Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Where Are the Stalker Police When You Need Them??

A few weeks ago, I blogged about how The Co-Worker (TCW) has been acting like the Stalker Police, calling MM and tattling when I get hit on (though I'm still not convinced I was actually being hit on, but whatever). But I'm wondering, where was TCW when Cookie needed him??

A few months ago Cookie told me that she met her next door neighbor and he seemed to have a little crush on her. We kind of laughed about it at the time, but I guess he went a step further this weekend.

Cookie was having a girls night with her little sister and her cousin (her sister is 15 and her cousin is 14). They were watching movies and doing their nails and just being silly. So, about midnight, Cookie goes to take them home and when she opened the door, her neighbor was standing there. He asked if she wanted to hang out and watch a movie or something, and Cookie said she was busy with her sister and that she had to take them home. He was a bit insistant, but finally dropped it and left.

Cookie takes her sister and cousin home and gets back about an hour or so later, after she visited for a bit. She's not home more than five minutes when neighbor boy is knocking on the door. Cookie answers it and he says, "Can I fuck you?" Just like that. Cookie said her mouth fell open and she stared at him like he'd grown two heads. "NO!" She said. He then replied with, "Well, can I at least touch you then? I've been dreaming about it for months."

Cookie said she just stared at him, at a complete loss. She said, "I have a boyfriend, you know." He said, "I can take him." Cookie just rolled her eyes. So, on and on this goes, with Ol' Boy asking if he can touch her or sleep with her and Cookie getting more and more irritated by the minute. She finally yells at him, "NO! I don't want anything to do with you!"

So, she's telling me this story this morning and I'm getting kind of alarmed. I mean, for some strange man to be knocking on the door at 2:30 a.m. is not only strange, but creepy as well. What if he was a seriel killer? What if he was psycho or a rapist? Really, I was alarmed.

Then she finishes the story. Ol' Boy? The psycho neighbor, possible rapist/stalker/seriel killer? Yeah, he's 18 and a senior in high school. Cookie is 28. He's basically this little kid with a big crush. And some obviously very big cajones, to be talking to her like that!

She tells her man (the guy she's seeing, casually) about it and he goes off, screaming about how he's going to teach this guy some respect and how dare he try to man up to his woman and blah, blah, blah. So then Cookie reminds him that the kid is 18 and he's 35 and he says, "Oh, right. I don't want to go to jail for beating up a high school student." What a bunch of freaks.

But then, in true R. Kelly/Mrs. Robinson fashion, she's at Marshall's with her sister the next day and she sees this guy who's really, really fine. She's eyeing him and the cousin says, "Man, he's hot." Cookie totally agrees, thinking that she needs to go get his number. She says, "He sure is, don't you think so, Boo (that's what she calls her sister)?" To which Cookie's 15-year-old sister replies, "Duh. He goes to our school. He's a Sophmore." First she gets propositioned by a ballsy 18-year-old who won't take no for an answer, and then she starts lusting over a 15-year-old boy.

To make matters even worse, they're at Wal-Mart later the same day and she sees yet another hottie. She's eyeing him and he walks up to them, bold as you please, and Cookie is having this daydream about him asking for her number and them getting together and what not....and he asks Cookie's sister if she has the notes from their History class.

I think maybe it would be best if either a) TCW just followed her around from now on, no matter where she's at, or b) we keep her out of public places for awhile.

What do you think?

Monday, May 29, 2006

My Sweet, Wonderful Boyfriend

Back in December, I posted this blog, about sappy love songs that reminded me of MM. Not to be outdone, he's since been compiling a list of songs that remind him of me.

Now, I know that men aren't generally known for their more romantic natures, but I just have to say, I've found a keeper in this one. Which is made quite apparent by his choice in music for me.

I'm only listing two of the songs he says remind him of me, but I'm sure you'll get the idea from these two:

Devil's Daughter by Silvertide

Hell of an angel
Skin that shines like pearl
Eyes that make your soul bleed
Innocent and sweet
Your friends surely agree
Like candy she's a real treat
But sugar's far from calm
I don't mean to alarm
By the time you blink
The shit kicks in

I'm walkin' up the stairs
My heart's beating fast
Following her legs
To her thighs
To her yeah, yeah, yeah

I went to bed with an angel
At least that's what she said
But as she tore off her dress
Lord I must confess
I got the devil's daughter
I got the devil's daughter in my bed

Like a knife at my throat
I like the way that she gropes
Her curves make my blood swim my veins
Her pain comes in doses
Till you're one step closer
Then you're completely insane
Hung by a halo and stabbed by horns
Then she'll tell you they're both the same

I'm walkin' up the stairs
My heart's beating fast
Following her legs
To her thighs
To her yeah, yeah, yeah

I went to bed with an angel
At least that's what she said
But as she tore off her dress
Lord I must confess
I got the devil's daughter
I got the devil's daughter in my bed

Isn't he just sweet? *dreamy, sarcastic sigh*

And the second? None other than...(watch for naughty language in the following)

Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry

All right!

Break me down, you got a lovely face
We're going to your place
And now you got to freak me out
Scream so loud, getting fuckin' laid
You want me to stay, but I got to make my way

You're a crazy bitch
But you sex so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on

You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on

Take it ALL, the paper is your game
You jump in bed with fame
Another one night paid in full, uh
You're so fine, it won't be a loss
Cashing in the rocks, just to get you face to face

You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on

You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on

Get the video
Fuck you so good
Get the video
Fuck you so good

Crazy bitch
Crazy bitch

You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on

You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back, come on

Baby girl
You want it all
To be a star
You'll have to go down
Take it off
No need to talk
You're crazy
But I like the way you fuck me

You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on

You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on
You keep me right on

You're crazy
But I like the way you fuck me

I'm telling you, the man is just too precious for words. I have no idea how I managed to get so lucky, but I'm thanking the Good Lord for my good fortune, I assure you.

The punk.


P.S. The second song really is kind of catchy...I've been singing it non-stop for two days. If you're interested, you can download the songs here. Thanks Mailyn, I borrowed that site from you. ;-)

Sunday, May 28, 2006

The Rat Bastard is Back in True Form...

I got nervous there for a minute. But he's back, so we can all rest easy now.

I stopped being surprised at the Rat Bastard's actions ages ago, but sometimes he still manages to piss me off with them. Ok, ok, not SOMEtimes, but EVERYtime. *sigh*

I told you that he was acting very strange last week, right? As I mentioned, he came in to town over Mother's Day weekend and spent about 24 hours with the kids. He picked them up around 3:00 on Saturday and dropped them off about 2:30 on Sunday.

Oh, to backtrack for a minute: I know a lot of you were curious about what he decided to buy me for Mother's Day (or, have the kids buy me) and it wasn't anything expensive. But the gifts WERE thoughtful. The kids picked out a great card for me and then The Girl gave me some green bangle bracelts and Little Man gave me a green shell necklace. Very cute and very special, because I know they picked them out. I'm still a little surprised that the RB paid for them, but it makes more sense now because I know they weren't expensive. Not that that matters when it comes to my kids, but you know what I mean, right?

Back to my story. So he blows into town for the weekend, spoils them rotten and then...disappears. Yep, as of Wednesday, we hadn't heard from him once since he was here in town. I finally broke down and called him that evening, just to make sure he hadn't died a slow, painful death whilst trapped in a burning car, hearing nothing but the sounds of his own screams and wishing he'd been a better father during his short, pathetic, sad....

Sorry, got a little carried away there.

So I called him to make sure he was alive and well (*snicker*) and got his voice mail. So I left him a brief message telling him that I'd offically moved and needed to give him my new address and phone number and that, "I have a few things I need to discuss with you," so if he could please call me ASAP, I would appreciate it.

