The promised picture

The Samster the Whamster in his new glasses.

Horsey go boom!

So, I spent yesterday doing horse stuff like I do every Saturday that I can con, um, convince the manwhore to keep the kids. I rode with D to go pick up her newest boarded, a lovely older palomino gelding named Sonny. Ellie is going to love him, I think.

After we got back, I had some time to work with Reno. I went through the 7 games (Parelli stuff) with him and had him go over a jump just before time for me to go. After he jumps, I'm supposed to ask him to stop, turn, and look at me. Only, he "hides his heiney" with a really gentle ask, and I accidentally asked him really harshly. He skittered his back feet around to get his butt away from me, and his feet slipped and went out from under him. He completely fell over. I was completely horrified and still feel like a heel for making him fall.

He's ok, and he was paying more attention to me after that, though. lol


After I made the horse fall down, I went on home and the family all went to a Nashville Sounds baseball game (minor league). The girls had won free tickets for us reading 20 books in a month. I was actually really looking forward to it and we started off having fun. Then we got our meal deals (hot dogs and stuff) and went to one of the picnic areas to eat and realized that the wind was really blowing. We had two plates to blow over and the contents of said plates were 50 ft away before anyone could even get up to chase them. But, we finished and went on back to our seats. The wind wasn't so bad there because the stadium was blocking most of it. So, we're having fun again.

Then the temps start to drop. I was so cold I made the manwhore go search out where people were buying Sounds sweatshirts. He came back with 2. lol They were selling them at 2 for $25, or 1 for $15. I put one on and used the other for a blanket.

Better, but I was still cold. At the 6 inning, I said I couldn't stand it anymore and we had to go. The kids were all relieved to go. At least the girls were. Sam wanted to stay and go out on the field and play baseball himself.

He might have been an improvement, because the Sounds got their butts kicked.

What the hell is up with my weight?

I'm gaining weight and I don't know why. I've gained about 4 lbs in the last few weeks and now I can't get it to budge. I swore when I got under 200 lbs I would never go over it again, and here I am at 207 this AM and have been over 200 for months now. Unless I am just fooling myself, I haven't changed my eating habits, and I've been so active this week I've been sore everyday.

So, why is the fat on my ass not budging? I'm determined to find out, though. I signed up at www.fitday.com (it's free) and I'm going to eat normally and track my calories and see how much I really am eating.

The manwhore joined Weight Watchers a few weeks ago and he's doing really well, so I'm extra motivated now. It was a bit of a shock to hear him say that his goal weight is less than I weigh now.
I refuse to gain any more weight! I refuse to be fat!

Also, I refuse to be so fat I can't haul my fat ass up onto the back of a horse. Yeah, that was embarrassing.

A sure sign that spring is finally here

I have my first sunburn. I do this every year in March or April when it finally warms up and stops raining. I get desperate for some sunlight, so I spend the first warm day outside all. day. long. And I forget every damned year that doing that = sunburns. Fortunately it isn't a bad one and doesn't hurt. Just enough to remind me to pull out the sunscreen and start using it again.

But, it was a glorious day yesterday, and worth a little sunburn. We went to the park and then came home and worked in the yard all afternoon. I'm digging a new flowerbed out by the mailbox. The manwhore is probably going to croak when he sees me digging another one on the other side of the driveway, too. But, I neeeeeeeed some places to plant sun loving flowers, not just the shade gardens I have up by the house. I neeeeeeed to garden. I need some plants and the smell of dirt and flowers that are growing because of me. I really do. And I can't wait to go to Home Depot or Lowes and start stocking up on flowers this spring.

Little Four Eyes

See that blog in my side bar called Little Four Eyes? --->
I've been invited to post on it by the lady that started it. It is all about little kids and their adventures with glasses. Give it a read occasionally.

PS I swear I will get a picture of Sam in his glasses up this weekend. Cross my heart, and all that.

Glasses and little kids

So, the boychild got glasses last week. He's only 2.5, so I was a little heartbroken for him.

We'd noticed a couple of months ago that he squinted at the TV and computer and books, but he didn't seem to have trouble recognizing things that were far away, so really we weren't sure he was going to need them. Then, his preschool teachers noticed he was squinting, too.

So, off we went to the pediatrician, knowing they were just going to give us a referral. It took us a month to get in with the pediatric ophthalmologist, which really isn't too bad for a specialist. His appointment was last week, so at 7:15 in the morning, we set off for the office in Franklin. We seemed to be the first patient there, and were seen very quickly. The nurse dilated his eyes, which set the tone for the rest of the appointment, ie crying and whining.

Honest to god, though, I'm not 100% sure just how the doctor figured out what Sam's prescription is. The doctor stuck a toy in his mouth and held up different lenses to Sam's eyes and looked through them with his light thingy. Voila! Prescription done.

And, it's as bad as mine. Coke bottles, that is. He doesn't have the astigmatism like I do, yet, but who knows what the future holds.

We left the office and headed to Target to check out their optical dept, which probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world, but I was in "gotta go get glasses mode" and not thinking. Cranky boy cried and fought the entire time, but I picked out some frames and the patient lady working there got a fit, so we were good to go.

They had to send them off, like they do mine, but the glasses were back in only 2 days. Yippee!

So, he's wearing them. He's not crazy about them, and I sympathize, because I'm not crazy about mine, but he's wearing them.

If the manwhore will ever download the pictures I took, I'll post one. He really is cute with them on, but I hate that he has to wear them.

It's in the mail

I can't believe it really. I mailed my first requested bit of manuscript to an actual editor at an actual publishing company. It was sort of anti climactic to leave it at the post office. I wonder how fast she will actually get around to reading it and either making an offer or rejecting it?

Writing is the easy part

Cover letters, synopsis and international mail, oh my!

Seriously, I've written a 216 pg, 58,009 word book. How hard can it be to write a 2-3 page synopsis and a 1 page cover letter? Well, let me tell you, it ain't easy. I've dithered over them for over a week now. I've finally got them finished, I think.

It makes me nervous knowing I need to sound all professional and shit, and when I am nervous about my writing, it gets all formal and "yes, I'm an English major-ish". You know what I mean, the stuffy, pretentious, too many big words and long, complex sentences. Which is a totally different style from my casual, folksy contemporary novel style. Yet, everything you read about submitting your work to an editor stresses that this is the first example of your work the editor will see, blah, blah blah. Way to make me even more nervous about it.

But, they are done, and if I can get some envelopes and stuff, I'll get all this crap in the mail today or tomorrow. Yay!

Then I can turn my back on it for a few weeks and work on my next book.

The things we do so our kids will get the cool curly straw.

So, um, sorry about the junk mail some of you people will be getting soon. The girls' school is begging for magazines or something, and sent home this stupid booklet for us to fill up with addresses of people for them to torture, I mean, solicit. And of course there was a cool little prize involved for the kids if the parents spent the time filling the damned thing out.

So, some of you will be getting a thing in the mail begging you to subscribe to magazines to help out their school. Do what you want with it. Toss it, shred it, burn it. I don't care. Of course, if you are in need of a magazine and order one, that would be lovely, but don't feel obliged.

Forgive me for adding to the junk mail, but if your kids ever need people to mail crap like that to, you are more than welcome to mail one to us.

Did I mention my phone call from the real, live Harlequin editor?

I don't think I did. Did I mention that a real, live editor from freaking Harlequin publishing called me?!?! Me! Ok, so she called because a major ice store caused her to miss my RWA chapter's annual retreat, at which she was supposed to be one of the special guests. But still, she called my house and spoke to me.

I confess I spent pretty much the entire morning sitting at my desk staring at the phone. When it rang, I almost ran away. lol

She was very nice, which is a damned good thing, because the boychild apparently became demon possessed the second the phone rang and spent the entire time pitching one more hellacious shitfit. I went in my room and shut the door and then into the bathroom and shut that door to get away from the sound of his screaming.

So, the screaming kid had me all flustered, and I blathered all over the place like a bloomin' idiot and at times I'm sure I sounded too stupid to string sentences together, much less write an actual book.

But, she really was very nice, because SHE ASKED FOR THE FIRST THREE CHAPTERS AND A SYNOPSIS!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD, I'M GOING TO HAVE AN EDITOR READING MY WORK! Someone hold me!

I've been in such a state of shock, that I haven't even looked at the manuscript since then. I told her it was out with my critique partner (hurry up and finish reading Mom!) and could I have a few weeks to get it back, so I'm not on a deadline, yet. But I don't want to take more than a week or two to get it in the mail, since it has to go to Canada.

But Oh My God!

What rhymes with bit?

We're horrible parents, really. We're going to that special section of parent hell reserved for parents who laugh at stuff they aren't supposed to laugh at.

The girls are working on rhyming words at school and we're practicing them at home. At supper I was giving them a word and they would yell something that rhymed. It went something like this:

Me: "What rhymes with Ellie?"
Them: "Belly! Smelly!"

"What rhymes with door?"
"Floor!"

"What rhymes with bit?" (I just had to go there, didn't I?)
And Emma yells "Shit!"


The manwhore and I cracked up. I laughed so hard I had tears running down my face and I almost fell out of my chair. We're awful, aren't we? I know I shouldn't have laughed, but she was so proud of herself for thinking of a word and yelled it so loud, I was a goner.

I sort of half way hope that she has the opportunity to tell her teacher that shit rhymes with bit, though.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I mean seriously, this is not me. I do not cry over shit. Yet here I am, crying about practically everything today. I wrote an email to my friend D about the horse and cried through the whole thing. She emailed me back and I cried while I read it. Then she called me to talk about Reno, and I was crying the entire time we were on the phone. WTF? I have a cold, too, so I'm really hoping she didn't notice.

But, the good news is, I seem to have completely misunderstood her on Sat, because apparently it isn't that Reno's owner doesn't think I can handle him, but she wants to meet me and show me his quirks and all before we all sign a contract. Which is perfucktly fucking reasonable, and yet I'm still crying over it.

