School supplies

I'm starting to hate this part of back to school and this is only the second year I've done it. We got the basic list off of the school website a few weeks ago so we could shop during the tax free weekend. We got most of it at the hellhole that is WalMart, since we were at Mother's that weekend and Target wasn't handy, but spent less than $40 for both kids, so I was happy. We were only missing two things from the list because they were out.

I managed to find the watercolors at the grocery store. But I spent three weeks looking for motherfucking construction paper and just today found some at another WalMart. It is the crappy Rose Art stuff, but the teacher can just deal with it.

Now we knew that once we met the teacher, she would have a specific list for her class, and she did. We met the teacher last Thursday night and the girls started school on Monday (the boys in the class started on Fri). Not a lot of time to gather up the rest of the supplies. Target is still out of construction paper, was out of the binders that she wanted until yesterday and had nothing at all like the binder pocket or the composition journal that the teacher wanted. Apparently, she shops at WalMart and didn't bother to make sure that the pocket and the journal were carried any where else. I suppose she just assumed that being name brand stuff, they would be easy to find, but she was badly mistaken.

I ended up making a special trip to WalMart today just to look for the damned journal and binder pocket. No journals and I bought the last two pockets that they had. And I almost forgot to look for them.

Forunately, two other parents found the journals somewhere and bought a bunch of them for the class. All I have to do is send in some money to pay for them, much to my delight.

I'm rather hoping that the teachers have learned that if all 7 kindy teachers at one school are going to ask for the same journal, that it would be better for them to just order them theirselves and then make the parents pay them back. Because I've sure as hell spent more than $2.70, or even the $5.40 for two of them in gas from driving hither and yon looking for the damned things.

Don't read the poem

Today is the girls' first day of "real" kindergarten. Emma was very excited and even Elli was ok with it and seemed excited once she got there. They have one girl from their kindergarten readiness glass last year in class with them this year, so they were happy to see her. Sam wasn't happy to leave them there, but he will be starting preschool in a few weeks and probably protesting that.

I must say, I didn't cry or even feel sad. That is, until I got home and opened the little letter the teacher sent home for the parents. I didn't even read it all, but it started off with something about how I've had them for 5 years and blah blah she'll love them like her own, blah blah. Then I cried. Damned poem. So, when you're kids go off to school, don't read the poem, unless you feel the need for a good cry.

Glasses, Part Deux

Potentially, anyway. The girls had their 6 yr old checkup today. All is good, El is in the 36% for weight, Em in the 6% (holy what a difference 5 lbs makes, Batman!), and they are generally healthy.

But, Em failed her eye exam. Crap. She failed the 20/40 line in one eye and the 20/50 line in the other eye. I don't know how bad a person's vision has to be before she gets glasses, though. I guess we'll find out.

Oddly enough, we hadn't noticed her sitting in front of the tv or holding books up to her face or anything. But, she clearly couldn't see the eye chart today, so something is up. The pediatrician got her an appointment with the ped ophthalmologist in less than two weeks, so we'll know soon enough.

It's always humbling to realize you aren't right

I swear, my poor besainted mother has "The shrink is IN" tattooed in invisible ink across her forehead. That's what she gets for having degrees in psychology and counseling, I suppose.

Anyway, apparently dh and I both unloaded on her this weekend. For me to unload on her is nothing new. I was surprised that the manwhore did so. Apparently he needed to talk and she has a way of magically making people talk. Both of us are still stressed and stressing about the crap that is going on with his parents. His dad didn't show up for the girls' birthday, with the lame excuse offered by MIL that he wasn't feeling well. Maybe not. Who knows? But honestly, at this point, I pretty much don't believe her. Personally, I could give a rat's ass if I never laid eyes on the man again, but it is breaking the manwhore's manly heart, and the kids noticed he wasn't there, as well.

So, we were both tense and probably snippy. And we'd had a really stupid fight earlier in the week, adding to the tense and snippy. We've both realized we aren't always the greatest about communicating. I mean, I just found out after nearly 8 yrs of marriage that the manwhore can't stand the feel of wet clothing. (Hence the stupid fight. I sprayed him with the hose and he got mad.) I've also had the realization that likely my perception that he overreacts when he is mad is just that, my perception. Mother pointed out to me that I don't really have a good role model for male emotions. My dad just doesn't get mad, or sad, or much at all. Maybe he's part Vulcan. So, when the manwhore gets mad, I immediately make the jump that he is acting like his dad and going too far.

We stayed up until 3am Sat night talking about it all, after we had both worn Mother's ears out. But, it needed to be said and hopefully things will be easier. Honestly, as marriage problems go, ours are pretty minor, but a marriage can always be made better with a little understanding and communication skills.

As for me, I hate to not be right. But, I was not right about this. See, I don't even like to say that other word. Wrong. I was wrong! Argh! I clearly don't know how to judge anger. I will work on this. And then I will be right about stuff again. lol

6 years

It's gone by so fast, I just want to stop time for a while. Six years ago tonight, I was in preterm labor with the girls, terrified out of my mind for them. El was born at 12:31 AM and Em at 12:44 AM, Aug 8, 2002.
I won't go into the details again, but I was thinking earlier today how funny it is that the 6 weeks I spent on bed rest seemed like an eternity, and the 6 years of their lives have flown by.

