The Mother Road. Caution: Sharp Tongue Ahead.

Important Announcement

2008-09-02T20:36:00.001-07:00

Be it known to all persons that any and all decisions from this point forward shall be made by proclamation according to the mystical powers of the Magic 8-Ball. That way I have someone else to blame when everything blows up in my face.

Thank you.

Teacher Home Visit? SHIT!

2008-08-19T07:30:00.000-07:00

Oh my God. Somebody fucking help me! I got a message from LD's preschool teacher today that she'd like to schedule a home visit this week. THIS WEEK! As the message sank into my busy brain, I scanned my kitchen. All that came to mind was this:

I have been so stupid busy with stuff that my house is in desperate need of a TOTAL FUCKING MAKEOVER! Grab your mops and hike over. STAT!

Also: I had a great training run last night, so I celebrated by dancing my ass off to Milkshake by Kelis. Get up in your cubicles, your dirty showers - whatev. GO AHEAD, LADIES! Web shout to SALY! (Wish I could have posted the video here, but alas, there is no embed code.)

I'm off to defunk my house!

She Teaches Me

2008-08-18T13:17:00.001-07:00

Life is not always pretty. Being a grown-up isn't easy. Making hard choices sucks. Trying to be the woman I want my daughter to emulate is a challenge. Sometimes, though, she is the one teaching me.

Last week was a little rocky for me. So many things in my life are changing that I get dizzy just thinking about it all. Occasionally, I become overwhelmed. She's the one that gets me through.

I was crying pretty hard after a rough afternoon. Little Diva approached me quietly and calmly with little soft steps and concern on her face.

"Mommy, why are you crying?"

How should I answer a question like that to a three-year-old? I wiped my face with a kleenex and pulled her onto my lap. We talked about how it's okay to cry because sometimes we just get so much built up inside that we have to let it out. We talked about how she cries when she's scared and sad, and sometimes mommies feel those things, too. We talked about how it's okay to feel all of these things, and that it's perfectly fine to cry.

She sat quietly for a moment. I could see in her eyes that she was thinking pretty hard. And then she blessed me in a way only a child can. She took my face in her chubby little preschool hands, looked me in the eyes, and said, "I love you, Mommy."

"I love you, too, boo," I said.

She gave me a sweet little kiss and said, "You're going to be just fine. We're going to be okay."

Yes, we are, boo. Yes, we are.

*************************************
In the Celtic tradition - a tradition from which I derive much of my philosophy - there are no words for "hello" and "goodbye." Each meeting and parting of souls is framed with blessing. Because I have been so blessed by Little Diva, I in turn offer a blessing for all of you and yours. It's a song called "The Blessing" that I sing to LD. Here's wishing you the warmth and wisdom of preschool hands upon your face...

"The Blessing"

In the morning when you rise
I bless the sun, I bless the skies
I bless your lips, I bless your eyes
My blessing goes with you

In the nighttime when you sleep
Oh I bless you while a watch I keep
As you lie in slumber deep
My blessing goes with you

This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do

And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you
And you bless me, too

When your weary heart is tired
If the world would leave you uninspired
When nothing more of love's desired
My blessing goes with you

When the storms of life are strong
When you're wounded, when you don't belong
When you no longer hear my song
My blessing goes with you

This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true
Each, every day for you
In everything you do

And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you
And you bless me, too

I bless you
And you bless me, too

Funny Shit

2008-08-12T08:31:00.000-07:00

There is nothing funnier than people falling down. They glued this bastard's flip flops to the floor. Enjoy, fuckers!

"Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die." - Mel Brooks

Random Thought At Starbucks

2008-08-01T22:41:00.001-07:00

I realized while in line for my chai today that Starbucks probably spent more money on tongs so they could put bananas in smoothies than the amount of money I paid for my house.

SBUX Pres: Hello, Target? Yeah, I need tongs.

Target Customer Service: How many, sir?

SBUX: Let's see. Well, I guess 15,011 pairs.

Target: Okay, sir. Is that all?

SBUX: Actually, make that double. Some jackass will undoubtedly drop them on the floor. So let's go with 2 pairs for every store.

Target: Okay. That's 30,022 pairs at $6.99 per pair with your volume discount?

SBUX: Sure.

Target: Your total is $209,853.78 plus shipping. Anything else?

SBUX: Yes! Can I return 1200 of those if I have the receipt?

Target: Certainly. As long as it's within 90 days.

SBUX: Perfect.

I Don't Mess Around

2008-07-29T14:09:00.000-07:00

OK, so Landlocked Media, LLC's street team division is up and running. With college about to come back from summer break, I'll be recruiting. And since pix are worth a thousand words, here you go. I give you "2 Legit 2 Quit."

This is where handling multi-million dollar accounts in my pre-motherhood life will come in handy. Paperwork is filed, bank accounts opened, contacts being made. Here we go, y'all. Let's make a little magic.

Also, since this is actually a mom blog, here is a pic of Little Diva painting our back patio doors. Hey, when Mom has a good creative day, LD is allowed one, too. BONUS: J Dizzle flipped out. FUSSYPANTS!

MESSY IS FUN!

Then and Now: Pictorial Version 2.0

2008-07-26T20:08:00.000-07:00

I've written this post several times. This is a difficult one for me because it is so intensely personal. The last one I had posted was REALLY long and drawn out. What y'all really want to see is what I look like having lost 40 pounds in under 12 months without committing to some diet. So I'm going to do that in a second. But first...

Weight is a subject we just aren't honest about, are we? But, bloggerdom, we need to be. There are so many things I'd like to say about this transformation, but I have one simple take-home message for all of you. For me, this transformation was completely mental. I did not get into running to change the way I looked on the outside. I started running - which began as walking - for the renewal of the spirit inside of me that wanted to be at peace again. All the weight I had gained since 2003 (I was pretty average up until then in my teen and young adult years) was the result of a ton of commotion, stress, and upheaval in my life, as many of us have in our twenties. Running has become my solace, my solitude - the place where I am most in touch with my soul. (A little Zen, anyone?)

The bottom line: Transformation is about the mind-body-spirit connection. If you'd like me to talk about that in a post, I'd be happy to do it. Just holla.

Anyway, without further ado, I bring you THE TRANSFORMATION:

Above: This one is making me cry because I know how I felt about my life. Last June. Me, on the left. Fat and happy? Bullshit.

Below: This one is making me cry because I can't believe how far I've come. 450 miles (and a whole reborn soul) later.

My doctor tells me that I have 14 pounds left to kick. At the most.

Will I ever go back? Hell no. I can't.

Questions? Ask anything, even my uber-personal stats. I'll give you whatever you want if it will get you thinking about dealing with your own issues. Someone dear to me was my inspiration. I'd be honored to be yours.

Peace.

Fat Girl Slim

2008-07-25T10:44:00.000-07:00

OK. I'll probably get a shit-ton of hatemail from the politically correct set, but fuck that. Momma's feelin' great today. Girls, it's been just under one year, and here are the stats:

* 40 pounds down
* approx 450 miles run
* currently averaging a 12 minute mile
* running 5K a day
* signing up for the Nike Human Race 10K on 8/31/08
* sassiness restored
* spirit renewed
* running for the y'chi, baby

And since I'm feeling extra sassy and Tessie got me started with the quotes, here's mine:

"What do you know about game? I got ALL the game."

If I can get up the guts, maybe you'd like to see some then/now pix. But you'll have to comment/e-mail me and beg, because it's a pretty difficult thing for me to look at myself in those before pix.

Got to go hit another 5. Peace, y'all.

Let's Get It Started In Here

2008-07-18T08:50:00.001-07:00

Hey, y'all! Well, I've been talking with Kerlin, the editor at Hip Mama, and the summer edition that includes my work is at the printer. Stay tuned, and I'll let you know when you can head over and order a copy if you'd like.

Also, I've started building the web zine (so far it's just a starter page that's live) and the Landlocked Media, LLC paperwork is being filed as we speak. Can you believe this shit? I've got some distributors talking with me about the print version and all kinds of crazy stuff. Shar and Matt - are you guys ready? I guess we're really going to make this happen, eh?

Aside: I think I just threw up a little.

Anyway, that's all for now. Have to go hit the trail!

Blogger Blows Goats. Also - How many coffeehouses can I visit today?

2008-07-17T12:42:00.000-07:00

OK, so I've been trying to take a commercial break from the soap opera that is my life to bring you Gratuitous Vacation Pix. However, Blogger kicks me offline every time I try to upload. STUPID EFFING PROGRAM!

Ahem. I just had the most wonderful morning-creeping-into-afternoon coffee chat/solving-every-problem-in-the-world session with my friend Jim. He is an awesome writer, great thinker, and beautiful soul. Jim, if you stop by here today - thanks so much for being there and speaking The Truth in love. Us emotional-types will be just fine, yes? Much agape, babe. Much agape.

After coffee with Jim (uh, it was more like HOURS), I headed to Perk to journal a bit (stop fucking yawning, will you?) and had my favorite lunch. OH MY GOD! When you bitches come to town, I am SO taking you to lunch there. The hummus is the best I think I've ever had and that damn Mediterranean crepe rocks me so hard I could marry it. Forget men; it's me and the crepes. For reals, yo.

Anyway, I think I'm going to do something productive now and balance my checking account so I can see what the situation may be for registering the old LLC. I'll let you know!

And I'm sure I'll end up at yet another caffeinated establishment sometime today.

Peace (and caffeine)...

My Unmarriage

2008-07-13T22:13:00.001-07:00

Well, y'all, pull up a chair. It's time for us to have a chat. Don't worry; I'm doing really great. Acutally, I'm probably the best I've been in years. I'll just let you know that from the beginning.

As many of you know from reading an earlier post, Hubs (J Dizzle) and I are no longer an item. I mentioned in that post that I didn't want to discuss it, and it wasn't because anyone is angry or hateful or anything; it's just that the situation deserves its own post. So here is the truth coming to you live and direct to quell any rumors or speculation.

We've been separated for about two months, and it's not about us having "a difficult time." This is long overdue.

I haven't posted this before because J Dizzle has friends that read this blog, and out of respect for him, I wanted to be sure that he was able to communicate with them on his own rather than having me drag our shit out into the limelight. We're cool like that. This whole thing is cool like that. We're grown-ups.

Those of you out there in the blogosphere who've been around a while know that this blog has become increasingly introspective over the last year. When I joined up with the bloggers last year, things had already been spiraling towards the end of our marriage for a long time. This blog was a place where I could hang and be all snarkalicious and sassy and foul-mouthed and all of that other shit (he he). The reality of all of this nonsense is that humor is the shovel for the shit-pile of life. My blog became a bulldozer, and I've known why for a long time.

J Dizzle and I have been living separate lives emotionally for many years. This separation is not about an incident that made us question anything, or some unforgivable something. This separation is because we are not a good fit for each other, and we have both acknowledged that we mutually deserve to be happy and in healthy relationships.

When I said I was going to rock my THIRTIES, I wasn't lying. Ya feel me?

The truth is, if he came home and told me that he met some woman that he wanted to get to know better, I'd go grab a couple of beers, plop down on the couch with him, and want to know all about her. Why? Because I want him to be happy. And I know that he's talked to some honeys, and it's all good.

I'm totally open to anything you all want to know. Seriously. You can e-mail questions to me at momoftheyearblog at gmail dot com. Nothing is off of the table. I imagine there are several of you going through similar things, and the best thing I can do to help any of you get through situations that may not be as amicable as mine is to offer up my story. So whatever it is - sex, money, living arrangements, support - just send it or post it in the comments.

Much love,
Mom of the Year

Reading at Borders Tonight... IN FUCKING FLORIDA

2008-07-10T12:22:00.000-07:00

Some of you are vacationing in the the Florida panhandle as am I. If you happen to be in PCB, come by the Borders at Pier Park tonight. I've been asked to read at their open mic tonight at 7 PM. Weird. I was chatting with a barista there last night, mentioned I was a writer from STL, and she asked if I had any of my stuff with me. I popped my moleskine out of my bag, showed her a couple of pages, and she said, "Damn. You gotta be here tomorrow night to read this. This is awesome." WTF?! So, I guess now I'm on tour. HA HA HA!

Postcards from the Edge

2008-07-08T07:46:00.000-07:00

Hey, everyone! Well, I did it - I'm at the beach with the entire clan. I must admit that things have gone really well thus far. I was going to upload some pix, but I forgot to bring the USB cable for the cam, so you'll have to wait until I get back to check out my vacation, nosey bitches.

Before I made the decision to hop on the vacation train, I had a short but intense conversation with my parents. Well, actually, that's kind of sugar-coating it. I basically sat them down and read them the pre-riot act, letting them know that at the first sign of them all up in my shit or whining about things they have no right to discuss, my ass would be back on a plane to St. Louis. After all, I'm thirty for chrissake; support my decisions or get off of the fucking bus.
There have been a couple of close calls, but I've stepped right up and told them to kindly shut the hell up (in nicer words USUALLY), and they've respected that. So, in short, it's all good.

Take home message for all of you with familial troubles: stop the hand wringing. Make your own decisions and give them two choices - support you or get the hell out. If they truly love you, they'll choose the former. PERIOD.

We're all laughing, drinking, and generally enjoying the wicked coolness of all things beach-like. I've managed to get in some running around the area, which I think does definitely put me in the "made lifestyle change" category. Speaking of that, my one year anniversary of running is next month!

Anyway, LD wants to hit the beach. Gotta go sunscreen up, pack up my books and journal (my sis just remarked that I look like a librarian right now with the glasses and all), and hit the sand.

Anti-depressants or anti-vacation?

2008-06-30T07:31:00.000-07:00

Okay, here's the deal. My family (dad, mom, bro, sis) has been hanging out on the gulf coast for a week every summer since I was a fetus - literally. The last two years, this tradition has continued, except now it's a mass of my parents, my brother and sister-in-law, my niece and nephew, and my sister, plus us. The thing is, I'm debating whether or not we should go along this year. I have four days to decide - they are leaving this Friday and will be gone for nine days.

Which is the other interesting point - they drive. Two days of driving each way. I actually took my car last year, and I have to say that LD does well with road trips. However, this year it would just be her and me (hubs and I are no longer an item, and no, I do not wish to discuss that right now), and we'd be rotating cars with my brother and my parents.

And my parents are driving me CRAZY.

In addition to all of the stuff that's gone on inside of me over the last three years (and has produced a much more fabulous me), one of the stark realizations I've had is that my family was not as normal and well-functioning as I grew up believing. In fact, we were about as far from fucking normal as a family can get. Well, OK. I won't take that from the TRULY fucked up, but it's fair to say that there was plenty of shit that went down that certainly colored the way I handled my own life. Let's just say that love for me had always come with guilt and strings attached. Metric tons of guilt and more strings than a violin factory. And it should never have been MY guilt to begin with.

The beach would be lovely. I love the whole idea of returning to the one place I don't recall any Family Weirdness and Stress occuring when I was a kid. But I'm wondering how much of my time will be spent with my family all up in my grill about my personal shit, and how come I don't want to do this, or why am I doing that, or when will I just be the little typical suburban mom they all dreamed I would be.

So in case you were wondering, I had pretty much decided that I wouldn't go. But then, my sister (who truly is one of my best friends) had this to say. Are you ready for this???

"You know, though, Mom and Dad won't be around forever. And LD loves Niece and Nephew so much. It'd be really sad if she didn't get to enjoy this vacation."

UGH. MAJOR FAMILY GUILT PANG. WHICH IS ONE OF THE THINGS I'VE ALWAYS HAD HANGING OVER MY HEAD ANYWAY.

But she is right - my parents won't be around forever, and I love my bro and sis with every ounce of family love possible. And LD would love to be with her cousins at the beach. But nine fucking days???

Uh, HELP!!!!!!!!

How's this for timing? LD has just come into my office, picked up a large seashell, held it to her ear, and excitedly proclaimed, "The BEACH! I want to go to the beach!"

Fuck.

Hello from Portland!

2008-06-26T09:05:00.000-07:00

Well, sort of.

Yesterday I received a piece of GREAT news. So I'm feeling the whole Joseph Campbell "follow your bliss" vibe here lately. Anyway, I got a phone call from a good friend just moments after receiving the news. I was still riding the "CAN I GET A HELL YEAH?" wave and doing fist pumps in my office. Now, said friend was excited for me and all but I detected a HINT of SMART-ASSERY as the friend said, "You know, you should blog that."

I love smart-assery. I can kick some smart-assery, too.

BLOG MOCKERY! HE WHO MOCKS THE BLOG GOES BACK TO THE HOUSE OF PAIN! There is a fun-loving history of such with this person, and it is slightly endearing. So here it is, JB, you lovely smartass. "It is what it is," yeah?

