example, when I told my teacher that I couldn't complete the family tree project we'd been assigned because I was adopted and didn't really know who my ancestors were. Or at my grandfather's funeral when I was about 11 or 12, overhearing my great-grandmother tell my mother that I couldn't be in the picture showing 3 generations of women in the family because I wasn't a blood relative (A lesson to be learned: kids really do retain these things. This happened 25 years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday.). God love my mom - she shot right back to my great-grandmother that if I couldn't be in the picture, she wouldn't be in it either.

But every now and again, I get the itch to start searching.

When I was about 13 or so, my mother took me to the agency that had helped her and my father with my adoption. The caseworker we spoke to was unbelievably rude, telling me I should be grateful for the parents I had and asking how I would feel if a mistake from my past came knocking on my door? A mistake that my family - husband, children - probably didn't know about. Wow. I left in tears.

I went back in my early twenties, when I learned it was my right to get non-identifying information from the agency. Thankfully, this caseworker was much more helpful. I found out that my birth-mother was 16 when she had me. That certainly answers the question of why she placed me for adoption - teenage motherhood wasn't as socially acceptable as it seems to be today - so I never really developed the feelings of rejection that a lot of adoptees do. I found out what her parents did, that they were in the middle of a divorce that year. I did some digging at the library, and went back to the caseworker. She couldn't outright give me information that would identify my birth-mother, but if I guessed, for lack of a better word, she could confirm or deny. So after the second visit I knew that her name is Barbie Pearson. She was born April 25, 1953. She was 15 when she got pregnant, 16 when I was born. She's the 2nd oldest of 5 children, was living with her mother at the time I was born because her parents had just gotten divorced.

I tried to find out more, but didn't get very far. Then I stopped because I realized it was upsetting my mother very much - she ended up with the feelings of rejection. I couldn't bear the thought of something I was doing hurting her that much. So I closed that door in my head and didn't think about it again until after my mother passed away.

Then the itch came again. I did more digging, and found someone that I thought was one of her brothers. Using the advice I'd gotten from other adoptees I'd talked to this about, I wrote him a very innocent letter - "I knew your sister when we lived near each other in Dayton, back in the late 60's, but we've lost touch with each other. I know her birthday's coming up. If you're who I think you are, could you pass this card along to her. If not, sorry to bother you." The note in the card to her read pretty much the same way. That's the way they tell you to do it - ease into it, don't just blurt out that you're the more-than-likely illegitimate child they had way back in the day, and here you are. Hi Mom, what's been shakin' the last 36 years? I never got a response from that letter or card. I let it drop assuming that either 1) I had the wrong person or 2) I had the right person and she wanted nothing to do with me.

So here we are today.

I've never really wanted to meet her. I'm not sure what I'd say. And I can't imagine what kind of relationship, if any, might develop. I've always wanted to see a picture more than anything else. Just to know if there's anyone out there that I resemble. I've done quite a bit of psycho-analyzing on this (big surprise)... I think this is in my mind so intensely because of both my parents being gone now. I've written before about these intense feelings of alone-ness (not to be confused with loneliness) that have been haunting me lately. I thought I had it pretty well pulled together... but since my dad passed away, I just don't know how I fit into the mix anymore. I'm not sure how searching for this stranger would assuage any of those feelings, especially since I don't plan any attempt to contact her even if I did track her down. And would searching for her with or without plans of making contact be an incredible invasion of her privacy? Good questions that I don't have an answer for. All I know right now is that it's like a burning itch underneath the skin that you can't get to.

6:45 am...
I never knew that children as young as my little one (2) could have nightmares. We started experiencing these about 3 months ago. Let me tell you... there are few things more terrifying than waking up at 2:30 in the morning to your child letting out blood-curdling screams. They don't happen often, maybe twice a month, but I don't think I'll ever get used to it. K was up with him last night, but our house is so small that it's impossible to go back to sleep until everything and everyone in the house is calm again. Last night's wasn't too bad - we've certainly had worse - the screaming/crying only lasted about 30 minutes (we've had it go on for more than an hour before), and he was back to sleep in another 45 minutes or so after that. At that point, I probably should've just stayed up, cruise the internet, watch some tv, get into work a little early. But I didn't. I made the mistake of trying to catch another hour and a half of sleep. Now, even after a large diet Coke from McD's on the way into work, and a cup of coffee at work, I can hardly keep my eyes open. This is going to be a long, long day.


Later that same day...................