Now, if someone would just call me and tell me the rejection letters from the charter school were a mistake, maybe I'd be all hunky-dory. rofl

Ok, Seriously

I don't think I can take much more. I'm am just about ready to melt down into a puddle on the floor. To recap, my in-laws hate me, we've had 2 funerals this past week, right?

Add to that, we applied to the local charter/magnate school for El and Em, and they didn't get in. WTF? I'm not saying I think my kids are all RARE and special, but they've done most of a year of kindy readiness, which is basically like kindergarten. They should have been ahead of the typical 4 yr old kid applying for kindy at the charter school, unless the typical 4 yr old is a genius or something. So, now I'm worried that something is going on with them that I'm not seeing. I mean, one of them is freaking reading, and the other one is starting to. What more does the damned school want?

And apparently I'm more upset about it than I realized because I had a dream last night that I actually went to the school and was stalking the teachers that did the screenings to find out what El and Em's scores were and why they didn't get it. lol

Adding yet more, my friend D that boards horses told me yesterday that Reno's owner doesn't think I can handle him, and she isn't sure she wants me working with/riding him. This one got me the most. I was crying about it last night when I went to bed. I've been so freaking excited about Reno, and it just felt like a slap in the face. I think D must have told her I don't have a lot of experience riding, which I don't, and know she's worried I'm going to mess her horse up or something. Supposedly he's spooky and she's worried I'll fall off or something.

But, he's her horse, not mine, so if she doesn't want my riding him, I won't. But I'm not paying for his farrier and worming, either.

And, I have a phone appointment with an editor from Harlequin on Wed. I'm not sure I can handle anything else right now.

Its thundersnow!

We're having a "Winter storm event" here in middle TN. We're supposed to get form 2-6inches of snow tonight. After supper, the manwhore and I were sitting at the table talking when there was a big flash of lightening and a boom of thunder. There was another boom of thunder a few minutes later. Then there was hail, or really huge sleet one. I'm not sure if the temp has reached 32F yet, but it will at least be all frozen over in the AM, even if we don't get much snow.


I confess I chickened out on the GA funeral. The manwhore ended up just going down on Tue for the service and came home afterwards. We all headed off to AL for my great uncle's funeral. It was very nice, but good lord at the big wigs that were there. I bought a pants suit to wear, the first one I've ever owned. I guess that makes me a grown up, finally.

I learned things I didn't really want to know about my granddaddy and his brother, though. Like granddaddy apparently had a heart attack after some particularly rambunctious sex with his second wife. EW!. And after he died a couple of years later, his brother, the one that just died, had an affair with her, too. EW, EW! Too. Much. Information!

I need a drink

My inlaws hate me. We've had two deaths in the family. And now Em has strep throat, and we've all been exposed. One of these days you'd think we'd figure out that sharing drinks is not a good idea.

At least I have a valid excuse for missing the manwhore's great-uncle's funeral.

On being a steel magnolia

I am in danger of loosing my status as a steel magnolia, I fear. Steel magnolia is a term used to describe Southern women who looked delicate and beautiful on the outside and are as strong as steel on the inside. I like to think of myself like that.
But, in the wake of all this shit with the manwhore's parents, I'm not feeling very strong right now. His great uncle Fred died yesterday, and my great uncle Raymond died today, so we've got two funerals in two days in two different states. And I'm going to have to face his parents.

The idea is making me sick. I just want to go puke. And I want to stay here and curl up into a little ball and cry instead of making that trip to Georgia tomorrow.

Steel magnolia my ass. More like a glass magnolia. Paper magnolia, even. Hell, maybe even a fog magnolia.

LOOK!!!!!

OMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!! Look what I have! He's mine, all mine! Well, for the next four months. I'm leasing him, and even that is only half a lease, but still he's half mine. His name is Reno, and he is a 10 yr old Arabian. And he is fucking gorgeous and I am over the damned moon. This is the first horse that has ever been in any shape, form or fashion mine. Even if it is only a four month lease, and I'm sharing the lease with someone else.
His owner is a level 3 Parrelli student, so he knows a lot of "tricks." She is going to train my friend D's horse in exchange for the board and we are going to pay for his farrier and worming in exchange for working with him. The plan/hope is that because Reno will be easy to work with, I can get through level 1 quickly, and maybe level 2, as well.

But he's a horse and he's gorgeous and he's mine for four months! I am verklempt!

Mr. Rogers is always good for a warm fuzzy

"I like you just the way you are!"

He reminds me that I like myself quite a lot, too, and I'm ok with who I am.

Snow days and birthdays

Yesterday was my 33rd birthday. The kids were also out of school for a snow day. It was an all around good day, but I had forgotten how big a mess they can make with nothing to do but stay at home. Horses everywhere. Check. Blocks everywhere. Check. Barbies everywhere. Check. Couch cushions turned into a house. Check.

By the time the manwhore got home, you couldn't see the den floor, and I was pretty oblivious in a fog of writing. They had to clean up the den before bed, but the rest of the house is still iffy. I can't write and clean at the same time, it seems.

As for the snow, well, there wasn't much to be seen. We had about 1/4 in when we woke up, but it had started snowing early Tuesday evening, leaving the roads very wet. Very wet roads + 23 degree lows = snow day because all the back roads are iced over. It actually snowed off and on all day, too, rather heavy at times. But the sun would come out and melt it all before it snowed the next time. We probably had over an inch of snow, it just didn't accumulate.

And, I know this will be hard to believe what with my February birthday and all, but this is the first time in my life that it has snowed on my birthday. It has rained occasionally, but most of the time, we have a warm spell at the end of February, resulting in a warm and sunny day for me. Cold, cloudy and snowing is not on my wish list, but it was all right.

We went to Carrabas for supper, because I don't cook on my birthday. I watched in amazement as my picky eater child ate a big handful of calamari. Kids are so weird. The manwhore and I split a jug of cheap red wine, and I drank most of it. Then I had to fight for a few bites of the cake we ordered because they were snarfing it up. Wine and chocolate. What every woman needs on her birthday.

And the best news of all, the manwhore had his annual review yesterday. He went into it expecting to tell his boss that he'd had enough and would be seriously looking for another job. He walked out with a 4% raise, the goals that he wants, a promise of what he will be doing once this system he's working on is gone in June, and assurance that he is on the right track for promotions. Hal-le-fucking-luh-jah! Scheduling his review on my birthday obviously brought him some sort of good luck.

So, at the moment, I don't care that my in-laws hate me. Screw them, life is good!

So, it seems my inlaws don't like me.

Let me start with the little disclaimer that I'm pretty pissed and hurt right now, and this is my blog and I'm going to spout off. If someone reads this and gets her feelings hurt, I apologize.

Anyway, while I was gone to the retreat, the manwhore took the kids to see his parents. We haven't laid eyes on them since XMas and have only spoken to them on the phone once or twice. While they were there, father-in-law (FIL) proceeds to tell Bill all about how he thinks that I am ungrateful and self-centered and that he doesn't like me, and according to him, mother-in-law and sister-in-law (MIL and SIL) don't like me either.

According to him, I acted like a bitch at Xmas, hurt MIL's feelings and after we left, she cried and they all sat around and talked about how much they don't like me.

I freely admit that I was rather terse when we left because I was pissed at SIL. Bill was, too. Apparently she was so stressed out that she couldn't deal with our kids for more than 24 hrs, so she asked us to leave.

When we left, we thought their parents knew this. And from what FIL has said, she never told them that we left because she asked us to.

But, she was all stressed out over her dissertation and her job and blah blah blah. Yep, I'm being a big old heartless bitch, now. It was Xmas, she could have sucked it up, slapped a smile on her face and drank a bottle of wine or two. She isn't the only person in the family dealing with a lot of stress right now.

Bill is pretty fucking miserable in his job and no one really cares or knows. His dad actually told him back before Xmas that it didn't matter how unhappy he is, that he should just suck it up and stay with TSC, because they pay well.

Now, since I'm all pissed off and all, I'm going to come out and say I don't like FIL very much, myself. I think he has a flaming case of asshole-itis, and needs to get the fuck over himself. But, I suck it up and slap a smile on my face and act pleasant around him, even when he's throwing a temper tantrum to end all temper tantrums, a la my 2 yr old.

So, where will all of this end? Right now, it ends here. I will not be going up there. My children will not be going up there, and the in-laws are not welcome in my house. Bill can go, but he says he won't go without me. They could all drop dead, and I'm not too sure I would care. I would only because Bill and the kids would.

When things settle down for Bill and SIL, he and I want to sit down with the five of us, in a counselor's office and see if things can't be put right. If not, when the kids are old enough to drive, they can make the choice to have or not have a relationship with their grandparents. Until then, they won't be seeing them.

And let me reiterate, I'm mad. I'm really, really mad right now. In a week, I might not think this way. But right now I do, and I'm not going to stuff my feelings about it. If any possible readers don't like it, they can go suck it.

God, I'm exhausted

The retreat was fabulous! Lots of fun and good advice and inspiration to keep working. I sort of stayed on a high all weekend, so now I'm in the post high slump, and pooped.

The only dark spot to the weekend, other than the fact it was cold, was that the editor from Harelquin got snowed in in New York, and couldn't make it. She has said that she'll call everyone who had an appointment so we can pitch to her over the phone. Yay, I can puke on my phone instead of on her shoes.

Oh, and I bought the kids some little souvenirs, and I think I left them in someone else's car. Now I have to track her down and see if she found them. If they aren't there, then I guess that was $20 down the drain.

Bask in my awesomeness!

I have written over 25,000 words since last Friday. I've written 7,000 of those words today. Touch me, I am an awesome writing machine.

I am trying like to mad to finish my second book, which has the working title of Blown Away, before my writer's retreat this weekend. I don't know if I'm going to finish it, because quite frankly, my ass is worn out. But I'm close and I'm going to work on it some more tomorrow. I could stay up tonight, but my brain is a bit fried, too. Did I mention my ass hurts?

