Ad Nauseam

Let's not talk about food.
Let's not talk about work.
Let's not talk about upcoming plane trips and the barfing flu.

Let's talk about something other than sicky sicky me and the terrible germy baby that did this to us all. Even if he is one of the cutest things on two legs that has ever been.

Let's not talk about how we all got flu shots and yet...here we are.
Let's talk about soft beds and clean linens. Let's talk about how we all want to be in a soft bed with clean linens and no small children begging to be played with or nursed or any other activity that requires effort.

Let's imagine we are somewhere else.

Amen.

Oh, man

I HATE dogs.

Big massive smelly and LOUD. I swear, if I were the kind of person who owned a gun...Well. I won't say that because I might incriminate myself in a later crime.

If they don't shut the hell up immediately, I swear I am not responsible for my actions.

*Ahem*

Merry Christmas everyone! Peace and quiet on earth! (That is what I am wishing for.)

Mood

I am cold in my office. I could have sworn I brought in my sweater...I could have sworn. But it is no where to be found. I could go out to the car and look, but it just seems like too much trouble. I just want to stay right here, wrapped around my tea mug.

I really want to be cheery for you all. I don't want to be the wah-wah baby who is always bringing everyone down. But I am melancholy today. Things just aren't working out right. Well, that is not true. Things are working out just right. Like I had just enough money to pay for the doctor's visit and prescription for Jelly Bean. (The prescription that is NOT covered by our health insurance. *Sigh*) So much so that there is a total of $0.83 in our checking account. I will have just enough gas to get me to the next payday. No more. Hopefully no less. I have presents for Brother and Honey laid out of my desk. The lack of gifts makes me want to cry. This whole day makes me want to crawl into a corner and cry. I am hoping that Brother will have a good Christmas. That he will have enough to have fond memories. I hope, like everything else, what I have for him is 'just enough.'

I get so jealous when I hear about other people going to the stores, spending money on things I would like to have. I feel small and petty. But also alone. I guess that is what depression does to you. Isolates you. When I am thinking of all of the ways that we are just barely scraping by, I know I should be thinking of all of the ways I am lucky. Let's count the things I have an abundance of. A despicable terrible abundance. I heard somewhere that numbers do matter.

1. Clothes. Collectively we have so many clothes, we need to bag them up and post them on Freecycle.
2. Tree Ornaments. We have some from my childhood, and all the ones Brother has made thus far. Plus we have the Applesauce and Cinnamon ornaments and Salt Dough ornaments we made and painted this year. We have so many extras, I am giving the ones we made away to deserving friends. (Poor friends). We have boxes of ornaments that are not even on the tree, plus Honey's childhood ornaments, that haven't even made it to our house yet.
3. We have a lot of bath towels.
4. We have a lot of dishes. There are a few things I could use another of, but mostly we have plenty of dishes.
5. We have a lot of toys. The kids always have something to play with. I am grateful for all the people who love us enough to give my children gifts.
6. We have money for important things. We have electricity. I can turn on the heat, cook dinner, and call my grandmother long distance.
7. In fact, we may have money for some not-so-important things. Like Cable. And Chocolate chips.
8. We have an obscene amount of freezer space. We just got a new chest freezer from my MIL. It used to be hers. And now it is ours. What should I fill it with, I wonder. My father says: Ice. For Hurricanes.
9. Greenery. While where you live, the world may be blanketed in snowy white, I still have marigolds blooming in my yard. And Ficus trees. My porch is so trendy with its abundance of ficus trees and beautiful door, we have a couple of copy cats in the neighborhood.
10. Pictures. I am so glad to be able to have so many pictures of my boys while they are growing.

Now for maybe some things I am GLAD I have too little of:

1. Dog poop. We have no fence. The neighbors have a new fence. We have no dog. The neighbors have two dogs. Since the neighbors have two dogs and a very nice new fence, all the dog poop has vanished from my yard.
2. Propensity to get sick. I have a very teensy amount of this. *Knock on wood*
3. College Math Credits. There has been a lot of math talk going about lately.
4. Items on my To Do list
5. Pre-pregnancy clothes I can't get into
6. Jiggle in my upper arms when I wave. I don't have too much of that.
7. Presents left to be bought and/or wrapped.
8. Days before our holidays start (we work a skeleton crew around here during the holidays, which means we get a whole bunch of days off for Christmas/New Year's. Like almost two whole weeks paid vacation.)
9. Allergies. In fact, I have none. My kids have them, though.
10. Room left to fill on this list. (This second one was really really hard!)

Well, I feel a bit better. I am hoping to post some pictures of our holiday activities tomorrow. Yuletide greetings, everyone.

Unmentionables

This post is really TMI, but I am going to do it anyway. For funsies. If you get too embarrassed of my lengthy discussion of boobs, specifically mine, feel free to go read this, which is sooo funny and not written by me. :)

Yesterday, me and my gal pal who works with me took a trek to the Big Girl Store, better known as Lane Bryant to return the a fore mentioned dress and exchange it for BRAS. Well, at least I did. My gal pal, Friday. (Yes, I think I will call her Friday.) bought a few tops that were on a significant sale.