He called back about an hour later and I gave him my address. He sounded all kinds of wary (hey, I never said he wasn't a fairly intellegent guy...or did I? Well, he knows when he's in trouble, that's for sure) when I answered and after I gave him the new info he said, very hesitantly, "Uhm..so, what did you need to discuss with me?"

I said, "You can't blow into town for a weekend and then drop off the face of the Earth! The kids are very upset that you haven't called. Little Man refuses to let me speak your name in his presence and The Girl (who loves to sing) is making up songs about how much she misses her daddy and wishes he would call her. You need to get back on a regular schedule!"

He said he's trying, to which I replied, "Well, try harder, dammit! Kids are simple creatures. A two minute phone call from you telling them you love them and are thinking of them will make all the difference in the world to them."

We exchanged a few more words on the subject and then I let him speak to the kids. I would say he was probably on the phone with each of them for less than five minutes a piece, but it made an entire world of difference to them. They were much happier when they got off the phone and so was I. I hate seeing my children unduly upset!

But then, here we are, four days later, and he hasn't called once. I'm at my wits end. I have no idea what to do with him. I even begged him in our conversation on Wednesday to either step up to the plate and be the father my children need him to be, or to gracefully bow out and NOT be a father at all (not that that's much different than what he's doing now, but I almost think a clean, permanent break would be better than this constant yo-yoing). He sounded appalled at the suggestion, but it obviously didn't make him realize how important it is for him to stay in contact with his children.

To make matters even worse, there was a girl with him when I called him on Wednesday. Not that I care if he has a life outside of his children, for we all know that I do, but I explained that they have to be his first priority. They're mine. MM knows it. He knew before we even had our first date that my children came before anything else in my life. And it's fine with him. Shouldn't the RB's girlfriend/signifgant other/co-worker/family members understand the same?

I have no idea what to do at this point. I'm at a complete loss. I just want my children to be happy. I don't want them to feel like they take second place in his life to work/girlfriends/family/whatever. I want them to know, just as they know with me, that they're the most important things in his life. But he'd have to feel that first, wouldn't he?

Although, my heart did warm the other day when we were having dinner together (the kids and I, I mean). MM was over and we were at the table. I do this thing with them at the dinner table every night, where I ask them what the best part of their day and worst part of their day was. I started doing that, because The Girl was very upset by my divorce from the RB and went into this, well, I suppose it was depression, where she believed that life was terrible and horrible and nothing good ever happened to her. So I started the best/worst thing and on the days when she didn't have one single bad part to her day, I'd write it down on a piece of paper and put in the on fridge. Then, on the days when she insisted her life was HORRIBLE and ROTTEN and NOTHING good ever happened to her, I'd show her the paper to prove that there were however many days that she'd hadn't had a single bad part to her day.

She's in a much better place now, but I still do the best/worst thing, because it's become habit and because it still seems to help. Plus, it's a good way for me to keep apprised of the daily goings-on in their lives.

Anyway, we were at the table and we'd been doing the best/worst thing as we were passing dishes around the table and Little Man asked me, "Mom, why do you always take your food last?" And The Girl replied before I could, "Because it's Mom's job to make sure we get enough. So she doesn't take hers until she knows we've had enough. I think Mom would probably go hungry so we could eat, Little Man. Isn't that nice?"

I just stared at her while I felt tears welling in my eyes. I suppose it's true, that I don't take my food until they've had theirs, but I didn't realize that was why I did it. And maybe it isn't. But knowing my daughter thinks it is makes all the difference in the world.

I know that story was a bit off-topic, but I guess it goes to show that I'm doing alright. Even without the RB a constant presence in their lives, they're doing alright. I'm doing alright.

Aren't I?

Friday, May 26, 2006

White Trash Recipe

My grandma called me the other day and said her and her little crafter friends were putting together a cookbook and asked if I would please contribute. Since I love to cook, I didn't hesitate to agree.

But over the last few days, I've come to realize something: I'm a totally White Trash cook.

Let me give you an example here. I make this BOMB chicken/gravy thing. It sounds kind of icky when I write out the ingredients, but when all is said and done, it tastes so good! So I figured this would be the perfect recipe for my grandma's cookbook. Plus, DW said I just had to contribute that one, since it's her favorite.

So, I started writing out the recipe and here's how it looks. Tell me this isn't just plain ol' white trash cooking:

In a large sauce pan, pour in olive oil (extra-virgin) until the bottom of the pan is coated. Place 3 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts in the oil and sprinkle with Basil, Thyme, Rosemary, Parsley and whatever other Italian-like spices you feel like. Turn the burner on medium, cover and let cook for several minutes on each side, until it's done all the way through.

While the chicken is cooking, in a medium sauce pan, pour 2 cans of Cream of Mushroom soup in and turn burner on medium. Add a sprinkle of each spice you added to the chicken (but a smaller sprinkle) and then pour in some Balsalmic Vinegar. Just splash some in, then stir. Keep doing that until the mixture is a dark..brownish grey color and tastes kind of tangy. Cover and let simmer while the chicken finishes.

While those 2 are cooking, make a large pot of instant mashed potatoes by following the directions on the box. Then throw some green beans (or another veggie of your choice) in the microwave.

Serve while hot.

See, it just loses something in the translation when I write it out like that. *sigh* I swear it really does taste good!

Do you suppose I could submit it as is and title it:

White Trash Chicken and Gravy

Thursday, May 25, 2006

How To Be A Drama Queen: Lesson 2

Did I mention in my previous blogs about moving that I'm not living too far from my parents now? DW timed it when she drove to my house the other day and it takes exactly 2 minutes and 31 seconds to drive from her house to mine. Yeah, exactly. She's a freak.

This is a good thing, and a bad thing. It's good, because, like last night, when I need something, I can just pop over to their house to get it. But it's a bad thing, because, like last night, they can pop over to my house whenever they want, too.

So last night was a night from hell for me. I won't go into major detail (mostly because I'm too lazy), but the gist of it is this: MM's 2 Stupid Dogs got into my trash while I was at work and made a HUGE mess that I had to clean up when I got home from work, then MM and my grandpa took my kitchen apart to hook-up the water line to my fridge and made a huge mess with water while I was trying to cook dinner, and then (I was making a roast) I went to turn on the oven and IT DOESN'T work! Plus, there was some other stuff, too.

Anyway, after screaming at kids for 2 hours and hearing from them how starving they were, I called my mom.

Me: What do you have to eat?
DW: Why?
Me: Because the roast isn't done and the kids keep screaming at each other and there's water all over my kitchen floor and everyone is starving and the dogs are driving me insane. (all of this said without taking a breath)
DW: OH, well, I have hot dogs.
Me: I'm so there.

So me and MM load up the 2 kids and 3 dogs and head over. We get there and DW, in a rare show of motherly compassion (snicker), had already cooked dinner for us. At that point I was starting to get a migraine and wasn't hungry, so I went and laid in her bed with a compress on my eyes and let MM and the kids fend for themselves (MM loves my parents..the freak!).

After about an hour of peace and quite, MM came in and laid down with me. We talked for awhile and then Little Man came in and told us that it was time to go (I'm pretty sure DW put him up to it) so I dragged myself up and we started gathering kids and dogs (is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life if I marry him? Lord, please save me!) up and herding them out the door.

As we were walking out to the car, my sister pulls up. I say hi to her, but since my one eye was all blurry (I'm pretty sure I got washcloth fuzzys in it) and I still had a headache and I was just ready for bed, I wasn't really paying attention to anything but getting everyone loaded up and heading for home. Of course, for a brief, fateful moment in time, I forgot that my sister is a Drama Queen.