ANYWAY, THE NEWS... one of my introspective-retrospectives will be published in the summer issue (print version) of Hip Mama. TA DA!

Go sign up for a subscription to the print version of this zine for two reasons:
1) because it rocks; and
2) because I fucking said so!

Carry on.

No Longer a Virgin

2008-06-23T12:04:00.000-07:00

A RACE virgin that is! Yes, all, I finally managed to get in that all-important first race - the Race for the Cure. I am happy to report that my adrenaline did wonders, and I have beaten the mental block! Because I'm all going on about my BAD SELF, here are some pix:

My friend Michelle was in town from the OC to run with me!

I ran to celebrate a family friend who is a 5 year breast cancer survivor.

Who lined up with the RUNNERS? Who?! ME, bitches!!!

Know why? BECAUSE I AM ONE!

Crossing that line was one of the greatest moments of my life.

For those of you arriving late on the set, it's been a long three or so years for me. I've done a lot of readjusting, a lot of getting real about myself. I started running late last summer, just a little at a time (and I mean a little at a time) just to find a good life-groove. I never thought that I would do this whole "distance running" thing, especially FOR FUN. Totally would have never believed I'd be doing this shit daily.

But I am. Running is my new religion. (Note: OK, maybe supplementary to my original faith).

I'm sure sometime in the future I will write some pithy Chicken-Soupy essay about it because I always do that introspective retrospective shit, you know? OK, just kidding - it's already in the works. Like you didn't know.

I kid you not, kids (heh heh heh)... this running thing has changed my life.

EVERYONE ON THE ENDORPHIN BUS! NOW!

An extra-special shout out to KW and MA for the training dates (I love you girls - you did me wonders) and to SY for cheering me on and enduring my narcissism (we'll do a 5K together SOON!).

Peace and good vibes,

mom of the year (AKA She Who Runs As A Goddess)

Bad Girl and a Mom

2008-06-16T11:39:00.000-07:00

One serendipitous stoplight signaled the end of my identity crisis.

I slammed on my brakes at the white line silently cursing the intersection red-light cameras. I’d missed the left turn arrow by seconds. Milliseconds. Nanoseconds. My Honda Accord recoiled momentarily as the procession of drivers privileged to have a green light passed by my front bumper with mere inches to spare. Lucky bastards, I thought.

Little Diva and I were late returning home from our mother-daughter excursion. The dash clock blurted out 9:15 PM. I knew that this delay in our arrival home meant one thing – bedtime would be more hellacious than usual. As I considered the impending battle of the bedroom, a completely surprising remark came boldly from Little Diva's mouth.

“You’re a bad girl and a mom.”

I sat in a confused silence. Had she actually said what I thought she said? We never used the term “bad girl” at home. I needed to hear it again. “What did you say?” I asked.

“You’re a bad girl and a mom, mommy,” she smiled, as I watched her in the review mirror.

“Is that right?”

“Yes, ma’am. And I love you.”

The light turned green and I chuckled as we headed to the highway. Although I was sure that Little Diva wasn’t entirely knowledgeable about the term “bad girl,” there was truth to the idea, especially the way my life had been changing for the last three years.

Following Little Diva's birth, I spent a great deal of time in varying stages of depression. I sought counseling, wrote in multiple journals, and tried to deal with the silence that always ended in a late-night downward spiral of emptiness. One day last summer, I took a walk to clear my head. During my walk, I asked a lot of hard questions of myself, of my soul, of my beliefs. And something unexplainable happened – I rediscovered who I am.

I realized that my depression was not about the changes of life. The sinking hopelessness I felt was a result of me having changed who I was to fit the world’s expectations of mothers. When I returned from that walk, I resolved to get back to being the only thing that will ever satisfy my soul – me. The other woman that left the house to walk that day has never returned.

I am a bad girl of sorts. Always have been. What does that look like for me? What do I hope “bad girl” means to my daughter? I considered these questions as we headed down the dark highway. From that drive, I now have my own manifesto for bad girl motherhood. I know what it means for me, and what I hope it means to my daughter.

As a bad girl, I live my life unapologetically on the entire page – in the written ink and also in the white space. Sometimes it’s the white space, the place where things are only felt or understood, that matters the most. I honor my sacred space, the place in my soul where I am most at peace with who I am. Honoring that place means I can’t be everything to everyone all of the time – and I shouldn’t be. I respect my body in all of its unique perfection and imperfection. When I make time to love and respect my body, my body is good for my soul.

What else do I know about being a bad girl and a mom? I don’t have to be a part of the Proper Mother Minivan Cult or enroll my child in soccer to be a good mother. I’ll continue to drive my fuel-efficient four-door and allow Little Diva to choose the activities that fit her desires. I shouldn’t force myself into awkward playgroups or hang out at kiddie gyms to be a good mother. I’ll still hang out in bookstores to meet like-minded moms. I won’t wear a coordinated jogging suit complete with designer sunglasses to be a good mother. My jeans with funky t-shirts and Chuck Taylor sneakers or Doc Martens fit me better anyway. My music collection should be a collection of the music that speaks to me and not be replaced by the latest Create-A-Genius collection. Little Diva and I will continue our life-groove to everything from hip-hop and Sarah McLachlan to Ella Fitzgerald and Bach, and all of the indie noise in between.

All of the things that made me the person that I was before motherhood are even more important now that I have a child, especially a daughter. The best gift I can ever give Little Diva is the knowledge that arranging life to satisfy the status quo is not living. I want her to see that real living comes from understanding there are not good choices and bad choices – there are only choices. Her choices and her needs are different from every other person’s needs and choices. She is the only one who can understand the completeness of her soul. No one else can decide what completeness will be for her. And if believing these things makes me a bad girl and a mom, I’m all about it.

As Little Diva and I pulled into our parking space at home that night, I turned to face her and asked, “Do you like that I’m a bad girl and a mom?”

She shook her head intensely. “You’re the best mom in the whole world.”

Enough said.

Thank You

2008-06-16T11:34:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to say a sincere thanks to all of you who commented, e-mailed, called, or sent your thoughts via carrier pigeon. I truly appreciate your sympathy.

I've been writing A LOT. In all fairness, I won't say it's GOOD writing; I've just been writing. So I've been keeping busy.

Anyway, just wanted to say thanks and send out a shout to let you know I'm thinking of you all.

Oh, and I've posted some ramblings above for your pleasure/loathing...

In Memory of David L. Leimbach

2008-05-28T14:03:00.000-07:00

Dear David,

It's your cousin here in St. Louis. I wish I knew where to start this letter, but when it comes down to a time such as this, I suppose that it really doesn't matter. I know we haven't seen each other in ten or so years, since you made a career of the military and all, but I want you to know how much you mean to all of us, and how much we'll miss you.

My last visual memory of you is from Grandma's funeral back in 1997. I was nearly catatonic with grief most of that day, but I vividly remember you in your Marine dress blues. I remember how you stood at the rear of the chapel before the service began, your uniform arranged in perfect presentation, crisp crimson lines on deep blue, regalia placed upon your chest without a millimeter's imprecision. You balanced your white cap with perfect symmetry on your forearm as you held the solid presence and reserve we all needed that day.

As the service began, our whole family gathered in a small room to shield us from the finality of closing Grandma's casket. Do you remember that? As the doors to the room closed, I witnessed something I will never forget - your white-gloved hands holding the shoulders of your parents, the sound of your sobbing, your tears falling down your heroic face and landing on the tops of your impeccably shined shoes as we all mourned as a family. To anyone who says that the military turns people into savage murderers, I offer this image.

This week, David, we are mourning our loss of you.

My memories of childhood summers are dotted with you in the pictures. I recall the nighttime jug-fishing excursions with your dad and my brother (I was always left behind), flying leaps from a dock at the lake house in backwoods Missouri, playing endless rounds of cards with Grandma, hitting all the landmarks in St. Louis when you came to town. I can still hear you, at about the age of fourteen or so, near tears as you pleaded with your dad not to make you hurt that monstrous fish. I remember it all.

After your years in the Marine Corps, you went into the Army National Guard. This latest tour was your second in Afghanistan. Your unit from South Carolina came home earlier this month; you chose to stay behind. I know you chose to stay and help that unit from New York not because of any beliefs you held about this war, or about your service being the patriotic thing to do, or for any reason that the propaganda might offer. You stayed because you wanted to help some guys out - guys just like you, the kid I remember.

I found out today that your unit came under attack with small arms fire and rocket-propelled grenades. I don't even want to think about it. I want to believe that you were not the last one standing. I want to believe that you went quickly. Most of all, I want to know that God, in His divine power, let you feel all of the love from your lifetime all at once, carrying you on to the next place.

The one peace I have right now is that Grandma has her David back in her arms. Someday, God-willing, we'll all be together again just like we were at the lake. Until then, please know how much I love you and how immensely honored I am to have been able to call you family.

Hittin' the Streets

2008-05-13T13:04:00.000-07:00

For those of you who've followed this blog for a while, I think you understand my love of both poetry and hip-hop. You also know I've been pounding the pavement and adding millions of miles to my car while street teaming for Jason and the Beast. Now you'll understand why. Check it.

You can leave anonymous comments on the site. Please show Jason some love. What he is doing truly crosses cultural, educational, socio-economic and a list of other boundaries.

Peace and love.

DOWN WITH COFFEE

2008-05-08T12:38:00.000-07:00

I've got a monkey on my back and his name is Juan Valdez! (Thank you Jack McFarland)

I am currently suffering from not only a case of the marital fuck-its but also a scorching case of OCD (Obsessive Coffee Disorder). I refuse to even tally up the amount of money I've spent in the last week on coffee and miscellaneous coffeehouse crap. Between Starbucks, Murdoch Perk, Borders, Barnes & Noble, Wired Coffee, and Kaldi's, I could have supported several families in Myanmar. This makes me a complete asshat. So I have been attempting to do more of the grind here at home.

The Fates are not happy.

The other night when I totaled my flash drive, what was I doing? Returning from the kitchen with a fresh cup from the Cuisinart (thank you, Fana). Disaster. Last night, while heading back with a cup of coffee from the kitchen, guess what? ANOTHER BIGGER MORE TREACHEROUS DISASTER!

Kids, this totally sucks ass because it happened on a total FUCK-IT Day. I heard running water as I came down the upstairs hallway with my coffee. I peaked into the upstairs bathroom to see if maybe LD had been playing with the faucet or something. NO SUCH LUCK! Instead, I heard water hitting the bathroom floor as a large puddle began to spread across the tile.

The fucking toilet tank (CLEAN WATER PEOPLE!) cracked. I immediately went into home-improvement superheroine mode and attempted to shut the water off at the wall. The damn valve got stuck. So I shoved a bucket under the crack and ran to grab the phone to call my dad (thank God he only lives a few miles away) because, after all, Hubs was at work at 1 AM. And then I heard the second crack in the tank. All I could think was "HOLY SHIT, KIDS! GRAB YOUR LIFE VESTS!"

It was hell. HELL, I SAY! The water ran down between the walls and into the basement, so I had that clean-up to deal with in addition to the water all over the bathroom floor. Bonus - even my dad struggled to get the water shut off, so I don't feel too badly about my lack of LONE WOMAN AT HOME IN CRISIS MODE POWER.

So much for that tax return.

Fuck the home brew. Got to go see Jared and Rob at Starbucks. MUST HAVE COFFEE...

I'm out.

Burning the Midnight Oil. Also: GAH!

2008-05-06T02:03:00.000-07:00

OK. The original title I had picked earlier for this post was "Inner Peace." Let the irony of this not be lost on you. And then hell, handbag... you get the picture.

I was going to ask all of you Internets if you were of the opinion that I should add yoga (peace = balancing chakras) or kickboxing (peace = I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS) to my fitness program. However, my sister has informed me that kickboxing is a better approach for my current level of stress. Who knew?

SOOOOO - burning the midnight oil. Yeah. The number one rule of writing when using a PC is to have your working copy, a back-up copy, and a hard copy AT ALL TIMES. Guess who got lazy and didn't triple check to make sure that her GHOSTWRITING PROJECT was saved in two different locations? And she didn't print a hard copy because she was so close to the end that it would have been wasting paper? And then proceeded to leave her office to get another cup of coffee to finish up? And then came back into the office and

BROKE HER FUCKING FLASH DRIVE WITH HER FOOT AS SHE SAT DOWN!!! GAH!

Yeah. Sweet deal, eh?

You totally wish you were me right now. I just know it.

And for Tessie: This is why all of my personal stuff is in notebooks. I kick it old school.

The 100th Post

2008-05-02T11:32:00.000-07:00

Really? No shit?! Yes, this is the 100th post. Can I get a HELL YEAH??? Although, I've been a deadbeat blogger as of late, so perhaps I owe you bitches an explanation.

I'm taking on an array of projects these days and am allowing them to occupy the white space that should be filled with how to deal with some Major Bullshit. I won't fill you in on the details of said bullshit here; let's leave that for the Pink Apartment I'm working on renting. WHICH, I may add, I would already be living in EXCEPT that [other blog site] won't let me FUCKING LOG IN ALREADY! Ahem. So, I present for your viewing pleasure, the list of projects (i.e. Tools of Bullshit Avoidance) which keep me running full speed from my worries:

1) my own writing
2) collaborating with artist Sharlene Kindt
3) street teaming for Jason and the Beast
4) editing and potentially ghostwriting for, well, a "ghost"
5) starting up a web zine (I registered the domain, but nothing's built yet)
6) potentially writing lyrics with my brother
7) attending every poetry reading possible in the metro area

Aside from these things, I am still Chief Executive Nose-Wiper and running a household of 3 (plus one large irreverent dog).

So, yeah, I'm fucking busy. But it's how this game is best played for me. I need to get back on here every day, firstly because you wenches ROCK and secondly because I hate missing the damn party. I'm still short on snark and sarcasm. FUCKING GAH!

If anyone can find where I left that box of FUCKING HILARITY, please drop it by. And leaving it on the stoop with a bottle of Grey Goose would be extra groovy. Oh, the hell with it. Just make it Mad Dog. These are tough times.

Theme Song

2008-04-24T09:48:00.001-07:00

These lyrics caught my ear the other day. I think they speak to a lot of the transition I'm going through at present. "Hopeless" in this sense doesn't refer to anything truly dark or anything. I think it's more of the sense of the remark that people make when you up and rearrange your life because you know it's what you need to do. Without further ado, I give you the lyrics to KT Tunstall's lyrics, with the especially relevant parts in bold...

KT TUNSTALL LYRICS
"Hopeless"

Hopeless
Everybody says it's just another decay of the soul
But I know I'm a hopeless follower of anything to take me
Away from this hole in the ground
I found it's hopeless clinging to a feeling
Like a fish on a line, so blinded by the lately
Hopeless, no more saying that there's no more time.

I've was trying far too hard
To be what I thought I should be
I was playing wild cards and
Seeing things that weren't in front of me
Like a little tiger, play fighting,
I was hurting myself, again and again
Because I'm hopeless.

That there's no more time.

Well I'm just discovering
I'm living in a different body
Caught a little insight into everything thats happening to me
Like a little spider, I'm climbing the insurmountable
But I'll never hold myself accountable, no.

'Cause I'm hopeless.
Everybody says I'm hopeless
But I got a bit of hopelessness
Oh and you can never bring me down
Even though I've got some silent ground
Oh because I love it so
And I think you should know
Because I'm hopeless.

Everybody says it's just another decay of the soul
But I know I'm a hopeless follower of anything to take me
Away from this hole in the ground
I found it's hopeless clinging to a feeling
Like a fish on a line, so blinded by the lately
Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless

No more saying that there's no more time.

"I feel the earth move...

2008-04-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

...under my feet." Not like THAT, jackasses. Please. The only earth-shaking going on in this house is that which is caused by tectonic plates in an underground street fight. Seriously.

Yes, internets, we felt the earthquake here in The Lou in the wee hours of the morning. I think it was around 4:30 AM. I was sort of in a sleepy haze, but I remember my heart was racing and I woke up. I thought I was having a panic attack with all of the shaking. I laid in bed for a second and then I heard a picture frame and a metal vase start hopping around on my dresser. It was the same kind of my-bass-canon-is-rattling-my-trunk unsettling noise that I recall from high school (and now wish that I could recreate in my yuppie ride). By the time it really sunk in that we were experiencing an earthquake, it was over. I checked the house and everything appeared to be okay, except for the pictures on the walls.

Talking to my dad this morning, I learned that the whole showdown was more powerful than I thought. He said he could hear the roof cracking and popping and creaking. THAT IS SOME CRAZY SHIT. I mean, come on - the damned ROOF!