The caffeine, thank heavens, finally kicked in about 11:30 and I've been cruising along ever since. Of course, while telling someone about our experiences last night, the lady that sits in the cubicle behind me had to pipe up with "What do you let him watch that would give him nightmares like that?????" Since the only channels we watch while he's awake, when we have the tv on, are the Disney channel and the Food Network, I was understandably offended by this remark. I quickly responded to her (sarcastically, of course) " Well Friday the 13th part 107 was on last night... you don't think that was okay for him to watch?" She gave me a puzzled 'deer in the headlights' look and went back to work. God help me... keep me safe from the idiots, for there sake, not mine. I know many of you have not met me personally, but do I come across as the kind of person that would knowingly let their child watch bad things? Maybe it's because I'm stunned so often by people's stupidity that I'm rendered speechless, and end up giving a look that says 'You're kidding me, right?' They must misinterpret this and think I have a low IQ.

But the work week is over, and the weekend is upon us, hip-hip-hooray. I've checked the new Patricia Cornwell out of the library (since I didn't receive it for Christmas... not that I'm holding a grudge about that...) and K has promised me a Saturday morning of solitude to do with what I please. I don't think I can convey in words how giddy I am about this. Hopefully your weekends will be just as good...

I seem to have accomplished what could only be called a miracle in our house these days. I'm home today with the little one. I'm also off Monday to be home with him (long story short - no other childcare, husband losing job in 1 1/2 weeks so not looking for daycare, in-laws in Florida otherwise they would probably have the boy), and that of course means I'm contemplating calling off tomorrow and making this a nice, long weekend. We'll see.

What miracle, you ask? I hope to heavens I don't jinx myself for saying this, but I've gotten the boy to go down for a nap. This is a rare occurence in our house. He used to take naps every day, and usually they were good 2-3 hour naps that meant Mommy or Daddy could really have a break. But for the last 2 months or so, he hasn't been inclined towards the afternoon siesta. I took my chances today to see what would happen... it's been an hour, and there's been barely a peep. I just don't think I can get across to you in words how exciting this is for me.

It feels as if it's been such a long week. The woman that sits in the cubicle behind me has finally purchased another car, although I'm waiting for disaster on that front because she bought the car of another woman that works with us. Past experience has taught me that transactions such as this usually turn out badly.

Production at the vile manufacturing plant where K will work for another 1 1/2 weeks has stopped. They're spending these last days breaking down the machinery and such. I think the finality of this is finally starting to hit him. We could have some rough days ahead.

I have spent my hour of solitude (slowly but sure stretching now to an hour and a 1/2) browsing the iTunes website. I'm hoping to soon add some new tunes to the iPod, possibly including but not limited to... Ryan Adams, Blink 182, Foo Fighters, Aretha Franklin, Ani DiFranco, Janis Joplin, Liz Phair... I could go on and on and on and on and on..............

Holy neds… the woman that sits in the cubicle behind me is luring others around us to listening to the local conservative talk radio station during the day… the line-up for this local station? Neal Boortz, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Clark Howard (actually he’s not too bad, not political but give financial information, etc – I’ve gotten some good financial advice from him), Michael Savage, and Coast to Coast in the wee am hours. We aren’t supposed to listen to internet radio streams on our systems, so they’ve all gone out and gotten small radios to sit on their desks for this. I feel as if I’m being surrounded by an angry mob, and I’m waiting for them to throw their net over me and try to pull me in. This is more than a little frightening…

Friday Grab Bag

From the news...

I, for one, will rest easier now...

am I the only one that remembers the episode of "CHiPs" that he was on? (and by the way, can we say mom's in denial???)

and here I've been worried about meteors

Senator McCarthy reincarnated?

What bothers me is not that he would sell it, but that someone would actually pay money for it




And some useless triva...

Clint Eastwood wrote the musical scores for his films The Bridges of Madison County, Mystic River, Absolute Power, and Million Dollar Baby

On average, 9,000 earthquakes take place worldwide every day

Bulls are color-blind

Wild rice is the official grain of the state of Minnesota

Dolphins sleep with one eye open

Tug of War was an olympic sport until 1920

Friday again. The days and weeks and months just seem to meld together. Quite often I find myself having to stop and think for a few seconds to remember what day it is. Or I'm searching for my car keys when I've already been outside and started the car to warm up and defrost before I leave for work. Friends with children call it 'Mommy brain'. I don't like it. I've never been (I don't think, others may disagree) a scatter-brained type of person... and I don't want to be now, although I don't seem to have any control over it.

I've been passed over for the 2 positions in other departments that I applied and interviewed for at the house of insurance. Both times I made it to the final round of interviews, and both times it was the same song and dance when I got the bad news... "You have all of the qualifications we're looking for, you're a strong candidate, it was a hard decision, if we had 2 positions open you'd definitely get one of them" blah, blah, blah. How irritating. Don't try to placate me. Just rip the bandage off and give me the bad news, and we can both be on our way. So I'm stuck with the Sultan of Stupid (my new nickname for the boss-man) for the forseeable future. God help me. The woman that sits in the cubicle behind me has been looking for a new car this week, because the transmission on her car went out. Is the world coming to an end? If you ask her, she'd say yes...

