My Town Apparently Does It Right

Read this article and had to laugh. I had never been to an outdoor screening like they describe and it does sound so delightfully awful.

My town?

We show the Spongebob Squarepants movie or Madagascar. Not highbrow artflicks. The events planners know what they are doing. Outdoor free movies should be shown like a family movie night and devoid of pretense.

So pull up a blanket and pass the Ho-Hos!

How We Do Earth Day

Well, the repairman wasn’t able to get our heat pump/AC running again. Granted, that should NOT be a surprise. We were told when we bought the house (over 7 years ago) that it was over 20 years old and we should replace it. But I’m cheap and it still worked (mostly) so we kept it going.

Tomorrow he’s coming with an entirely new everything. Basically the whole unit: both the inside piece and the outdoor compressor—was toast. Coils turned to dust in his hands. Nothing was left of the motor but rust. And the electrical system had completely shorted. So this year for Earth day we celebrated with a week of no air conditioning during a bit of an early heat wave (yesterday was 87F) during the highest pollen count of the year.

Yup. We suffer for Gaia.

And then we will have installed a new, green, super efficient system that is likely to cut our electric bill by at least a third. And may have used the money we’ve been saving for that Tempur-Pedic Cloud we’ve been lusting after. And may need slightly, what with the hole in our bed. But it has everything we were looking for in a system short of a zero-carbon footprint like the solar ones have. Hepa, UV air sanitation, and everything a Mom of an allergic asthmatic could want.

Hubby wants to do something more, like plant a tree, that we can do as a family activity. I’m not sure where it would go, since we already have SEVERAL, most still small saplings that will need room to grow. I think we have done enough this year

They Wear Me Out

Tiredness. That’s what happens when you: a) Have a non-functioning air conditioner when the temperature goes up. b) Open the windows to help the thermostat read below 80F despite pollen allergies and the inability to take allergy medication. c) Spend your weekend trying to fight off the ridiculous. d) Have an unpleasant milestone. The first two are rather mundane. I cannot sleep because I’m either too hot or can’t breathe. So that will be resolved tomorrow morning with a visit from the repairman. The third is the fault of Hubby, Son, and family. Hubby, being who he is has been on a “fixing” jag. Nothing is broken by the way so this so-called “fixing” has been a jag of breaking things and spending money we don’t have on improvements that aren’t. I need to find him some broken stuff. I think I should dismantle our toaster…that should keep him busy for a day or two and I won’t be upset if he can’t fix it. He is driving me to drink with the “fixing”. Son is just in a bad phase. I think 3.5 yo’s have all had a temporary brain-ectomy. He was particularly taxing whilst I tried to complete the taxes this year. Why his father wouldn’t take him out of the house to go play, I do not know. But it turned an annual project that shouldn’t take long into a long and drawn out ordeal. He did apologize by way of dinner out, but that too was a bit taxing. Those who have had brain-ectomies should not be taken to fancy fine dining restaurants. He did okay if not sitting still for even 3 seconds and occasionally shouting just to hear himself is okay. He did eat and eat well. He was a brave soul and tried squid (he didn’t like it, but swallowed it like a gentleman and just said he didn’t want any more) and veal (THAT he loooooooooved. He ate a whole veal cannelloni. I am glad they gave me two so I had something to eat). The unpleasant milestone would be the “might have been” due date I just passed. Stressful, but it might’ve been worse if I weren’t already expecting another who wouldn’t exist otherwise.

Augmentin and Albuterol Season

I am probably one of the few people who’s not Spring’s biggest fan. But despite the lovely cherry blossoms in my backyard, allergies keep anyone in our family from being able to enjoy the season. Sad, but true.

Thoughts

When I found I was pregnant that was one thing that saddened me. I had just started to fit in clothes that had been sitting unused in the back of the closet the past 5 years. Beautiful, fitted, and in single digit sizes. I believed that in my battle with my weight this was another case of one step forward, two steps back.

Thanks to hyperemesis, some of them are now fitting loosely as early maternity wear (not the extremely fitted blouses, but most anything else). And oh, I’m showing with great obviousness--I never was one who carried small--So it’s not just because it’s so early that I wouldn’t be changing wardrobes yet.

I’ve just lost that much weight.