Well, that's about it. I'm trying to get back in the groove for you all...

Edited: It's 10:16 AM and we just had an aftershock...

I'm not dead. I repeat, I'm not dead.

2008-04-16T21:29:00.001-07:00

Just wanted to pull up a seat here in my virtual spot and let you all know I'm still around. Many thanks to those of you who've e-mailed and asked where I've been. Get ready, because I don't usually let this out online, but I'm having a moment...

Beneath the snark, sarcasm, and intentional gratuitous swearing of yours truly, there lies a woman with an expansive soul, a huge heart, and deep faith (yes, in God). For those of you who've been with me a while, you know that I've been going through a lot of transformation since I began this blog. The mind-body-spirit connection has become paramount to my life - I run, I write, I ask God a lot of questions. I'm learning to accept that life is a much more complicated beast than previously thought; however, I don't think it needs to seem impossible to navigate.

I've seen life quite differently since the birth of my daughter three years ago. I've faced a lot of challenges and changes in these past three years. I want to take a moment to send out my undying thanks to a whole alphabet soup of friends who have loved me beyond the realm of any human understanding. You are the mainstays of my heart, and I love you dearly. You know who you are.

Also, to my blogger bitches - I think of you all lots and check in daily. You make me smile. Thanks for being out here in the blogosphere, hanging out as the really cool bitches (gratuitous profanity for your pleasure) that you are.

And lastly, to a group of truly inspirational people in the literati and ANTI-literati circles who've taken me under their wings. I don't know if you'll ever know how much that means to me. My dreams have life because of you. Whatever you need to further your career, I'm your girl. Call. Ask. You will not be denied.

I'll be back on with some snarkiness as it becomes readily available. Until then, peace and love...

We Interrupt This Birth Story...

2008-04-01T09:35:00.001-07:00

We interrupt this birth story to bring you National Poetry Month. YAY! While I'm sure that I couldn't convince most of you to carry a poem in your pocket this month to read when and wherever the mood strikes, I will instead encourage you to learn a little about the craft of poetry. Wash from your mind the brain-numbing bullshit you learned in high school. Build a new understanding of what is considered by many to be a dying art.

For a lot of people, poetry is sort of this black hole into which all sorts of writing is dumped. I concur that this is quite the case in our current culture. However, there is a very real background to poetry and its creation. For some, it's a natural gift. For others, it's a learned skill. I liken it to those who can play the piano by ear and those who have to take lessons - both make music, some instinctively and some out of practice. I don't want to bore you with the didactic snobbery of it all, for that is the shit that makes most people give up on poetry before they ever even have the chance to discover the intricacies with which it is created. And that's a damn shame.

Poetry is continually evolving. There are always new forms in development. There are new rules created by poets. There are awesome combinations of poetry + insert-just-about-anything. And on that note, I'll take a moment to set you up with some links to some cool shit going on with poetry.

Hip-Hop and Poetry - Jason and the Beast
This cat is a Lou local. You've never heard Shakespeare like this. And his own lyrics kick ass, too. I know you bitches will be dancing in your cubicles. Web shout to JASON!
Poetry Chicks Will Dig - Kim Addonizio
You'll want to be her best friend/wine drinking bitch.
Poems for Every Occasion
If you're bored at work, check this out.
Poetic Forms and Techniques
This list is SHORT and leaves off some good stuff. But, hey - it's a fairly snot-like literary site. What would one expect???
Anthologies
Knowledge is power. Learn by reading.

I could go on and on, but I'll stop here. If you've got any poetry questions/thoughts/frustrations about the whole art form, post them in the comments. I'd love to get a discussion going...

NIKE HALF-MARATHON UPDATE: Unfortunately, The Dirty Thirties were not pulled in the lottery to run in San Fran this fall. BOO HISS. So my bitches and I are on the hunt for a different one to run...

Birth Story Part I: A Tribute to LD as She Turns 3

2008-03-28T07:55:00.001-07:00

Last night, I was weeping as I taped up cut-outs of Cinderella all over our house. I cried harder when I affixed a balloon bouquet to LD's chair at our kitchen table. I think there are still tear stains on the Cinderella napkins I'd put at her plate, ready for breakfast this morning. Why? My baby is three today, and I simply can't believe how much of a little person she is. Where did my baby go?

LD and I are a lot alike. Needless to say, the toddler stage was a little, well, wearisome for both of us. But lately we've reached this great equilibrium in our relationship. She starts conversations with me, gives me kisses and lovies for no reason, and tells me that I'm the best mom in the world. I'm amazed by her thought processes and can't get over how much she has grown. A potential Einstein? Maybe. But I'll settle for whatever she wants to be, because I've never wanted happiness for anyone in the entire world as much as I want it for her.

So, today, I would like to share my birth story of this incredible little human with you.
********

Sunday, March 26, 2005 was Easter Sunday. Hubs and I were at the traditional post-church family throw-down at my brother and sister-in-law's house. My due date was two days away, and I was bone-tired. I made my plate for lunch, complete with this taco-saladiness that my mom makes and I usually couldn't get enough of, especially when I was pregnant. (Come to think of it, the weekend LD was conceived, I think I'd had several servings of it at our BBQ. Ponder.) That day, the sight of it made me want to BARF. I should have known something was up, despite the fact that I really hadn't had much activity at the ob/gyn on Friday. My doc had pretty much convinced me I would pass my due date. FOOL.

Hubs and I got home in the early evening, and I gave him the green light to go out for a while with a buddy of his. It was, I concluded, his last shot at having a decent time out. He headed out and I slopped around the house in my pajamas. He came home at midnight. We got into bed. I rolled over and said to him, "This kid's coming tonight." He rolled his eyes and we went to sleep. Lesson to all men - WOMEN ARE ALWAYS RIGHT.

At one AM, I woke up. I grabbed his arm and said, "Don't move. I either just peed or my water broke." I stood up slowly, and it was definitely NOT urine I found, but rather fluid with meconium. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of this occurrence, I will put it mildly - pea soup and lake scum. Gross. And vile.

We headed to the hospital, and by 1:30 AM I had been admitted. The nurse who did my admitting paperwork was a bitch; every other nurse I had was AMAZING. Anyway, because of the meconium, I had every monitor in the hospital shoved up into my vajayjay from the get-go; they were not going to fuck around with this. My contractions would not fall into a regular pattern, so enter the PITOCIN. And I was all, "Hey, my Lamaze instructor said I can wait on that until I've had my epidural."

Denied. I was in a serious time frame, working against the clock now. So I got to go through labor with pitocin and no epi in sight because my dilation come to an abrupt halt at 2 cm. I breathed through contractions and focused on, of all things, the power button the DVD/VCR across my room. I am now a fervent believer that you do not chose focal points; they choose you. My chosen focal point, a tiny stuffed fluffy lamb, never saw the light of day from the bottom of my bag at the hospital. If it had, I probably would have mutilated it. Example: at some point just after sunrise, my dad came into my room and was chatting his ass off like it was fucking happy hour. I was in the middle of a contraction and (remember the evil stares in The Exorcist) turned to my dad and said, "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP YOU ASSHOLE!" He announced that he would be going for coffee and didn't return for about an hour.

That said, upon dad's return, he gave hubs a break and took me through some contractions. He cried. That's what daddies do. And it was one of the most profound moments I've ever had with my dad.

Finally, around 8:30 AM, I was told I would have the chance to meet the man of my dreams - THE ANESTHESIOLOGIST! I did, yes I did, propose to him. I also asked if I could have an extra epi to save for this kid's first date (we still didn't know the sex of LD). Denied, but I did get a laugh.

The rest of my labor went really well. I was able to sleep, and hubs did, too. And of course, who doesn't love popsicles all day?

But I'd had enough as the sun started to go down. And apparently, so had the nurses. That's when the showdown began just a little after 6 PM Easter Monday. For those of you counting, you are correct - 17 hours of labor...

ER Paranoia. Also - Actuary Needed

2008-03-24T23:03:00.000-07:00

With all of the ER visits I've heard about in the blogosphere lately, I have to admit I'm a LEETLE paranoid. Geez. Do I need to wrap my kid in bubble wrap? Yesterday, LD was jumping on her bed (NOT dressed only in Cinderella underpants and her purple snowboots as she was last time), and I had just reminded her of the time out situation about to occur when she fell and banged her head on the headboard. The headboard that is pointy in the truest fashion of 1970's/80's girly-girl furniture. I know you know what I'm talking about since most people I know had a similar version of my childhood furniture, which LD is currently using. So, after a brief inspection of the non-existent flesh wound, and LD pretending that she didn't hurt at ALL (despite the fact that her eyes were welling up), we avoided the ER. But you all are accident-prone, so maybe I should stay away. LIKE THAT WOULD EVER HAPPEN!

Also - any actuaries in the crowd? I need one. I'm trying to decide which body part would give me the most bang for my buck if I put it up on eBay. Why? Because Chrysler is being a pain in my ass. Those of you that remember the contract negotiation saga will love this.

Before I go any further, YES - I DO KNOW I CHOSE THIS LIFE FOR NOW. But, still, just let me get my whine in and I'll be done.

Anyway, hubs was laid off the entire month of January. They worked in February, and then he was laid off AGAIN for two weeks in March. Yes, he does get partial pay. The problem? The checks are delayed AT LEAST two weeks. And when one gets paid every week, which is already shitty, this whole delay thing totally bites the big one. So, again, any recommendations on which body part to auction? OK, I'm done with that.

Moving on. Why the hell did it snow on Easter? And not just ANY snow - HUGE-ASS POPCORN-LIKE FLUFFY FLAKES. Weird. Totally. Welcome to The Lou.

I'm going to grab a shower and head to Starbucks, courtesy of a well-timed gift card, and indulge my snot-nosed intellectual side by reading "The Ode Less Travelled." Need to do some brushing up; free verse has gotten the best of me lately. Anyway, cheers!!!

S-O-S!

2008-03-20T23:22:00.000-07:00

Your input needed here. That is all for now, but rest assured, you will be in the acknowledgements. As you were...

And FINALLY, the light goes on

2008-03-19T21:32:00.001-07:00

OK, for those of you who know me, I've been preaching that really I think CFLs are exchanging one evil for another - energy misuse for mercury in the groundwater. And, finally, it makes the media. Better check this out and make sure you know what you're doing with those MERCURY-CONTAINING ITEMS IN YOUR HOME. This would be where that science degree came in under the PRACTICAL column.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23694819

I say, screw the CFLs and let's invest in solar or wind instead. And, look - that would be mercury free!

Edited to clarify: Do I think CFLs are a bad thing? Not entirely. But think about how many people you know throw batteries, smoke alarms, and other miscellaneous hazardous crap into the trash without thinking. We're by and large a country of people who don't think about this stuff...

Funny Bunnies

2008-03-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

Mom, Dad: I'm Gaelic!

2008-03-17T07:14:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Patty's Day, everyone! Hope you will find some time today to listen to some Flogging Molly and have yourself a green beer. Or just a beer in any form. I celebrated a bit this weekend:

And because I'm an awesome sister, when my little sis called me from a bar in Soulard, I did, in fact, go and pick up her DRUNK ASS. Here she is with a friend...

My husband also is quite the character, LITERALLY, when it comes to St. Pats. Here he is in all of his glory.

Yes, he made that thing. Cute. Also - fucking annoying.

Anyway, I'm off to get some corned beef and cabbage (which is an American thing, by the way). Yeah, I know. It's so stereotypical. What is with us Americans and our food stereotyping? Oh my GOD. Don't get me started on that one. Because I have SOUTHERN roots as well. Assume what you will about that, and you're probably right when it comes to the food.

Slainte!

The RESULTS: A Drum Roll, Please

2008-03-12T01:38:00.000-07:00

For all of you who wanted to know (and for those who didn't) a little shameless self-promotion is about to go down.

In short, I've already mentioned I placed in the top three essays for the STL Writers' Guild contest, but I didn't know HOW I placed (first, second, or third) until tonight (incidentally, first place gets published in a paper with a circulation of 35,000+). And so, without further explanation, I won first place, and I'm telling you, well, I just can't. I'll let my free writing journal entry do it for me. And for the record, smartasses, I don't edit my journal entries. And my love of parentheses knows no bounds. ()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Also, a HUGE thank you to all of you who offered your insights into the piece that took the prize. Your support and comments were wonderful. Can I buy y'all bitches a beer???

I digress...

******************************************
Wednesday March 12, 2008

It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m still awake. I’m still reeling, unable to really comprehend all that has transpired in the last six hours. I went to my first public reading tonight and read my material, my first-place essay, to a packed house. A crazy thing happened up there at the mic – I couldn't stop shaking. My voice was steady and appropriately dramatic (I am a sucker for the dramatic pause), my body relaxed – except for my damn hands. My hands shook as though I was having some crazy seizure stemming from holding a single piece of printer paper. Whether there were 200 eyes or two million focused on me, it wouldn’t have mattered; I’ve never been afraid of public performance. But my past experiences have always been with someone else’s work. This time it was mine.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the shop windows as I headed into the coffee house. For a moment, I had one of those “do I know you” experiences. Suddenly I saw myself, for the very first time, doing the thing I’ve always wanted to do. And it was amazing. I’ve been a closet writer since I was nine years old, too afraid to put my work up for anyone to see. And tonight, after nearly 20 years of self-doubt, I got to be the person I’ve always wanted to be – the one who wasn’t afraid to be honest about my thoughts, to read the things I think about when no one else is paying attention.

And I loved every minute of it.

The shaking? Well, my best guess is that it was something psychological – or maybe spiritual - like holding my own words in my hands to give them up to other people was like giving birth. Now that I think about it, I haven’t shaken like that since I went into labor with my daughter. And the shaking wasn’t out of fear then, or now – but perhaps out of a sense that my life is changing in ways I couldn’t have dreamed, going in a direction I always knew it should go, but was afraid to pursue.

Some people may say that this is only one contest. To them, firstly I say FUCK YOU – I conquered my fiercest demon. How about you? Secondly, I say that tonight in some sort of metaphysical way, I became myself, not because I won anything, but because I’m being true to myself, to my soul. And that really is all I need to be at the end of the day, no matter what anyone else says or thinks about it.

So now, it’s official – I’m a published writer. And, man, does it feel good. Damn good.

Love Song for You

2008-03-07T12:56:00.001-08:00

Is this as funny as I think it is? 'Cause I was rollin' on the floor. A Friday dedication to all the average Whiteys and the Fake Hispanics, too.

I DID IT!!!

2008-03-05T12:40:00.000-08:00

I can't believe this!!!

UPDATE: Fana is FINE

2008-03-05T08:03:00.000-08:00

Sorry it took so long for this post to show up. Apparently, Fana is at home and doing well. The contractions were stopped and she was NOT leaking fluid (wow - we're not too bright are we???). The whole fiasco was stress related and momma and baby (still on the inside) are doing just fine. Thank you all for thinking of her! But next time you stop by her blog, make sure you tell her NO STRESS, LADY!!!

URGENT: Prayers for Bananafana and Baby Needed

2008-03-05T04:55:00.000-08:00

Hey, all. Just wanted to pass along some information for all the Who Needs Sleep readers. Fana is my best mom friend and I don't know what I'd do without her. She could use some serious prayers, whatever your religious standing may be.

I got a call from her around 1 AM and she had been having some weak contractions. Her husband K was snowed in at a hotel by his office, so she was by herself and a little nervous. We started timing the contractions and after a while I went to her house (she only lives 2 miles from me). She was leaking fluid (we strongly think), and the contractions were becoming more frequent, so she called her doc and he sent her to the hospital.

Fana is only 33 weeks, and although she's one of the strongest people I know, she's obviously very nervous. Because she had complications with O, she was really hoping for a normal, as natural as possible delivery this time around. I am holding out every hope that she will still get that scenario.

At 4:45 AM, I just received word that she made it to the hospital via her dad (I stayed until her folks showed up at her house because her son O was sleeping) and K is meeting them there. They've been at the hospital about 15 minutes, but we don't know anything yet. Her mom is staying with O and I will be in touch with her in the morning to see what has transpired.

Please keep Fana, K, O, and baby in your prayers. I will let you know when I have news.

News

2008-03-04T13:07:00.001-08:00

What's up, everyone? Well, we're under several inches of snow here in The Lou, and LD is out playing with hubs constructing some semblance of a snowman, which is actually a snowpile with a carrot nose and the requisite hat and scarf.

There's been a lot going on around here lately. OK, admittedly, a lot of it has been going on in my head. But I've not had the same snarkiness that you all have come to expect in my bloggerworld, so I've refrained from posting lately. I miss you guys, though.