So, I'm going to go the bed, hopefully to wake up fresh and ready to have my characters engage in the Black Moment vitriol filled fight that they are going to have, because what's a romance novel without that Black Moment? I think she is going to hurl insults and possibly even rocks at his head. But love will prevail, hurricane winds will not wipe out said love, but make it stronger. And some more sex is going to happen.

Oh yes, sometime before 11:22 am Sat morning, I have to come up with a 25 word pitch for the real, live Harlequin editor about this book.

And my ass really hurts. Too much time in this chair this week.

The manwhore, he is awesome

Well, at least very understanding. Or oblivious to dirt. rofl
So we were talking last night about this retreat, and how I've been writing like mad. I apologized for the messy state of the house, and bless his heart, he told me it didn't look messy to him. Cluttered, yes, but he blamed that on the kids.

Now, I suppose it is just him being a man and not noticing these things, because I haven't done more than vacuum the middle of the floor and swish the brush around one toilet in over a week. Things are not pristine around here. But, CPS won't be knocking on our door, either.

But, I guess I'm glad he hasn't noticed or been bothered by the lack of housework.

Cross your fingers that I don't puke on her shoes

I have an appointment with an editor from Harlequin on Saturday. A real live editor, from real live Harlequin, who buys and pays real, live money for romance novels. She's going to be at the retreat I'm going to this weekend and in some bit of insanity, I told them I wanted an appointment. Actually, I don't remember saying yes. I remember saying I'll think about it. But, I figure that if I'm ever going to really and truly act like a romance writer, I'd better take the appointments as they come.

In the meantime, I need to slog through about 20,000 words before Fri, and come up with a "pitch" for my book, 25 words or less. Yet, here I sit blogging instead of writing.

All things equestrian

I have quickly come to realize that quite frankly, buying the actual horse is probably the cheapest part of horse ownership. Even feeding them isn't that pricey. But holy motherfucking hell, the STUFF you need is $$$.

A few weeks ago, I bought a riding helmet. I know some people ride without them, but I'm not going to. Besides, leading by example, etc. It cost me $60, with my family discount at TSC. Cheaper than a concussion, I suppose.

Today, I was shopping for riding pants. Not a necessity, but much more comfy. The ones I bought (a size smaller than I thought I needed!) were $60. Thank god they were on sale for 50% off. I picked up one pair that were $100. I dropped them like a hot potato, let me tell you. I've never spent $100 on a pair of pants for anything, and unless I'm riding in a show, no way am I spending $100 on them to get dirty sitting on a horse. Even if they were 50% off.

Little kids pants are just as expensive. $30+ on sale. No way. I'll shop Ebay for those.

And boots. Oh my god the boots. I might be buying those used on Ebay, too. I have a pair that will do for now, but they aren't riding boots, and I really need real riding boots. Besides, the ones I have are hurting my feet. I'm not even talking about tall boots, either. I'm just talking about paddock boots, which are ankle boots. Anywhere from $80+.

I've not even looked at them for the girls. They have some boots from Target that work just fine. Besides, their feet don't even reach the stirrups yet, so the heel isn't too important.

Tack is expensive, too. God knows why, but I entertain myself looking at saddles on Ebay, and drool over English ones. Fortunately, that is something that can be bought for not too much money if you buy used. But, I don't need my own saddle, yet.

Still, I now own a pair of pants, that will get dirty on a horse, that retailed for more than I usually spend on an entire outfit.

Marriage is a wonderful thing

Even when it is just everyday life, it is still wonderful. Why, you ask? Well, let me tell you. My friend D is single and involved with this guy, J. Only, they are really more like friends with benefits, but she wants to be more, and she gets all giggly when she talks about him. He has a tendency not to call, and then not know why she's upset, and she's in love, and should she tell him, etc, etc. Listening to her talk about it, it makes me really fucking glad I don't ever have to deal with that again. (Because I'll kill him before I divorce him, and he knows this fact.)

When you are married, you don't have to worry about him not calling for 2 weeks. You don't have to fret over saying I love you. Its just easier. Oh sure, marriage is a lot of work, and sometimes it sucks and you wish you had a cast iron skillet handy, but honest to god, it is a hell of a lot easier than being single and dating.

Never again, I swear. And I'm so grateful for that fact.

Another end has come

The lovely lady that wrote the blog in my sidebar, 50 Tries, has died. She was diagnosed with breast cancer when her daughter was only 9 months old. Her daughter is now 6.

I knew her as Kamic. I don't even remember how she came to Sybermoms, but she posted regularly for a while, when her disease was in remission. She posted much less frequently in recent years, with her last post being sometime last fall. Still, she was a member of our community and she will be vastly missed.

We have in the past lost a husband (I believe to cancer), a child to a drunk driver, several babies to various complications, but so far as I know, we have never lost one of us, a Sybermom. It is heartbreaking that Kamic was the first. She was a brave woman, who fought her battle with cancer with courage and grace. I hope she is at peace, and I hope her family finds healing and peace.

The End!

Well, I did it. I wrote a book. 75,000+ words and 264 pages. It only took me six months lol

But, the first draft at least is done. I have a plot, a beginning, a middle and an end. It's a book. I'm going back through and reworking some of over the next few days, because I don't like the totally unrelated part about the flower garden. She has to be interested in his horses, and they aren't having a snit after they get married like I originally wrote, so I've got to rework that, too.

But holy fuck damn, I wrote a book! Woot!

We're off to see the Wizard!

Actually, thank god we weren't transported to Oz on a tornado last night. It was a scary, scary night for the people of Tennessee last night, as well as Arkansas and Kentucky. Sadly, the death toll stands at 44 as of this morning. Fortunately for us, all of the bad weather skimmed just north of us, but it is a terrible feeling to sit and watch a storm with known tornadoes bearing down on the heart of metropolitan Nashville. 3 hospitals, 3 or 4 universities, and highly populated suburbs all under the gun.
The worst of the damage was to the northeast of the city, and I post on my mommy message board with someone who lives there. She says they dove for their closet with the kids and dogs. Their ears were popping, the house shaking, but no damage. There were fatalities in their community, though, and schools are closed for them today.

One other Sybermom known to be in the path of the storms that went just south of Clarksville has not reported in as of yet. I'm sure she is ok, and just having a life, but I worry.

At this point, I don't even know how the Super Tuesday primaries went. I should check CNN or something.

February owns me.

This is a busy month in the Piece household. We start the month off swinging with the manwhore's birthday tomorrow. He will be a very elderly 42 years young. Hard to believe I'm married to such an old guy.
Then it's literature week at school coming up, and Valentine's Day, which generally involves parties at school. Then I have my writer's retreat. We finish off the month with my birthday on the 27th, when I will be a youthful 33.

But we can't start such a busy month off without a little something, something, now can we? Of course not! So, the boychild has some sort of stomach bug that sure does look like it might be rotovirus. Peeeyeew! I'm spending my morning cleaning the carpet where the stinky, runny contents of his diaper overflowed at 5 am. Yay me.

Everytime I touch the poor kid I feel like scrubbing my hands like a surgeon prepping for surgery.

We don't beat our kids, really

Em is sporting a lovely shiner this morning, thanks to her idjit daddy. He was pulling a computer keyboard of out the desk and it was hung on something. Any intelligent person would have reached in and freed the cord by hand, but instead, he had to yank the entire keyboard. The cord came loose and the keyboard went flying, right into Em's face. One swollen nose, one cut, one very black eye, including a bruise on her actually eyeball.


I missed the entire incident, but Em assures me that daddy snuggled her (I cried on his shirt, she says) and he put an ice pack on it, so he felt appropriately parentally guilty. Which is good, because I want to paste him one for giving my bay-bay a black eye. Good thing I love the big lunk.

I keep debating sending her teacher an email, just because when asked, both girls usually say something like "Daddy threw the keyboard and it hit her!" Teacher is going to think the manwhore just randomly tossed computer parts around or something. lol

I was off at my friend D's house when the incident occurred. She is suffering from a stomach virus this weekend, which sucks anytime, but sucks donkey balls when you are single and don't have a spouse to send to the store for gingerale and saltines. It sucks even more when you have 5 horses depending on you for their food and you are so sick you can't drag yourself out to feed them. So, she called me and asked me to feed them. Apparently I'm the only person besides her that can deal with the idjit pony and the new horse. I was quite happy to help, and even stopped at the store for real gingerale (that actually has ginger in it) and crackers and bananas.

I haven't heard from her today, so I'm guessing she's feeling well enough to throw feed at the horses today.

Taking myself seriously as a writer

I'm taking the first steps down that road. I have faxed my application to join the RWA, which is the professional organization for romance writers, and when I get confirmation from the national organization, I will join my local group. Then in February, I will be going to their yearly members writing retreat. There will even be a real live editor from Harlequin there. EEK! I am not planning to have an appointment with her, though, because I don't think I'll have anything finished by then.

But, it is a major step down the road to becoming a writer. The "real" kind, with published works.

Still, for some reason, I dither and delay about opening up that word document. I spend way too much time everyday talking myself into it. It's almost like I'm afraid someone is looking over my should and thinking I'm being silly or something. Still, I've got almost 70,000 words of one novel written, even though I intend to go back and edit, edit, edit. Must finish first!

I suck, like big time, damn

I was climbing down the bunk bed ladder after tucking El into bed tonight and bumped the shelf on the wall. It fell, ripping the nails out with it (and I didn't even hit it that hard WTF?). On that shelf was their snow globe collection and two little angels someone gave them as babies. All broken, except one snow globe. How it survived, I have no clue.

Their floor is covered with glass, water and glitter, and I can't finish cleaning it until the water dries.

My name is complete and total mud. They cried, I cried. It was a bad night all around.

On a positive note, snow globes can be repaired. For the low, low price of $30 a globe. Two of these things cost less than $2, and one was only about $10. Only one of the big Disney ones is worth even considering having it repaired. But, no one, except maybe Bill Gates, would spend $30 fixing something that cost $2. I just can't, no matter how much they cry.

So, we will be making a trip to some store, some where this weekend to see if we can find some snow globes that will be suitable replacements, without spend a fortune.