K has just 2 weeks of work left before the vile manufacturing plant shuts down. He's excited... about not having to work at the job any longer (can't blame him for that), about going back to school, all of it. He'll get unemployment while he's in school, but it will be tight financially. I try not to think about it because it makes me nauseous. I'm all for selling the house and moving into an apartment until he's through school and into another job, but he won't go for it.

That's all for now... I promise more interesting and exciting things later, on topics that may include but are not limited to............ adoption.............. the movie 'Sideways' ................ the book The Kid by Dan Savage ............. and possibly some useless trivia................

Just surfing the net today...

... and ran across a few things I might like to have...

for my desk at work, since my job makes me feel like I'm in hell

to soothe the savage beast in me that's been rearing its ugly head lately

diamonds are a girl's best friend, after all

it's always important to smell good (this stuff is incredible, if you ask me...)

and important to have something good to read...

and something good to eat...

10 songs I like to listen to while on the treadmill (in no particular order)

I enjoy listening to all different kinds of music. I know everyone says that, but for me it's really true. On my iPod you will find everything from Sting, to La Boehme, to Dave Matthews (of course!), to Nina Simone, to Missy Elliot, to Bruce Springsteen, to Yo Yo Ma, to the Fired Up! 2 dance mix cd's I ordered from a television add (is that sad?). My workout music needs to be kicky. It needs to have a beat that inspires me to move and sweat. So for anyone who might be interested, these are the songs I find myself listening to most often when I actually get a chance to hop on the treadmill and go for a walk:

1) It's Raining Men (The Weather Girls)
2) Turn the Beat Around (Gloria Estefan)
3) Bbizarre Love Triangle (New Order)
4) Woman Trouble (Artful Dodger)
(3 & 4 - love, love, love the British music...)
5) I Will Survive (possibly the best song of the disco era) (Gloria Gayner )
6) Heatwave (Martha and the Vandellas)
7) Like a Prayer (you always have to have some Madonna) (Madonna)
8) Groove is in the Heart (Dee-Lite)
9) Miss Independent (Hani Radio Edit) (Kelly Clarkson)
(never thought I'd have a Kelly Clarkson song on any list I made, but there you have it)
10) I Like it (Like That) (radio edit) (The Blackout Allstars)

And an extra for good measure..........................

11) Got to be Real (Cheryl Lynn)

Alright, damnit. Let's try this one more time, so at least I can have something new up this week. It's not entirely my fault. We had computer issues at the homestead for 4 or 5 days because the new satellite hook-up (my father-in-law's idea) was interfering with the internet connection. I've started 6 or 7 different posts this week, deleted most of them, have one left sitting as a draft. Why can't I seem to finish anything this week? As I said in a comment on another blog, I've spent most of my time at work this week on the internet (as I am now!) trying to at least look busy so my micro-managing supervisor doesn't catch on. Oh my God. Serenity now, serenity now, serenity now...

I've had all I can take of those around me here in insurance-land (the woman in the cubicle behind me is singing as we speak, and it's only 6:45 in the morning). In about an hour I've got my final interview for a position in another department that would bring more $$, better hours, and the possibility of working from home from time to time. Wish me luck.

I've also started my first book of the new year, the year that Ruth starts to read again! Dan Savage is a regular contributor on This American Life, a weekly program on NPR that I absolutely love. His book The Kid tells the story of how he and his boyfriend decided to have a baby, contemplated asking one of several female friends to carry a baby for them, and finally ended up adopting a little boy. It's open and honest, and giving me a perspective on this topic that, as a straight white girl, I'd never get otherwise. And it's hilarious. I'm only about 1/3 of the way through, but I'd highly recommend it to anyone. Next up on the list is Where I Was From by Joan Didion. No particular order to how I'm reading these - just at the mercy of the library and how quickly they can get them to me. I would love nothing more than to head to the local Barnes & Noble and purchase every book I've put on my reading list for this year, but unfortunately finances do not allow that.

So there you have it. At least I've posted something for this week; accomplished one thing, however small it might be.

To the woman that sits in the cubicle behind me...

If you're waiting for me to apologize for the words that were exchanged between us yesterday, don't hold your breath. In the interest of not losing my job, I've kept my mouth shut since then, though there are many things I still wish to say...

To begin... quite frankly, fuck you. There are much GREATER tragedies occurring in the world AS WE SPEAK than me not crossing my name off the birthday card routing sheet before I passed it on to you. That, when you pointed out my oversight to me and I jokingly said 'It's not like I don't have 500 other things on my mind', you came back at me with a list of your current life-problems and ended with 'Can you top that list?' offended me greatly. Can I top your list? Well let me try...