So what's up with me? Well, actually a lot. I've been pretty introspective as of late which brings out all sorts of crap from the deep recesses of my head, and really doesn't make for good blog fodder. Stuff about marriage, soulmates, the direction (or lack thereof) for my life, career changes, etc etc. BAH. So we'll leave it at that for now.

On the YAY front - I've registered for the Nike Half Marathon. We'll see on April 1st if my Dirty Thirties and I will actually be running in San Fran, since Nike's gone to a lottery system of entry. I'm not Catholic, although St. Sebastian is getting a few messages from me as of late...

If you will recall, my Dirty Thirty girls and I recently celebrated our collective birthdays in San Diego. As a reminder, the half-marathon crew will be these fine people:

Not that we have a collective drinking problem or anything. I'm just saying. Beer anyone???

My sister and I are thinking about doing the St. Patrick's Day run here, although it doesn't start until 9 or something. I'm Irish and may have pounded some pints by then, so I guess we'll have to see...

P.S. An update on my neighbor - she's been in the hospital fighting off some pneumonia since the day after the fall. I've been in touch with her grandchildren (who actually are really great people), and we'll see what happens...

Wanted: Readers and Critics

2008-02-21T22:41:00.001-08:00

Hey, all. Just wanted to send up a flare for anyone interested in helping me tread the waters of literary-dom. I've joined the St. Louis Writers' Guild and have been busy entering some contests and shit like that. Anyway, I need some feedback if you're available. My deadline is Sunday. I've got a new piece up on my literary site that I need your thoughts on (eeeek, ending a sentence with THAT?). I've looked at it so much that I can't see the forest through the trees or something like that. Anyway, any help is appreciated.

I'll have an update on the neighbor situation later...

News From My Hood

2008-02-18T12:01:00.000-08:00

I live in a fairly well-balanced neighborhood - both culturally and age-wise. I have two elderly neighbors, one is in her late seventies (J) and the other is 95 (N). I'm pissed off on behalf of the 95 year old today.

She's the sweetest grandmotherly type you'll ever meet. She's witty and totally hilarious. But she has macular degeneration, and quite honestly needs some serious home care to help her with her house. In short, I would poke out both of my eyes before I'd let my mother live the way she does.

Today she fell - again. This is the fourth time in the last year that I know of. There are probably more instances than that, but she doesn't speak up when things happen. So her neighbor on the other side of her house (K) went to check on her since she hadn't seen any activity over there. When K knocked on the door, she heard the woman call for help. K ran to my house looking for a phone and we called the paramedics and got the house key from J (I was damn near ready to break through the large plate-glass window, but since N was speaking knew we had some time to work with).

When we got inside, N was laid out on the floor looking totally awful, no color in her face. Apparently, she'd ended up on the floor SATURDAY (but couldn't remember how she got there). What the FUCK? While we waited on the paramedics, I made several attempts to reach her granddaughter, but to no avail at either of her numbers. The granddaughter and I have had several of these conversations in the past, and I wasn't looking forward to having this one.

The paramedics came and checked N over, gave her fluids, and did what they could. But N refused to go to the hospital. Her grandson finally showed up and is now sitting with her.

Here's what bothers me kids. I get that N is an independent woman and really just wants to be on her own. But, seriously kids, believe me when I tell you that most of you and I would fight hell or high water to get her some home care, or at the very least, a Life Alert. If K hadn't been curious, N would have died. No joke.

My whole thing is this: how do I tell her family they need to do something? Or can I even say that? They are good people. Maybe they just don't really realize how things are? Really? Is that possible?

Do I say anything? What do I say?

K and I are going to start a rotation checking on N every day, and that's about all we can do. It just makes my ass twitch...

Don't Know Where She Gets It

2008-02-15T12:13:00.001-08:00

Ah, the things kids say.

Today, before lunch, my husband was helping LD wash her hands. She was trying to get down from the stool, and hubs pointed out she still had soap on her hands to rinse off, and she needed to finish that first.

She put her hand on her hip and gave him a hooded stare. Then she got sassy. "But, Dad, I have things to do."

Because I'm a Poser...

2008-02-14T20:24:00.001-08:00

Bananafana did this, and then of course I had to follow because imitation is the best form of flattery, right?

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:
Her Noble Excellency Mom Of The Year in the Middle of Old Tonbridge Wafers
Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

What A Girl Wants

2008-02-14T11:11:00.000-08:00

OK, so I probably have not been gut-busting thrilled about Valentine's Day since my junior year of high school as I anticipated what my boyfriend of the semester would manage to get me that would absolutely blow my mind. But today, girls, I have been truly surprised.

There was a huge red box hanging out in the kitchen this morning. Hubs finally gave it to me after lunch, mumbling something about how no, it wasn't jewelry but it was something I've always wanted. So I immediately ruled out the piece of bling from Tiffany's over which I continually drool and opened the box. And here is what I got:

For those of you arriving late on the set, Tessie had posted around the holidays about gifts, and what we did or didn't get as kids. I asked for that damn thing for YEARS to no avail. I figured Santa was either a complete idiot or loved my friends more than me, since everyone in the free fucking world had this thing.

But hubs has pulled through, and my childhood is now complete. Thank you, honey. We'll make margaritas with it later, yeah?

What did I get him? A gift card to Hustler Hollywood. Like you would, no doubt, expect from some girl like me.

Yes, he will be away at work tonight. But don't worry about me. He included a four pack of double A batteries in the large red box as well. Heh heh heh. Damn. Snoopy Sno-Cones and DW? In the same day?! This is the best V-Day EVAH. YEAH, BABY!!!

Happy V-Day, bitches!

Happy Birthday

2008-02-08T11:32:00.000-08:00

Hubs turns 32 today, so in his honor, I give you his face displayed online for all to see. Pastey Irish guy, indeed. Note: LD chose the clown cones over a cake at Baskin-Robbins. I did not indulge, but happily took pix of my fam doing just that.

Tragedy Hits Home

2008-02-07T22:48:00.000-08:00

Well, all, my personal drama is nothing compared to what has transpired for so many others this week.

Tonight I attended a memorial service for my husband's cousin, who at the young age of 26, took his own life. He was an actor in New York, and at the risk of revealing anything about who I am, will only say that his face would be recognizable from bit parts in some films you may have seen. He'd lost two people close to him in a couple of years, the first being the love of his life in a car accident, and then later a friend.

Upon returning home, we learned that a suburb within a stone's throw of our home has suffered a major tragedy. Anytime a cop is shot, I freak out. I have friends who are cops. There are two dead in Kirkwood tonight, along with 3 city officials and the gunman. I do not know any of them personally, but I can't believe this has happened. http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/02/07/city.council.shooting/index.html

Anyway, I guess the point of all of this is that our own personal crosses are often so much lighter than those belonging to others. Kiss your babies, hug your friends, tell everyone you love them.

Peace.

Drama

2008-02-07T11:26:00.000-08:00

Holy hellcats! There has been a whole lot of drama around Chez Mom of the Year this week. Sorry I've not been around. I'm trying to work a lot of things out in my head, if I may be honest with you all. I can't get enough of Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry," and Sarah McLachlan is on continuous play. I know, I know. You're all, "Oh shit, girl." But it's all good...

Because I've decided to completely ROCK my thirties.

As the big 3-0 birthday looms just two months away, I'm so ready to kick my twenties to the curb and take on the decade of ME - beginning with finishing the novel and interval running the Nike Half-Marathon in October. Me? Yes, me. Why? Because life is not a dress rehearsal, dammit!

I'm working on a post that will explain my delirium over this whole thing, but just wanted to pop in and say hi to everyone. I hope you are all well...

8 Inches for Mama

2008-02-01T07:10:00.001-08:00

What did you think this post was about??? Quit it, gutter sluts! Today's post is brought to you by rock salt and hot cocoa. For those of you who've left behind snow and are now living in non-snowy states, here are some pix of what you're missing. You're welcome to come over and play, but bring your own Bailey's for your coffee, as Mom of the Year will be polishing hers off today! Also - this should make for an interesting Mardi Gras tomorrow, yes????

Please note the snowboarding boots on hubs. Approximate number of times they have been used for snowboarding in the last 5 years? Zero. Why does he own them? They go with the snowboard propped up against our basement wall. I suppose at one time in his twenties, hubs made an attempt at being EXTREME. The only thing really extreme about him now is the EXTREME lack of hair on his pastey Irish head. So, Tessie, tell BR not to feel bad. HA HA HA!

The Eternal 29th Birthday Convention Part I

2008-01-22T07:52:00.000-08:00

How was my weekend in San Diego, you ask? Well, MAMA'S STILL GOT IT, BITCHES! Oh how I love to be a wing woman! The Eternal 29th Birthday Celebration (aka the meeting of The Dirty Thirties) began with a few pitchers of Sangria, which is a pretty good indicator of the modus operandi for the entire weekend.

Exhibit A: friend Kiwi kicking it off in Irvine.

Exhibit B: Breakfast, lunch, and dinner DAY ONE in Lake Forest.

Exhibit C: Lunch DAY TWO at The Spot in La Jolla.

Exhibit D: Dinner DAY TWO. Are you seeing a pattern???
Exhibit E: Uh, yeah. DON'T WE ALL????????

Exhibit F: Yours truly having polished off the first of, well, just a few, car bombs. YUMMY! Please note the unruly hair and crazed eyes. I guess I won't be using this shot in the old blogger profile!!!

For all you animal lovers, we took a break from the bacchanalia and saw some seals and shit, too.

I'll have some killer thoughts on the weekend with more pix later. Just couldn't wait to put something up here and say HI!!!

Eye Doctor IQ

2008-01-16T11:59:00.000-08:00

Am I the only person in the world who gets nervous going to the eye doctor? Perhaps some of you can identify with my nervous tummy if I lay out my visit for you today:

Exhibit A: The air puff test thing. Yeah, you know the drill. They shoot air into your eye to check the pressure. Totally sucks and I flinch every time, meaning it takes like 10 tries to get it right.

Exhibit B: The stupid eye charts. Damn. I feel like I'm being given a pop quiz or something. What letter is that? G, or maybe a C? Wait. Is that a O or a D? And just for shits and giggles to scare the hell out of you, there are numbers now on that thing, too.

Exhibit C: The corrective lenses eye test. Which is clearer, this or this? OK. Is this better or worse? Fuzzy or clearer? 1 or 2? OK. 3 or 4? OK 5 or 6? What the hell number are we on?! No dammit, I don't know which is better! Which is the right answer????????? Stop the insanity!

Exhibit D: Field vision screening. Every time the doc sees that my mom has developing glaucoma, I am automatically subjected to the stupid test where you click a button every time you see a line disturbance in a vision field. And I'm all, GOD, I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! Did I just see one there? Or there? Or was that just an artifact from the last one? Someone tell me the answer!

Yeah, so that was my day. I'm going for coffee and a Prozac, perhaps...

My Hometown Goes Dirty

2008-01-15T09:00:00.000-08:00

For Tessie (who HEARTS Mike Rowe) and Erica (who HEARTS St. Louis): Tonight's episdoe of Dirty Jobs was made in The Lou. Apparently Mike Rowe was in town learning how to put barges in the scrap heap. I'm not sure how much of The Lou you'll get to see, but hey, Mike Rowe is enough, right?

Peace. I'm out!!!

From the Highlight Reel

2008-01-14T10:25:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday to all! It is Monday, right? I can't keep it all straight with hubs STILL OFF WORK SINCE CHRISTMAS! Yes, that's right - a month's worth of down time for him. I'm going batty! Love him, but shit. This is insane. Usually he gets two weeks off, but this year we were given an EXTRA two, no doubt for good behavior with all of the insanity of the market right now. Well, at least, that's what I tell myself so I don't freak out.

ANYWAY - the highlight reel. So, even after the madness of the holidays, being sick for two weeks, and a weather system so crazy it's a wonder no one has said the world is ending, I have managed not to gain back any weight and reclaimed the minute on my running intervals that I had previously lost. I'm down a total of 24 pounds. WOO HOO! And remember - my only philosophy on this whole this is to do what feels good and not a speck more, which has translated so nicely to weightloss for me. What's on the highlight reel? Two cool things:

1) From under the net - My postal woman cheers me on every day, but hadn't seen me because I was sick for a couple of weeks. I saw her on Friday, and she said had to do a double-take because she said she didn't recognize me.

2) And from the three-point line, a married father-of-two neighbor of mine that I usually see while out running actually came to my house, rang my damn doorbell, and asked if I was okay since he hadn't seen me in a while. Then, as he was leaving, he turned around, gave me the twice over with THE EYE, and said, "Damn. You're looking good, mama."

What the hell? It was so weird, and yet, somehow awesome.

Anyway, I'm powering writing the book this week since on Friday I will be flying to Southern California for the Eternal 29th Birthday Convention (AKA the gathering of The Dirty Thirties) - a trip that I'm sure, as you would guess, will no doubt involve much dancing, drinking, and male-bashing. YAY!

I'll have more for you later...

Literary Slut Version 2.0

2008-01-10T15:43:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been a while, has it not, my lovlies? Sorry I've been MIA, but I'm undertaking a project which has me doing all sorts of crazy things like staying up all night researching things online, performing spontaneous dance parties in my home office, and generally being wicked cool. What is it, you ask?

I'm writing that fucking book. Finally.

So ANYWAY... what have you all been up to? I've actually been checking up on you guys a lot; I just haven't been posting and such. But now that a good deal of my research is done for this motherfucker, let's get this party started AGAIN!

My hats off to everyone who survived the holidays complete with car trips, multiple familial homes to visit, and cranky babies. We have three days of Christmas, of which Christmas Day is actually spent sitting on our asses, opening presents at home, and ordering Chinese take-out for dinner. Bonus - all of our family lives within 20 minutes of us. So, even if I had any holiday complaints, I would feel like a complete asshat for airing them here as I saw so many of you rolled down the open road with screaming kiddos.

My love and middle finger to all my bitches. Literary Slut is back.

Holy Peanut Butter Kisses!!!

2007-12-20T12:12:00.000-08:00

OK, so the BIG DAY is only 5 days away and there is not one single solitary cookie in this house. This afternoon, I will venture out to get some flour so we can bake a batch of damn Christmas cookies.

I also still have one gift to buy. Damn again.

And I'm shredded. Because like a dumb-ass I was up until 4:30 this morning on my living room floor with a journal. Will it become a novel? It better become a fucking novel!

Anyway, peace to all this Thursday afternoon. I need to hit the trail (or the bottle perhaps)...

Manic Monday

2007-12-18T08:55:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I'm a day behind. BITE ME. Uh, I mean, happy holidays.

I'm usually done with my Christmas shopping by this time of year. Now I know the joy of all the last-minute bullshit that people put up with. Dear God, why would anyone intentionally wait till the last minute??? This whole thing kind of snuck up on me this year. I looked at the calendar yesterday and was all, "Holy SHIT! Christmas is only a week away?" And I'm still on the quest for the "WOW" gift for hubs. It's usually basketball tickets, but due to budget constraints this year, I've been rethinking that one. Worst case scenario is that I can cave at the last minute and go pick some up downtown. We'll see.

Speaking of not having enough time (?), yesterday I also lost 20 minutes of my life - AT FUCKING KOHL'S. I went in to buy Diva a new pair of sneaks (they've got the best deal on toddler Nikes, and she needs them for her skinny feet) and when I got to the checkout, there were three (1-2-3) people in front of me, none with particularily large purchases. And it took 20 minutes for me to get out the damn door. Generally, I'm the world's most patient person, but this was RE-TARD-ED. When in doubt, team up and have a comedy jam session! I don't know that I've ever had as good a stand-up set as I did yesterday in line with the customers behind me. I offered up that I think stores should bring back carolers and snacks for people waiting in line. And then, the cashier asked the woman in front of me who was paying for her items if she wanted a gift receipt. And on cue, me and everyone behind me sang a chorus of "NO! Dear GOD, NO!" It was actually pretty funny. Well, I guess you had to be there...

Then, I was completely parched and needed a beverage. As luck would have it, there is a brand new SBUX drive-thru across the street. Like manna from HEAVEN! As I went through the DT, I believe I proposed to the barista. I don't know that I've ever been that happy to see my iced chai latte come out of the damn DT window. I called bananafana during my manic fit of tea-ness, and I think that now she may be rethinking our friendship. TOO BAD, SISTA! YOUR ASS IS STUCK WITH ME!

On the running front, well, the sidewalks are still a bit icy from the 6 inches of snow we got over the weekend. The good news? The highs today and tomorrow will be in the 40s, and we're not getting any major precip until later in the week. So I'll be back on track shortly. Thank GOD!