When you have premature babies, once you are confident that they are actually going to live, their health is fine and all that, then you start to wonder what being premature has done to their intellectual development. Or at least I did. Today, I think I'm finally convinced that their brains are working just fine. They had their kindy screening this morning and when they were done, both teachers sat me down to tell me how they did. An average score is 100. A really high score is over 120. Em scored 130 and El 122. They had sections of their tests that they had perfect scores on. El copied all the little line drawings perfectly, including the one the teacher said none of the kids ever get (a heart, who knew a heart was so hard to draw?).

I know it is just a screening for kindy placement, but still, I'm about to burst with mama pride.

A really cool evening

I'm sure that this was just one of many cool evenings in my life to come as a writer, but it was a really cool one in my life so far. I realize that it possibly marks me as some sort of antisocial dork that I think so, but oh well.

Last night, while the manwhore and spawn were at home noshing on Domino's pizza, I was sitting in a restaurant in Nashville sipping enjoying a pomegranate cosmopolitan and crab cakes whilst literally rubbing elbows with the senior editor from a certain publishing company. Across the table was the owner of said publishing company and also at the table was a lovely lady who I think she said was the marketing director (I blame the pom cosmo and noise for not catching her exact title). Rubbing elbows around the rest of the table were a half dozen other romance writers, published and unpublished alike.

After a long leisurely dinner, we all met up at the Parthenon (yes, there are two of them in the world, one of them in Nashville) where Sherrilyn Kenyon was hosting a launch party for her latest book. You know you have arrived when you have book signings in the Parthenon at the foot of a 20 ft tall statue of Athena. Actually, she probably knew she had arrived when she saw the size of her advances, but I digress. She is big in the vampire romance genre, so there were people walking around in costumes, some vapirish, some just goth, and some Greek in honor of the location. There was a live band, dessert goodies from the Melting Pot and at least 500+ people there, including editors, romance bloggers and the ilke. I didn't drag my ass home until about 11:30PM.

All in all, a very cool evening (even if it was freaking hot outside and like an oven in the Partenon).

Well, crap-a-doodle

Crap-a-doodle doesn't really describe the sinking feeling I got in my stomach when I open the mailbox and saw an envelope from the company that the manwhore interviewed with a few weeks ago. He really, really wanted that job, and I really wanted him to get it. If nothing else, the fact that it was only like 2 miles away from our house would have saved us money at the gas station.

Of course, you only get a letter when they are informing you that they've hired someone else. He hasn't really talked about it, but I think he had already given up hope anyway. I wasn't feeling terribly optimistic either, but I was really holding on to a little sliver of hope for him.

Alas, it was not to be, I suppose. Doesn't make me any less pissed at the universe that it didn't arrange things the way I wanted them.

You know what pisses me off?

When I get out of the habit of exercising and when I finally drag my ass back to yoga after not going for months and all the stuff I could do really well, I can barely do now. I had to come down out of some poses because apparently my shoulder muscles have atrophied from lack of use.

I really wish the Y had more yoga classes that I could conveniently get to, but they don't. And doing yoga at home just isn't the same, at least for me. But, I'm going to keep going, I swear!

I'd like to thank my mother

And all the little people. Not really, I'd just like to thank my mother. Apparently she had some genetic mutation that the rest of the family doesn't have and passed it on to me. What kind of mutation, you ask? Well, let me tell you. Last Saturday night, we were having a family party for my great aunt's and uncle's 60th anniversary, and most of us women were standing around yapping and the talk turned to my youngest aunt and her plans to have a hysterectomy. And I find out my 35 yr old cousin is planning a hysterectomy, and her 11 yr old niece has periods that leave her anemic, and my 17 yr old cousin has horrible periods. And around the circle it went with every woman in the family talking about the horrible cramps and floods of blood and what not. Even the women who married into the family.

Everyone except my mother and I. No cramps, no days of soaking a super tampon every hour, no counting down the days until we can get our uterus cut out.

I have had problems with my periods, but for me it is a weight issue. If I stay under a certain weight, I never have problems. So, I can't put myself in the same category with the rest of them that every period is filled with misery.

So, thank you, Mother, for what ever happened to make us different.

Not much baby girl stuff left

OK, I know what you are thinking, my "baby" girls are going to be 6 in 2 weeks. Time for the baby stuff to be long gone. It's not like I've been holding onto it. I've put stuff in consignment sales and given it away over the years. But, I have another friend due any day now with a baby girl, and I was looking for stuff to give her. I was shocked to discover that I have almost no 0-3 month girl stuff. I'm not sure I found anything. I still had quite a bit of summer 3-6 month stuff, but her baby will need winter/fall stuff then. And I seem to have cleared out all the winter/fall 3-6 month stuff.
There is one box I can't reach that doesn't seem to be labeled, so I'll have the man check it when he gets home. But, I think that maybe my babies are growing up and I don't have many of their baby things left. I've saved the special things, but still, it makes me a little triste.

I do still have a bunch of baby boy stuff left, though.

A funny that really I shouldn't laugh at

You know how it is, your kid does something that is either inappropriate or fell or something, and you can't help but laugh, even though you shouldn't. Well, this one is a falling kid story.

We went swimming yesterday evening and then had supper at Logan's. Sam snarfed his mac and cheese and then pretty much just fell over asleep in his seat. No nap + lots of swimming = really tired kid. So, he was snoozing away when a waiter dropped a stack of plates. It was so loud that even I jumped. Sam startled half away, tried to roll over and fell off the bench and under the table. Splat! And then, the manwhore and I couldn't reach him. Poor kid had to sit up so manwhore could get a hold of him. B finally got Sam picked up and snuggled on his shoulder and of course Sam was crying, cause wouldn't you cry if rolled over and landed on a hardwood floor in your sleep? But, he just conked right back out.