Funny how I can work for years to try and lose it and be frustrated beyond all belief. And then it waits to drop off when it’s bad for me to be losing weight.

Ah well. The drop seems to have stopped, so that’s good.

**********

I want to give thanks for having such a lovely husband.

During this time of great annoyance he has been wonderful. He’s taken over pretty much everything and done it with grace.

**********

I’m not sure where Sasha stands in all of this.

I ask him about siblings or start a conversation about Mommy having a baby and he just looks at me, holds my face in his hands, and with a look of total seriousness says:

“Mommy, I need a snack.”

But then, that’s his answer to everything lately. So he has been something of a sphinx about anything but his thoughts on food.

Not Quite Punk

Well, it happened.

Sasha came home from school last night complaining that his feet hurt and his shoes “nots fits.” He must have grown during naptime. Thankfully, I had been expecting to get up some random morning and in the rush to get out the door find that none of his shoes fit. So I bought a pair of size 10, light-up, Buzz Lightyear sneakers and put them away. Just in case. So all I had to do was go get them and no last minute run out to the store in a panic rush. No fits about having to get rid of his old Spiderman sneakers either since these were apparently much cooler.

I’m also pretty glad that we bought all his fall clothes just a touch large (size 5). Not ridiculously big, but a bit roomy. This morning all that extra space was used.

Sasha has a new favorite song. And? It’s totally inappropriate for a 3 year old.

Fortunately, he has misunderstood 90% of the lyrics and so sings it wrong. Meaning I don’t have to be called to school to explain anything.

The “Let’s Go Song” (as it’s now known in our house) isn’t even a genre little kids tend to like. So, color me surprised when he asked me to put it on. Color me even more surprised when I realized my music collection which includes several selections by Sid Vicious, Husker Du, Orange 9mm, NOFX and so on does not include anything by The Ramones. And the further surprise came when I heard him sing it. I wonder if Joey Ramone is rolling in his grave or laughing when tiny tots mishear the song and sing the words “…the kids are startin’ to whine. A Big Cheese Ball”.

Seems he thinks it’s a song about snacktime. Ah, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…

Soon I'll Look Like My Dog

...With her incredibly coarse and unruly, but sparse, reddish gold hair. If only I could have her metabolism.

My hair has been falling out by the handfull. It's like a repeat of what happened a few months after Sasha was born and all the hair that hadn't fallen out while I was pregnant, fell out at one time. Only I haven't been pregnant, so I haven't been accumulating an excessivly luxuriant mane.

Hubby thinks it's my attempts to diet (which haven't come to much) and malnourishment.

The accupuncturist thinks it's stress.

Me? Who the heck knows, but yikes!

If it's stres, it should resolve itself soon. If it's diet, heck, I'm now officially off my diet (if it's making me bald, it's bad for me).

If it's none of the above, I'm considering the prospect of a cool scalp tattoo...

Torn

I’m frequently frustrated by the medium of the written word.
You see, I have diarrhea of the keyboard.
When put in front of a blank page, I could write on forever. There are at least a dozen different topics at any one point that I would love to write on. It is my catharsis.
However…
To write is also to immortalize your thoughts. Make them permanent. Make them public.
To write is to be found out and to expose your soul and guts in a giant gooey mess. To write is to create a new Truth that will last. To write is to obscure fact with emotion and perception. To write is to complicate every situation with an unending slurry of slights.
I so often write, only to delete whatever file I have created before it can go anywhere. Other times I simply save it in a file. A possible interesting bit I can edit into useful plot or characterization for a book one day. The “One Day” that will have to likely wait till many people are dead or my circle has drastically changed or both.
I sometimes wish I could express my emotions in other forms. Forms that are more abstract. Forms that will say things in a manner for which my pen is a blunt object.
Granted, there are moments where I wouldn’t mind bludgeoning people. There are times that I feel it’s deserved. Unfortunately, so often when you fashion a weapon against others, you only end up hurting yourself.

Nothing Like A Lazy Day at Home

...and indeed, it's been nothing like "lazy."

I've been working from home the past few days and will be for a few more. I found myself temporarily without an office at work so I've been using the office at home.