The following conversation ensued:

DQ: SISTER! (all kinds of angry)
Me: What?
DQ: I stopped by your house and you WEREN'T there!
Me: Uh-huh.
DQ: There were lights on, and your car was there, but you weren't. (she's now pouting)
Me: Uh-huh.
DQ: Well, so I walked around to the back and looked in the window (Oh HELL NO SHE DIDN'T!) but you weren't there.
Me: You did WHAT?
DQ: (totally blowing over my last comment) So I figured you must be here. But now your leaving. (all pissed off again)
Me: Well, the kids need to get to bed.
DQ: But...well, what about me? (she honestly said that, I'm not making it up, I swear!)

I just rolled my eyes, told her I loved her, then got in the car. Still, I can't believe she was really, truly mad at me for not being home when she stopped by. It's not like we had plans or I knew she was coming by, it was just random!

But then she calls me at work today and made it even worse. I was on the phone with a client when she called, so I told Cookie to tell her to either call me back or hold, because I couldn't take her call right then. About ten minutes later I finished with the client and called her back. She answers the phone and I ask her what was up.

DQ: Nothing.
Me: What?
DQ: (all kinds of pissy again) Nothing. I gotta go.
Me: Hold on a second! You called me for nothing?
DQ: Well, I wanted to talk to you about something, but you didn't have time for me (snide tone of voice)
Me: Sister, I was WORKING!
DQ: Whatever, I have to go.

And she hangs up. WTF? I just let it go. I mean, it was my own fault for arguing with her, right? But then she calls me back a few minutes later.

DQ: I was going to have you help me write a letter before.
Me: Oh, well, I can't really help you right now, but if you wait about an hour I'll be free then.
DQ: Well, I already did it. I don't need your help.
Me: Uhm. Ok.
DQ: Do you want me to read it to you?
Me: Sure, but not right now. Let me finish what I'm doing and then you can. Or you can email it to me if you want.
DQ: Gosh! You never want to listen to me. (Ok, because I'm not WORKING here?)
Me: Ok, because I'm not WORKING here?
DQ: Whatever. Want me to bring you dinner tonight?
Me: (Skeptical about the subject change, her new, sweet tone of voice and her offer to bring me dinner) Okaaayyyy?
DQ: Well, I don't have any friends. B just got back from Hawaii yesterday so I went over to see her last night as a surprise and the bitch wasn't home. I guess she went and stayed with her boyfriend. And then I called her today, even though I wsn't going to, and she's out with S. WTF? What about her coming to see me? The bitch. I'm never calling her again.
Me: Sister, she just got home! Of course she's going to...nevermind (See that, I'm getting smarter, I totally saved myself from arguing with her..I'm good, huh?). Call me later. I'm not sure what I'm doing.
DQ: Ugh. You're probably hanging out with MM tonight, aren't you?
Me: Probably. He doesn't have to work.
DQ: Gosh, you're so STUPID!

And then she hung up.

Drama much?

P.S. When I was reading this to Cookie, she informed me that SHE (Cookie) helped DQ with her letter. So even though she got the help she needed, she still had to bring the drama to me. *Big, long, drawn-out sigh*

Being Morally Obligated....

Yesterday I posted a blog about Cookie's best friend and her son. I ended up removing it at the request of Cookie but am including a more condensed version here.

Basically, it's like this:

Cookie was telling me on Friday that her best friend had taken her son in for his kindergarten physical and the doctor FREAKED OUT on her. The child, the four-year-old child no less, is a heart attack candidate. Yes, heart attack. He weighs 95 lbs.


He's four years old and he weighs twenty-some pounds less than I do. This isn't some medical issue, either, where he's got a thyroid problem or something. This is straight-up bad parenting on his mothers part. She's tired when she gets home from work, so she takes him to McDonald's or whatever other drive-thru. He wants soda instead of milk or water, and since she doesn't want to listen to him whine, she gives it to him. Same with treats or snacks or whatever.

So the doctor freaks out and tells her to get him on a diet ASAP! She agrees and calls Cookie all freaked out about how big he is and what the doctor said. Then, not a week later, Cookie is with her and they hit the McDonald's drive-thru and the child wants a Mighty Kids Meal. So his mom orders it for him. He says he wants a Coke. Again, she agrees. Then, in a moment of sheer brilliance, she denies him a cone because, "You're too big, buddy."

She let him order a large fries, a double cheeseburger and a coke, but she wouldn't let him have the ice cream cone. I think that's just....scary. She obviously doesn't understand the implications here.

Cookie has talked to her about this. She basically told her, "You do understand that you're killing your child, right? You understand that if you keep feeding him like this and giving in to him he's going to die, don't you?" I spoke to her as well. I told her, "Babe, you need to get a handle on this, and if you're not capable, then you need to put him with someone who is." And yet she's still indulging him.

He can't run because it hurts his knees and makes him short of breath. He can't play like other children. He can't even start school, because he couldn't pass his physical. He's FOUR YEARS OLD!

I'm very disturbed by this. As a mother, I couldn't imagine putting my child's health at risk like that. As a human, my heart screams out at the injustice of it.

In any case, this topic sparked at debate between me and a good friend of mine. She basically said it's not my place to get involved and I shouldn't let things like this bother me. This particular friend and I have these small debates all the time, usually done in good fun. We may get heated about certain topics, but we always understand that we're just debating and it's nothing personal.

But all night I thought about this. Aren't I, as a human being and a mother, morally obligated to do what I can to help a child? If I saw a toddler playing in the street, shouldn't I carry him to safety? If I know of a child who's being neglected by it's parents or being mistreated, isn't it my Christian duty to do what I can to protect the innocent?

The Rat Bastard and I had a horrible marriage. We fought like cats and dogs and he treated me horribly, but it wasn't until I saw how it was negatively effecting my children that I was able to leave. I'm a creature of habit, and I hate change, so I didn't want to move, but I was living in an unsafe neighborhood with my children and new it was in their best interest for us to find a better place to live. I did what had to be done FOR MY CHILDREN!

They can't protect themselves, so isn't it up to us, as adults, to protect them and help them? Or am I on my soap box again? Can I, in good conscience, ignore a child in the middle of a street, or one who's bound to have a heart attack at age four because his mother can't tell him no? Even MM says the situation with Cookie's friend is a CPS case waiting to happen.

So, are we morally obligated, as adults, mothers, humans, to help those who can't help themselves (and by this I refer to the children, the innocent, the ones who CAN'T make decisions for themselves)? Or do we just turn the other cheek and pretend all is right with the world?

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Shameless Self Promotion

As I mentioned the other day, I was recently asked to co-blog with a good friend of mine and I agreed. The site is up and running now, and though we've only got one post up, you can get the gist of what we're about if you head over and check it out.

I think - when I finally get my internet up at home and can actually devote my time to blogging - it will be something fun and fresh.

So, here I am, asking all of you wonderful people here in Blogland to check it out.

Yeah, What She Said

Let me know what you think of the layout and content and what-not, and be sure to leave a comment that you stopped by.

Ok, I'm done promoting my wonderful self now, you can go on about your normal business. LOL


I'm removing this post on the advice of a friend. Apparently it was over the top.



Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Five Interview Questions

I saw this on Rene Lyons' blog and asked to be interviewed. If you're interested, see instructions below. I'm scurred, these are hard questions. *big grin*

1. What was the first romance novel you read and what was it about the book that hooked you? The first novel I read (or actually, listened to) was KillJoy by Julie Garwood on Audio Tape. My mom had gone on a weekend trip with my grandparents and they listened to it in the car. When she got back, she handed me the tape and said I had to listen to it. I did and it was pretty good, but I wasn't just OVER THE MOON about it. Then she went to the library and got JG's entire backlist of historical romances and we were both hooked after that. I think it was the HEA's that got me. I loved reading up to where they all lived Happily Ever After.