And manwhore and I was laughing at the poor kid.

He slept most of the night, too. He woke up once and crawled in with us and then I had the manwhore put him back to bed. Sam didn't make another peep until about 6:30 this morning.

Proud mommy brag coming up

Two of them, actually.

We are regular swimmers at the Y and last week one of the lifeguards stopped us as we were getting ready to leave. He asked how old the girls are and then wanted to know where they learned to swim so well. He was really surprised when I said they were going to be 6 in a few weeks and commented that he has seen them using some of the same swimming strokes he does (breaststroke and such). I told him they'd had lessons for the basics and the rest was just regular visits to the pool over the last few years.

We were swimming again yesterday and I asked El when she was going to go down the big water slides. Keep in mind that these slides are probably 15 ft tall and spill into 5ft deep water. But, she asked if she was old enough, so we asked the lifeguard. It was the same one that had complimented them on their swimming ability, so he told her she could go ahead. And El spent the next hour going down the slides. I was so proud of her!

Em wanted to try, too, but she got about half way up and decided it was too high. Maybe next week.

Things that make me odd

Or a little bit strange anyway, at least amongst my friends and family.

1. I recycle, like everything I can. Tons of plastic, glass, grocery sacks.

2. I use cloth bags for shopping (when I don't go off and forget them) to cut down on the plastic bags I use.

3. I wash ziploc bags and reuse them.

4. I don't use paper towels or paper plates (making that even more odd, I haven't yet given up paper napkins and I used disposable diapers with my kids.)

5. I make my own laundry detergent.

6. We eat almost no processed food, and what little we do eat is as minimally processed as possible. If I can't pronounce the ingredients, we don't eat it. We avoid things with artificial colors, too.

7. I pick up litter when I see it, and so do my kids.

8. We're planning to change out the lightbulbs to CFLs, but we haven't had a bulb to burn out in forever.

I'm sure there are other things, but I won't mention them here. I am quiet comfortable with my oddities and like myself because of them. I think they make me who I am and possibly even a bit more interesting.

Buying local produce

We went to the Farmers' Market Sat to see if we could stock up on local produce for the week. We did, but I was actually a little surprised at how little is in season in middle TN right now. Clearly, I have not gardened. There were tons of cantaloupe, watermelons, blackberries and blueberries, tomatoes in more varieties than I knew existed, squash and zucchini, eggplant, greens, cucumbers and green beans. And not many of the booths had green beans. And many of the farmers had peaches from the Carolinas.

Sounds yummy, right? I think so, too. Only no one in my family but me eats squash, eggplant or greens and the kids don't like green beans. They don't like blackberries or blueberries, either.

I was surprised at the lack of other melon varieties, too, but I suppose those are the best sellers. I know that broccoli and lettuces are cool weather crops, brussle sprouts, too. But I was expecting to see lima beans and butter beans, etc

We did stock up on fruit and some squash. And prices were a little cheaper than the grocery store, so we'll try to make it as weekly a trip if we can to try and save a little money. Besides, the peaches and tomatoes we've eaten already have been to die for. Yum, yum!

Rambling thoughts on America's fat crisis

Having a child that to my shock falls in the category of overweight, I've been thinking about this a lot lately. So some random thoughts.

Thought 1:
Statistics say that 30% of American kids are overweight or obese. We were at the splash pad yesterday and I thought about that number. "Nah," says me, "There aren't that many fat kids here." So, I counted all the kids, no easy task when they are all running and screaming. There were about 20 kids there. Then I counted the ones that, based on my observation of my own fat child, appeared to be overweight. 6 kids. Well hell, that is 30% of the kids overweight. And three of those kids were clearly in the obese category, including one little girl who was about 8 or 10 who had such a belly on her that she looked pregnant. Eek. So, even in my mostly middle class community, there is a weight problem among kids, at least according to my unscientific survey.

Thought 2:
I was talking to my neighbor, who is a nurse, about the fact that Sam is overweight, according t his doctor. She was completely incredulous, and said "If that child is overweight, than we are all obese."
I looked at her a bit funny but didn't say anything. I mean, she isn't blind. I am 5'2, and weigh 200 lbs. That puts me so far over the line into obese it isn't even funny.
She is taller than I, but probably weighs pretty close to what I do. I betcha she is obese, too, and doesn't realize it. The manwhore, who was standing there, is also obese, and I betcha that her husband is, too. Two of her kids are at least overweight, and might be obese.
Are we so immune to fat that even a nurse with 20 yrs experience doesn't recognize overweight and obese when she sees it?

I suppose she thinks of obese people as weighing 300+ lbs or something, but the truth is, I would have to drop down to 160 just to get my fat ass in the overweight category. 135 is what it would take to get me to healthy.
At least I am aware of this fact and working on it, although it is slow going. If she doesn't recognize her own weight problem and that of her kids, and she is a medical professional, then how is the average person supposed to recognize their family's problems?

We are addressing our fat problem by cutting out sugar as much as we can, so we shall see where it gets us.

Underwear optional

Apparently, this in an underwear option establishment, at least for the boy. I swear, everytime I turn around, I'm seeing his buns. I assume it is because he is going to the bathroom (but who pees that much?).