Which seemed good, as I'm recovering from a respiratory infection--extra rest afforded by lack of commute. However, I find I'm not really getting it. I wake up at normal time. I do my normal routine of getting everyone and myself ready for the day and fed and then I find I have an extra hour and a half to do errands before the workday begins. THis morning? I did the grocery shopping, dropped off the drycleaning, scheduled the HVAC guy to come and do regular service, put the fish in a marinade, and cut and washed the veggies and fruit to make dinner tonight...all before my first meeting of the day. And I'll have another hour and a half available to me at the end of the day because I don't have to drive home.

We're having grilled orange-ginger tuna, a korean sweet potato noodle dish with veggies, and Hubby and I are having grilled pineapple and the little guy grilled pear (he's allergic to pineapple) with a scoop of vanilla icecream. A simple dinner, but one I don't usually have time or energy to prepare.

I find I'm happier with this arrangement. There's less 'dead-space' in my day while I'm just waiting. Waiting for a meeting to start. Waiting to be let off of 'hold' on the phone. Waiting for someone to get back to me. Because at home, while I wait, I can be working on an unrelated to-do item. Wash a dish. Fold a shirt. And because I am more fully using my time, rather than multi-tasking, I feel less rushed and can do a better job. The evenings with my family are more enjoyable. I feel less angry and stressed. I don't have a pile of work left undone when I'm exhausted at the end of the day. Instead, I have a list of accomplishments and the sense that I was able to get through them at my own pace.

I know that I'm in something of a transitional phase with my job right now. Here's hoping that when the transition does finally complete, it's includes regularly scheduled days like these.

Everything's Clearer Now

No, the rain (or rather snow) is not gone. And thanks to the giant plowed piles, I still cannot see obstacles in my way.

But I have glasses.

I actually have had a pair for almost 12 years. I got them when applying for a group of jobs that all required vision be 20/20 (corrected). Not that my vision was bad, it was just ever so slightly off from perfect. I didn't actually need glasses otherwise so I didn't actually wear them anywhere but the activities for the recruitment process.

Lately, though, I noticed a few things. For one, I just couldn't see why my husband has been soooooo thrilled with having a big 'ol HD TV. I couldn't tell the difference between a show on the HD channel and the same show on the non-HD channel. I really couldn't (except of course that the HD channel was costing me more). Also, I'd noticed that I was absentmindedly closing one eye to do anything that required me to see details or read. I was crashing into door jambs. And, the final straw, the eye I was leaving open for detail work? Was spazzing like mad every day by lunchtime.

So now I have glasses. The first thing I noticed was how overly clear the HD TV was. Like, disgustingly clear. I do not need to see Bob Costas's pores. However, for anything depicting vistas or nature it's absolutely beautiful. I get it now.

I also noticed that I didn't crash into anything that night walking around. They are supposed to fix a pretty severe lateral shift, so that would make sense.

What was best?

My little boy looking at me and with a big smile, "OOOOooooOOOOooo Mommy! I like da glasses!"

Maybe This is How Scrooge Got Started

I have been experiencing a growing annoyance with a certain not-for-profit organization lately.

Years ago, I applied for some assistance from them. I was turned away with more than a little attitude and insult. I got the help elsewhere and it's better that way. Their terms were a bit unnerving and I prefer the knowledge that that which has been given will not be taken away.

I remained involved with a portion of the group as they do offer a lot of information that I found helpful.

The attitudes of many may have been pompous and insufferable, their methods occasionally questionable and inflexible, but I agreed with the overall goal and so despite all my misgivings, I continued to belong and support. After all, there were those like me who simply wanted to learn.

I even did work for them. Some geeky-type labor that took some of my private time was donated to them to use.

I wasn’t expecting payment, but I spent my time and effort to help them because they asked me for it. Meanwhile, if someone gives money or tangible materials they get a big shout out. I just want to see my donation used. It never has been and calls/emails placed asking if they received it have gone unanswered (I found out eventually it had, but no one was going to acknowledge it or use it because of some personal issues).


And the final straw has been just now. I bought an item from their catalogue to give as a gift. The picture and description lead me to believe it was exactly what I was looking for. I got it last week.

It’s not what was described. It was not what the photo showed. But it’s enough so I know that this wasn’t a mis-mail. Say you ordered a lovely handpainted silk tie from a charitable organization. The catalogue only had one tie offered and the description was “handpainted raw silk with swirls of lavender and blue” and there was a lovely photo of a tie. But what they send you is a purple and blue striped polyester clip on. It’s bait and switch.