2. Is there anything about present romance novels that piss you off and why? It's mostly the heroines. I hate how so many authors try to make these heroines out to be strong, independent women, when really, they're just idiots in disguise. You can read about it in this blog. I also hate the double standards. It's ok for men to act like idiots and be complete jerks and cheat, but women are horrible sluts or bitches if they do the same thing? And the fact that so many heroines are virgins. While it works in some cases, in this day and age it's just not the norm. I think romance authors and publishers need to move along with the times!

3. If you could bring any one hero to life who would it be? Wow, this is hard, because there are tons of heroes that I just absolutely love. I guess, though, if I had to pick just one, it would be Ben Lewis from Linda Howard's Heart of Fire. I love Ben. He's the perfect hero, IMO.

4. If you could trade places with one heroine for the day who would it be and how would you spend that day? I think I'd want to spend the day as Eve Dallas from J.D. Robb's In Death series. I would love to do her job for a day, kicking ass and taking names. I love the action and suspense she deals with on a daily basis, and I wonder if I could do half as well as she does. She rocks!

5. If you go could travel anyplace in the world and to any time in history, where and when would it be? This is a really hard one for me. I love reading about Regency England and the Highlands in the early part of the 1600's, but I don't think I could deal with all the ickiness. You know, the horrible personal hygiene and the lack of modern conveniences. I could probably do the old west in approx. 1890, though. That would be all kinds of fun. I could be a showgirl or a Pioneer woman, as long as I had a water closet. Yeah, running water would be really, really good.

Who else wants to be interviewed? Here's the instructions from Angie's blog: Leave me a comment saying 'interview me.' The first five commenters will be the participants. I will respond by asking you five questions. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Thanks, Rene, that was fun!

Monday, May 22, 2006

I Moved!

Well, sorta.

We rented a U-Haul on Saturday and got the bulk of my crap moved. What an ordeal! My dad and The Crackhead loaded the truck and then my dad and my parent's contractor (they're remodeling their bedroom right now) unloaded everything for me. My dad kept saying, "Take a picture, because this is the last time I'm doing this." I said, "What do you mean 'the last time'? You've never helped me before." Then he'd just mumble under his breath. hehehe Have I ever told you about my dad and mumbling? It's great. It drives DW insane when he does it. He's either talking at the top of his lungs (I'd call it screaming, but really, that's his normal talking voice) or mumbling under his breath. He has 2 volumes, extra loud and mumble. I love it. I just giggle, but my mom always says, "What, what did you say? You better tell me what you said." I'm all for anything that drives my mother insane, so the mumbling works for me.

Anywho, we picked up the truck at 11:00 a.m. and were headed up to the new house with a full load by 1:30 (are we good, or what?). As they were carrying furniture in, my dad kept saying, "I'm not moving this 50,000 times, so decide where you want it now." I just rolled my eyes. Then it was time to carry my big couch in (I have a leather set and the couch has a pull out) and my dad says, "Tell me where you want it. I'm not moving it 50,000 times." (Yes, he said it again) Then I said, "You could put it on this wall." He nodded and then I said, "Actually, I want it on the back wall." And he says, "Make up your damn mind! I'm not moving it again." And I said, "What the hell are you talking about? You haven't even carried the damn thing in yet." Then he just shut up. LOL The freak.

My grandma came over and unpacked most of the kitchen for me, which was awesome. She also brought us pizza and drinks. Aren't grandma's the best? My sister brought her hungover self over to lay on the couch and complain, but it's the thought that counts, right? *insert eye roll here*

MM had to work, so he got out of helping, but I told him that on his next 2 days off (that would be Wed and Thurs) he has to come over and set up beds (Little Man's), rearrange furniture (since my pops wasn't moving it 50,000 times), hang up pictures (the level concept completely escapes me) and put together bookshelves (I got 2 new ones at a discount store for $30 each..yay me). He just looked at me like I was on drugs, so I gave him the "I'm so evil" look back and he said ok. The boy isn't stupid.

Anyway, I have probably one or two loads of small stuff left to move, then I have to clean the old place. At the new place I have the kitchen mostly unpacked and the family room set up (with the exception of pictures on the walls). I'm trying to talk Dylan into coming out this weekend to help me with the rest. I have 8 boxes of books to unpack and all of my clothes, plus the bathrooms and the kids' stuff. *sigh* I could still use those Thunder From Down Under boys if anyone out there in blogland is wealthy and in the mood to be charitable. Come on, you know you want to!

That's my update for now. I won't have internet access at home for another week or two, but I'll try to post at least once a day.

I hope everyone else had a great weekend!

Friday, May 19, 2006

Being A Single Mom

This post is dedicated to all of you single moms out there. You're amazing. Thank you for getting up each morning, for going to work each day, for being both mother and father to your child/children and for realizing that what you do is a completely thankless job and doing it anyway.

I love my children. More than life itself. I'll be having a horrible day, hating the world in general and with one smile, they make the sun come out. Hearing my son tell me I'm the best mom ever or my daughter tell me I'm so beautiful she's glad she looks like me makes life worth living. But there are days when it's really hard being me. I don't regret for one single second being a mom.

Not one.

But there are several seconds a day when I wish I had someone to help me. I'd like, just once, to be able to bathe in peace. To use the bathroom with out six knocks on the door in a five minute period. To have one night to watch T.V. uninterrupted or read a book from cover to cover in one sitting.

I and I alone am responsible for them. I don't have someone else to turn to when I have doubts about my parenting skills. When I'm ill, I have to pick myself off the bathroom floor and cook dinner or mend wounds. I can't stay out drinking until 3 a.m. or buy myself a new dress without thinking of what my children need first.

When my son has baseball practice, I have to take him. I have only myself to rely on to ensure that they make it to school on time or have clean clothes or learn their table manners.

I can't say, "I'm going to bed" and just go. If I have a headache I can't put a cold compress on my eyes and lock myself in my bedroom. I can't just get in my car and go to the store for milk or eggs. I can't decide on the spur of the moment to drive three hours to see a friend. I have to plan first and make arrangements for my children.

Every single decision I make is for my children. From whether or not to wear my seatbelt every time I drive somewhere to how I spend my money. I think this is something most, if not all, parents deal with. The constant worrying, the small panic attacks, the sacrifices.

But as a single mother, I don't have someone else to turn to when things get tough. I can't call their father when they get sent home from school for fighting and let him deal with it. I don't have someone to call to take care of them when I'm not feeling well. I don't have the option of going out with my friends on a whim or have a date every night of the week or taking chances with my safety. When I do date someone, I have to think, before I really even decide if I like him, will he make a good father for my children. When I've had a bad day, I don't have someone to lean on or to take the kids for pizza so I can have an hour to myself.

I'm it. The Buck Stops Here.

I wish I could say, when my children are acting like wild banshees, "You just wait until your father gets home". I wish there was someone who else to drive my son to baseball practice three nights a week and be his cheering section at his baseball games. I wish I could call their father and say, "The Girl has a musical recital at school today, it's your turn to go."

I wish I could tell my son, when he asks about girls and kisses, or my daughter, when she asks me why boys are stupid, "Go ask your dad". I wish, just once, I could make a decision based solely on what I want, and not what would be best for my children.

Couldn't I, even one time, buy a pair of boots instead of ballet slippers? Or a new dress instead of a tutu?

I wish I could go to bed at night and fall right to sleep, instead of laying awake worrying about prowlers in the night, or friends that are mean, or if the advice I gave my daughter about her friends was correct.

I wish I could sleep late on Sunday mornings or stay in my pajamas on Saturdays. I wish I could take a week-long vacation without worrying about whether or not I'll have enough sick/vacation days left to cover if my children get sick.