You see, or perhaps you don't, he has to strip completely from the waist down to do his business. I haven't figured out how to teach him to pee standing up, yet, so he sits for everything. To keep from spraying the floor, he's decided he has to strip. Then, he doesn't put his undies back on. So, I get an eyeful of 3 yr old butt.

Happy Birthday, America! Now shut the fuck up!

God, I am turning into such a grumpy old lady. But damn, we are a tired family. I'm fucking exhausted from the 4 days of painting and wallpaper stripping. I just finished up the last of the trim work about 30 mins ago. The kids are all tired, the manwhore is exhausted as well. And it is 11pm on the 4th of July.

Which means that people have setting off fireworks in my neighborhood for 3 solid hours now. It was nice for the first hour because we had a really nice show. But now, my kids are trying to go to sleep, I want to go to bed, so enough already. We're free. Yay! Huzzah! We've celebrated. Now put a sock in it. The city ordinance says this shit is supposed to be over with at 10pm, so SHUT UP!

Pray for me, Forrest

I'm about to start stripping the ugly ass, rose covered wallpaper out of my dining room. Keep your fingers crossed that it comes down easily.

I hate wallpaper.

Traveling, weddings and stay-cations

We had our last weekend on the road to go to the manwhore's cousin's wedding yesterday. Yes, yesterday, Sunday. It wasn't even a real wedding, but a vow renewal ceremony, and they've only been married a year. But they eloped and didn't tell anyone for like 6 months, so they basically had the wedding they avoided the first time around. It was beautiful and I doubt that I will see either of them again unless someone else gets married or dies.

My father in law and I basically pretended that we can't stand each other, but managed to not speak more than a handful of times.

Fortunately the kids, who are angels and travel like champs, were a buffer. They were totally charming and I know the photographer took several pictures of us and the kids. The bride is so going to look at her proofs and wonder who the hell those people are. rofl

On the way down there, I had a rare moment of less than stellar parenting and accidentally locked Em in the van. We had stopped at a Cracker Barrel for lunch and I thought she had gotten out on the other side while El looked for her shoes. Only she didn't. When El hopped out, I hit the button to close the door and the manwhore had already locked the van and gone inside. Em yells "Wait for me!" just as the door latched. She looked at me with these huge, terrified eyes, and I stood there in a total panic for about 10 seconds trying to figure out how to get her out and not leave her alone. I realized that I would have to go get the keys from manwhore and grabbed El and dashed into the restaurant. I practically had to tackle manwhore to get him to stop and give me the keys and I ran back out to let my bravely trying not to cry child out of the van. Bless her heart.

Now, both girls are with their beloved Aunt Dede spending the rest of the week with her. Manwhore has taken the week off and we are going to spend our time stripping wallpaper and painting the dining room, living room, foyer, and downstairs bath. Maybe we'll get it all. This will be the extent of our vacation this year and manwhore calls it a stay-cation, since we will be staying home.

Fatty, fatty 2x4

Not me this time, but my son. He had his 3 yr well visit with the doctor this week and he is 36 in tall and weighs 36 lbs. Which according to their height/weight/BMI charts puts him in the overweight category. What. The. Fuck? Seriously, what the fuck?

Now, maybe I'm living on a boat on that river in Egypt, but when I look at him, I don't see fat. I can see his ribs for christ's sake. When he laughs or cries he's got six pack abs. But online weight and BMI calculators agree that he has a BMI of 19+, which is overweight.

So now, I'm all paranoid about letting him have cookies, or ice cream or seconds at dinner if he asks for them, and while I thought that he actually rather healthily, I'm scrutinizing everything he eats.

le sigh And here I thought he was going to be the kid I didn't have to worry about his weight and eating. With El's pickyness and Em's trouble gaining weight, I was so relieved to have a kid that eats well, gains weight steadily and is just all around healthy. And now I find out he's fat.

I'm hoping against hope that he is gearing up for a growth spurt and will shoot up two or three inches in the next few months, which will put him back in the normal category.


Edited to add: Also, when the pediatrician was giving me the "What not to eat" lecture, I felt like she was thinking I was a big, fat liar every time I told her that we didn't eat fried food, don't buy chips, they rarely drink juice, the chocolate milk is low fat, etc. I'm fat, the manwhore is fat, but we really are a whole foods, whole grain, if you can't pronounce the ingredients don't eat it, kind of family. It's possible to eat too much healthy food, too. But I felt like she was looking at me being fat, and my denial of my kid's fatness and thinking that I was going to go home and feed him cheetos and ho-hos for lunch. I'm not saying that my kids never eat junk food, but it is a rare treat for them to get it.

It's Wednesday

Wednesday. The middle of the week. My house is a mess, laundry is overflowing the baskets and I'm tired. The trip to KY for the wedding was lovely. Two nights without the kids rocked. The wedding was beautiful. Lexington is horse country, so I was in heaven. But we were exhausted and then I went to a baby shower on Sunday after we got back to my parents'.

And I'm pooped. All of us are pooped. Em has dark circles under her eyes, Sam is sleeping late most days.

And we have yet another wedding/vow renewal/whateverthehellitis this weekend to go to, and I don't wanna. I just want to stay home and veg. But it is the first wedding in the manwhore's family since our own, so we have to go.

And I have to do laundry and at least make sure bathrooms are disgusting and that we can walk across the floor without breaking our necks. Wah.