I’m done. A person can only take so much.

I Thought This Was The South?

Date Night

Hubby and I had a wonderful, much needed date night last night.
A picnic dinner
Cool breezes and a blanket under the stars
Great entertainment
It may not have been most people’s idea of a romantic evenin--we went to see Bill Cosby—but we enjoyed it immensely.
However, because of it I haven’t seen my baby boy since yesterday morning when he was grumpy and half asleep on the potty. Hubby had to go pick him up since I got stuck for an hour in the parking lot at the venue (we met up and I apparently parked in the wrong lot). And when I got home he was already in bed. This morning he was still asleep when I got up.
I miss you, Bud.

Just Call Me Typhoid Mary

Ever have a day where you wake up and you just have that overwhelming feeling NOTHING is going to go right?
Well, today we should have written off everything and just stayed home.
It started by my blowing a tire.
Normally, not a big deal. I can change a tire myself. But today? It blew on a winding, busy, one-lane road with steep hills and no shoulders. And the jack that came with my lovely car is evidently NOT strong enough to hold the weight of said car. Because it bent. And the car fell. And I was wearing my last set of clean workclothes—a beautiful white suit—which this fiasco absolutely destroyed.
After that, it was all downhill.
The bad-day seemed a virus. It spread to everyone I touched.
Dogs were grumpy, fought, and barked.
Children had repeated meltdowns.
Servers crashed.

That Filly Has Some Long Legs, Must Not be a Fjord

Ah, the High Horse.

I seem to be meeting up with it overly often lately. Sometimes by people who admit they have no idea what they are talking about (so who knows why they chose THAT mount). Sometimes by people who think they know what they are talking about because of a story they heard about their neighbor's cousin's hairdresser's garbageman (and so they don't really know ANYTHING, but somehow feel they do). Sometimes they are a person who would be knowledgeable about their field, but have decided their personal opinion is actually a quantifiable fact (um, no...sorry, last I checked the Earth still revolved around the sun). And so on.

So much so recently, that my neck is getting stiff from trying to look so high.

Because of it, I've actually made a few decisions in my life:

1) I will never breed/show dogs.
I had been considering becoming a hobbyist in the fancy one day when my kids were older and we'd moved somewhere with more land (so I could have neighbors further away and couldn't gripe so much). I do love animals, dogs in particular, and think I could really do a good job. However, my outlook on the whole concept appears to be somewhat at odds with the reality of it. I am more interested in health and relevance than conformation. I think all dogs (regardless of breed or pedigree) are equally special. I think all people have equal importance. Because of this, I could see I’d be fighting endlessly with what may simply be a very vocal minority and don't think the aggravation would be worth it.

2) People who feel the first thing they need to tell you about themselves that they are “Christian” are usually (not always) anything but.
Not going more into this than to say I’m apparently going to hell. And if I had to be like them to get to heaven? I wouldn’t want any part of it.

3) Any argument that starts “I’m totally lost, but I really insist…” can be ignored.

4) If I ever start stating rumor as incontrovertible fact or start a argue that something *IS* (other than my own feelings) because that’s how *I* feel, someone please knock me over the head with a heavy object…my logic center has a lose wire.

Eyesore

Our house is not large and has some oddly shaped rooms. And this poses a variety of decorating conundrums.

For the most part, I think we do okay. Doing without certain common pieces (like a coffee table) and looking for unique space savers (like a fold away kitchen table) does most of what I need. We’ve managed some other issues by knocking out dividers that didn’t need to be there.

Other things can be packed into boxes, and a have a table cloth thrown over them (instant endtable!).

But there’s one thing I can’t figure out what to do with:


There it sits, in our living room—a necessary eyesore—23 1/4" x 35 1/2" x 26 1/2" of black metal wire.

For a while we were folding it up every time we used it. But with two meals a day fed in there and occasional other necessary uses, that didn’t last long.

I’ve looked into the pretty mahogany versions, but I think they might end up petri dishes after a meal of raw chicken and pork uterus.

And so it sits. Mocking me. Betraying every effort at beautification.

Ants in My Pants

I am a Military Brat.

When you grow up that way, moving every few years, it makes for certain quirks in your character.

I need to move.