On the writing submission front, got a rejection yesterday. But at least it was a nice one. So I'll edit and send it somewhere else. Several folks have asked if it bothers me when I get one. I'd have to say that it really hasn't. It's annoying at worst. I can't be angry with editors if they don't think I'm a good fit. Someone out there somewhere wants what I have; I just need to find them. And most publications will start taking submissions again in January, so I'm getting ready for that. Thanks to everyone for cheering me on. If, however, I haven't gotten any acceptances by next fall, please punch me in the face, burn the flash drive, and tell me to get my head out of my ass. Thank you in advance.

For anyone who would like, I've posted an excerpt of the family Christmas letter at my other blog. Take a gander if you like.

Happy Tuesday to all!!!

Giving to Everyone Who's Ever Done Anything For You

2007-12-14T11:33:00.000-08:00

On the heels of bananafana and tessie, I've looked up all the guidelines for the 80 bajillion service people in my life. I don't have to worry about the daycare thing, but for your amusement, here are the guidelines per Emily Post:

Every situation is different, so let common sense, specific circumstances, and holiday spirit be your guides. The tip amounts in this chart are merely guidelines. What to give is always an individual decision.
Au pair
A gift from your family (or one-week’s pay), plus a small gift from your child

Babysitter, regular
One evening’s pay, plus a small gift from your child

Barber
Cost of one haircut or a gift

Beauty salon staff
The cost of one salon visit, split among the staff

Child’s teacher
Check your school’s policy first, as gift giving may be prohibited. If allowed, then give a gift that is a token of appreciation from your child, not cash. Possibilities: a homemade gift made by your child, a book or a picture frame. Or, consider participating in a joint gift from the class as a whole. Possibilities: a gift certificate to a restaurant or bookstore.

Day care providers
$25 to $70 each, plus a small gift from your child for the providers who give direct care to your child(ren)

Dog walker
One week’s pay or a gift

Fitness trainer, personal
Up to the cost of one session

Garage attendants
$10 to $30 each

Home health employees
A gift, but check with the agency first, as most agencies have a no gifts or no tips policy. If this is the case, consider giving a donation to the agency.

Housekeeper/cleaner
Up to one week’s pay or a gift

Letter carriers
U.S. government regulations permit carriers to accept gifts worth up to $20 per occasion, not cash

Live-in help (Nanny, Housekeeper, Cook, Butler)
One week’s to one month’s salary based on tenure and customs in your area, plus a personal gift

Massage therapist
Up to one session’s fee or a gift

Newspaper deliverer
$10 to $30

Nurse, private
A gift, not cash

Nursing home employees
A gift, not cash, but check the company policy first. Consider giving a gift that could be enjoyed by or shared among the floor staff: flowers, chocolates or food items.

Package deliverer
A small gift if you receive deliveries regularly; most delivery companies discourage or prohibit cash gifts

Personal caregiver
Up to one week’s salary or a small gift

Pet Groomer
If the same person grooms your pet all year, up to one session’s fee or a gift

Pool cleaner
Cost of one cleaning, to be split among crew

All I Want For Christmas

2007-12-12T21:38:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa,

Well, there are less than 2 weeks until your big holiday. I hope that I'm not too late to get on your dance card for the evening. If I am, then I suppose I'll have to wait for presents until next year. If, however, I get this to you before your route has been determined (damned logistics companies do everything so early these days), there are a few things I'd like to suggest.

First, I must say that I think I've been pretty good this year. My toddler has managed to survive another year in my care, and I've not been convicted of anything that would lead to a stay in the nice correctional facility downtown. As for my mental state, well, I can only say that I'm coherent and have found ways to parlay any stress. I've gotten through another year of stay-at-home motherhood. So I'm all good then, right? Cool.

Secondly, I'd like you to know that this is merely a list of suggestions. If kids these days understood how to write Christmas lists in this way, we might see less school violence and more kids sharing. But the damned little brats have to get everything. Anyway, I digress. Here are my suggestions:

1) A shower enclosure/wall tile to take the place of the crap caulk job currently in place;

2) An all-inclusive trip to an unknown island for ME ME ME (and perhaps a fishbowl companion);

3) The antidote for toddler whining (I'm sure you can relate with the elves and all);

4) Sanity, or some semblance thereof;

5) Just one editor to say "We'd LOVE to publish that. It's AWESOME!";

6) OK, maybe 2 editors;

7) Toys for Diva that will neither be recalled nor come from China (let's just avoid it from the get-go);

8) A spank bank for hubs (thank you, Kristen and respective firefighters);

9) A spot in the next Fiddy video (random white ho on the Benz);

10) A get-out-of-jail-free card for my dirty mouth on this blog;

and if your damned corporate sponsors haven't completely repealed your budget, please send

11) THIS. Hey, I can dream, right?

Lastly, please tell Mrs. Claus that I think she's one hell of a woman putting up with your bullshit. What kind of husband works only one day a year? And putting the needs of the entire world first? Damn, Santa, you'd better be one HELL of a lover, because I can tell you that shit would bother me like all get out.

Anyway, please bring all my blogger peeps whatever they want for Christmas. They deserve it.

Much Love and Merry Christmas!

Christmas Portrait Day

2007-12-07T11:34:00.000-08:00

I will never EVER be one of those parents who can go in to a portrait studio, choose one pose, and pay $10 for the whole caboodle. Why? Because to me, photography is about unadulterated memories. Glimpses of my baby girl. Moments of her life I will never see after this age. So, I spent too much cash flow today, but here is why (a sample).

Inspiration

2007-12-06T13:53:00.000-08:00

Normally I get all snarky and sarcastic, but not today, my friends. There are many of us out here in bloggerland that deal with the whole post-baby mind/body/spirit shakedown. It's a tough thing, probably one of the hardest places we've found ourselves yet. I don't know that I've ever been less sure of myself and more confused at times than I have the last couple of years. I think many of you can relate, and I just want to say you're not alone. And I also want to tell you that you can get out of it. I'm not sure how this will come about for you individually, but I can tell you what has happened to me.

Just over three months ago, I was at the one of the lowest points in my self-confidence spectrum. I felt down in a way I couldn't describe to you even if I had all of the right words. One day, I decided to take a walk to get out of the house and clear my head - no baby, no hubs, just me. And what I discovered that day is absolutely amazing. I discovered that I am a great mom with a strong body and a deep soul. All that just from thinking on a walk. And when I returned home, I felt like a new person. That day may have set me up for a kind of change I would have never imagined.

I just came back inside from my near-daily run/walk, and an amazing thing happened to me today. I was nearing the last half-mile and a decent downpour of sleet, rain, and snow began. It was 32 degrees and I was layered up and now about to be soaking wet. But I didn't quit running and take a short cut home.

I threw my hands in the air, began laughing, and kept running. This is my moment - I have arrived.

Over three months ago I would have never even ventured outside because of the damn weather. How the hell did someone like me end up running in the FUCKING FREEZING WINTRY MIX?

I made a decision three months ago to do what feels good, and nothing more. That means on days when I don't want to run, I don't; I only go out and walk. The magic of that sentiment is that I don't feel pressure anymore, like I'm competing to better myself every damn day and then disappointing myself when it doesn't happen. That is the exact kind of thinking that stops me every time. "Why bother trying so hard when it doesn't work?" Fuck that. When I just do something, I feel a little better every day. And when I feel good I want to do more. And more. And more. And more. And because I only have done what feels good...

In the last three months I've lost 18 pounds, nearly 2 dress sizes, 4 inches in my waist, and 5 inches in my hips. I interval train (alternating running and walking) on the days when I feel good. My running interval has gone from 20 seconds to 4.5 minutes. I've thought about new things and learned new things about myself during my sessions. I feel like a human being again. And a damn strong, sexy, and confident one at that.

Remember, none of this really was ever about weight loss. It was just about taking care of me, having some alone time. I've listened for years to people tell their awesome stories about how they beat this or that health thing. I'd try to copy their successes and miserably fail. Why? Because each of us has our own unique way we relate to the universe. In turn, we have our own unique way of relating to ourselves. You are the only one that can figure out how it will work for you. But you will never learn if you don't find out what feels good and just try it. And when you truly find it, you will want to do more of it. And more. And more. And more.

I don't believe I will ever be a marathon runner or anything like that. I'm still all about me. I don't want stopwatches or medals or anything. I do it just because it feels good to get all primal with myself. But who knows? As I've learned over the last three months, anything is possible...

I wish you all of the best in finding that "thing" that helps you relate to your soul. May it be an eternal gift to you.

Much love to my internet family!!!

Tag, I'm It: 7 Random Things About Me

2007-12-05T22:46:00.001-08:00

So, bananafana tagged me for this post, so here are my 7 random things about, well, ME. Hope you'll still respect me (if you do) when it's over!

1) My number one fear is electrical fire. To add to my delirium, my house was built during the short usage period of aluminum wiring during the 1960's. Which is fine if handled properly, but mine needed some maintenance. So this past summer I didn't sleep at night for weeks until everything was fixed and up to code. But still, rewire a light fixture with a live box in anyone's house and I will be nowhere in sight.

2) I wrote my first "novel" at age 12. Isn't that insane? It was called "My Wildest Dreams" and of course involved a series of daydreams. I worked on it feverishly during free period in junior high. I'm toying with the idea of writing the same type of deal in my adult life. Of course, this one will, as I'm sure would would assume, entail some element of S-E-X. Scared yet???

3) I keep three journals - a personal, a daydream, and an inspirational. This is in addition to anything done on the computer for your reading pleasure. The daydream one is my favorite and I have completely personified HIM. Yes, I am insane. And he only gets the BLACK specially-picked pen, as opposed to the inspirational journal always in my purse which will accept any form of writing utensil.

4) My college roommate and I had contraband fish living in our dorm room. Apparently, they had opposite personalities despite the fact that the pet department guy told us they could co-habitate. SY's fish ate my fish's eyes, so my poor baby spent the rest of it's mundane life clinging to the side of the bowl.

5) Traditional Christmas carols and the Rockette's live nativity at the end of their holiday show make me bawl like a baby. I think it's because they bring back so many memories of my grandma, who is my biggest inspiration. I was named after her as well. She passed away while I was away at college in February of 1997. My last words to her before leaving to go back to school were, "I love you and I'll see you again soon." Still gets me going. Ditto for Sarah McLachlan.

6) I could have been a pop star. OK, maybe not a star, but I was selected and did a stint for an all-female pop group back in the early 90's complete with producer, studio time, etc etc. Weird shit, huh? It went south for me when my dad got wind of the schedule and the money situation. Oh - and Dad wasn't happy with the apparel selections, I might add. Britney, I was the original, BITCH! Oh, thank God I didn't go there...

7) My group of friends seems to lend itself to any sort of joke set-up. I have a whole range I wish I could finish. They go something like this:
a) So a minister, a flight attendant, and a law professor walked into a bar...
b) A doctor, an art teacher, and a speech pathologist are at this karaoke club...
c) A nurse, an attorney, and a carpenter go to lunch...
d) ok, there are too many to keep going
I have just about every field covered. Hmmmm. A future project???

Hope you've enjoyed this installment of bullshit. Have a great Thursday, BEOTCHES!

Where Little Diva Gets It From...

2007-12-05T13:42:00.001-08:00

Courtesy of Season's Day Spa (Audra, girl, you ROCK), here is my current state of mind:

No, Perrier, you low-life! Evian is trailer-park water! And I said only GHIRARDELLI DARK CHOCOLATE! What's this Hershey's crap?! Get my agent on the phone! And where's my damn publicist?! Have your people call my people. No, I won't endorse that shit! Do you know who I am?!

Anyway, I'm gettin' all Hollywood on your ass. It's amazing what a massage and a great manicure will do to a girl. I've never been uber high-maintenace, but I'm thinking I could get used to such a lifestyle. Now, if we can just get the hair situation cleared up, I'll be ready for the big screen. OH, wait. I'm not an actor.

In an odd sign of things, I am awaiting replies from some publications. The nail color I chose for my manicure just happened to be called "My Big Break." Foreshadowing??? Just in case, I bought a bottle. We'll see...

Baby, It's Cold Outside

2007-12-05T10:03:00.000-08:00

Well, everyone, just wanted to check in and say hi and that I have not been sent to a penitentiary or anything like that. It's been a busy couple of days around here, and I am about to lose my mind. So I'm doing what any somewhat-sane person would do - I'm headed to the day spa. Yes, ladies, I will be thinking of you all during my massage. Thank God I still had that gift certificate laying around. Oh how I pine for the days when I could pretty much go on a whim...

It's fucking cold out and now the biggest decision I have to make is what to wear to the spa. I'm thinking the yoga pants and a sweatshirt because I will pretty much be a big pile of do-nothing shit by about 2 PM. YAY!

Anyhow, I'll check in later!!!

Christmas SMACKDOWN 2006: Back by Popular Demand

2007-12-04T12:24:00.001-08:00

The proudest moment of my parental career has to be when we discovered Little Diva understood our message about how to handle strangers who give out candy.

Exhibit A:

Incidentally, this became our 2006 Christmas card that everyone STILL has hanging on the fridge.

The LIST

2007-11-29T22:45:00.001-08:00

So I have this blog topic list that you all so wonderfully itemized for me. And for the last few days I've stared at it and want to write some more of it. But I'm getting bogged down. Why? GOOD QUESTION!

I think I'm suffering from what-if-it-doesn't-come-out-right syndrome. That's generally what happens the few days following the sending out of some submission work. I'm all freaked-out about me perhaps being some silly fool and that I won't say exactly what I mean. Because that's truly what happens when a TYPE A personality sets out with a goal. It never stops; the end result can always be better. At some point, it takes some of my peeps to say, "Will you just quit obsessing and FUCKING SEND IT OUT?!"

So last night, I did send out some work. And now I get to play the waiting for an answer/did they even get it game. In effort to spice things up around here, I will diverge from the topic list for a couple of posts and write stress-free.

ERICA: I will get to SAHMBO, I promise. It's one of my favorite topics, and I think more people should talk about it and HOW MUCH IT SUCKS ASS.

TESSIE: ENFP - this is a good example. Knowing that only 8-10% of the world's populations sees things the way I do only perpetuates my silliness. BUT I MUST WRITE ABOUT IT. It will be coming soon. As will the much-awaited birth story.

Everyone else: Thanks for not saying I'm bat shit crazy (even though you are all thinking it).

I'll be in touch!

APB: Bloggers MIA

2007-11-28T23:58:00.000-08:00

Where the hell is everyone? I found only a handful of new posts up today. Did some catastrophe happen and my family is the only one that survived? That's not good for repopulating, let me tell you! I'm lonely!!!

Why HDTV ROCKS This Mama!

2007-11-27T23:16:00.000-08:00

We have cheap cable. The kind that goes straight from the wall to the TV - no fancy boxes or any of that mess. So we don't receive the HD signal (but we will when the nation holds a gun to our skulls in 2009 and I HAVE to pay to upgrade). However, because we do have an HDTV now, we can stretch the cheap-guy's cable signal out to fit the HDTV format on our new TV. Which means that things get slightly wider. Including Victoria's Secret models. Just in time for the fashion show.

And thanks to my running and walking efforts to multiply the HDTV effect:

I NOW LOOK LIKE A VICTORIA'S SECRET MODEL!

Imagine the possibilities...

And just so I can toot my own horn: I lost a dress size in 8 weeks of making changes only to my exercise program (i.e. channel surfing to interval training). Digging on Starbucks AND losing my ass is AWESOME!

Salvation Army Stress Disorder

2007-11-26T23:31:00.000-08:00

It started for me a few weeks ago. I hopped out of my car on a mid-afternoon supermarket run, sun shining, about 70 degrees worth of summer still left in the air. My ears perked up like the deer in Bambi at the sound of hunters. Could it be that time already? And then I heard it for certain - the BELL! THE TINKLING CLINKING TINY BRASS BELL! I shifted my gaze from the sky to the front door of the store, and my suspicions were confirmed. Tinkling bell? Check. Swinging red kettle? Check. Guy I'd have to talk to on my way out? Check. THE SALVATION ARMY WAS OUT IN FULL FORCE!

I immediately began checking my pockets and wallet for "spare" dollars or change. I had none! DAMN THE DEBIT CARD! No cash transactions = no change for Salvation Army volunteer. It was like being caught with my pants down! My heart started racing as I approached the door. What the hell was I going to do??? Vomit was a viable option. Why? Because prior to the life of single-incomedom I loved to be the Christmas spare change/cash wielding bitch! Giving is fun, and I love it. That was before the budget and the debit card. And now, here I was, with no good answer to this new situation.