On the plus side, I've gotten to ride two weeks in a row and maybe I'll get to go ride again on Sat. I'm coming along in my assertiveness with the horse, Sunny (he's a lazy old fuck) and hopefully by the end of summer will be able to ride Taco, who is not a lazy fuck, even though he's old and quite the handful.

Let the traveling begin!

Yay. Not. Actually, we are almost done with the traveling. Only 2 more weekends to go, but these two weekends are long distances. This weekend we are going to KY for a wedding, only first we have to drive to my parents' house in Al to drop off the kids. We live in TN, if you remember, so we are going 2 hrs in the opposite direction just to get rid of the kids. Then back to get them on Sun and to a baby shower.

Next weekend we are going to GA for another wedding, but the kids are invited to that one, so no side trip to AL to leave them with the grandparents.

With the price of gas these days, we might need to take one of the kids along with us in case we need to trade one for a tank of gas.

Happy Birthday to my little man!

It's hard to believe that is has been three years since he was born. He is my joy, my light, my love and I am so fortunate to be his mother.

And Happy Father's Day to my manwhore, my rock, my heart and soul. Sharing Father's Day with your son's birthday has to be the best gift of all.

The things people get their knickers in a twist about

Last week, the aircraft carrier Harry S. Truman returned home after a 7 month deployment. Thousands of family members were there to welcome their sailors home. I understand from people I know who are navy wifes that dressing up and choosing just the right outfit can be pretty important to them. After all, they haven't seen each other in months, so they want to look their best.

During this particular homecoming a photographer took this pic of a waiting wife wearing hot pink shoes. The pic was published in the Virginia Pilot newspaper.

Oh, the controversy a pair of hot pink shoes can create. There were people writing letters to the paper insisting that the pic was sexist and inappropriate, that is sexualized the carrier's homecoming, that it ignored the female sailors, etc. What. The. Fuck?

Honestly, I think the picture is fabulous. She's standing there with her feet nervously crossed in her brand new shoes, which she was so excited she forgot to take the price stickers off of.

There is an interesting discussing of this pic on the Smart Bitches website I've got a link to on the side over there and another one on Sybermoms. General consensus of those two groups of women seems to be "Jesus, can't a bitch wear some pretty shoes on a happy day?"

Dust

I hate dusting. Despise it. I would rather clean a toilet than dust. I try to keep the knick knack crap to a minimum just so I don't have stuff to catch it. Most of the time, I just flat out don't dust. I do about 4 times a year. The result of this is that I was rather embarrassed at the amount of dust in my bedroom yesterday when we had a guy here painting ceilings. After he got done, I got in there and dusted like crazy, even to climbing up and vacuuming the dust off the top of the plant ledge. It was about 1/2 in thick. Ew. I even washed the curtains. So, I'm betting that the manwhore's chronic sniffle and allergies are going to be a hell of a lot better in a few days now that I've reduced the amount of dust in our room by about 90%.


I should totally just suck it up and dust once a month if I want to or not, huh?

South Beach Diet, week 1

So, I've survived a week with no sugar, white flour, bread, potatoes, basically no starches whatsoever. And, for my efforts, I am down 5 lbs. Yay me!

I may have hit my limit with eggs and omelets, though. I've had enough. But, I spent 5 out of the last 7 days at my parents' house and didn't have access to as much variety of food as I do at home. I've got cottage cheese and stuff I can do for a few days.

I can tell my clothes are fitting looser, too. So, hopefully the dress I have to wear to two weddings this month won't have me sucking my gut up like I did at Easter every time I sat down.

South Beach Diet, Day 2

No, I won't bore you with daily updates, but they say the first few days are the hardest, so I thought I would just brag that I have made without touching a cookie, koolaid, the bread basket tonight at dinner or anything carbolicious. Surprisingly, I feel great (I've done Fatkins before and felt like total crap and couldn't make it through the 2 week phase 1. I actually went to the dr because I thought I was sick.)

And I'm not going hungry. Yes, I miss bread, but I'm not dying for it. Hard to miss it too much when you can have celery stuffed with herbed cheese or endive with tuna salad. I miss it the most at breakfast, like I thought, because I'm a cereal-aholic. I miss having some toast with my eggs.


I've actually expanded my palate a bit, too, even though phase 1 is fairly restrictive, because I've been in a rut with my eating. Now I'm having fun with omelets and different things for lunch.

Now, in two weeks I might not be saying that, but for right now, I'm handling it.

I don't want to be the baby!

Poor kiddo. I think Sam has about had enough of being the baby in the family and being bossed around by everyone else. Last night, he was mad because we wouldn't let him stay at the bookstore with the oh so wonderful Thomas the Train layout. When we got home, he threw himself in the floor and declared "I don't want to be the baby anymore! I want to be the daddy now!"

In other news, I started the South Beach diet this morning. So far, so good. The first two weeks are probably going to be hell, because I am a cereal loving girl, even though it is healthy cereal, and after 6 weeks of disgusting hospital eggs, I'm not a fan of eggs. But, eggs are pretty much what you can eat for breakfast during phase I (when you are breaking the sugar cravings). I'm sure I will joyfully fall face first into a bowl of grits or oatmeal when the two weeks are up. But, I can't seem to get motivated to lose the fat ass any other way, and since the maintenance phase is how I try to eat anyway, I figured why not give it a whirl. I shall report back with my progress from time to time.