I’ve now lived in this house for over 5 years, longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere. I am itching to pack up and leave and am beginning to hate the house.

Maybe that’s because all those new and lovely things we did to it are beginning to look old, worn, and dilapidated. Maybe it’s just that I am not meant to stay in one place that long. Maybe it’s because we bought a place we knew would be too small for our needs, but it was what we could afford at the time and figured we’d have no issues with trading up. After all, real estate goes up in value, right?

I really want my acre or two of land, my semi-indestructable stone floors, my completely real wood cabinetry, a place out back to put all of hubby’s tools where he can work (instead of having them piled in a closet or strewn about the house), my useable attic…

But instead we have what we have.

I am grateful for it and do feel it was the right choice for us. We are not very far underwater (about the cost of a used car); we’ve never had trouble making payments (even if one of us was out of work); and despite some of our neighbor issues it’s in a lovely little part of town. All of which are blessings not many have today.

So I’ve been on the hunt. I even got so far as putting a bid on a lot. That went about like how I thought it would. The list price was ridiculously low for the area and for the lot in particular (I pass it every day). It was a misprint, the seller rejected my offer, and then they corrected the listing.

But that ten minutes, I was in hog heaven. Dreaming of my 5 acre lot and the splendiferous home we’d be able to afford after buying the land with cash and owning it free and clear.

What brings fear into my heart is the horrible fiasco of selling. Having to keep the house impeccably neat and clean—despite a toddler and two dogs. Having to find a place to put the dogs so no real estate agents get mauled if they decide just to stop by with clients despite the “Appointment Only” status; or maybe just kick the dogs out of the house to roam the neighborhood freely all day. Noticing that “personal items” go missing after Open Houses. And various other drama of home sales.

So here we will likely stay until the market changes.

Now, if only the fates saw fit to have me win the lotto jackpot. Then none of this would matter.

Just the Facts, Ma'am

Dear News People,

Please stop patronizing your listeners/viewers/readers. We not only can handle “real” news, we prefer that THAT is what you deliver us.

We understand the existence of “slow news days.” However, in a major metropolitan area, even the slowest days should bear ample material to fill up a program. Real material. I hate to inform you, what condiments the President ordered on his burger are not “real news.” Real news has substance and reports that which impacts or may impact your readers/listeners/viewers. The same day that was reported I witnessed a multitude of police cars racing to an area and jumping out with their guns drawn. People were pulled out and arrested. Whatever was going on there, probably qualified as real news, but apparently someone thought telling me about mustard was a better way to go.

Sadly, I’ve noticed the quality of our local news deteriorating. Less and less news, more and more fluff or even worse—flat out storytelling. Like I’ve seen in other places I’ve lived. Is this really what your channels’ focus groups recommended? Is this just reflective of the dumbing down of America? Or is it just reflective of poor and lazy reporting?

Please. Be better than that.

ch-ch-ch-changes

This has been a month of changes.
Some difficult.
Some not.

Apparently the medical community has finally decided that, yes, Sasha has horrible allergies. Thank God. We've been instructed to give him Claritin and it has helped a significant amount. It hasn't made the symptoms go away, by any means. However the improvement is enough so that he can have normalcy.

Poor Hubby got his first root canal. I'd point and laugh, except that I got mine even earlier.

My company did not win it's recompete. So I'm in limbo right now and trying to decide what it is I actually want to do with my life. After all, "Trust Fund Baby" isn't an option. I don't forsee any problems getting another job, as I already have viable prospects. But I still take this as an opportunity to reflect and get direction.

And many other things are up in the air as well...including now our baby plans. Awaiting both some medical test results and for me to be in a situation where I'd have maternity benefits by the start of next spring.

Here's waiting for May--A month of resolutions????

The Stupid--Worse than a bunch of Swedish People with Bad Prosthetics

I've been waging war against The Stupid.
And The Stupid? It's winning. I even have started having my own intellect suffer. Like Friday? Locked my keys in the car. Last night? Set something, wrapped in tinfoil, to cook for 200 minutes in the microwave.
The Stupid is winning.
I suppose it was only a matter of time. After all, The Stupid is everywhere.
It's on the road, it's in the stores, it's at work...You simply can't escape it.
*Sigh*
I suppose "Resistance is Futile". No matter what you do, there's no making a dent in it.