And I suck. Really and truly. And I'm still crying. Dammit all to hell.

Rain, rain, go away!

Come back again another fucking day! I swear, I think that nature is trying to make up for the drought we had last summer. But why can't it do so on Mon, Wed, Fri, Sat, Sun? It has rained pretty much every Tues and Thur, or at least during the night before, since Xmas. And Tue and Thur are my days out with the horses. Kind of hard to play with horses in the pouring down rain, or if there is mud up to your knees.

And it's raining today. Buckets of rain. And it's supposed to rain on Thur, too. More buckets of rain. I'm beginning to think that it will be spring before we get much accomplished with the horses. Fucking crazy Southern weather.

On a related note, I'm getting tired of being cold. We've had our 3 weeks of winter. Enough now.
Also, I think that one plus side to living up north is probably the snow. At least if there is snow on the ground, it makes the freezing ass cold temps seem worth it. But what is the point of having highs in the mid 20s if there isn't even any snow to play in? You just freeze as you look outside to the brown grass in your yard.

Houston, we have poop

Probably entirely TMI for my dear readers, but I am excited in only the way the mother of a diaper wearing child can be excited. So far today, we've had no pee accidents and even, dare I say it? Poop in the potty!

The power of the Thomas the Tank Train bribery toy is awesome. One entire day with no wet undies wins the boy child one Percy playset, complete with train, building and some track. Cost to me, $15. That's like half the price of a case of diapers, or the same price as a pack of pullups (which are merely diapers in another, more expensive form), so if it motivates him to potty train, then it is $15 well spent.

So far, this venture has cost me $10 for another Percy train to get him to actually pee in the potty. Still, I figure that even if this costs me three or four or even five or six train toys and sets, in the long run, it is cheaper than two or three more cases of diapers.


And, love of the train set has prompted not just pee, but poop in the potty as well, so it is money doubly well spent.

We won't mention the fact that two hours later he pooped again, this time in the undies. One poop in the potty is a start.

Too much furniture!

If we put any more furniture in our den, the room is going to explode. We now have not one, but two desks in here. We added another one this weekend to hold the kids' computer. Every bit of wall is now covered. It makes me twitch some, but really, I don't know how else to arrange it. And one day they will be gone, and the house will be empty, so I would rather it it be too full now.

If you hear a crash from your closet

You would do well to hope it is the skeletons trying to escape or some gay person trying to come out. That would be much easier to deal with than the crash in our closet this weekend. Apparently the hooks that hold up the shelving were feeling their age, and they all broke on one side. Only the top shelf right up at the ceiling that holds the manwhore's hat collection didn't fall. All of my clothes and all of his clothes in the floor and spilling out into our room.

So, we went to one of the big home improvement stores yesterday and drooled over closet systems. In the end, I declared that it would be foolish to buy a whole new shelf system when we could just replace the hooks on the one we have. So, we did, and added some stackable shelves, a shoe organizer, and a set of drawers. Our closet is now neater than the bedroom. We can actually walk in there, all the way to the back wall, for the first time in years.

I think part of my spring cleaning will be to clean off the top shelves and organize up there. We have so little storage space in this house that we really shouldn't waste what we've got.

To inject a bit of humor, while vacuuming the floor, I pushed back the hanging clothes on the other side and say something brown and fuzzy moving against the wall. I jumped about a foot and was on the verge of screaming and running when I realized it was just the tail to the manwhore' Cowardly Lion costume. Why does he have a Cowardly Lion costume you ask? Well, it involves work and a Halloween contest...

Is it a barn or Peyton Place?

No, I will not be the go between between you people!!!!! Put on your big girl panties and work it out like adults.
Le Sigh. Seriously, this is why I don't like people, generally and tend to be a hermit. My kids are into horses. The neighbor's kid is, too, and she owns a horse. We asked them for a recommendation for a riding instructor and they sent us to the lady that boards there horse. I've gotten to be friendly with both of them, and as I've mentioned here before, I've got the chance to lean Parrelli horsemanship with D, without having to shell out big bucks for a seminar or the Parrelli materials.
But now, D and L are not getting along so well. L has pulled away and it has hurt D's feelings, and they won't talk it out. But I'll be damned if I'm going to be the one to tattle on them both. Fuck that, just because I'm friends with you both doesn't mean I'm going to be your go between. Grow up, deal with each other and leave me out of it!

This is why I take my calcium

Yesterday, it was warm and very windy. I've been cleaning house like mad, including washing pillows and suck, because El is sick, yet again. With it warm and windy, I decided it would be a good day to save some electricity and hang towels and quilts and stuff on the clothes line. Well, warm and windy in Jan in the South means eventually it will rain and probably storm. It finally started to rain while I was cooking supper and since I still had things on the line, I went running after them. On the way back in the house with an armload of wet blankets, my wet shoe met wet linoleum, and I went flying. I slammed into the counter and then into the floor and landed on a pile of wet laundry. Whilst laying there contemplating the possibility of broken parts of me, Em comes up and hops in her chair at the table and asks "Is supper ready yet?"
Supper was not ready yet, and after deciding nothing was seriously injured, I drug my aching self off the floor and finished. I ached all over for the rest of the evening, but today I don't seem to have any injuries other than a bruise on my leg where it hit the track for the sliding door.

And my oh so thoughtful manwhore didn't bother to offer to help me up, and never asked me if I was ok, and throughout the evening afterwards never asked how I was feeling. His only comment was "I guess we won't be having sex tonight?" Um, no asshole, we won't and maybe not again this week or next week. Bitch.

As for El, the rapid strep test was neg, and the pediatrician thinks there is a good chance she has mono. As in, the kissing disease that teenagers usually spread around like wildfire. WTF? Obviously it spreads in other ways besides kissing, but still. The ped says that it is much easier on little kids than teens or adults, so that is good. If she's still running fever by Fri, we can take her back in to draw blood to check, as it was too soon to do so on Mon. We only need to know for sure because she rides horses and can't risk a fall when her spleen might be enlarged, which usually happens with mono. Whoopee.

Post Christmas bloggage

Christmas was good. The toys were a hit. The kids are all finally well. I'm finally improving from 2 weeks of stopped up infected ear hell. Spaghetti and cheap wine for supper. Life is good.

Happy Christmas Eve!

I am as excited as a little kid about Christmas. I cannot wait until tomorrow. Only now, I don't care what I'm getting. I can't wait to see the kids open their presents.

We've had a bit of family dramah, but I've just taken the "I don't give a fuck" attitude about it, and we're having a good time at home with just us. The in-laws will be here later, but the manwhore will be going after wine, and I have hard cider, beer and rum for eggnog, so it can't possibly be that bad. lol

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday!

Someone please just shoot me

I have a cold. The umpteenth one this fall. This one involves a head crammed full of snot and two ears that are so full of said snot that I can barely hear. And they hurt. Especially the left one. It hurts enough that I drove home from lunch with the manwhore contemplating sticking a needle in my ear and popping my eardrum. Sure it would be excruciatingly painful for a few minutes, but supposedly a ruptured eardrum only hurts for a few minutes and then the release of pressure from behind it brings such relief that it doesn't hurt much anymore. Of course, it takes months to grow back and in the meantime you can't get water in your ear. But still, it might be worth it, if only it would make the side of my head stop hurting.

When runny noses attack

I try to act like a lady, really I do. Sometimes I fail miserably, though. I think today is one of those times. I have a cold and apparently my cold meds wore off on the way home from Xmas shopping, because my nose started to run. I mean like running down my upper lip type running. So, what is a lady to do? At first I wiped it on the back of my hand, wiped that on my leg and drove one handed until I found the hand sanitizer and cleaned my hand. Then it started up again. In total desperation, I grabbed Ellie's winter hat and blew my nose on it. Gross, I know. I picked the girls up from school, came on home and tossed the hat in the laundry. And as I was getting out of the van, I found a fucking napkin stuck down beside the seat. Of course I couldn't find it before I blew snot all over my kid's hat.


So, obviously I am not much of a lady. So sorry.

You people need to go buy some stock in Lysol

I'm going to hose my house down in the stuff. Yesterday, I started sneezing and the dripping nose crap. I can. not. handle. another. sick. person. Not even me. I can't handle me being whiny and cranky. I can't handle any more whiny cranky kids. Everyone has to get the fuck well.

The biggest positive to the kids all being out of school for 2 solid weeks is that maybe everyone will get well and the germs at school will all die, Die, DIE!!!

Christmas awesomeness

Is that even a word? Awesomeness. I guess so, as my spell checker didn't flag it.

Anyway, the awesomeness that is Straight No Chaser:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Fe11OlMiz8&feature=related

Pneumonia X 2

So, Sam's cold and fever thing? Pneumonia. He was starting to breath fast yesterday and last night he sounded like he was wheezing. We were on the phone with the oncall doctor at 10:30PM trying to decide if we needed to go to the ER with him. The go now point was 50 respirations per minute and he was at 48.

So, first thing this AM, we got him an appoint and the doctor listened for about 2 secs before saying that he had pneumonia. His pulse ox was running in the low 90s. He got a loverly antibiotic shot with the consistency of cold maple syrup in his leg, so he's been limping around all day.

Ellie, at least, is on the mend and was back at school today.

I will admit to being much more worried and upset about Sam than I was about Ellie, because she never acted that sick. I suppose she has was some people call walking pneumonia. Sam has "I'm sick and feel like shit" pneumonia. So, because she hasn't really felt that bad, I ASSume she's not as sick. But Sam is clearly much sicker and laboring to breath and all that. He slept in the bed with me last night and will again for the next few nights.

So, cast your spells, send good thoughts and prayers and put a fucking hex on the god damned germs, if you please. It's going to be a long fucking winter if the first illness we run through is pneumonia.

At home with two sick kiddos

So, Sam is sick, too. Not pneumonia. Probably just a cold, but he's running a fever so it could be turning into an upper respiratory infection or a sinus infection. He's cranky, El is cranky. They are getting on each others' nerves and getting on mine. And it is unseasonable warm here and it's hot in the house and I'm sweating, but I refuse to turn the A/C on in December.