Not a fabulous start to the summer

I broke my toe yesterday. Or rather, Sam did, since he knocked the stool over that landed on my toe. It's the big one, and I swear to god that it hurt as bad as my post c-section morphine pump not working pain for the first two hours or so. Being my big toe and since it hurt so fucking badly, I made the manwhore come home and drive me to the ER for an X-Ray. Mostly I was concerned that it might have been crushed or something horrible. But no, just a tiny fracture in the bone at the end of my toe.

Tiny, uh? I swear, I never, ever want myself or anyone I love to experience a real broken bone, because I don't think I could handle it. I was sobbing over a broken toe, so I can't imagine what I would do with a real broken bone.

But anyway, they gave me a dose of lortab and sent me on my way. It took it nearly two hours before I noticed a difference in the level of pain, although I was definitely sleepy. So, I conked out for a few hours and woke up to an only sore toe. Much better.

This morning is it mostly just sore and I'm just taking advil as needed. But, I doubt I could get my riding boots on for a few days, at least, so no riding for me this week. Damn it.

The last day of school

Today is the last official day of school. I say official because they haven't actually had class since last Thur. Fri was their little graduation ceremony and we checked them out when it was over, then they were out for Memorial Day and yesterday was a teacher workday. Which brings us to today. It is only a 2 hr day, and they don't even have to be there that long. We'll go pick up report cards and leave. Why in the hell some idjit in the administration set it up this way is beyond me. The girls are still sleeping and I hate to have to wake them up just to go get report cards.

Graduations in BFE Alabam

I shouldn't be surprised, not really. But I was. Stupid me, right? Anyway, oldest nephew graduated from my alma mater last night. Yeah him and all that jazz.

But I pretty much twitched through the entire ceremony because of all the praising Jesus and Bible verses that were quoted. The way this high school does things is to have all of the speeches done by the top ten honor students.

They started with a prayer, and the girl that said the prayer was preaching, praising Jesus, saying "I love you, Jesus!" and really just being over the top with it.

After that, there were 9 other speeches (or maybe only 8, I think one of the honor students sand the National Anthem), and of those at least half, if not three fourths of them quoted Bible verses, preached a little sermon or told their class mates to go out in the world and be good little Christians.

Really, it was quite annoying. I know good and damn well that I cannot possibly be the only heathen/non Christian that was sitting in the audience. Even BFE Alabama is part of the global community these days and personally, I think the students should be encouraged to remember that fact. Instead of a prayer, they could have a general sort of blessing, or a fucking moment of silence to contemplate the abyss the graduates are about to fall into. The other speakers could be encourage to look somewhere besides the Bible for inspirational quotes.

But, they won't be, because no one cares that there is likely a handful of people who think differently. In fact, they probably hope that all the praying and Jesus loving will cause us heathens to see the light and turn out lives mindlessly over to Jesus like they have. Or to be hypocritical fakes like they are.

I'm thinking seriously about writing a letter to the principal, but I doubt it would do any good. After all, every bit of the Jesus loving was done by students, which makes it all nice and legal. Annoying, but legal.

Talk about giving me a swelled head

Yesterday the manwhore went across the street to help our neighbor move some furniture around and he took the kids with him since I was having lunch with an old friend. When I got back, he told me that the neighbor said our kids are so well behaved that we should teach a parenting class. *falls on floor laughing*

Now I agree my kids are very well behaved, but does that really qualify one to teach other people how to parent these days? That seems a sad commentary on the abilities of people to parent their children these days. Although, now that I think about it, the best parenting books I've read have been written by other parents, not just some random expert. It just so happens that they were parents who were also an expert in pediatrics or counseling or something related to children.

Cute kid and noisy roofers

The Samster "graduated" from his preschool class on Thurs. They do a little program with the little kids where each class gets up and sings some songs. It is cute as hell and usually pretty funny. This year, the 1-2 yr old class only had 3 kids in it, and one didn't make the program. So, two terrified 1 or 2 yr olds had to stand there while we all listened to their teacher sing. lol

Sam's class was next and they did better. Some of them actually sang, including Sam, and I think they all did all the little hand motions and stuff.

The next class had the star of the morning, though. I think she is also 3. Apparently this little girl had an itch on her leg, or really needed to potty. She had on a skirt and started off pulling it up enough to scratch her leg, then it just kept going higher and higher until the parents were about to fall out of their seats laughing. I was trying not to laugh and ended up laughing so hard I had tears. Poor little girl. Someday her parents are going to humiliate her with that video.

At the end of the school year, the teachers give the parents a little book of photos they've taken of your kid throughout the year. The manwhore and I were looking through it and it was so obvious that Sam was having trouble seeing what back in the fall. Both of us pretty much went WTF? why did it take so long to notice? But, he has his glasses now, so no harm done, except to the mommy guilt-o-meter.


As a side note, my roofers are here. Bright and early on a Sat morning, no less. It sounds like a herd of elephants is up there. And they haven't even started putting the new roof up, they're just getting started taking the old one off. Whee.

We've been stimulated!

Yay us! And it was more than we were expecting. We were anticipating 300x5. Instead we got 600x2 for the manwhore and I and 300x3 for the kids. Whoo hoo! I'm not sure why, but hey, I'm not complaining!

Also, our new roof is sitting on pallets in my front yard. It was delivered yesterday and who knows how long it will be before they come and tear the old one off and put the new one on. Hopefully not long, because every time the wind blows, more of our roof blows off.

You know what's weird?