How did I handle it? Well, I can't ignore people, so I told the guy "God bless" on my way out. Whew. Dodged a bullet there, genius. But what do I do next time??? The alternate question is how do YOU handle it? It seems to me that most people take one of three positions on this issue (when they are not giving):

A) completely ignore volunteer bell-ringer;
B) smile, nod, and say "I gave this morning"/"I'll get you next time"; or
C) run like their ass is on fire/it's raining and they have to get to the car.

None of the above options really work for me because I am an ENFP personality (see post to come for more info). I would be awake for days at the thought of being dishonest to someone who is volunteering for poor people for the love of all things holy! (Yes, really, me). However, I can't afford to give a fiver everytime I head into a store. On the other hand, I don't want to be that cheapskate with the pocket full of pennies! For now, I'm taking a few quarters with me when Little Diva and I go errand running so she gets to learn giving, and that's about it at this point. But the quarter jar is getting low!!!

I have entertained the idea of holding out my debit card and pretending to "swipe" at the kettle when I walk by - like SpeedPass for charity. Does that make me an asshead? Discuss your position on holiday charitable giving...

The Coffee Cup Quandary

2007-11-21T01:33:00.000-08:00

This message is brought to you by arm restraints and coffee creamers.

I'm a little OCD about some things. Weird things. Things that would make you think I'm a madwoman (or an asshead, your choice). Like coffee cup lids. But only coffee cup lids that do not come on the stout and sturdy go-cups from true coffee establishments like Starbucks and Wired Coffee.

My paranoia is related to, in particular, those flimsy-ass convenience store/gas station coffee cup lids. I have this recurring daymare (like a nightmare, but during my conscious waking hours, oh my god I'm so crazy I'm making up words). In said scenario, I go to take a sip of my judiciously mixed coffee beverage only to have the lid leak/crack, or in the really terrifying dreams, completely blow off leaving me in a boiling hot waterfall of my perfect coffee.

[Note: A special shout out to the lame ass who sued McDonald's many years ago over the coffee spillage burn issue. Thanks to this genius, every coffee cup now has the WARNING: HOT bullshit branded right into the cup. This only adds to the hypersensitivity I have surrounding this issue. There's nothing like seeing those last words as I raise the superheated beverage to my lips, wondering if my daymare will come true.]

SO, if you see someone in the convenience store checking the lid on her damn coffee like 80 times AND pushing down on it hard enough to crumple the whole stupid cup before leaving the scene, it's probably me. Unless that person is muttering things under her breath. Oh, wait. That probably IS me...

10 Things That Annoy Me (A TRL Exclusive)

2007-11-19T22:46:00.000-08:00

OK, so this was going to be the TOP ten things that annoy me. However, that is a continually changing list which is often dependent on a) my hormonal/BITCH cycle and b) the amount of times my patience has been toddler-tested in any particular day. So, we'll just go with ten things overall. These are not deal breakers. These are the things that just make me say, "What is UP with this shit?" In no particular order:

10) Purchasing a fountain beverage and realizing upon the return to my car that I have chosen the incorrect size of straw for the beverage cup. Naturally, I've already buckled in and revved up the 4 cylinder when this occurs.

9) Finding myself alone and up late on a Friday night only to rediscover for the eighty-billionth time that Frasier and Golden Girls are NOT in the late-night line up on Lifetime.

8) Again, back out in the car, buckled, revved, etc. etc. and discovering that my iced chai latte has been inappropriately created with WHOLE MILK (I said NON-FAT, you bastard. No, not you. The other one!). Note: Pardons are granted for new baristas.

7) Applying deodorant and the damn stuff falls out. You know, the last chunk left in the twisty-up-lie-to-me container? And it always happens on a this-is-my-last-clean-black-tank-top day, thereby leaving a tell-tale trail of white crap across said shirt. This is why I donned an over shirt on the hottest fucking day of the summer.

6) Nancy Grace. Moving on...

5) Getting all excited that we have a ton of mail, only to realize that 95% of it is from charitable organizations who by now have used all of my previous donation money to send me solicitations for new donations. Next time I'll send them stamps instead and we'll call it even.

4) Long honkers. See Lame Snippet 2 for more info.

3) Stopping at a four-way stop across from other drivers and being the only one who knows the correct procedure. By this I mean that everyone else looks from one driver to the next, and some try to wave others through with complete disregard for the right way to handle it. For those of you who fall into THEIR category, here is the deal should we ever meet across one of these situations (to avoid my wrath):

A FOUR-WAY STOP sign means that there are four stop signs at this

intersection. Traffic from all four directions must stop. The first vehicle to

reach the intersection should move forward first. If two vehicles reach the

intersection at the same time, the driver on the left yields to the driver on the right.*

2) Trying to open any sort of container wrapped in some sort of cellophane/shrink-wrap where a perforation is denoted "OPEN HERE." The annoying containers of which I speak tend to be beverages, lip glosses, or cough syrup. The teeny perforation serves no purpose for me except to make me feel like a complete failure because I can't even open the damn thing where they've supposedly made it easy. CONVENIENCE MY ASS! Somebody hand me a scissors or a box cutter or something. I'll take off a finger tip before I buy into that "open here" scam again. Don't try and do me any favors, Mr. Consumer-Friendly-Packaging Developer Guy. I'm just fine doin' it old school...

1) THIS:
WHY, GOD, WHY? Is this really that hard to figure out? Is this deficiency in appropriate TP behavior genetic and gender-related?

Note: This pic may later appear in a photo essay about hubby. But I was dying to use it, and it fits with the current topic.

Well, I think that's about it for now. NEXT SUBJECT COMING SOON!

Blogger Constipation

2007-11-18T23:36:00.001-08:00

In response to some e-mails and comments, I am hanging out here to explain myself (or lack thereof). Paraphrasing from Seinfeld, Kristen, "I will not submit to forcible [posting]!" And yet, here I am. Because some of you actually seem to get all horny for the blog. Geez, it's nice to be missed. But I'm posting for me, not you. GOT IT?! Umm , that's sarcasm. If you're not used to that, you must have ended up here in error. But keep reading because I've been told I say some pretty funny shit from time to time...

For those of you who know me, you are aware that sometimes I drop off the face of the earth for a few days. Then I suddenly appear in all my sahm glory with all too much to say. Therein lies my current dilemma. I am not suffering from a lack of topics upon which to bore you with my ramblings, but rather I have a plethora from which I cannot choose.

I am enduring a MAJOR case of blogger constipation and as soon as you all can help me out, I'm sure posting diarrhea will soon follow. If I don't get some assistance here soon, I'm afraid my creative system will be impacted. And that would completely suck. It's gross, but it's a great analogy. It's like I'm sitting here with a magazine and my drawers around my ankles thinking, "Will you just come out already?!" So discuss in the comments, if you will, the topics you would most like to see shortly:

My wedding story (I'm light years behind you more industrious bloggers on this)
Little Diva's birth story (see parenthesis above)
Salvation Army stress disorder
The coffee cup quandary
Little Diva learns the art of "working a room"
HDTV and its effects on people I envy
Top 10 things that annoy the shit out of me
SAHMBO (stay-at-home-mom burn out)
The strip tease class
ENFP - Yeah, I'm an idealist
Stuff I need to finish before I die
Annoying tidbits about Hubs

That's just a start. Pick some and help me out, dammit!

MUST. GET. SLEEP. NOW.

2007-11-14T11:16:00.000-08:00

OH MY GAWD! I am so exhausted. I damn near fell asleep at the lunch table with my fam today. I think all the craziness of this past weekend is catching up with me.

That, AND I've been up late writing for a couple of submission deadlines, which has been fun but is killing my nighttime rest. I've always been a bit of a procrastinator, but it tends to work better for my writing. I've never been one of those people that could do that multi-step writing shit they teach you in school. I'm too ADHD for that bullshit. Get it all out at once, I say! Passion, stress, anxiety - these are the elixir for good writing!!!

The stupid part is that I didn't run Monday (heavy rain), Tuesday I managed to eek out 2 miles, and today, well, I think I just need to go lie down while the wee one gets some much needed shut-eye. She was a major CRAB ASS towards the last part of our weekly visit with S and E at Barnes & Noble this morning, even going so far as to take a swipe at E with one of her paws. We had to come home and have the talk about "you know we use our words and hitting is NOT acceptable." Which was followed by some crocodile tears and a juice request, which somehow makes everything feel better in a toddler world. (I guess I can relate because I know what Grey Goose does for me on a Friday night). I know Little Diva needs a nap or it will be the end of mom of the year as a felony conviction-free citizen by about 4 o'clock today (or as it is known in our house "crappy hour").

Oh. Before I forget, here is my normally sweet baby dressed up for Halloween...

I will say it for you: HOW CUTE! She wanted the pumpkin to become the carriage, but I was simply out of magic dust for that to happen. Alas, we ended up hoofing it to the neighborhood Halloween ball.

OK, I will ponder the run/walk or nap decision for a moment longer. Then I will commit to one or the other and try and come up with something funny to say later...

New Rough Draft Teaser

2007-11-12T23:22:00.000-08:00

For your reading pleasure, I've begun a new creative non-fiction piece and have posted a teaser at www.literalchaos.blogspot.com. Please feel free to leave comments, good or not-so-good. I need to hear it all. Also, no, it's not done yet...

Social Event Progression (or Regression???)

2007-11-12T13:03:00.001-08:00

Yup. It happened. This weekend hubs and I had our first-ever party including babies, kids, and pictures of everyone's families. It was CRAZY FUN! Up until this point, our parties pre-Little Diva revolved around large quantities of alcohol in many forms and staying up until the wee hours playing drinking games or something else to justify being piss drunk. Post-Little Diva's inmahbellay time and birth, the parties centered around Little Diva (birthdays, baptism, first time on the potty, geez, you know, anything for her). This time our party was one of those rights of passage in family-hood - THE BRING YOUR KIDS PARTY! It was insane, and yet so much fun that I can't wait to have another one after the holidays!

So now, here are some pix:

At our maximum period of fun, we had about 40 people here, about 10 of which were kids. I would venture to say this is probably the most fun I've had in my own home in a while. The beauty of it was that everyone seemed to be relaxed and just having fun being away from their respective homesteads. The newer moms and dads could hang out on the floor with the babies or run up to LD's room for crib/rocking chair use as the need arose or parttake in the many conversations going on all over the place. The toddlers and older kids kept each other entertained and we heard nor saw any whining, crying or bleeding, so all was well! We had all sorts of people here - married with no kids, married with 1 kid, married with several kids, single, single and hot, engaged, married too long to count and so on and so forth. It was great! My only regrets were that it took us over 2 years to have this party and that I wasn't able to spend as much time with everyone as I'd hoped until after dinner. This thing started at 5 and was wrapping for the kid-laden by around 8-ish, which was the plan since we understand that whole bedtime thing. We had several folks who stuck it out with us much later (thanks to post-dinner babysitters for us weary parents).

I totally recommend this type of informal occasion to ANYONE! I hope that all who were here had as much fun as I did. It was so nice to see everyone, and the kids had a great time keeping each other out of our hair, which was also a bonus.

One more web shout-out to Officer N, our friend who recently became a STL City Police Officer. You and your lovely wife have my undying respect and admiration. And, N's a cutie, too, so here's his pic with his shiny new badge:

Mostaccioli Recipe (the short version)

2007-11-08T08:55:00.001-08:00

At the request of several readers, here is the quick version of mostaccioli:

CLASSIC BAKED MOSTACCIOLI

1 lb. ground beef
1/2 c. chopped onion
2 1/2 c. meatless spaghetti sauce
1/2 c. water
8 oz. (3 1/3 c.) mostaccioli noodles (or penne, I suppose if your grocery store is LAME)
6 oz. Mozzarella cheese
2 tbsp. Parmesan cheese

In skillet cook meat and onion until meat is browned and onion is tender, stirring to break meat into chunks. Stir in spaghetti sauce and water; simmer 10 minutes. Meanwhile, cook mostaccioli as directed; drain. Mix the sauce with mostaccioli in a 9x13 pan. Sprinkle Parmesan over mixture. Then put Mozzarella cheese on top. Bake at 375 degrees for 25 to 30 minutes. Serve with garlic bread.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Happiness Quotient: Extremely HIGH

2007-11-07T12:56:00.000-08:00

I have been gone for what seems like forever. I know you are sorely disappointed in me, but, alas, I have been corralling all of the craziness here and also taking some time to indulge myself. Here's the breakdown:

Saturday
Spent the afternoon kid-free with SY looking at all things girly and sparkly and yummy. Treated myself on the impending bonus hubby will be receiving soon (the labor contract was nationally accepted). Here is an example of the end result.

You: Excuse me. You smell fantastically sexy. Are you wearing Dolce & Gabbana?
Me: Why, yes. Yes, I am.

I indeed enjoyed my afternoon and came giggling into the house with a bottle of D&G from Macy's (and nothing more). Ah, yes, these are the simple diva pleasures I remember from my former life (i.e. when I was single).

Sunday
Hubby enthusiastically agrees that we need a new TV. Now, you must understand he is the last person to spend money on such things, so this was a total surprise. Also understand that since my 15 year old kick ass (really) TV crapped out one year ago, we've been watching TV on a 19 inch set as old as me that does not have any input jacks for DVD players, VCRs, or anything but coaxial cable. Oh, and the tube is almost out so I had the contrast turned up as high as it could do so we could get a picture. Thus, watching the World Series was more like watching blood droplets ooze around on a green background.

You: How cool is your new TV?
Me: Well, it's pretty cool by our standards. We don't require much in the way of electronic gadgetry. We already had surround sound (a gift from an ex-boyfriend - thanks, JOHN!) and the DVD player, and the TV brings us up to current American normalcy, I suppose. You can see it here.

Monday-Tuesday
We have an upcoming soiree this weekend a la casa de mom of the year. Thus, I have been cleaning up things and got my office all picked up ultra-clean so we can clear some toys out of the living room and SWOOSH them away to the office to accommodate our guests. I used my "mommy time" while LD was at school to get some party supply shopping done (which did include some nice foo-fooey table coverings and acanthus leaf candle holders - YAY). I was in mid party-planning mode and starting to get some things together both days, and collapsed into bed at night while fighting the horrendous cough my daughter had a few weeks ago.

Wednesday
YAY! Today was Barnes & Noble Day, so I got to hang with S and her daughter E. I might add that the toasted marshmallow mocha at B&N was tasty, although I think maybe a bit overrated. I'll stick to my chai next time, I think. I'm in full party-planning mode and am chomping at the bit to get everything white-glove clean and get the food going, but I certainly wanted to be here for a moment, because I've missed my internet GURRRLZ awfully bad. Over the last few days, I'd realize I missed a whole day with you all and I'd actually fucking freak out about it.

I will post some Halloween pix soon so you can see the light of my life dressed as Cinderella in all her finery.

Anyway, there's mostaccioli to make and bathrooms to clean...

Note to other St. Louisans: "mostaccioli" is not in spellchecker. Can you imagine???

German-esque Recipe from Hausfrau

2007-11-02T07:45:00.000-07:00

Good morning, ladies! Hope you all are having an excellent Friday. I thought I would stop in and share a recipe that I love to cook up this time of year. Judging from the states that many of you come from, I think it's safe to say that there are quite a few of you who, like me, have some sort of German heritage down the line. You know, those relatives with the last name bearing a consonant to vowel ratio of about 80:1. While I am mainly of Western European descent (see Braveheart for references), that German gene is so damn potent! Here is a recipe that totally rocks and is super easy. Warning: it does contain sauerkraut. However, my sister, who somehow has managed to misplace her German section of genes, HATES sauerkraut in any of its forms, save for this one. It is actually quite good and can get you through any longings you may have for the fare of Strassenfest, Oktoberfest, Wurstfest, or any of the other FESTS solely created by Germans for the purposes of downing beer and raising cholesterol levels. So, here we go:

Sauerkraut and Ribs

1 32 oz bag of Flanagan Krrrrisp Kraut (usually found by refrigerated pickles in meat section)
1 can french onion soup
1/4 cup brown sugar
2 pounds country style pork ribs boned and trimmed (I buy them this way)

Preheat oven to 350. Place ribs on bottom of 9x13 baking dish. Top with the drained sauerkraut. Sprinkle the brown sugar over the sauerkraut. Pour the undiluted soup over the top of all. Cover with aluminum foil and bake 3-4 hours or until tender. Remove foil during last 1/2 hour for browning.

I LOVE THE SMELL OF THIS BAKING!!! Reminds me of my grandma's house...

Letter to My Neighbor-Guys

2007-10-31T13:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Neighbor-Guys,

Thank you so much for your support today whilst I was running. It meant so much to me that you gave me a wave and yelled "Yeah, titties!" from your VW as you drove by me. Without neighbors like you, I don't know how I could continue running. If you truly appreciated the show, I will be sitting on the stoop this evening while my daughter naps. You can drop by a sizable tip if you'd like. Or perhaps my "titties" and I will run into you at the neighborhood Halloween party tonight at the clubhouse. In either case, thank you again for your undying respect.