Your partner is sick right now? I have the joy of jamming a needle full of insulin into my stomach every evening, because my doctor and I can't figure out yet why we can't get my blood sugar under control. I'm trying to eat right, and exercising again, and still taking my handfuls of the oral drugs for controlling diabetes, but they're just not working for some reason.

Your truck broke down and you need $300 for a new starter? K and I dropped 10 TIMES THAT MUCH into his car last year, and now we've got a credit card bill that we're trying to get paid off before he LOSES HIS JOB a month from now.

Your mom is having knee replacement surgery next week? Be thankful that your parents are still alive and that you can be there to help them through these times, and that they're willing and able to loan you the $300 for your truck repair, because BOTH OF MY PARENTS ARE DEAD and I wouldn't even dream of asking my in-laws for a loan.

On top of all that, K is hacking through a forest of red tape right now, and having one door after another slammed in his face, to get the degree program of his choice approved by the TAA representative at the county Job Center office, so that he can go back to school instead of having to take another dead-end factory job.

Your life isn't falling apart more than anyone else's, and your problems are any more or less worse than anyone else's... they're just different. So get over it.

I stole this from Maidink, whose blog I found while visiting at the Rowhouse. Being a HUGE Dave Matthews fan, I ABSOLUTELY COULD NOT pass this up!!!

Here are the rules to this meme: Choose one of your favorite bands/artist and then answer all the questions using SONG TITLES from the BAND or ARTIST you chose. Sound simple? Right, thought so.

Band/Artist: Dave Matthews Band

1. Are you male or female? American Baby

2. Describe yourself: Butterfly

3. How do some people feel about you? What Are You?

4. How do you feel about yourself? What Will Become of Me?

5. Describe current relationship with BF/GF: Sweet Up and Down

6. Describe where you want to be: Angel

7. Describe how you live: Typical Situation

8. Describe how you love: Joyride

9. What would you ask for if you had just one wish? One Sweet World

10. Share a few words of wisdom: Get in Line

11. Now say goodbye: Ain't it Funny How Time Slips Away

And I've recently been directed to quite an AWESOME website WDMB ALL DAVE, ALL THE TIME!!!! Makes getting through the day at work a little easier!! Enjoy!

For those that might be keeping score...

I won't even talk about the taking care of myself thing... after all, Sunday was the holiday and Monday I was off work for the holiday since the office is closed on Sunday. And Tuesday was card night for the hubby, father-in-law and brother-in-law which meant there were snacks in the house (I tell you, those tins of butter cookies that come out at holiday time are the work of the devil!). Today has been better (so far) and I've been assured that I will be given as much time as I'd like to walk on the treadmill when I get home.

I've got quite a list of books and/or authors I want to read this year, which I will be posting shortly because I'm sure you're all on the edge of your seats wanting to know what I'll be spending my time with.

I'm still looking for fresh herbs to pot, and fear I may have to wait until Spring for those, BUT below is the first new recipe I plan to try. Giada De Laurentiis made this on 'Everyday Italian' on Monday - love that show but will never understand how someone can be that happy all the time. This is planned for dinner on Saturday. I'm still looking into some side dishes... I'm intrigued by the recipe for penne with spinach sauce that she made along with this.

Garlic and Citrus Chicken
1 (5 to 6-pound) whole roasting chicken, neck and giblets discarded
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 orange, quartered
1 lemon, quartered
1 head garlic, halved crosswise, plus 3 garlic cloves, chopped
2 (14-ounce) cans reduced-sodium chicken broth
1/4 cup frozen orange juice concentrate, thawed
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano leaves
Kitchen string or butcher twine

Position the rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 400 degrees F.
Pat the chicken dry and sprinkle the cavity with salt and pepper. Stuff the cavity with the orange, lemon, and garlic halves. Tie the chicken legs together with kitchen string to help hold its shape. Sprinkle the chicken with salt and pepper.
Place a rack in a large roasting pan. Place the chicken, breast side up, on the rack in the pan. Roast the chicken for 1 hour, basting occasionally and adding some chicken broth to the pan, if necessary, to prevent the pan drippings from burning. Whisk the orange juice, lemon juice, oil, oregano, and chopped garlic in a medium bowl to blend. Brush some of the juice mixture over the chicken, after it has baked 1 hour. Continue roasting the chicken until an instant-read meat thermometer inserted into the innermost part of the thigh registers 170 degrees F, basting occasionally with the juice mixture and adding broth to the pan, about 45 minutes longer. Transfer the chicken to a platter. Tent with foil while making the sauce (do not clean the pan).
Place the same roasting pan over medium-low heat. Whisk in any remaining broth and simmer until the sauce is reduced to 1 cup, stirring often, about 3 minutes. Strain into a 2-cup glass measuring cup and discard the solids. Spoon the fat from the top of the sauce. Serve the chicken with the pan sauce.