My writing thus far has been Harlequin-esque type short contempories. Well, I have that one historical that was the first manuscript I finished, but even it is rather short for a single title at only 75,000 words. So, anyway, I'm finding myself thinking of Harlequin when I think of selling my books. Could be it's only because we were supposed to have an editor from Harlequin at our retreat (see former posts for the details) and now I've just got Harlequin on the brain.

But here's the kicker. I don't really love Harlequin books. Some of them have been enjoyable and some are definitely better than others, but I don't love them. What I love are the big, fat historicals, or the longer, slightly suspenseful contemporaries, a la La Nora.

Now I realize that Nora Roberts didn't start out with the spine tingling, read them 20 times and not be bored novels that she writes today. I've been reading some of her early stuff and some of it is trite and full of predictable plot lines and punishing kisses and forced seductions. (Some of that is likely just a product of the fact that's what romance publishers wanted in the early '80s. She started with Harlequin, I believe.) Still, she was a topnotch writer even then. She's just gotten better at her plot lines. Less of the innocent young woman and jaded older man type stuff. More strong, carries a big Bitch Stick heroines and heroes that like the big Bitch Stick.



So, I remind myself that while I may not love Harlequin novels, I am still honing my craft and I have to start somewhere. And if I do manage to sell something to them, I'm not chained to them for the rest of my life. I can work on writing the big, fat historicals full of Lords and Ladies, innocent virgins and pirates, and what not.

My days of freedom are numbered

School is quickly drawing to a close and summer is almost upon us. Sam only has one more day of preschool and the girls only have two weeks of school left. I can't believe this year has flown by so quickly.

I'm both looking forward to and dreading summer. I'm ready for the drudgery of the school routine to be over with. If we want to go swim on a Tue, we'll be able to. If we need to go shopping, we won't have to worry about an 8PM bedtime.

But, I know that boredom will strike. The house will be a mess. They will eat us out of house and home.

My current plan is to make them do some "school work" most mornings. Practice reading, spelling their names, etc. Not much, just a little. And then several days a week we will go swim or to the water park, walk to the park when it's not too hot, have picnics. Basically try to keep them busy, and me from going insane.

I'm sure summer will be over before I know it, and I'll be relieved for them all to go back to school. But right now, I'm looking forward to having them all under foot during the day.

GOOOOAAAAAALLLLLL!!!!!!!

Have I mentioned that Em is playing soccer again? This is her third season playing (El didn't want to play this time). So my 10 weeks premature, needed a vent, minor brain damage, gross motor skills delay, 8 months of PT child is captain of her soccer team, the star player because of her get out there and try attitude. Amazing isn't it?

And, after 2 1/2 seasons of soccer, she scored her first goal yesterday! *little sob* Of course we forgot the damned camera or video camera, but the look of total disbelief, wait did I actually score, OMG I SCORED A GOAL that went across her face was priceless and I'll never forget it.


Honestly, soccer has been the best thing for her, and really you can't even tell anymore that this is the child whose idea of running was a speed walk just two years ago. She hangs right there with the other girls, her feet flying up behind her just like all the other kids. And, she's learning balance and building stamina that is carrying over to other activities as well.

I am so fucking proud of her I could bust!

Oh, and I have to add, that El was just as excited as we were to see her sister finally score a goal. And she didn't make any the two seasons she played soccer, either.

So, I've actually been riding

Tues I actually rode Reno before his catastrophe. He's looking much better today, too. We even saw him trotting some, and he's nickering like he usually does, so he's feeling better.

Anyway, I rode him for about 15 minutes on Tues, and oh boy were my legs ever sore yesterday. They still are today, but we got Sunny (the newest horse) out and started Parelli work with him and then I rode him. A says I did really well for not having ridden in coughmumble20yearscoughmumble. Sonny's owner has messed her knee up and is having surgery tomorrow, so she can't ride and has asked that he be ridden, so I'm happy to oblige. She's a bit new to horses, too, I think, and said he can't be ridden with a hackamore (no bit) and I was riding him just fine with one today. lol

I'm like a kid in a candy shop though, I want more, more, more! When can I ride again? lol

The aftermath of shock

Yesterday, Reno got hurt, badly. The vet was at the barn and D asked me to go get Reno and tie him to the fence. When it was his turn, D went to get him and Reno freaked the fuck out. He reared and broke the 4x4 fence post off at the ground and ripped off 20ft of fence. A board hit D and knocked her down, but she is ok. He took off slinging boards all over the yard. He hit the street and either tripped on the still dangling fencepost or just slipped, but either way, he fell. He looks like a person whose been in a motorcycle accident and slid along the pavement at high speed. He has road burns on his face and head, split the skin on his shoulder, peeled the skin on his knee, other cuts and contusions and road burns of varying severity all along his left side.

A, his owner, arrived right after this all happened, and she was in tears. D was fighting tears and so was I. $350 later, the vet had patched him up as well as he could, and we were standing around really just reeling with shock and trying to figure out what we did wrong.

The truth is, no one did anything wrong, it was just one of those things. The horse panicked and we'll never know why. He's hurt badly, but it could have been so much worse. D could have been hurt, the horse next to him could have been hurt (bless her heart, she's a brat, but she stayed calm through it all), Reno could have broken a bone or been killed.

Today, D and I were still just reeling. It's like the day after someone you love has been injured right in front of you. I keep replaying it in my mind and I'm scatter brained and irritable. Basic post shock behavior.