But I can't. If I did, there wouldn't be someone there to pick up the pieces for me. If pieces need picking up, I have to do it. Think about all the little things you take for granted. I can't. I don't have anything to take for granted. There's only me.

I discipline them. I comfort them. I teach them. I learn from them. I love them.

Just me.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Recommended Clickage

I'm a blog whore. I admit it. I have this blog and a MySpace blog and a romance reader group blog and I do guest reviews on Mailyn's blog and I was recently asked to co-blog with someone else. I agreed. Yes, I admit it, I'm a blog slut. I like blogging. I like reading blogs, too.

With that in mind, I'd like to take a second to recommend a few blogs to you.

The first, obviously, is going to be our group blog, Sanctuary's Finest. I recently posted a blog there about whether or not authors sell out and I'm curious about your thoughts and opinions. Hit a girl up.

Next, a blog I seem to get more addicted to every day is The Daily Dump. Good Ol' Boy Dan cracks me up. Try this one and this one.

Only Nola is another blog I'm mostly addicted to. It could be because I'm actually friends with the crazy chicky, or it could be because her snarky attitudes and constant For Fuck's Sake comments crack me up. Either way, check it out.

White Trash Mom is a great blog for those of you who think you're above White Trashism to see that really, underneath it all, we're all just trailer trash in hiding.

Speaking of White Trash (love you, Mailyn *snicker*) over at Imaginary Origin, Mailyn isn't holding back. The Gloves Have Officially Come Off. And I haven't stopped snickering since I opened it.

Rene Lyons, soon-to-be published author, has an interesting blog up about the Ebook Buzz. Since I'm relatively new to the Ebook scene, I found it rather enlightening.

I really enjoy reading Moment's thoughts, over at Inconceivable World, on all manner of newsworthy issues. You will, too, I bet.

There are a ton of others, too, like Izzy's latest post that had me laughing out loud and Dylan's ever informed posts about the latest in pop culture, but I've run out of time and honestly, I get bored easily. So there you go.

Go forth, drink a lot and be Merry.

P.S. I'm still working on the Getting Smarter thing, so don't forget to mention if you notice errors in my blog. You're the best, really.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Technology is Making Me Stupid!

I'm not the smartest woman alive by any means, but I've always considered myself to be fairly intelligent. I have my weak areas (math, anyone?), but I have my strengths, too. Literature, grammar and spelling have always been at the top of my strengths list. Always. I won the All State Championship Spelling Bee in 1st grade and continued on from there. I had a short story published by a local newspaper when I was in 4th grade, with a remark from the editor that my grammar and punctuation were better than most of her regular columnists. A high compliment indeed for a 9-year-old. I even graduated from high school a year early, with a fairly high GPA. No, I wasn't at the very top of my class, but I held my own.

Since adulthood, I've always been the go-to-girl for proof reading with my family and friends. My boss says he finds me invaluable when it comes to proofing letters and etc. A college professor told me once that a career in publishing would best suit me, because I'm anal about content and grammar.

But in the last few years, all of that has changed. I can't remember how to spell even the most basic words. Before I post a blog, I'll stare at a particular sentence for half an hour before just saying screw it and publish it, because I know the punctuation and grammar isn't correct, but damn if I can remember how it should be.

I've always prided myself on being able to express myself very well, conveying my point as eloquently as possible. But I can't do that anymore. After spending years with the nickname "The Walking Thesaurus", I'm ashamed to admit I can barely remember my name, much less five different variations for the word "beautiful". Without spell check, I'd be completely lost. Me, the Spelling Bee Queen, has forgotten the spelling of even simple words, like "surprise".

Even my memory is failing me lately. I used to read a book once and be able to recite for you my favorite quotes, word for word, or give you a great review or a brief synopsis of the story just from memory. Now, I finish the last sentence of a great book and can't remember the names of the main characters.

Well, I'm tired of it. I've come to depend too heavily on my computer to correct my grammar and spelling, so I've decided to take a stand. I'm enrolling in some community college courses and I'm giving up my spell check. I will no longer be using Microsoft Word to verify my sentence structure or SpellCheck to double check my spelling. If I can't remember how to spell a word, I'm going to look it up the old fashioned way: the Dictionary. And once I get the correct spelling, I'm going to write it down five times to help me remember for future reference.

With that in mind, I'm asking for help from all of you. If you notice a grammatical error in one of my blogs, please point it out. If I fall back into slang, call me on it. If you notice a spelling error, please point it out. Gently. I'm not opening myself up for a bashing session here, but if you could kindly point out any mistakes I've made, I would greatly appreciate it. I'm tough and can take constructive criticism, so don't hold back. Please?

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

The Three M's

***Beware: Below you will find a whiny bitchfest. If you're not interested, move on...***

Migraines: I started getting a Migraine two weeks ago. Though I don't get them as often or as badly as I used to, I still manage to have one at least once a month now. Luckily they only seem to last a few days and aren't nearly as debilitating as they used to be. This one, however, was reminiscent of the killer ones I used to get in high school.

For two weeks now I've been struggling to contain it. I've taken mass amounts of Advil and even broken down and taken my migraine pills. I hate taking them, because they make me sick to my stomach and higher than a kite, but needs must and all that. Last week, though, it all came to a head. At 9:15 on Wednesday I called my office to let them know I'd be in eventually and to my shame, burst into tears as I was telling my dad (who just happened to answer the phone...you remember that I work with my whole fam damily, right?) that I couldn't even brush my hair. Yes, it hurt that bad.

Since I only get 5 sick days a year and I have 2 small children, I knew I couldn't afford to take the day, so I begged my psycho neighbor to brush my hair and then drove at a turtle pace to work, all of my attention focused on not throwing up on my steering wheel or causing an accident staring at the black spots dancing before my eyes. My boss was at a seminar and DW yelled at me - yes, the insensitive witch actually YELLED at me - to go home. I finally did. I just couldn't deal with the pain anymore. I curled up into a little ball on my couch with a cold compress on my eyes and wanted to die. I actually considered - more than once - chopping my head off to make the pain stop.

If you haven't ever had a migraine before, I'm so happy for you. There isn't anything worse. No pain can equal that of a severe migraine. Child birth? Piece of cake. Walking on a broken foot? A day at the beach. Getting a concussion from being thrown off a horse? A walk in the park. Seriously. These migraines rule my life. I've missed more important events, holidays and parts of life than I can even begin to tell you. I hate it.

Finally, on Wednesday of last week, I couldn't take it anymore. After spending more than an hour dry-heaving in the bathroom at MM's, I checked my stash of meds that I keep in my purse and saw that I had 3 Advil Migraine's, 10 Migraine pills (I take Fiorinal, a barbituate) and 6 800mg prescription Tylenol with codeine. I contemplated taking all of them for about ten minutes - yes, much longer than I should have, I realize this - and settled for 2 Advil, 1 Tylenol and 1 Migraine Pill. Probably I shouldn't have taken all of those at once, but I was done hurting and being sick from the pain. I knocked out on the couch for a little bit and then went to bed.

The next morning I woke up feeling great. Better than great, actually. For the first time in a week I felt normal. Not residual pain. No nausea. I was a little bit tired - a side effect of a week of no sleep and the pain meds - but otherwise I was good to go.

Until the next morning. Yep, sure as shit, my freakin headache came back with a vengeance. So far I've been able to manage it, but it's like a bomb waiting to go off: I don't know when it's going to detonate, but when it does, I'm going to be blown apart. Before that happens I need one of three things to happen: I need to be decapitated. I need a really, really good massage to work all the kinks out of my neck and shoulders and allow me to relax, or I need some really, really good drugs that will take care of the pain for good. Anyone willing to help me out with one of the three?