And I'm going to have to drag two sick kids to the grocery store if we are going to eat tonight. Blech.

Go away germs!

All three of the kids have colds. El has been running fever off and on since the weekend and yesterday complained of an earache. So, off to the doctor to see if it is infected. It is. And she has pneumonia. WTF?!?!?!? How does my child have pneumonia and me not realize it?

She's had a lingering cough from the one after the other colds, so you would think the fever would have tipped me off. Besides, she bouncing around like she doesn't feel that bad. Except that now she's whining like a little buttwipe because she wants to sit in the chair and Em is in it. lol

But, my baby is sick. Poor girl. Go away germs! Away!

The Hair knows and Sex-dar

Yesterday afternoon, I met my parents halfway and handed over my three darling children and my minivan and watched them drive away, to be gone for the next 24 hours, more or less. I giddily drove home in their little suv (which unfortunately smells like an ashtray) and spent the next several hours primping for the manwhore's company Christmas party. Hair was curled, mascara applied, and slinky black dress donned. We were on our way, only to sit in traffic for 45 minutes or more, but we finally arrive. The theme was a nightclub, and there was much loud music, drinking and prime rib. Two out of three can't be complained about. Except there were no knives to cut the prime rib. I got happily sloshed on 4 glasses of cheap merlot (the free drinks) and we went home to a childless house. Of course we were pulling clothes off of each other before we made it through the door. There followed a lovely bit of time together that anyone who has kids can just imagine for themselves. lol

The next morning, we were planning a little encore and getting snuggly in bed when the manwhore's cellphone rang. It was work, with a problem. We can't escape the sex-dar. We get rid of the kids for a while and the fucking help desk turns theirs on.

Now for anyone who doesn't know, sex-dar is this thing that children come equipped with that causes alerts them anytime their parents are about to have sex and prompts them to interrupt somehow. It is strongest at birth and tapers off as they get older. In young infants, mom and dad even looking at each other with lust in their eyes will cause the sex-dar to ping and the baby will wake from the deepest of sleeps and cry. By the time baby is fed, changed, rocked and settled back to sleep, the mood has passed and the parents collapse into bed. As the child ages, the sex-dar weakens and they start sleeping through cuddling, hand holding and eventually quickies that last less than 5 minutes.

By the time the kid is a year old or maybe 18 months old, you might actually get 15 or 20 minutes of sex in. This is how little brothers and sisters are made. This starts the cycle all over again with the new baby. Eventually, though, you stop having younger siblings and the kids start to grow up and mom and dad can have some quality time after all the little dears are asleep. Hugging, kissing and other displays of affection that happen while the kids are awake still ping the sex-dar and cause kids to come running from the other end of the house demanding your immediate attention. This usually ends when the kids hit their teens and are so grossed out by the very thought that their parents might have ever had sex, much less still do it, they run from the house at the least little bit of affection between the parents. Of course, then you are staying up waiting on them to come home from dates and whatnot, so you still aren't getting any.

Apparently people who are on call have another sex-dar scanning them, only it doesn't work all the time. The result is we get interrupted by the cell phone only once every couple of months or so.

So, this morning, we got interrupted by the cell phone, and since we had to hit Toys R Us to finish up Christmas shopping (and I was hungry) we gave up. The manwhore asked if I was going to wash my hair, while eying it with some trepidation. I said yes, because I knew it was sticking up every which way and generally looked like it had been mussed up doing what we had been doing. He laughed and said "The hair knows!" Needless to say, I washed all of the hairspray and squashed curls out of it before leaving the house.

Deck the halls and all that crap

My house is all decorated for the holidays. I have a couple of things left to do, but really, the halls are decked with plenty of holly, and bows and greenery and stuff. As I was finishing up the the arrangement on the dining room table, I wondered why I go to all the trouble. Why not just throw up a tree and some lights outside and be done with it? No one is likely to see it but us. I spent days decorating just for us. When Christmas is over, I'll have to spend days taking it down, and its likely no one will have seen it but us.

Speaking of decorating, it think I'm going overboard on trees. We have 5, count them 5, Christmas trees this year. We have the big one in the living room. A 4 ft one in the den with the kids' ornaments from school and stuff (mil gave us this one. It was left over from her kindy teaching days.) The girls have a 2ft purple princess tree in their room. There is a 2 ft tree that I put in the kitchen, left over from my single, tiny apartment days. And lastly, a 1 ft felt one on the coffee table for Sam to play with. 5 trees. All decorated. Only the felt one doesn't have lights. The manwhore says we have a Christmas tree forest.

My Christmas lights are sucking the joy of the season right out of me.

Fucking things. How is it that you can pack away Christmas lights at the end of the season and they all work just fine, then take them back out the next year and they not work? We have a pre-lit tree, that we bought last year, so it's only been used one season. Got it out and set it up on Mon night and I have three branches that won't light. We can't find a burned out bulb and replaced fuses and nothing has helped. Fucker.
And I have a bunch of pre-lit garlands for the front porch and one of them quit working this year. Same deal, no burned out bulbs or blown fuses, just won't work. At least they are several years old and not new.

As if losing one kid wasn't enough

So, we're at the in-laws for T'day. We got in last night, had supper, the kids were tired and ready to go to bed. So we go get the bath ready and El says she doesn't want a bath. We tell her she has to have one. Get Em in the bath and look around for El. No El. We looked all over this fucking house for her and I was getting that panicky feeling. Finally, I yelled "El, this isn't funny any more!" Because she had to be in the house. Where else could she have gone? Sure enough, she crawled out from under the bed! She had been under there for at least 10 minutes, and not made a peep.

After I got her in the tub, I had father-in-law open a bottle of wine. For my nerves, you know.

I swear to fuck, losing two kids twice in the same day is not good for the nerves. No one should have to feel that sinking, sick, panicky feeling, and especially not twice in one day.

I think they are getting back at me for my own childhood when brother and I ran away and stayed gone for something like 2 hours.

I was this close || to calling 911

Like holy shit damn and fuck. Sam scared the ever loving bejeebus out of me this morning. I was making mac and cheese for his preschool T'day lunch today and he was playing on the deck. What with global warming and all it was plenty warm and I just had the back door open. At some point he went down to play in the yard, which he does all the time. The yard is fenced and I can see it from the kitchen, if I'm not staring at a pot of mac and cheese.

I got it all made and in the dish and went to get him so we could go get dressed and he wasn't in sight. Looked under the deck. Called him many, many times. Checked inside the play thing. Thought maybe he was in the house and I didn't notice him walk by. I tore through the house yeliing "Sam, Sam where are you!??!" No answer. I went out the front door, thinking maybe he climbed over the fence and was playing in the front yard, calling him all the time and starting to fucking panic. I went around the side of the house, and was going to call 911 if I didn't find him over there, when I found him.

He was squeezing (not even squeezing really) through the gap between our fence and the neighbor's fence and back into our yard. He had clearly been out of our yard, but I don't know if he was just outside the fence and I couldn't see him over it, or if he was out exploring and came back because he heard me calling him.

Then the little shit ran away from me in our yard, laughing at me. I snatched him up and brought him inside and called the manwhore and sat down and cried.

The gap in the fence will be fixed when we get back next week. I didn't even know they knew it was there, and really we shouldn't have waited to see. But, we forgot it was there. Bad parents. It hasn't always been there, but the neighbors tore down their old fence and had a new one put up. For some reason the new one doesn't sit quite as far back, thus resulting in the gap.

I need a fucking drink, I think.

Quite possibly the stupidest women on Earth.

There is this message board for supposedly hippy, earth-mother types called mothering.com. They actually call themselves mothering.comune. Several years ago it was a gathering place for people who cloth diapered, breastfed, preferred slings to strollers, used natural cleaning products and beauty supplies, recycled, and probably had a garden in the back yard. Not insane at all.

Now it has turned into full on freakville with women who are completely against anything that reeks of The MAN. Including medical care. Especially medical care for pregnancy and childbirth. They have an entire forum dedicated to unassisted childbirth (UC) which means having your baby at home alone, with no attendants possibly not even your husband/baby daddy there to help. No midwife to help if something goes wrong. Birth attendants, especially those in hospitals are predators and dangerous. Doctors are just looking to haul you off for unnecessary c-sections.

There are women there who claim they would rather their baby die in childbirth than them have a c-section, because of the slight risk of maternal death during the c-section. Someone forgot to tell them, or they just refuse to hear, that even if the baby dies, it still has to come out, one way or another. A baby that dies in the womb because it is too big to fit through mom's pelvis is not likely to fit even after it dies.

So stupid women, stupider message board, because this board is moderated, and the moderators will delete anything that they deem unsupportive. If you gently encourage someone to seek medical care after 5 days of ruptured membranes, with meconium staining, and your post will get deleted. Encourage a woman leaking fluid and having contractions at 28 weeks to see a doctor? Deleted. Do it often enough and you get banned from the board. There is no voice of reason, only insanity.

If this isn't neglect, I don't know what is. It should be criminal, and this message board that enables these women should be shut down.


I want to add that I understand wanting to have the perfect birth, wanting your baby's entrance into the world to be beautiful, that medical intervention can be scary and traumatizing. My daughters are 5 yrs old and I still have strong feelings about their birth and regrets that it had to be that way. It was the single most terrifying thing I've ever gone through, and I have no doubt that I was suffering from PTS afterwards. But, the reason it was so terrifying, the reason I was so scared was not because of the drs and the medical care I received, it was during those moments when we couldn't get the nurse, couldn't get help and then just knowing that they were being born 10 weeks premature, and I was fucking terrified that my babies might DIE. I wasn't thinking about the birth experience then, I was thinking about my babies, that I loved more than myself even before they left my body, and I didn't want them to die. Just get them out and get them in the NICU where they will be safe.

When Sam was born, and my hopes for a VBAC were going down the drain, I was bleeding, he wasn't moving much, and again, I just wanted him out, where I could see him, and I knew he was safe and ALIVE.