Peace,
Runs with Titties Bouncing
(my Native American name)

P.S. I do 3-6 miles per day. What do your pot-smoking asses do? YOU WANNA GO, SUCKAS?!

The Barrel Train

2007-10-30T20:06:00.000-07:00

Inquiring minds were asking, "What the hell is your child daring to ride on at the pumpkin patch?" Well, all, it's a line of old barrels on wheels strung together and pulled by a small tractor. Here is a subsection of the "train":

Just because I'm a jackass, and in case you are completely concrete jungle raised and you've never ever been in the country, here is a tractor:

And I think since the barrels are more than likely old chemical barrels (from a certain company with whom I may or may not have been employed), those of you who don't like modern farming will probably give me this:

Spoil sports. Jeez. It's not like they aren't CLEAN! And before any anti-chem panties get in MAJOR wads - the farm chem once residing in these barrels is inert to humans. Although, the barrels can be purchased for farmers to mix their own chem, so it's entirely possible that these were purchased just to make the train and never held any chem at all. That will help me avoid any possible egging of my home or car, right?

Obligatory Fall Pictures

2007-10-30T09:12:00.001-07:00

Today's post is sponsored by introspection, solemnity, and silence. In other words, I'm just not that freaking funny today. *long sigh*

I am so glad that fall is finally here. For those of you with the misfortune of not living in a section of this country that experiences the autumn color change, I offer the below images from our trip to the pumpkin patch this past weekend. Although the leaves are not quite in full color-changing swing yet, the signs are quite apparent that the show will be fabulous this fall.

And because everyone loves pictures of kids, here's one of Little Diva at said location enjoying her afternoon of being able to run around and be LOUD:

It was a really nice day out for all of us. Little Diva had her first horseback ride this weekend, and we had the good fortune to serendipitously meet up with a couple of friends at the farm. By, the way, here is Little Diva with her future husband:

Anyway, LD is at school, hubby is napping, and we have no groceries. I suppose I'll head out and forage for some food at the supermarket. *YAWN* Maybe I will have some ridiculous observation when I get back...

Hanukkah Shampoo and Melting Mom of the Year

2007-10-26T20:03:00.000-07:00

There is a strange phenomenon that's been occurring in my shower for approximately the last two weeks. I heart Matrix Amplify shampoo so much that I might consider giving an appendage for it. My bottle should have run out weeks ago, but for some reason, every time I reach for it there is still enough to get me through that particular shower. And that's without adding any water to get it out. It simply will not run out! Therefore, I know the joy of that special thing I like to call Hanukkah Shampoo. I'm retarded.

On the heels of the Bedroom Confessions post, I would like to offer up a particular snippet of video sent to me by someone who shall remain nameless. This is basically a great representation of how CHOWDAH could be restored in my home; please note the dialogue. The HOT ACTOR might be a nice feature as well.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_gJ6huUHDU

OH MY GOD! GO AHEAD, BABY! SOMEONE PLEASE HOSE ME THE FUCK DOWN! I am such a sucker for an awesome kissing scene, and this one takes the cake, er, uh pie. SERIOUSLY! If Donnie Wahlberg were any hotter in this scene, I truly believe my entire body would melt into a fucking puddle on the ground. The end.

Bedroom Confessional

2007-10-25T22:32:00.001-07:00

OK, for some unknown reason, I am privy to truckloads of dirty dirt on just about all of my girlfriends. I am honored to hold such secrets and revelations and will not divulge any of them here (really). Conversations of the CHOWDAH sort usually begin with a friend saying these words: "OK, this is kind of TMI." But I think they say that as a sanity-checker for themselves. I, quite honestly, believe we are all freaks of some sort or another, and perhaps that's why people tell me things. Anyway, since many of you have let me in on certain bits of your bedrooms, I will give you one of mine. Don't worry - it's not TMI, just really funny.

So we've all heard the shit about sometimes just needing to do the wifely duty for his sake, right? I know that all of us are not programmed to run on such a circuit 24/7, so here is my fix for you. I keep a mental fishbowl full of slips of paper containing the names of certain attractive males I will never in all the fire of hell have the opportunity to, um, bang the living daylights out of. Note: no one that I know or that is the property of someone I know is fair game. On one of those nights when just getting it done for his sake is the goal, a cool thing happens in my brain. Have you ever been to a theatrical production where a character is being played by an understudy? Stick with me here. Generally, there is an announcement made that the understudy will be playing the role of such-and-such character. THIS IS THE COOLEST EVER! A little man in a soft voice pops into my head before said act and announces, "This evening for your enjoyment, the part of hubby will be played by (insert fishbowl name)." And, voila, you have a more entertaining time. Odd? Maybe. Better fantasy? Definitely. He cares? HELL NO! He wins no matter what. Period. Feel free to use this one any time.

I'm sure you're dying to know who's in the fishbowl. All I can say is that the fishbowl may or may not include (in no particular order): Donnie Wahlberg, Johnny Depp, Edward Norton, Leonard DiCaprio, Vince Vaughn, and several others. Perhaps I need a larger fishbowl since the vacuum incident...

Now it's your turn. DISH UP THE CHOWDAH SOLUTIONS!

Target Panick Attack

2007-10-25T12:49:00.000-07:00

DEAR GOD HELP ME! Little Diva and I ventured into the whimsy that is Target to pick up some stupid crap like paper towels and light bulbs. You know, the stuff you just can't wait to spend money on (right now I'd rather buy a couple of martinis than be able to see in my house at night). Anyway, while we were perusing the various visually delectable wares at Target, I decided that since it is getting a bit chilly here, I need to pick up some more running/laying around the house attire. I went to the sportswear section and started looking for my favorite fall/winter separates of all time. At first I didn't see anything, so I checked around more slowly than the first round. And again a little faster. And again. And by the fourth time around the department, I was so frantic that Little Diva actually said to me, "Mommy, do you not feel well? Please slow down." I was pacing around the racks like someone looking for a way out in a Friday the 13th film. And yet, I NEVER FOUND THE BLACK SLIGHTLY-CLINGY BUT MAKE MY BUTT LOOK MUCH SMALLER YOGA PANTS. If they have opted out of this particular merchandise selection, MY LIFE IS OVER! First the vacuum, then the pants. What next, the apocalypse???

Addendum: I ended up blowing a cool $189 on household BS, one CUTE outfit for LD, a couple of workout clothes items, dogfood, lightbulbs, paper towels, Halloween candy, and Halloween sparkle shoes for LD, who will be going as Cinderella. Because I know you really wanted to know this shit. Also, I got out my wallet and told the cashier, "I don't have any money, but these people will send you some." I put my card in the card reader and she stared at me like she didn't get it. Ok. I guess I'm lame. As you were, troops. Comment away.

Anti-CHOWDAH (props to Tessie)

2007-10-24T13:41:00.000-07:00

OK, first I must give myself a large shout out for my fitness efforts today. I interval trained for approximately 4.5 miles (cue applause track; standing ovation optional but suggested, thankyouverymuch). Holy hellcats! I am finding myself to be much stronger than thought, so this is a total bonus.

HOWEVER, after returning from my excursion around the neighborhood, I found this subtle symbol of my husband's love for me: Meet our vacuum cleaner. Yes - out, plugged in, and ready to go. FOR ME! Are you fucking serious? This seems to be a regular occurrence in our home. He gets it out, plugs it in, and then leaves for work. Ummmmmm, yeah. I believe I think about CHOWDAH more than any other person in the world these days, but for reasons such as the aforementioned misogyny, THE FACTORY SHALL REMAIN CLOSED. More on possible solutions to my debauchery debacle later.

JAM SUCKA!

2007-10-23T11:43:00.000-07:00

Oh yes, I am completely in the throes of the third-of-life crisis. What's that, you ask? Well, it's that time in your life when you look around and basically say, "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?" And then you spend the rest of your time trying to figure out how the hell you can claim your life back. So that's where our journey begins.

Today was Little Diva's half day at school. I spent the first half of my free time getting in the run/walk head clearing/workout and the second half driving around, hitting Starbucks, and rediscovering the joy that was my former self, which needs to be continued past this pinnacle of life we call motherhood. I hate that I lost myself, yet love that I am finding myself again. And I get to reinvent myself in the process. How cool is that? SO on that note, I have again professed my love for Rage Against The Machine to the dismay of fellow drivers at stoplights. If you were out today in my hood, yes, that indeed was me in the Honda with the empty car seat in the back and blaring renegade madness. Ahhhh. It feels so good to be home. For your entertainment, I promise many updates on the REBIRTH OF SLICK (wink SY). It's sure to be an interesting ride, so please stay tuned. And BUCKLE UP, for the love of god!!!

On a completely unrelated note, just for my curiosity, here's the question of the day. Please discuss in the comments (be brave for my sanity's sake, you non-posters):

What do you think I look like?

And those of you who know me, pretend you don't and that all you have to go on is blogger content to describe my appearance...

It's Just Like Christmas

2007-10-22T09:38:00.001-07:00

Yes, girls, today is that special holiday that comes only once a year - the annual gyno exam. I just love the paper gown and the crampiness that follows. Perhaps I will pen some appropriate carols to celebrate this holiday later.

I shall be removing all doors and light switches from my home. Little Diva is driving me BAT-SHIT CRAZY with them. It goes like this: open/close, open/close, "please don't do that," open/close, open/close, "do you need a time out to calm down," open/close (with a guilty glance), TIME OUT. On/off, on/off, "I asked you before not to do that," on/off (mischievous grin), "please stop or you'll be in time out," on/off, "that's enough, go to your room." AHHHHHHHHHHH. Repeat pattern hundreds of times throughout the day until mom is ready to pack her bags and get out of town on the next thing smoking. While I admit that light at literally the flip of a switch is quite a cool phenomenon, this is fucking insane. I would change all electrical appliances to The Clapper to avoid switches, but I think we know what THAT would do to me. Moving on...

Yesterday I had the pleasure of having lunch with SY at Noodles and Company. YAY! It was good to be outside and get some "big-people" conversation time. However, the unexpected occurred as Little Diva demonstrated for SY exactly why alcoholism is so prevalent among stay-at-home moms. By the way, I did have a drink at 3 PM (but I swear it was just one, and we were out of Coke anyway).

For all of you lit enthusiasts, I've posted a partial journal entry at http://www.literalchaos.blogspot.com/ which may or may not become a creative non-fiction piece. Feel free to stop by and comment if you'd like.

Anyway, gotta hop in the shower and get ready for THE HOLIDAY. Later, taters...

Found: Sense of Humor

2007-10-19T22:22:00.000-07:00

Apparently, I'd left it at bananafana's house, which is where I just came from at 11:30 PM. What's that, you say? 11:30 PM? Holy shit! Yes, it's true. I had several offers of serenity from those of you who checked the blog earlier. Thank you all, by the way, for lovin' on me. While hubs is at work tonight, I was treated to pizza and a toddler free-for-all at bananafana's, to whom I express much gratitude for the hiatus from my normal evening chaos.

On the way home, after rehashing some college memories, I felt nostalgic. As luck would have it, on the 2 mile ride from her home there is that beacon of college bliss - TACO BELL! I went through the drive-thru (with sleeping Diva in tow) and ordered up that mid-party delicacy I loved so well at my alma mater - the CHALUPA! Dear God, is there anything wonderful you CAN'T create? As an added bonus, the guy who works the late night window looks just like Fiddy and referred to me as "girl" and "baby" several times. In my prior life, I believe that would have counted as "game." Damn. Awesome. All of this on a Friday night. I know - it's fucking unbelievable.

I should probably head to bed and continue planning how this momma's gonna get her groove back. I think it will involve the reintroduction of studded leather belts and some really awesome hair. But before I go...

Riding on the coat tails of several bloggers' Starbucks stories, I would like to make a contribution. Yesterday, I went in to order my usual, which is the best way to order at a place with so many beverage options (uh, by the way, non-regulars, if you don't know what the hell you want or how to order it, step aside and watch us pros FIRST before you hold up the line and make an ass of yourself). These guys have a good idea of what I want, but I obediently step up and say "venti iced chai non-fat." Now, I've been doing this for a while on a somewhat regular basis, but every FUCKING time I order, I somehow screw the word order. I thought I had them this time, but NAW! I gave my order, and one barista looks at another and yet rearranges my words. Here's the difference. Today, I audibly said, "DAMN! I thought I had it right this time. I'm gonna get you bastards one of these days!" Good thing these guys know me well enough to laugh...

Until tomorrow...

BLAH BLAH PISSED OFF BLAH

2007-10-19T13:14:00.000-07:00

Ok, kids. It's one of those days (the second of two in a row, I might add). Here is the list of things that are irritating the ever-loving SHIT out of me:

1) Little Diva whining/drama
2) The Battle of Naptime
3) Having to take LD on the run/walk today (don't GET me started)
4) My office is a wreck
5) Didn't get to my "Good" writing yesterday; today looks bleak as well
6) Deck is still not weatherproofed
7) I need a haircut and highlights (in some weird color, perhaps)
8) Husband is being a MAJOR ASSHAT
9) I need to go grocery shopping
10) Starbucks is so close but so far away
11) The night shift
12) UAW contract rejected
13) Hubby thinks I'm nuts
14) Sex? What's that?
15) Compensation for #14 needs to be replaced soon

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Can you relate? TO make it even, I'll post happy things later, possibly after I FIND MY FUCKING SENSE OF HUMOR!

9 Pounds KO'ed - BUH BYE

2007-10-18T12:03:00.000-07:00

Hey, girls! Well, the walking is paying off. I've always maintained that I don't overeat - I under do. And the scale is agreeing with me - 2 weeks and 9 pounds are gone like yesterday's garbage. YAY!

Anyway, I was really ambitious yesterday and decided to tackle a huge spot on our carpet that couldn't be anymore obvious if it were bright red paint (we have grayish-white carpet in most of our house). So I hit it with the carpet cleaner and it all amazingly came up. One problem - it's the only spot of CLEAN carpet in the entire house now. Dammit. Now I need to go rent a Rug Doctor before our little fall soiree in November. And I'll have to do the steps, too (insert sad face with single tear).

Holy shit. Little Diva is going through this whining stage with EVERYTHING! It's driving me fucking crazy!!! Despite repeated attempts to require the "nice voice" for any action from a parental figure, the whiiiiniiing continues. On top of that, we are currently fighting the Battle of Naptime. I swear to god I'm going to lose it with this...

Why an I in such a funky mood? Could it be that mommy needs a GIRLIE DAY? DID SOMEONE JUST SAY THAT PAYDAY IS TOMORROW? Perhaps on Saturday, I will head out and do some girl stuff just for me. I'll have my e-mail forwarded to Sephora in case you all need me ('cuz I know you do). Hmmmm. Black and white shopping bags holding the keys to eternal good looks and femininity. I think that will do nicely.

I'm going to write something else later. I need to go find my sense of humor. It's somewhere around here...

This and That (A Vacation Break)

2007-10-16T08:21:00.000-07:00

AH, yes, today is Tuesday. It's Children's Day Out Day (aka Mommy Sanity Day). Do you hear that? ME NEITHER! It's quiet on the midwestern front. Let me soak it up for a second.

I'm sitting here in the office wanting to post a bit before I hit the outdoors for my walk. It's sunny today, with some intermittent clouds. Overall, the weather is great and it's one of those days where you find yourself smiling all of the time. I love days like this - me, the sunshine, and the Dell. And in a moment, me with my homeys and my thoughts for my next writing venture. I actually started on a short story last night that has been taking up mind space for some years. It's time to get that bitch on some paper, yes? Hopefully, I'll have a rough draft teaser up on http://www.literalchaos.blogspot.com/ sometime in the near future. It's funny because this one is not the type of stuff I want when I look for a good book, but it's very enjoyable to write.

Anyway, thought I'd give you a toddler bit. A few days ago, Little Diva and I were headed downstairs after naptime. She turned to me mid-staircase and said, "Mommy, where's my body?" I was a little surprised by that comment. I said, "Well, sugars, you're walking in it." Isn't that odd? I think what she was actually referring to was her shadow, which has been a source of sheer curiosity lately. It was kind of cute, but I couldn't help laugh thinking about what she said because it's entirely how I've felt over the last several months! I think they just have this intuition...

On the vacation posting... well, I think it's one of those things that is way funnier if you were there. So I may post some more pix with captions later and let you all fill in the blanks. I'm lame. The post yesterday wasn't as funny as I imagined, so I'll try and be just informative later and let you find your own humor in the whole thing.