Moving: I transferred the rest of the deposit for my new house yesterday and picked up the keys. I've barely started packing and don't know when I'll get around to doing it. I'm beyond stressed at this point for several reasons. The first? I have no one to help me move or pack. MM has to work, DW and DQ just flat out refused. My brother lives in Utah. My pops said he'd help some, but with his busy schedule and lazy-ass attitude, I'm not expecting much. I have no idea how I'm going to pack, load, unload and unpack a three bedroom house by myself. None what-so-ever. The Second? My headache won't go away! The third? I'm a lazy, procrastinator. Yes, I admit it. I'm lazy and I leave errrrthing to the last minute. I hate that about myself. *sigh* Anyone willing to book the Thunder From Down Under for my personal, exclusive use? Watching them lift heavy furniture without shirts on would go a long way towards relieving my stress and my migraine, I bet. Come on, be a sport. You know you want to.

MM: I'm a bit irritated at MM lately. It's more my fault than his, but I just can't seem to help myself. I hate to say this about myself, but I'm a needy, whiny bitch. I need comfort and support and compassion and I need to be wrapped up and taken care of. No, I don't like this about myself. I'm a strong, independent woman....most of the time. But right now, I just need someone to take care of me. I need a pair of strong shoulders to lean on and someone to take care of all the little details I don't want to deal with right now. Unfortunately, MM isn't offering me what I need. He's working 6 days a week from 6 p.m to 6 a.m and sleeping when he's not at work. As he should. It's not his fault that I've turned into a basket case. But a person can't help how she feels. Or I can't. Someone willing to call MM and tell him I need a shoulder to cry on, a nice candlelit dinner, some roses and the gift of movers? Preferably in the from of the Thunder From Down Under.....

Ok, I'm better now. Thanks for letting me vent.

The things I think and the things I say

Every woman does this. Hell, every man does this, too. We think one thing and say another. This applies to every day, insignifigant things. Large, extremely important issues that could mean major life changes for yourself or someone you know. Careless, brief encounters. Your mother. Your best friend. Your signifigant other. The man at the deli. The dentist who's office suite is next to yours.

For the most part, I say what I'm thinking. This tends to get me in a bit of trouble, but I can't really seem to help myself. However, even I, Miss Speak-Before-She-Thinks, has learned tact. There are times when it's just plain unacceptable to say what you're really thinking.

Now, holding my tongue isn't easy for me. I'm of the opinion that the truth will set you free. If you think my butt looks fat in a certain pair of jeans (if I ask, that is) then by all means, tell me. If my hair is standing up on end and looks horrible, please, save me from the misery of being seen in public that way. If I hurt your feelings or offended you in anyway, please, tell me so. How can I fix it if I don't know there's a problem? Right? Right.

Of course, it's not always possible to say what you're thinking. People are sensative and you have to consider the situation and the person involved in it before you speak out of turn.

With that in mind, I've compiled a list of things I think, but don't say.

1. I say: Ok, that makes sense. Thanks for clearing that up for me. I think: I can see your point, but I still think you're full of shit.

2. I say: Aww, poor baby. I hope your day gets better. I think: I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce.

3. I say: Oh, that's so sweet. Unfortunately, I'm involved with someone. I think: How about never? Is never good for you?

4. I say: That's an idea. I'll think it over and let you know if we decide to go that route. I think: I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.

5. I say: I wasn't trying to get down on you. I just wanted you to see my side of this. I think: I'm really easy to get along with once you people learn to see it my way.

6. I say: Sorry, I guess I was PMSing. I think: I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter.

7. I say: Gotcha. That makes sense now. I think: It sounds like English, but I can't understand a damn word you're saying.

8. I say: Hmmm. I think: I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.

9. I say: I'm sorry, did you have something to add? I think: And your crybaby whiny-assed opinion would be...?

10. I say: That was too funny. I think: I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.

11. I say: Man, those pants make your butt look big, go change. I think: It's not the pants, honey.

How about you? Have a list of things you think but don't say? Or do you just speak your mind no matter what?

Monday, May 15, 2006

There's Something Wrong with the Rat Bastard! AHHHH!

I'm Scurred. No, really, I am.

See, here's the thing:

Over the last, uhm, probably six months or so, the Rat Bastard and I have gotten to the point in our relationship where we can be civil to each other. I think it started about the time he told me about his Ultimate White Trash friends, but things kind of settled down between the two of us.

I've never really hated him, because depsite the way he treated me when we were together, he does have some good qualities (hard to believe, I know) and it's not that he's a bad person, per se, just that he's a bad person to have a relationship with. I figured that out sometime during our second year together, I just figured I could change him if I stuck it out. Yeah, dumb, I know. But it sounded good at the time.

But just because we're civil to each other does not mean we're friends. At all. We don't really even like each other. Ok, well, I don't really even like him. I have no idea how he feels about me. I'm assuming, though, that our feelings are mutual. And whether we like each other or not, we're not in a position where we're friends. Nor will we ever be. There's too much bad blood between us from our marriage and I'm still too angry with him about how he treats the kids. So, while we can have a fairly civil conversation with each other, we can't laugh and joke and be buddy-buddy. Do you get what I'm saying?

That's why his behavior over the last few weeks has come as such a shock to me. He's been..nice. Really nice. When I answer the phone his usual reply to my hello is a gloomy, down-in-the-dumps, "Hi" or a grumpy, hurry up and get the kids on the line, "Hey" but lately, it's a cheerful, I'm so glad you answered, "Hey, how ARE you". What the?

Then, the other day, the unthinkable happened.

I had to call him to get his credit card number because LM had to go the the dentist and the RB, per our divorce agreement, had to pay for it. I get the number from him, then make a joke and say, "sweet, now I can go shoe shopping."

The following conversation ensued:

RB: Sure, if you want.
Me: *in a skeptical voice" yeah, ha ha. And then what? Go to jail for fraud?
RB: Nah, spend as much as you want. There's a $19000 limit on it (anyone else thinking Jimmy Choo's here?? *snicker*).
Me: Yeah, ok.
RB: You have enough shoes, though, don't you?
Me: Well, I used to, until the Hound From Hell ate 50 pairs of them.
RB: Well then, you really do need shoes. Feel free.
Me: *Getting nervous now* Ha ha. Ok. Sure.

(At this point, the girls are urging me to take advantage and hit the Jimmy Choo website. My reply? Yeah, and then end up in jail a few weeks from now when he gets over it? I don't sthink so. Then, sweethearts that they are, they agreed to break me out, A La Prison Break.)

Then a little later in the convo, after talking about LM's latest baseball pictures and how grainy they turned out with my bottom end digital:

RB: Well, you have my credit card number, why don't you get a new one?
Me: Yeah, ok, sure whatever.
RB: No, really. If you need to buy a new camera, go ahead. Just don't spend more than $3000, ok?
Me: *Choking on water* What?
RB: Yeah, it'll benefit both of us that way. I'll get good pics of LM and you'll get a new camera.

Ok, this is when I started getting really, really nervous. I mean, one of the biggest problems the RB and I had in our marriage (besides his insane jealousy, that is) was money. The fact that he made it and didn't want to share it. He would dole out money as he saw fit and I just had to deal with it. So for him to offer me shoes and a new camera is just....downright scary!

But wait, it gets better!

He called me yesterday to let me know that he was close to town (about four hours away) and would like to have the kids for the weekend. That's not really very unusual. But what he said next was:

Me: Ok, I'm sure we can work something out.
RB: Well, I know it's short notice and Mother's Day Weekend, so if you already have plans, I understand. We can try for another time.
Me: No, I'm sure it will be fine. I just need them back no later than 1:30 p.m. on Sunday.
RB: Oh, sure, that's fine. That will give us plenty of time to hang out and for me to take them to get your Mother's Day gift.