The good news is that he will recover, but it will be 3-4 months before he can be ridden, and will have a scar on his knee. A is a newlywed and not flush with money (are any of us?) and really couldn't afford this vet bill, so D and I are pitching in where we can. I'm going to cover grain and supplements for him for at least a month or two and D isn't going to charge her to fix the fence.

And we're just grateful that it wasn't any worse than it was.

I HATE REWRITING!

HATE IT! pulls hair out hateithateithateit!

In college and grad school when I had papers to write, I just wrote them, spell checked them, had someone proof read them and turned them in. I never rewrote anything, unless it just wasn't working. Bam! they were done.

Now, I'm working on this contest entry and have someone critiquing for me and I'm having to rewrite the scene and I've read these same 10 pgs about 50 times now, and I'm sick of them! ARRRGGGGHHHH! But I can't really put it down because the contest deadline is in 2 days. Nothing like leaving it to the last minute.

Going out on a limb

I need some feedback on my scene that I'm going to enter in a contest, so I asked for some volunteers on my mommy message board to read it. I'm either desperate, feeling brave or hellaciously confident. Why? Because my mommy board is like the Pink Ladies of the internet. (Am I getting the pop culture reference right?) They can be harsh and direct and tell it like it is. Brutal at times. But they are also a bunch of good people, and hopefully will help me out without whipping me too bad.

But I don't want the entire board to know that I'm an aspiring writer, because then every time I have a typo or misspelled word or misplaced comma, I'll get mocked for it. Bitches. lol

Mommy, how do babies get here?

Holy crap, I wasn't ready for that. And right at the dinner table, too. Leave it to Ellie. The manwhore just looked at me and smirked. Damn him.

But, I calmly answered that they grow in a mommy's tummy and when they are ready to be born, they usually come out through her vagina. Which lead to Emma asking where that was (like I've never told them before) and her trying to point hers out to us. She asked if it was the same hole that the poop came out of, and I told her no, it was between the pee hole and the poop hole (The manwhore interjected "And from now on, we shall call it the baby hole!" Dork.)

Ellie asked if you had to go to the hospital to get the baby out, so we told that some people have babies at home and some at the hospital. And that lead to sometimes you need an operation to get the baby out safely, which led to talking about them being premature and how tiny they were and how big Sam was.

I was very relieved that we didn't have to get into how the baby gets in the mommy's tummy just yet. I'm not sure I'm ready for that one.

But pee holes, poop holes and baby holes, all at the dinner table last night. Someone hold me.

I am so arrogant

Since I have a partial manuscript sitting on the desk of an editor at Harlequin, I've been reading Harlequin romance novels lately. I don't generally read them, as I prefer the big, fat historical novels or Nora Roberts. But, I felt I needed read some so I would know what Harlequin is doing these days.

Here comes the arrogance. The handful of novels I've read have reminded me of one of the reasons I wanted to write romance novels in the first place. I finish one and find myself thinking "I can write better than that."

Now, God only knows if it's true or not, since no one is reading my writing except me, but it certainly gives me a nice little ego boost and a little push to keep on writing and polishing and all that. So maybe one day some teenager will read one of my books and think "Damn, I can write better than this crap!" and she'll grow up and become one of the next generation of romance writers. lol

You'd think I'd learn

I spent yesterday outside, at least for several hours. Unfortunately, we didn't get to play with the horses, because D's truck broke down and we spent 2 hrs in the TSC parking lot while her dear friend replaced a radiator hose.

That fixed, we went to her place and repair a section of fence so she can turn the horses out in the back pasture.

I had on a sleeveless shirt. See where this is going? Only, this time, I remembered the sunscreen. I really did. But I apparently missed the top of one shoulder, because it is sort of crispy. Ow.

Really, I'm not fond of skin cancer or wrinkles, I've got to do better with the sunscreen.

Men should have to try menstruating sometime

Don't ask me how to make a man menstruate, I haven't a clue. But I think sometimes they need to experience it once or twice.
Let me start all this by saying that most of the time, I actually don't mind having periods and the hormonal swings don't seem to bother me too much. But occasionally it gets to me. Yesterday was one of those days.

We're laying bed last night and I just want to go to sleep because I hit the floor running when I got out of the bed yesterday. Preschool, horses, ride to the co-op with my friend, pick up kids, back to the horses for lessons, straight from there to soccer, all of my meals were late, my back was aching and I started my rag yesterday. And he asks me if there is something wrong. rofl

Wrong? NO, THERE'S NOTHING WRONG, WHY DO YOU ASK? YOU TRY BLEEDING OUT OF YOUR CROTCH AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!

Ok, I didn't yell, but I did say that to him. I mean, honestly, first there is the flood of estrogen, then you ovulate and have a flood of progesterone for two weeks that can causes pimples and bloating and moodiness. If you didn't get knocked up, the progesterone crashes and you get the resulting more moodiness and then your period.

And despite what the manufactures claim, there is nothing in existence designed to catch, absorb or otherwise contain menstrual blood that is 100% comfortable. You can either use pads, which feel like wearing a diaper, or stick something in your hoohaw. Sticking something in my hoohaw is my choice. Being the wanna be hippy, treehugging reduce, reuse and recycle type that I am, I use a diva cup. www.divacup.com Don't go there if you get grossed out by alternative menstrual products.

But, it's by far the most comfy thing I've ever used, and it's still not perfect. After all, there is something crammed in my vajay-jay for roughly 5 days. Of course I know it's there.

But really, men should have to experience this. It would be enlightening and eyeopening for them. Now, how to manage it?

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.