Yes, there are feelings of anger and regret about the surgeries and the way things worked out and the lost hours with all of them, but I knew they were alive and safe and under competent medical care. Even with that, I have one child with some minor brain damage, and the guilt I feel over that far surpasses any feelings I have about the fucking c-section.

So, to all of those women at Mothering.com, I say grow the fucking hell up and think about someone besides your own selfish self for a change.



I just want to add that my child with the little bit of brain damage is learning to read. *Proud mama*

That was the yummiest school lunch I've eaten in 14 years.

Of course, it was the only school lunch I've eaten in the last 14 yrs. The girls school is doing T'day lunches with the kids this week. Their class had theirs today (they break it up into two groups because so many parents come). So, off I went to fork out $3.50 for a tray full of slop. Seriously, I asked the mom in front of me what the yellow stuff was, and she had no idea. The lunch lady told us it was turkey and gravy. lmao And the dressing was runny and sagey. Chewy green beans. Frozen strawberries. Pecan pie that tasted like pumpkin pie. The roll was good, though. lol

I'm glad I only have to do that once a year.

I hate bunk beds.

My girls have bunk beds because they have a rather small bedroom. I've seen smaller. I had a friend in elementary school whose room was so small you could barely walk around the bed. But still, their room isn't exactly large. Two twin beds side by side would leave them with no floor space and no where to put a dresser. I'm not organized enough to deal with socks and undies and stuff in the closet, and I think they need room to play in their room, so bunk beds it is.

The beds were a birthday present from Grandma and Grandpa, and I'm sad to say that I hate them. Not because there is anything wrong with them, but because they are bunk beds. Em sleeps on bottom and hers is the easiest to make up, but you risk busting your head every time you lean over. El is on top and the only way to make her bed to just climb up there and pull and tug the mattress pad and sheets down while sitting on the mattress. Not the easiest feat in the world. And, because her bunk has rails to keep her from falling out, there is no way to actually make the bed, as in have the quilt all smooth and all, because the quilt can't hang over the edge. The only easy part about El's bed is that she hates the top sheet, so I just don't put it on. When I did, it stayed a lumped up.

I cannot wait until we have a house big enough to unstack those damned beds and they are finally easy to make up.

I get to play with a pony!

Yay me! I'm going to get my horse fix multiple times a week for a good long while. The lady that teaches my kids' riding lessons has worked out a deal where she is getting a miniature horse, but the horse is only 2 yrs old and was basically stuck in a pasture and ignored. She needs lots of work. So, I told De that I would come and work with Knee High (the horse) at least 2x a week when the kidlets are all occupied. De is over the moon about it, and is going to work with her horse at the same time and going to teach me Parelli horsemanship (attachment parenting for horses). So, by the time the girls are ready for their own horse, I will know Parelli and hopefully they will know at least the basics.

I'm sold on Parelli because I have never been around horses that are as polite and mannerly and just generally like and trust people as the horses on De's farm, and I've taken riding lessons myself as a teen.

Apparently Knee High thinks she is a dog, though, because she likes to jump up on you. Eek!

The evilness of hiding veggies in your kids' food

I am way too excited about this, quite frankly. This week, my kids have eaten pumpkin and spinach and didn't complain. Of course they didn't know they were eating it, but still.

The pumpkin was pureed and went into mac and cheese. Disgusting, you say? Not at all. I swear to your favorite deity that you could not taste it. This was fresh pumpkin, steamed and pureed, so it was the same bright orange as Kraft Mac and Cheese. Yes, I suck doubly because I not only fed my kids mac and cheese out of a box, with the powdered cheese no less, I put pumpkin in it. They ate it, though.
The suggestion I have seen for that calls for butternut squash, and if you wanted to go with canned (or liked jarred baby food squash) I would say that would work better, because canned pumpkin is dark and not bright powdered cheese orange.

In a slightly less sneaky meal, I made stuffed shells and put chopped, cooked spinach in the cheese stuffing. The snarfed it up. Especially Ellie, and she is usually my pickier eater. And since the manwhore has a hate on for cheese, he got his stuffed with sausage and spinach and he liked it, too.

Sneaky and evil or not, I am delighted to see my children getting a vitamin or two that didn't come in the form of a gummy vite. I wonder what else I can puree?

Houston, we have frost

The low last night was something like 27F. The computer says it is currently only 28F. The average date for a first frost here is Oct 20. So, two weeks later isn't too extreme. But it went from 78F on Mon to barely 48F yesterday and all nice and frosty last night. Brrrr!

I like it though. I like having seasons. It would be boring if it were the same all the time. So, bring on the chilly weather and drag out the sweaters. (No snow yet, though. I'm not ready for snow! lol)

Tornado warnings, what fun!

Last night I was yapping on the phone to my dad and noticed that there was a storm approaching lots of lightening. So, I think I should go and turn the TV on to see what the weather is doing. I turn it on and Holy Hell there was a tornado warning for a storm only about 15 miles away from me, and heading in our direction. So, I run to grab the HAM radio and I can't get it to work, thanks to my dear brother locking the keypad on it.
It was a stressful very minutes, as tornado warnings are (we were never actually under a warning, but the warning box ended very near us and would have been over us if it had been extended). In true sucktastic mothering style, I apparently scared the crap out of the girls. I didn't mean to, and I wasn't really scared myself, just getting ticked off at the radio and trying to shush them so I could hear the TV.
El had a nightmare last night, so apparently I scared her pretty badly. Le sigh.

National Novel Writing Month

Apparently, November is National Novel Writing Month.
http://www.nanowrimo.org/

So, I'm am putting the historical romance on the back burner for the month and going to try to write like mad on a contemporary romance set on the Gulf Coast. The goal is 50,000 words by the end of the month. We'll see.

Why, yes, I actually do have a life.

Surprising, I know, but really I don't sit on my ass all day every day. My life is not all writing and romance or romance writing. I get busy, and I get *gasp* tired. I was complaining to my mother about being tired and ready to drop earlier this week and she actually asked me what I could possibly have been doing to get so tired. Um, having a life?

Start the day with a walk, feed yourself and the buddy boy, get clean, dress both of you, fix his lunch, haul him to school, come home and slap some lunch together for yourself to go eat with your other two kids at 10:15am, then spend until 12:30 in their classroom doing their fall party, take them to the park and clean out the van while you are there, go get little boy, come home and throw some laundry in and feed some snacks, run to Tractor Supply, then to riding lessons where you can't sit down because there are 1000lbs animals running around and your 2 yr old is running around, too, come home cook dinner, eat dinner, clean kitchen. Just try it and tell me you wouldn't be ready to drop.

That was Tuesday. I ran all day yesterday, too. Today, I'm house cleaning because for some reason Halloween destroyed my house.

Hell yes I get tired and I have every fucking right to. So, pppphhhhbbbbbtttttt!

Having a wife around could be a really good thing

And I don't mean for the manwhore. I wouldn't mind having an extra wife around here myself, at times. Case in point: There is a woman who post on my mommy board that just had a baby and just so happens to be a lesbian. Her partner spent the last 9 months (not really, but at least 3 or 4) taking hormones and using a breast pump on a daily basis to induce lactation. Baby can now breastfeed from both moms, although at least right now, the bio-mom is making a bunch more milk than the non-bio-mom. Still, her supply will likely catch up if they keep this up.

I'm thinking that has to be like the coolest damned thing evah. It would totally rock to be able to hand the baby to your wife and say "I need a nap, to pee, to eat, to do something besides have this demanding creature suck on me for the next hour." Yeah sure, you could pump and hand the baby to dad, or grandma or someone with a bottle and make a run for it, but lots of women don't get much output when they pump. You could do formula, too, but that shit is expensive and stinks and lots of women just don't want to use it.

So, you could have a wife that is also lactating and share the duties. I would have killed to have had another woman, that I trusted, to help me nurse the girls. They were preemies and had trouble nursing, and with some time to devote one on one to each of them, we could have gotten over the hump. As it was, we ended up supplementing and then fully on formula. Not the end of the world, but it caused me a lot of stress and anguish at the time. Unfortunately none of the women I would ever consider trusting to nurse one of my children, and not be squicked out by nursing one of theirs happened to be lactating when I was, and it won't ever happen. Ce la vie.

I'm bored

I've done laundry, supper is simmering on the stove (chili for a chilly day) and while I could be cleaning something or writing, I don't wanna. I wan to be entertained, but I don't know what with. And the kids are whining and fussing. Wah.

I nominate myself Queen Hover Mother Supreme

There is a little boy in the girls' class that apparently raised a shitpot of money for the school fundraiser (yay for his parents' hard work). His prize is that he gets lunch with the principal at Chili's, a limo ride to get there, and he gets to invite a friend. That friend is my daughter Em. (The manwhore says she has her first date, at 5 yrs old. lol)

Queen Hover Mother Supreme realizes that her precious baby big girl daughter is going to be riding in a car. Must. Have. Carseat. So, I call the school. Um. They've never had to deal with carseats before, because no one has ever said their kid had to ride in one. WTF? Like I'm going to let my 32 lbs 5 yr old ride in a regular seat belt, or no seat belt. (Polishes crown.)

So, I will be schlepping a booster seat to school and fetching it back again tomorrow. Yay me. See my pretty crown?

I feel more like a real writer now

I went to my very first Romance Writers of America, Music City Chapter, meeting today. The women there were all very nice, and it was lots of fun. They had someone to give a little talk on using setting in your writing, and lots of chitchat about this and that in their lives and the romance industry. I will definitely be back next month. Eventually, I'll fork over the mulah to join. You have to join the national group as well as the local group, all of which costs about $100, so not this week. You get three free meetings before you have to pay up.

Someone give me a hole to crawl in.

And make it big enough for me to take my children. Today, amidst the fun of their first field trip and returning library books and practicing their letters, my children had a lockdown drill at school. A threat drill, they said.
What do you do during a threat drill? asked I.
Everybody goes into the bathroom and you leave the light off and stay completely quiet. Mrs. D stands with the door cracked just a little bit so she can see, Em told me.
Why do you do this? I ask.
If there is a stranger in the school that might hurt us, was the horrifying response.