Whoa, hold on a minute. Mother's Day gift? In the almost ten years I've been a mother, the RB hasn't, not one single time, given me a Mother's Day gift. Not once.

So why would he now? We're divorced. We dislike each other. He gives me crap every other month about not paying his child support.

I figure it's either one of two things. Either a) he realized what a gem I am and is trying to win me back *snort* or b) he's gone completely insane, has decided to commit suicide and wants to make sure I'll be nice and give him a proper funeral.

What do you think? I'm leaning towards b.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Just Another Quiz Post

I'm recovering from a nasty migraine yesterday, so I'm not really in the mood to blog. Maybe I'll be back to tomorrow....

...Enjoy some mindless fun in the meantime, though.

Your Quirk Factor: 48%

You're a pretty quirky person, but you're just normal enough to hide it.
Congratulations - you've fooled other people into thinking you're just like them!

Your Extroversion Profile:
Assertiveness: High
Friendliness: High
Cheerfulness: Medium
Sociability: Medium
Activity Level: Low
Excitement Seeking: Low

Your Mood Ring is Light Blue

Emotions mixed

You Are a Classic Martini

You area sophisticated drinker, who knows that simple quality is over-rated.
You're a knowledgeable drunk, but sometimes you're a know-it-all when you're blasted.

You should never: Drink and gossip. You tend to forget who's standing right behind you!

Your ideal party: Has a real bartender. But no one mixes a better drink than you.

Your drinking soulmates: those with a Chocolate Martini personality

Your drinking rivals: those with a Margarita Martini personality

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Tales of the Devil Woman: Episode 14

They say - Ah, yes, the mysterious THEY again..who do you suppose THEY are? A group of highly intellegent green Aliens from some as-yet-undiscovered planet? That's my guess, anyway - that one of the biggest signs of old age is memory loss. Studies show - are these studies conducted by THEY again? You know, the aliens...- that one of the first things to go with old age is the short-term memory. This is why so many of the elderly will recount the same story from their youth over and over again, but can't tell you what they had for breakfast an hour after they consumed it.

The Devil Woman, however, seems to be losing her long-term memory with age.

Really, it's rather depressing. It makes me a bit sad to see someone who was once so spry now forget the most basic details. Things like directions to a beach we've been to several times in the past, or that she used the last of the coffee creamer, or that she turned the air conditioner down to stage-1-hypothermia again. She even forgets simple, meaningless things, like to ask if I want Starbucks or not, or that she just called me five minutes before.

But yesterday, yesterday just took the cake. Poor thing. *insert sympathetic sound here*

We're at work and DW is on the phone with...someone. I'm not sure who it was, and when I asked her about it later she...couldn't remember. Anyway, I'm having a phone conversation of my own when all of a sudden, DW gasps from her side of the office. I turn my head to make sure she hasn't stabbed herself with her butter knife -unfortunately, she was fine...what? That would have been mildly entertaining, admit it - and she yells, "You're going to be 27 this year?? TWENTY-SEVEN??"

I just stared at her. She's asking because, what? The woman DIDN'T give birth to me?? See, I've always said I was adopted into this family, now I know it's true.

Then today, she's on yet another phone call and says, "Spawn, what's my address?" and she's staring at me with that Deer-In-The-Headlights look. I said, "I don't know. What is your address?" I hear her say into the phone, "She doesn't know. Can you believe it?" Ok, because I live there? I think not. So I say, "What, like you have room to talk? You didn't know I was turning 27 this year and YOU GAVE BIRTH TO ME!"

She didn't say much after that.

Do you suppose when I get old like DW I'll forget The Girl's age? One can hope, right?

Monday, May 08, 2006

Ahhh...growing up....

Saw this today (not for the first time) and decided to share it...Gosh, it's SO true! Kind of makes you wonder about our children today, doesn't it?

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they
carried us. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored
Lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we
rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took

As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.

Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE
actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back
when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down
the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the
bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no
99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell
phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat
rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no
lawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them!

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't
had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They
actually sided with the law!

This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers
and inventors ever!

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO

And YOU are one of them! CONGRATULATIONS!

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Packing Sucks!

I hate moving. Not that I think anyone enjoys it (well, ok, I'm sure there are some people out there who don't mind packing, unpacking, arranging, rearranging and moving heavy things on a regular basis, but I don't think that's normal), but I mean that I truly hate it.

I can't stand packing boxes and cleaning out drawers and being reminded just how much junk I've managed to collect over the years. When I see something on a shelf in my closet or on display on my entertainment center it makes perfect sense that I kept it. But when I have to remove said item from it's respective place and pack it into a box, I always wonder what exactly I was thinking by keeping it. I'm not really a pack-rat (not like I used to be anyway..GAH! It was scary when I was younger), but some of the things I save for sentimental reasons boggle the mind.

Is it really necessary, I wonder, to save things like awards my children have won from school, or papers they did well on? I'm pretty sure I had a valid reason for thinking it was until it was time to pack said papers in a box and cart them 30+ miles to a new home. Same goes for the mass amounts of books (*gasp* can you believe I'm even entertaining these thoughts??) and shoes I've managed to amass over the years. At the time, I couldn't seem to live without them, but not that it's time to pack them in boxes and move them, I'm beginning to think less is better.

Same goes for clothes. I have tons of them. Really, is it necessary for one person to own so many articles of clothing? It's not like I need them. They serve their purpose, but I realized today, while organizing my closets and feeling rather overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff in my drawers and closets, that I don't wear half the stuff I own. That seems rather...Selfish of me. Aren't there millions of people in this country alone that don't have a sufficient wardrobe to keep them warm in the winter or cool in the summer? And here I am, with so many outfits I could go, literally, months without wearing the same thing twice.

In my defense, I will say that I'm not a shopaholic. As a matter of fact, I have a terrible phobia when it comes to buying things for myself. Fortunately - or unfortunately, as I see it now - the Devil Woman doesn't share my hatred of shopping malls and fear of spending money on myself. She buys so much stuff she runs out of room...and I get the overflow (is it a curse or a blessing that we wear close to the same size?). Normally, I'm very excited about this. I mean, who wouldn't be? Until it's time to pack and move, that is.

And that's not even including all the little things. Important papers, pictures, toys, games.

I think that today, it just plain sucks to be me.

But I bet it wouldn't...if I had one of these to help me pack...

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Movin' On Up....To The Top

Of the hill, that is.

I live in the low desert of Southern California. When I first moved here from South Dakota, I had a rather low paying job and this was the first place I found that was fairly decent and affordable. Over the years (it's been almost three now), the neighborhood has gone South and the rent has gone through the roof. What started out as a middle-class type neighborhood with a few disreputable characters here and there has turned into something resembling the ghetto. There are drive-by shootings 2 blocks from my house, drug busts the next street over, and psycho neighbors who are married to crackheads right next door.

If I were a single woman, this wouldn't really be an issue for me. For two reason. 1) I could afford to live in a better neighborhood, and 2) I could deal with safety issues without too much of a problem. But I'm not. I'm a mother. As a mother, it's my job to make sure my children grow up in a safe, comfortable environment. Over the last few months, I've come to realize where we live now isn't safe or comfortable. My building ( I live in a duplex) was sold last year to what I can only assume is...a slumlord. I'm assuming this because the general state of the grounds has deteriorated and he hasn't bothered to take care of any problems we renters have. My next door neighbor (not to be confused with my PN, who lives across from me, rather than next to me) has had a water leak in his kitchen for almost a year, and the landlord has yet to fix it. I have several issues here, as well, but the problems haven't been taken care of, or really even addressed, despite my repeated attempts to get them taken care of.