Well, off to walk. Gotta make that mind, body, spirit, connection.

Scenes From A Road Trip Part I

2007-10-15T14:27:00.000-07:00

Hey, my lovelies! I trust everyone's weekend was great. The fam and I thoroughly enjoyed our time down in good ol' Mississippi for Papaw's 90th birthday. However, I must say, WHAT A RIOT! Here's how it went down:

Scene 1: Driving through Missouri, I suddenly became aware of how people from the northern parts of the US assume that Missouri is somehow a southern state. It's because we have completely ignorant names for towns such as this:

Yep, that's right, folks. COOTER, MISSOURI! We almost ventured out to find the "Welcome to Cooter" sign, but it was too far off the beaten path and Little Diva was snoozing. Had to take advantage of the precious driving time. This highway exit sign will have to do. Can you even imagine? "Where are you from?" "Cooter, Missouri." How the hell can any reasonable human being say that one with a straight face???

Scene 2: Dogfight

Before I get conVICKted by PETA, this totally happened by accident (well, it would be an accident if I didn't foresee this). My MIL has two powder-puff spa dogs that make me ill. MIL decided it would be great to bring them along; not that she would EVER dream of leaving "the kids" at home. These dogs, well, the treatment of them makes me want to barf. Bear in mind that there are already three dogs that live on the property (a Rottweiler, a Weineraumer, and a Rat Terrier). So FOO FOO stupid dogs get out of the car and the mean of the two decided to pick on the Rottie. So all the craziness of my MIL freaking out ensues. She and the powder puffs are already the focus of every family joke, so this just adds to the hilarity of the ongoing saga. Note: no animals were injured, but MIL did make them retire to over-obnoxious puppy suites early from the assault.

Scene 3: Finding Lula Baptist Church in Lula, MS where the party was held.

Uh, OK, don't bother with a map because I'm willing to bet it's just not on there. The town practically doesn't exist in real life let alone in some cartography program. You take 2 bad roads off the interstate, follow two more nonexistent roads, and look for the spot where the least number of roaming dogs congregates (leaving a trail of bread crumbs might be a good idea). We missed the turn twice and ended up touring the remains of what was once a very tiny old town. It is now pretty much populated desolation. But if anyone needs a cheap summer home, there are a few for sale. HA HA HA!

We'll return for the second half later. Don't worry; the second part is MUCH better...

The Bounce Factor

2007-10-11T21:42:00.000-07:00

I'm still reeling from the comments graciously left by Paul Joannides, author of "Guide to Getting It On." Alas, I will put on my poker face and complain for you today about my latest irritation, affectionately named "The Bounce Factor."

Here's how this thing works. I am on a quest to have the less-than-ideal outside of me match my svelte, sexy inside being. I have begun walking and running again on a daily basis in effort to conquer the mom body with which I've been "blessed." This whole exercise deal has been great on a number of fronts (mental, creative, sex goddess wanna-be, and lastly health). However, it has been less than pleasurable on the real front of me. Really. The boobs.

I start out and get things pumping with my ganstas in my ear buds. When I get sick of walking, I switch to running. And therein lies the problem. After about 3.5 minutes, my boobs have smacked me in the chin and upper arm so many times, I have to stop or someone will accuse my husband of being a wife-beater. Oh, and the mams burn with all the fury of hell. Thus, the bounce factor is sabotaging my running effort (or, as in earlier grammar, "harshin' on my running buzz"). Shin splints? Fatigue? Whatever. It's the BOOBS that get me every time.

So do I commit to walking like my ass is on fire until the boobs go down? Or do I suck it up and continue running as my boobs make me look like a human pinata (much to the delight of teenage boys in the neighborhood)? I have yet to find the perfect bra solution to this situation, as even the best fitting sports bra has no elastic left by the time my first interval is over. HELP ME!!! I mean, can anyone relate???

Also, I will be attending a 90th birthday celebration in honor of Hubby's grandfather this weekend. We will be traveling to Mississippi for the festivities, so I will not be able to chat with you all until Sunday. Upon my return, I will probably have some pictures which will make you all question my values, but will be side-splittingly funny. Little Diva is still fighting a cough and crabbiness for which there is no solution (other than Motrin and a humidifier), so we'll see how this car ride goes. Keep your fingers crossed that no one makes us "TURN THIS CAR AROUND, YOUNG LADY!"

I wish you all (ya'll) a happy and safe weekend. Please pray that no one in the family ends up shot by celebration gunfire.

Take-Out Food Ban Lifted

2007-10-10T15:08:00.001-07:00

Without any of the grandeur and shit-slinging I expected (and shamefully kind of hoped for), the strike is already over. Picket signs, go back to your usual sheds. Workers pick up your usual tools. There's a tentative contract on the table; the opposing team has decided to pack it up and go home. That was so uneventul that I'm a little sad. No pictures of hubby holding a picket sign.

On the upside, we will be having take-out for dinner. JUST SAY NO TO GRILLED CHEESE! Unless, of course, the members don't vote to accept the deal. Then we're back at square one. But in the meantime, it's restaurant food tonight, baby!

Thanks to all for enjoying this brief adventure with me. Again, as a white-collar, I'm still scratching my head. It's like being involved in a car accident. What the hell just happened?

It's Officially Official

2007-10-10T09:09:00.000-07:00

Well, girls, I'm no longer a strike virgin. At 11 AM today, Chrysler workers put down their tools (in the middle of what they were doing) and walked off the job. That is so strange to me. I've been through 2 white-collar lay-offs, and that's about the scope of my understanding about leaving a job. So this stuff is completely weird.

I've been cruising the internet checking out the news spots on this story, and I've been reading the message boards. Boy, when did America become so anti-fellow human being? Yuck. Somehow people have really nasty things to say about the UAW and its employees, and that kind of gets me all hot under the proverbial blue collar. I think there's a lot of misinformation out there about the UAW workers and exactly what their benefits and such are, but the overall reaction seems to be that people really want them all to be jobless and be anti-UAW. While, to a certain extent, I agree with the last half of the statement, why do people want other families to fail financially? I don't get it, and it's a little bit heartbreaking. But, they're haters, and if the UAW did go down, they would feel the economic crunch, too. So fuck the haters.

This is somewhat like watching the last game of the World Series for me. The strike could end in a day or in months - no one really knows. It all depends on what contract is delivered from the mound and whether or not the batter will take a swing. I'm actually kind of excited. But again, I think that's because we have options. I do feel a lot for those families out there right now who don't have the same opportunities; this really can be a scary time for them.

Oh well. Just wanted to check in and let you all know that I get to have the inside scoop on strike life for all of us who never understood it growing up. Perhaps this will become the premise for my blockbuster novel???

On a happy note, I know how much everyone loves pix. So if Hubby gets picket duty, I will be sure to post his debut right here...

Honey-Do's

2007-10-09T22:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, so my understanding is that when a guy isn't working, the male psyche takes a pretty big beating. In order to combat potential strike "ego deflation," I'm compiling a list of available semi-manly projects that my dear-God-don't-make-me-use-a-chainsaw husband wouldn't mind doing. These things must be easy to complete, require little planning, and not be too girly or too woodsman-like either. So help me out here. I have a few things I think I'll toss in the mix, but I'm open to ideas:

spackle holes from prior maze of baby safety gates
rub mom of the year's feet
hang decorative iron work that's been residing on the floor for over one year
give mom of the year a massage
power wash minuscule deck (is that too much toolage???)
make mom of the year dinner
seal minuscule deck with wood sealer (again, too much labor???)
detail mom the of the year's car
pick up dog poop in backyard
feed mom of the year strawberries and champagne
add new mulch to small flower beds

Hmmmmm. I know there's something else. It's on the tip of my tongue. Ahhhhh, yes:

Read "THE GUIDE TO GETTING IT ON" so the wife can be forever blissful. I think this would vastly improve the quality of my environment in addition to the above tasks. What's better than no dog poop in the back yard and a little sumpin'-sumpin'??? Well, there's the REAL question for the comments:

FILL IN THE BLANK: __________ is better than sex. Be honest. Your guy won't ever know you told. Be catty. Be anonymous if you like. Just be here in the comments, dammit!!! Let's lighten it up here!!!

A New Holiday

2007-10-09T21:49:00.001-07:00

Well, my friends, in 10 minutes my husband will be officially working without a contract. Tomorrow by 11 AM we will know if a strike is on or off. This is my first experience with such an interesting scenario. I've never experienced all that is "strike duty," so I have decided to be a glass-is-half-full type of gal and create a new holiday: New Contract's Eve (or in a pessimistic view Pickett Sign Eve). This evening is filled with all the excitement of Christmas Eve. Seriously. Strange, right? The only difference is that under the tree tomorrow we will see if we have received a better gift than that of yore or if we will delay accepting gifts until we think we can get better ones. I guess it's sort of like a lively version of "rob your neighbor," that irritating game everyone plays on the holidays with really lame gifts.

I think my letter to the holiday patron saint would read something like this:

Dear Contract Issuer,
First I want to say thank you for giving my hubby lots of overtime this year. He's been really good, and I know you liked paying out all the time and a half. Secondly, I would like to ask for the following:
1) Health insurance that either a) isn't totally worthless; or b) has the option to upgrade;
2) An increase for inflation (hey, everyone else whines for one); and
3) Some sort of assurance that hubby will have a job for at least another 2 years.
There are some cookies for you at the union hall. If you can meet the above requirements, please eat the cookies on the BLUE PLATE ONLY. If you cannot meet the above requirements, eat the "extra-special" cookies on the RED PLATE and leave the blue plate cookies for all the families who will have to live on strike allowance until the staring contest is won at the bargaining table.
Regards,
Mom of the Year

I'm actually not really that worried about this, but it does make for interesting blog fodder. Well, it's interesting to me, I guess because I've never really understood all the union stuff I saw on the news before and how people got all worked up and what not. We are fortunate that I am at home and if the worst were to happen, I'm degreed-up and can go back to my old company like yesterday. We also have people around us who won't let our lives go sour on this thing. So, we're kind of win-win. I'm not so concerned about us, but living through this thing with the auto market in its current state makes me feel for all of those people who don't have other viable work opportunities. I guess some could go off on a tangent here about the "tough shit," "create your own opportunities," or "you knew this going in" sentiments. The truth of it is that all of this has really opened my eyes to a way of real American life that I didn't really understand before. So if all else fails, I can chalk this one up as a valuable learning experience. The heart of the matter is we're all just people trying to get through life the best we can, white collar or blue. And the economy can't survive without either set of folks being employed and profitable.

Well, that was heavy and shitty, so I'll start a new post above for something more fun!

Sexual Healing

2007-10-08T19:06:00.000-07:00

Awwww, yeah, baby. I've been inspired by my blogger friend Swistle to post this piece (of shit). It seems that many a mom is suffering through some sort of sexual, uh, inefficiency on the home front. Be it an over-driven husband, and under-horny one, or some sort of don't-you-dare-touch-me-with-your-fucking-eyes wife issue, we're all sort of there at some point or another. I'm not sure of one blanket solution for everyone, but I think I had an epiphany tonight about mine. Are you ready?

Back in my BC (before child) life, I was a corporate bitch-handler like most of you out there. A lot of my hours were spent handling business by phone. On dozens of occasions (literally), I had multiple clients of mine allude to the fact that I apparently have the perfect voice for phone sex. Do you see where I'm going with this? Funny thing is, I worked in the science industry with high-academic types or salesmen, yet they all had this same weird notion. So, I think I should start a 900 number. Extra cash, horny guys, PROBLEMS ALL SOLVED! Well, that would be assuming that I had the client list of the Hollywood Madam. I don't do the underlings.

Oh, and I'm not serious about that, but it is pretty entertaining.

On my own home front, the Chrysler strike deadline is Wednesday morning. So, for those of you who want to send a letter of support, please address it to your local Congressman/woman and tell them to fuck off if they voted for NAFTA, thank you very much. I'm not bitter or anything, nor am I all hot-under-the-blue-collar for the UAW. I just don't like this crap.

Well, that's all better. More bullshit later...

October in The Lou

2007-10-05T11:42:00.000-07:00

OK, for those of you who don't know me, I am a true lover of my hometown. There is no other place I'd rather live than St. Louis. I am a full-blooded St. Louisan. This city is totally great. Well, most of the year anyway. Why I might consider buying a house in which to vacation: THE FUCKING WEATHER SYSTEM. I don't know what it is about a city nestled between two big rivers, but our weather is totally jacked up. It's fucking October and the bank on the corner just blurted out in big lights that the current temp is 95! What the hell is this? Also, for those of you who have not experienced the joy of St. Louis humidity, let me just tell you that you need the sharpest knife in the world to cut through it on hot days. Texas, Florida, Georgia - you've got NOTHING on us. I'm actually pissed about it because the run/walk thing has been going so well and now I have a day that makes me want to die the second I step out my front door. So I think I'm going to try and suck it up for at least a mile and see what happens. If I don't make it back, SY will have to follow through on our solemn pact and remove "certain unmentionables" from a drawer in a nightstand lest my whole family find out some things they really shouldn't know while divvying up my personal property. Maybe that's TMI. Oh well. Everyone's a freak. I'm out the door. We'll see how it goes.

Addendum: I just read bananafana's blog for today and she is pissed about the same thing...

Variations on Rejection

2007-10-04T18:45:00.000-07:00

Thanks to all who commented last time on my pathetic excuse for a sickness. Apparently, I was not terribly ill as I walked about 3 miles today and managed to get some hausfrau joy spread about this place. The eye-boogers are at bay for Little Diva, and the cleaning fairy has swept away the crustiness. Ahhhhh.

Anyway, I had the joy of hanging out with my younger sis this evening over a salad bar and some mini-burgers at Ruby Tuesday. YUM! I'm not sure how I justify eating burgers with fried onion rings and cheese on them after a healthy salad, but OH FUCKING WELL. During our banter across the table, my sis declared she has three requirements that her latest conquest of the mid-twenty-something dating scene has failed to meet. They are as follows:

1) must not drive a truck;
2) must attempt to purchase at least one beverage for her during an evening out; and
3) must love Cardinal baseball.

I concur with her that all of these are completely reasonable (especially if you live in The Lou - baseball fans aren't hard to find). And yet, this latest dating specimen could not at the very least handle number 2 above, which to me is a total given. So this places F firmly in the "let's be friends" category. This type of stuff makes me happy I am married...

Moving on. I received my first official publishing rejection in the mail today. Don't cry for me - I was counting on it. Now at least I have something to put in my writing file other than a shitload of papers with rough drafts and ramblings scrawled about them. On the glass-is-half-full front, somebody read my stuff! On the half-empty end, they didn't like it. Either way, I'm happy to have made the first attempt at a career change, which no doubt will continue until a mid-life crisis, at which point I will develop psychological fugue and end up somewhere in Montana wearing a paper bag while singing the hits of 1992. SO much to look forward to...

Let's play best/worst for today, OK?

Best: got a publisher to reply
Worst: got a publisher rejection

So it all shakes even and makes today pretty damn normal. How about you all? What's your best/worst for today???

Me (sick) = Shit Hitting Fan

2007-10-03T21:29:00.000-07:00

Please allow me to wallow in self-pity for a moment. I think one of the worst things about feeling less-than-well is when everyone else in the house continues on the "mom can hack it" continuum. I managed to make roasted chicken and taters for lunch without a side of barf while my loving husband sat and started at me from the kitchen table. Apparently, dinner from my sick-ass is still desirable above his usual self-made Ramen noodles. (For the record, I wasn't barfing, but was having the I'm dizzy-and-nauseous thing going on). I hadn't really told him I was completely awful, but for the love of all things holy, I wasn't standing up straight! And for all you free-thinkers, no I am definitely not pregnant...

Meanwhile, Little Diva has some sort of eye-booger action happening and it doesn't appear to be pink eye... but it could be. Of course, it is accompanied by some sort of cough and snot thing, so perhaps the congestion has just found a new outlet through her eye sockets. Until this point, we'd had a pretty good couple of years as a mainly snot-free zone, in which I greatly reveled.

Remember how I said weeks ago that we'd need ass pads to get through parenting? Well, I guess now I need mine, not only to protect my ass from Mother Nature's foot, but also because I want to sit down and EVERYTHING IN MY HOUSE IS COATED WITH A LAYER OF SNOT!

I'm going to bed (again). And when I awake in the morning, *poof* my house magically will be clean and I will be the poster child of wellness.

Carry on.

The Funniest Video EVER

2007-10-02T07:56:00.000-07:00

Since swearing is hilarious, please check out this commercial, which totally cracks my ass up every time I watch it...