My babies are practicing lockdown drills. I want to weep that our society has reached the point where this is even necessary. I mean, I'm glad they are doing it, I think. But I wish it weren't needed. I wish that no one had ever walked into a school with a gun or a bomb and hurt people and that schools were still thought of as a safe place for children to be. They are safe, I think, still, but we have to face the possibility that at some point, it might not be. And I have to trust their teacher and other adults that I don't know to keep my children safe from gunmen and bombers or other psychos that might take a notion to roam around their school.

Fortunately their school seems fairly safe in terms of people being able to get in, and the classrooms on the kindy wing all have doors to the outside, so they at least have an escape route.
But bloody fucking hell, lockdown drills.

Donuts are not breakfast.

Candy corn is not a snack. Donuts can be breakfast and candy corn can be snack, but they aren't healthy ones. They are not the ones you are going to feed our children. Yes, I'm talking to you, oh manwhore of mine. We pack lunches instead of buying lunches because of the crap they serve in the cafeteria. And you send them to school with a donut and candy corn. WTF? I had two girls complaining that daddy forgot to pack them a snack.

And puh-lease do not give me that line about there not being anything here to send. There is tons of food here, most of it bought with them in mind. Apples and cheese and peanut butter and crackers and cereal bars and yogurt and and and....


And yes, I know that candy and donuts won't hurt them occasionally, but they need something remotely nutritious to start the day and something filling for a snack. Besides, they were hungry! Our skinny little, bottom of the growth chart, kids were hungry at school, all because they had candy corn for a snack.

I bet the teacher was hating on you a bit, too.

A bit of self therapy

So, I'm readying the Intuitive Eating book and one of the things they talk about in giving up the diet mentality is giving up your scale, and I'm just not ready to do that. I think that I don't yet trust that I will actually lose weight this way, so I keep the scale and weigh myself to see if the process actually works.
I remind myself that it is all about little steps. Right now it is enough that I am doing well with my eating, and most of the time choosing stuff that is healthy and stopping when I am full, etc. I actually threw away some cake tonight. It just wasn't that good, so I didn't eat it. That is like a major break through for me.


Also, in other bits of self therapy, I was thinking about why I get so mad when the manwhore has to work late. I mean, I realize that he doesn't like being there until 6 or 7pm anymore than I dislike it. So why the hate on? I've realized that part of it is I just flat out miss him. He has changed his schedule from 7am-4pm to 8am-5pm so he can take the girls to school. So, he's home an hour later in the evenings than he used to be. That is less time that we have together in the evenings, and I miss him.
The other realization that I've had is that I sometimes wonder if he's having an affair (I've actually thought to myself that it's a good thing he's calling from his desk phone and I can see it on the caller id). Sad, huh? But, it has occurred me that I've been with two other men that were cheaters.
My first real boyfriend in high school, James, was dating someone else and I was "the other woman." In retrospect, I wonder what the hell my mother was thinking, because it wasn't a good thing for a 15 yr old girl. Then there was Chad. He was the last guy I dated before I met the manwhore. I thought he was so shy and whatnot that he would never cheat on me, even though we lived in different cities. I was IN LOVE with him, and thought I was going to marry him. He dumped me in an ugly, painful way and I found out later that he had been cheating on me.
So, two guys that I was in love with, both cheaters. And now, even though I have no reason to ever think that the manwhore would ever cheat, I have a fear of him cheating on me. He's shy and a bit nerdy like James and Chad, and they both cheated, so I've transfered that fear to him. Hence, the anger when he has to work late, I think.

The psyche is an odd thing, I do believe.

22 miles

That is how far I have walked and biked this week. 3 walks averaging 3 miles per walk and 2 times on the bike at 7 and 5 miles. And I'm in a groove with my eating and just generally feeling good.

I'm reading a book called Intuitive Eating, and it's all about listening to your body, etc, and giving up the diet mentality. I'm finding that rather hard to do, and hard to trust that when I listen to my body, I will actually lose weight. I haven't given up my scale, yet. I can't quite bring myself to go there. But, I'm doing really well with eating when I'm hungry, eating what appeals to me, and stopping when I am full.

People who have never been overweight sometimes don't understand the difficulty of stopping when you are full, but it can be really hard to do. I am an emotional/waste-not eater, so I eat when stressed and have a problem throwing food away. I also feel guilty about spending "too much money" at the grocery store, even though I am not the only one to eat the groceries. Odd, I know.

So, I'm working on my eating habits and trying to develop normal relationship with food. While this is not a diet, the idea is of course that once you do so, you should return to a normal weight. Yay. Except it is a slow and frustrating process, because I want to be skinny like yesterday.

Patience, my dear self, patience.

I should add

that it did have a nervous breakdown. It got a paper jam and when I cleared it, it started printing in a gigantic font on only half the page. Stupid thing.


Also, my sister in law, who I think reads this, will be happy to know that El quite gleefully told me that after they went swimming, Aunt D put her shorts on over her wet swimsuit and it looked like she peed in her pants. Followed by gales of laughter from both girls. lol

They had a blast, though and are looking forward to visiting again.

My printer is going to have a nervous breakdown

I'm printing off a copy of my book so I can attack it with a pen. A red one if I have one.

221 pages to be printed. I don't think the poor printed has ever done more than 2 or 3 pages at a time before. I think I hear it cursing me.

7 years of wedded bliss

Yesterday was our 7th wedding anniversary. In some ways, it seems like just yesterday. In others, it seems like we've been together forever and I can't even remember what my life was like before the manwhore and the kids and all of this.

We celebrated on Sat, and had lunch and saw a movie. Nothing special, just a few hours with just the two of us.

Buddy Boy stayed with his grandma, and the girls were all the way in Athens, GA with their aunt, the manwhore's sister.

They stayed with her for 3 nights, and I think they wore each other completely out. We met halfway to pick them up yesterday, and all three looked exhausted. The girls told me they wanted to ride with us this time instead of Aunt D.

But, they had fun, and Aunt D wants to have them down again sometime. I think she wants to continue brainwashing them to be UGA fans. Apparently, a highlight of the visit was taking the girls to the multitude of bulldog statues around town and taking pictures with Uga.

Today, the girls are back to school, and I have to email their teacher, because I totally forgot they had a little bit of homework. Whoops. Bad mom.

See what happens when you try and be healthy?

We went to the park today, and I decided we should walk. It is 1.5 miles down there, so 3 miles round trip. I put 2 in the wagon and one on a tricycle and figured they could switch up. I expected whining, and I got plenty of it.

What I didn't count on was forgetting to bring any blasted diapers or wipes. Which pretty much guaranteed that the Buddy Boy would crap in his diaper. He did. So much so that he had a blow out. Yum. Smell of rank poop for the 1.5 mile trip home.

I can't wait for this kid to potty train.

A sad little confession

My dad makes better cornbread than me. There I said it. Dad's is moist and yummy in all its just-rightness. Mine is always too dry and crumbly and lacking in flavor.

What a sad thing for a daughter to admit, that her dad can cook something better than she can. Unless of course Anthony Bourdin or Emeril Lagasse is your father.



PS. That is not my cornbread pic. I got it from some Wikipedia page.

Don't you just hate it

I was wiped out yesterday. Wiped. Out. Told the manwhore we were eating out because I wasn't cooking. I fully intended to order some booze with my meal, and I was so tired I forgot. Who the hell forgets booze?

So, I thought I would just fall into bed and be out like a light. I did fall into bed. And then I laid there. And laid there. And. Laid. There. Then I finally dozed off, and the buddy boy started crying. Manwhore was dead to the world, so off I went to settle the buddy back down. Crawled back to bed to lay there for a long time again before finally drifting off.

Then buddy boy climbed in bed with us about 5:30am and never went back to sleep. I managed to doze until about 6:30, and then I was up.

I skipped my walk today, and I'm just all around tired on whiny. I am going to sit on my chair-shaped ass today. Yay me!

I'm tired of being hot!

Its too hot. It is 95F here. That is too hot. I am ready for cool weather. That is all.

Dammit, I'm tired of being hot

I think that is my theme lately. I'm ready for fall, for the cooler weather, since it is technically fall now.

Saturday was the manwhore's company picnic. This year it was at the zoo, so we got in the zoo for free and got tokens for the carousel. It was so hot that I told the manwhore that we would see the elephants and giraffes and then stay in the historic farm, because it is all in the shade (These two areas are next to each other. It is like a half mile walk to get to the next nearest animal.The Nashville Zoo is lovely, for animals. It is big and spread out and too much walking for little kids.) It worked out well because they were having a Harvest Days festival in the historic farm. There were lots of crafty things for the kids to do. Candlemaking, churning butter, an old style washboard, painting "quilt squares" and all sorts of stuff. It was fun and a bit educational, too.

I got to talking to one of the women doing needlecrafts and apparently I know enough about them that she thought I was working the festival, too. You would think the lack of costume would have clued her in. In a way, it is a sad commentary, because I really don't know that much about needlecrafts. I am only an expert at crochet. Despite the revival of interest in knitting, I think too many other skills are falling by the wayside. Tatting is one that very few people seem to do these days. And the lady I was talking to was making a bed rug (pre-quilting era bed covering) and that is another fading art.

I am glad there are groups of people with enough interest in these things to be involved in reenactment or even just in preserving history arts and sciences.

Ramblings about a wanna be writer

My house is trashed, and I haven't even written that much this week. Not in a OMG somebody call CPS trashed sense. Just in a piles of laundry to do, haven't washed sheets in way too long, toys in the floor, need to run the vacuum sense. And, I haven't tidied my room if forever.

Oddly enough, having kids in school sometimes results in more running around. Trips to the grocery store and Target are so much easier without them underfoot. And so is writing. So, do I run errands, clean my house or try to write? I have not yet achieved balance in these three areas.