So, having realized this (plus, having dealt with all the wedding drama from my PN), I decided it was time to look for a new place to live. The problem? I can't afford much more than I'm paying now, and rents have only increased since I moved here, not decreased at all. Finding a place that's large enough to accommodate a myself and 2 children, plus one that allows pets, and is still in a good neighborhood is almost impossible. I looked online and in the newspapers. I called real estate agents. I even checked the cork boards at the grocery stores to see if something was listed there.

After about two weeks of this, I finally accepted that I wouldn't be able to stay in the low desert if I wanted to move and still be able to feed my children (can you believe that the average rent in this area for a 2 bedroom apartment is $1300 a month? Knowing that, can you imagine what rent for a 3 bedroom is? Yeah, sooo not in my price range), so I broadened my search to include the high desert.

After much searching - you wouldn't believe some of the places they have for rent up there..it was just scary - I finally came across an ad in the paper that sounded promising. A 3 bedroom 1 3/4 bath house on a large lot that was over 1600 square feet. For about $200 a month less than I'm paying now. I knew if I was going to move to the high desert (about 30 miles from where I live now) I would have to rent for less a month, because I'll be spending more commuting to work (and with gas prices the way they are now, it had to be a considerable amount less), so it sounded ideal. Still, I was skeptical. I was pretty much expecting some crack house with a sagging roof and cracks in the foundation.

Boy was I surprised, though. The house is an older one, built sometime in the late '70's to early '80's and is a bit dated, but the owner has had it for many years ( I think he said he's owned it for about 20, now) and so is able to keep the rent fairly low, because he doesn't owe anything on it. I spoke with him about the property and then made an appointment to look at it.

When we pulled up, the first thing I noticed was that the front yard needed some work. It was rather overgrown and there were weeds up to my knees. I wasn't hopeful after that. But when we entered the house, my mouth fell open and I was struck speechless (a very, very rare occurrence for me). The house is in immaculate shape and it's huge. The kitchen is open and spacious, with an amazing amount of cupboard and counter space. Off of it, they converted the garage into a huge bonus room, complete with a bay window and padded window seats.

The living room is large as well, with sliding glass doors that lead to a huge fenced in backyard. The bedrooms are on the small side, but with the bonus room I won't have to keep the kids' toys in there, so it won't matter as much. Besides, the closets are huge, despite the smallness of the rooms themselves, so there's plenty of storage. I could easily fit their dressers in their closets and still have plenty of space to store things.

The master bedroom is on the small side as well, but I think it's a bit bigger than the room I have now, so I know my furniture will fit. And the closet is oversized as well, so I'll have plenty of space for my own clothes...and shoes. The master bathroom is a bit small, and there's no tub, only a standup shower, but I don't require a lot of bathroom space, so it's fine. As a bonus, though, the shower is the size of a regular shower/tub combo, without the tub. So it's not cramped at all.

It's also located directly across from the elementary school and only four blocks from my parents house, so my children will be able to walk to school and ride their bikes to grandma's. It's also only 9 miles from MM's house, as opposed to the 38 I drive now. Not that that had anything to do with my wanting to rent it, but it was an added bonus.

I submitted an application the day I saw it and I'm happy to report - or a bit unhappy, actually, but I'll get to that in a minute - that I was approved and I can start moving in on the 15th of the month.

Now comes the unhappy part. I hate moving. I don't want to have to pack and move and unpack and resettle. UGH! I know it will be better in the long run, but it's the short-term that concerns me now. I wish I were a wealthy woman and could just hire someone to come in and pack everything, move everything and unpack everything when they're done.

*sigh* In a perfect world, right?

Friday, May 05, 2006

Aahh, Sweet Revenge!

Back in January, I posted a 100 things about me blog and in it I mentioned how much I hate those 'S' things (refer to numbers 23-26). I truly hate them. This isn't just a creep factor kind of thing, but a run-and-hide-before-I-puke-and-die kind of thing. Seriously. Yes, I know it's irrational. Yes, I know it's dumb to be so afraid of something so much smaller than me. No, I don't for one second believe that they're more afraid of me and I am of them. No, I don't think it's funny when my son puts fake plastic black ones in my purse in the morning. Yes, I will put soap in your mouth for saying that nasty word in my presence!

Last week I blogged about my evil cousin and her childhood antics. Just for the record, I love my cousin like a sister. Depsite her constant torture of me when we were younger (ok, and even now), we're very close. I can't imagine anything ever coming between us. Or I couldn't, until last week.

When I first started dating MM, my cousin was very opposed to us getting so serious so fast. Not because she didn't like him or think we were good for each other, but because I'd been with/married to the Rat Bastard for so long and then completely alone for three years, she thought I should sort of speed date for awhile and just enjoy being single before jumping into a long-term, serious relationship. While I agreed with her in theory, it just didn't work out that way. I had no idea I'd feel so comfortable and close to MM so soon after I met him.

Even though she really likes him, she still cautions me to take things slow. She doesn't want to see me rush into something and then regret it later. Of course, as payback for her being so rotten to me as a child, I haven't bothered to tell her that I just signed a year lease at the new place I'm moving to (there'll be a blog about that later...me moving, I mean). What she doesn't know can only make me feel vindicated, right?

So, last week, she emails me about some books. We read pretty much the same things and since I have such a large collection, she usually asks me if I have a certain book/author before she buys them. In this particular email, however, she mentioned something else as well.

Here's a copy of the actual email:

Hey Cuz. thanks for the book. I can't wait to get started on it. I can't wait until Sept. when the next JR Ward book comes out. Love you.

On a different note. I would just like to tell you that i think we need to get all of our troops home, and quickly. Bad Bad things are coming out of their trip to Iraq. (OH, and please don't hate me for this). I think I am moving. I asked Oscar (that's her hubby, he's a Marine) if he could move us out of here when he re-enlists in Dec. I just don't think I can live with this! According to the internet, they are only suppose to get about 5" across around here. However, I have seen some pictures that prove different. I was cleaning off my back porch after the Sandstorm on Fri. and something just happened to catch my eye on the wall by the garage. So, you know me, I scream, grab my hose and start shooting, while almost pissing in my pants. Now granted, the one I killed with the hose was only about 2 or 3 inches long. However, my neighbor found one the size of a softball. thats right....some one brought them back and the next thing you know they will be invading the south west. pretty freaky shit huh...

Oh just so you know. They are called Camel 'S'-things (yeah, I changed that...). And if they wanted to They could migrate by you too, the temp is right for them!

OH HELL NO! She actually attached a picture of one of these blasphemous things! Can you BELIEVE that? So here's how I replied:

My outlook automatically blocks pictures until I give it permission to load them. Be thankful, because that's the only thing that saved your life. If I had seen the attached picture, you'd be dead now and your poor daughter would be motherless.....You'll want to think about that before you try another stunt like that. In MY WORLD, those 'S' things don't exist. I refuse to hear ANYTHING that disputes that.....Got it?

I'm probably moving, too. In with MM. I thought about it a lot and decided it's probably the best thing to do. My neighborhood isn't safe and since we're getting married at the end of the year anyway, I figured I might as well, right?

I can't wait for September, either. I'm so excited to read Lover Awakened!

Love you!

Did you catch that? I'm so good. That warranted a reply:


Four phone calls and an email to my mother.

No, I'm not moving in with MM. No, I'm not getting married to him. No, I don't even want to think about EVER AFTER yet. Yes, I lied like a dog. Yes, I'm feeling very proud of myself.

I waited a few days, then finally answered her call. What? *insert innocent look here*

I told her the truth, but I think that was retribution enough, don't you?

Related Posts with Thumbnails

What Were You Expecting? - Templates Novo Blogger 2008