Also, I ran across something in an MSN romance writing tips group that gave a breakdown of the publishers that handle romance and the average first advance, subsequent advance, etc. There are a good handful that pretty much give you squat, e-publishers mostly. The Harlequin lines run in the $5000 range. Avon and a couple of other publishers run more like $13,000 for a first advance. *swoons* I want to be published by Avon!* There was even one that had first advances averaging something like $50,000 but it had a sample size of only about 5 or 6 authors, so who knows who and what they were.





*I realize that this info came from the internets and could totally be the workings of some freak, but a girl can dream, can't she?

If you can't marry a man with money,

marry one with Mr. Fix-it skills. Otherwise, you will find yourself having to do all the little things like fixing leaky faucets and replacing shower heads and stripping wallpaper and all that fun stuff.

I love my manwhore, truly, madly, deeply I do, but I do wish he had a smidgen of handyman skills. Just a few. Or, I wish that he could cook.

Thank you so much for telling me the shower was broken.

What a considerate manwhore I have. He broke the showerhead, and instead of telling me that he broke it and just shoved it back up there, he just shoved it back up there. I got a face full of water and a showerhead flying at my face this morning when I went to adjust the thing.

And what does the manwhore say when I call him to tell him about it? Oh just stick it back up there. No, no I will not. I will go and buy a new one and most likely install said new one, too.

The force of gravity exerted by a freshly mopped floor.

There is something about mopping a floor. Running a mop over a floor seems to enact a subtle change in the force of gravity. It can't be measured and it can't be felt my mere humans. In fact, witnesses claim that it even seems to fluctuate.
But, there is no denying that the force of gravity exerted by a freshly mopped floor is not the same as it was before it was mopped. You could go without mopping for days and days, leaving spots and splatters, or wiping them up with a sponge and would be unable to observe this phenomenon.

But, as soon as you pull out the mop and clean from one side of the floor to the other, scrubbing all the dirt off, the gravity field changes. Children sitting at the table with food and drinks will suddenly find themselves dropping utensils full of food. Messy bites of food will leap off of forks before they make it to mouths and splatter on the floor. Cups full of sticky lemonade or chocolate milk will be pulled from little hands to land with a splash to spreads sticky liquids all under the table. Even sippy cups with a lid are not immune. Just this morning I watched as the lid was pulled from a sippy cup upturned in mid-drink, and orange juice spilled down the front of my child, down the stool, on the table, but mostly all over the floor. All because I had mopped the floor after supper last night.


Mopping the floor pulls the ice cream right out of an ice cream sandwich and straight to the floor. Sometimes it takes some of the cookie part, too. I have seen with my own eyes that the pull of gravity from a clean floor will cause popsicles to break in half, leaving a sticky puddle of melted goo to be cleaned up.

Strangely, this phenomenon can be stopped, or at least greatly reduced by allowing the floor to become sufficiently dirty. If I make a mess cooking supper and leave a few splatters on the floor to be cleaned up after supper, like magic, no one will spill their drink at dinner. No child will drop his or her fork full of spaghetti. No sippy cups will lose their tops. Ice cream will not drip from its sandwich and popsicles will not break before being consumed.

It doesn't take much. Just a few little splatters, maybe even a dropped bit of tomato or onion. A drift of lettuce that escaped from a salad. That's enough to break the spell on the floor and the force of gravity will return to normal. Even sweeping or wiping up the mess with a cloth doesn't restore the spell. All will be well.

That is, until the mop is pulled out once more, and pushed across the floor, cleaning the dirt from all the corners and leaving the floor shiny clean in its wake. Only then will the force of gravity once more begin to fluctuate and once again forks and cups will fall, popsicles will snap in two until enough dirt has accumulated on the floor to break the spell yet again.

This I truly believe.

A great day in the Piece household!

So, Ellie has vesicouretareal reflux, or urinary reflux. Her pee flows back up towards her kidney on one side when she pees. She had her yearly test to see if it is improving today. There were much tears on her part, since the test involves a cath and radioactive stuff in the bladder, etc. I would probably cry, too. Hell, it makes me want to cry when she had to have these tests. But, today will probably be the last one, because the urologist told us he sees no sign of reflux in her films from today! Yay!
I was blinking back tears in the office. No more tests, no more daily antibiotics, and hopefully just one more trip to Children's Hospital to see him in 6 months. I am over the moon, and so glad that my child no longer has a "condition."

Also, we were able to walk right into the Dept of Vital Records and get the kids' birth certificates in less than 10 mins. 3 months waiting on them in the mail and calling the office to be told they aren't in the system, blah blah blah, and today the lady said it must have gotten lost in the mail. Why she couldn't have told me that over the phone, I have no clue, but now we have them, the school has copies and all it good with that.

And, on Sunday last, we dropped by J and L's house to see if they had any money for it. It was an awkward visit, (on the manwhore's and my part, they seemed oblivious) but we walked away with $150. Not much, but it is better than nothing. And, it restored some good feelings on my part.

One more and, the manwhore left his first "sample" to see if he's shooting blanks yet. Hot and heavy baby batter free loving might be in my near future.

Pissants and Fattybelle

The ants are back. The ants go in, the ants go out, the ants go marching round about.
Now, I don't mind them so much. Mostly they are just a hassle. But, I have two delicate daughters that freak the fuck out over bugs, so we have to get out the bug spray and soak the floors and all.
This time, they were after a half of a peanut butter bagel that Em must have dropped on the floor on Sat.
We've been gone since Sat. You can imagine the swarm of ants we discovered this morning in the kitchen floor.
So, the kitchen as been de-anted, at least temporarily. Who knows how long they will stay gone.

Several months ago, my parents' neighbors had a house/trailer fire. They are still living in a hotel and the burned out shell of a trailer is still sitting there. Supposedly they are waiting on the insurance people.

When they left, they went off and left their cat. Somehow she figured out that mother and dad have food and would feed her. She showed up at the door asking to be fed. So, mother and dad have a new cat.

We think she is a sweet little thing, and all she does is eat, eat, sleep, eat, sleep, sleep, have a snack, sleep, snack, nap, eat. You get the idea. She doesn't even get up to go potty. She does that when she gets put out at night. And she loves to be petted. Very sweet.

My young cousin is friends with the cat's teenager former owner, and told mother and dad the cat's name is Tinkerbell. Well, as you can imagine, all that eating and sleeping and sleeping and eating has had an effect on the cat, and I said, "She isn't a Tinkerbelle, she's a Fattybelle!" So, that's what I've been calling her, and she actually responds to Fattybelle. lol

Now, cousin K and her friend have said that Fattybelle is mean and they hate her and she scratches and stuff. When mother told me this I went WTF? "Fattybelle? That cat right there laying on the floor in a food coma?"

Because let me tell you, this cat would have to wake up long enough to be mean, and it's just not happening. When she does actually wake up, she will come up to you and ask to be petted, if she's not eating.

So, I'm thinking that maybe they weren't feeding poor Fattybelle enough and she was mean because she was hungry. I'd be mean too if I didn't get fed on a regular basis. Come to think of it, I'm a bit of a Fattybelle, myself.

My husband is clearly not a man.

In all the consignment sale madness, we took one of the cribs to try and sell it (the other one is at my parents' house). The sale people make you put it together, which is a good idea. They can make sure all the parts and pieces are there.

So, the manwhore loads the crib up in the truck, along with some other stuff, then says to me, "Where are my tools?" Now, no self respecting man has to ask where his tools are. He should know these things at all times. But, my manwhore doesn't know where his tools are since he tends to leave them laying around when he gets done with them. So, I have to look at them laying on the dresser or whatnot until I'm sick of looking at them, and I put them up myself.

So, the tools are in the toolbox or the tool drawer and the manwhore doesn't know where they are, and I have to go and find his tools for him. Clearly, he is not a man.

Consignment sale madness

I have a love/hate relationship with consignment sales. I mean, on the one hand, who doesn't mind getting rid of old and outgrown kid clothes and toys and getting some money for them in return? On the other hand, it's a buttload of work to sort and tag stuff. And then you have to haul it to the sale and stand there while some chick goes through it all and decides if it's good enough to put in the sale. I mean, I totally understand that they have to have standards, and they did find a few stains that I had missed. But they sent back a toy because it was missing part of a sticker. I mean WTF? If they want it to look new, maybe they should buy something new.

I still have stuff to sort, too. I ran out of hangers and have some baby clothes to get gone, too. Plus, if I want to put forth the effort, I can try and de-stain the stuff they rejected.

I get to go pick up everything that didn't sell in a week. Then, I will resort and retag anything that needs it and put it in another sale a week later. There is usually one more sale in November for Xmas crap, too. yay.

But, I do usually make money, sometimes over $100 at them.

Luciano Pavoratti

Died today at the age of 71 of pancreatic cancer. I was fortunate enough to see him in concert one time, in 2000. A fabulous tenor and a great loss to the musical world. Peace to him and to his family.

His last performance in 2006 at the Olympics in Turin:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=ZaufjDVYivc

The sound of silence

My house is strangely quiet today. The tv is off, no one is asking me for a snack. The only sound I hear is the typing of the my fingers on the keyboard. It's amazing. It's a bit disconcerting.

Today is Buddy Boy's first day of Mother's Day Out (MDO) or preschool or what ever they call it for 2 yr olds. He was totally fine. We walked right in, and he started to go downstairs where the girls went last year, and I told him "No, your class is this way," and away we went. He totally ignored the one kid that was screaming bloody murder (in what was quite clearly a tantrum, since he wasn't actually crying, just screaming) and the little girl that was sympathy crying. He had a truck, and he was set.

They have the oddest tables for the little ones. It is a big, dark brown table with seats built into it for little kids, like a group high chair. Very odd. I wish I had thought to take a picture of it. I'll have to do that at some point.

But, at the same time, a genius idea for kids that little, because that way they can make them all sit when they need to, like at lunch time.

My silence will be short lived today, though, because the manwhore called and asked me to come have lunch with him. I don't know if we will know how to act without the kids underfoot.