My girls have been suffering through a pregnancy and lactation phase where I got the cheapest nursing bras I could find to accommodate my swelling figure. After all, I wouldn't be wearing them long. (Have you ever heard such cockamamie bull shit? I am STILL breastfeeding. I have been pregnant/breastfeeding for over 2 years now!) So, to hoist my old shriveled ninnies back where they belong and start feeling like a vibrant confident woman instead of 'just someone's mama', I got these in black, white, and a sassy pink.

(And I shall write this in a whisper: The sales chick measured me and guess GUESS what she said my size was? 38 F. Can you freaking believe it? I didn't even know there was such thing as an F cup. I am still a little shocked...)

And let me tell you, I am super thrilled with the results. I want to crow the praises of well designed braziers to the world and tell all of you to run, don't walk, to the nearest Lane Bryant (not you skinny minnies, but the rest of us 'average' sized girls) and get you some of this action! But I won't. Because that is kinda weird? And I care about your good opinion of me as "not that kind of girl."

I am so so so happy about this Christmas gift I have given to myself, you can tell Honey that I don't even want anything else for the Holidays...except maybe some matching panties.

Damn Dress and other Minutiae

1. Remember the Damn Dress? Well, it is destined to be returned and holiday gifts bought in its stead. And I did, after much much much ado and trying on of clothing and messing up of hair, buy this dress for said social occasion. It is purple and purple is not my color, really. I feel akin to Barney or one of those Fruit of the Loom guys in a grape costume.
2. Thus, my Honey and I decided that we didn't really want to go after all. Actually, I feel so much relief that I am almost as glad about NOT going as I was about going in the first place. Yes, I am a fickle girl.
3. So I have decided that I will buy new bras with the money I was going to spend on the dress. I am still wearing nursing bras non-stop and they do nothing for my figure or my self esteem.
4. I have officially purged my blog of my kids' names and Honey's name as well. This makes me feel better. While some of you might know their names already because I used to post them, hopefully none of you are child molesters, stalkers, or serial killers.
5. My job makes me so paranoid. Of child molesters, stalkers, and serial killers.
6. Per Tessie's recommendation, I used this dough as a base for chocolate chip cookies. (Meaning that I just made up the dough as directed and added a bag of chips.) They are pretty darn good, if I do say so myself. Which I think I can. Since it is not really my recipe. Heh.
7. I need to go count things for inventory. I hate counting things, because I always second guess myself and count them like 3 times to make sure I come out with the same number. This leads me to the conclusion that I simply do not believe in my abilities to count to a certain undetermined number or I actually can't count. I hate math.
8. I am having a hard time feeling holiday-ish. Something keeps sucking my money away...I think it is diapers, food, and gasoline. Plus the weather is really unbearably warm. For December. It is December, right? I want to go shopping and buy stuff for me. Retail therapy.
9. Everyone is having babies. *Channeling Veruca Salt* And I want a baby nowwwww. Devan is having a baby. SaLy is having a baby. My sister-in-law just had her first this past weekend. And it was a girl. I want a girl baby....maybe. If I can just forget my pre-teen/teen self, THEN I want a girl baby. I want to buy hair bows and pretty pink things. *Sigh*
10. But I have a little guy at home. And while I might long for little snuggle bug bitsy babies, I have two boys at home at ages that I will feel nostalgic for in the near future. I keep telling myself, "Don't wish your life away." I will try hard to listen.

Hanukkah

Sometimes I wonder if we are doing the right thing...trying to be multi-cultural. Celebrating all different holidays from all different cultures to try to make our kids and ourselves more well rounded.

I think we are just confusing the heck out of Brother.

Maybe when you are six, you just need to be able to package yourself in a little box. This going outside of the box, flinging the norm to the side of the road, is just too hard when you are in the first grade. Maybe.

We are celebrating Hanukkah this year. It is a very milquetoast celebration. We all receive a small gift on each of the eight nights. We eat foods fried in oil, as is tradition, like latkes and doughnuts. Last night I made the Applesauce Noodle Kugel recipe posted on Maybe Painted Pink. It was a lot like a bread pudding and pretty good. We have a menorah and light the allotted amount of candles for each night. It is nice. A nice celebration. I tell Brother that Hanukkah, like Christmas, is about being with family. And also, Hanukkah is remembering that sometimes good things happen when we least expect it. (This is my take on the whole Hanukkah story.) We watch the flickering candles and maybe listen to a traditional prayer on the computer. I think about how tradition is a lovely thing, and how I am honored to remember the Jewish race that has been persecuted throughout its history. It helps us talk about how people are different, but still all people. How each and every person deserves respect simply because they are a person.

But then, Brother says that the little girl next door told him that people who celebrate Hanukkah don't believe in god. Her father is a pastor of a church. So, I have to tell Brother how that is completely untrue and most people who celebrate Hanukkah are Jewish and believe in the exact same god as Christians (and Muslims) do, the debate is more or less about which son, if any, inherited the family goods. I also tell him that we aren't Christians, but we celebrate Christmas, so even though we aren't Jewish, we can celebrate Hanukkah. It is about honoring and respecting other cultures and beliefs. But maybe I am overloading him. It would be so much easier for me to tell him the pat answers that so many folks have to these hard questions. The pat answers that I think are probably not exactly correct.

I wonder if he will thank me when he is older for giving him this ambassadorial outlook on life. The outlook where we try our best to recognize and honor the differences and positives about all the different kinds of folks that make up this world we live in. Maybe, if more people were like that, maybe I might tell people what "church" I go to when they ask, instead of hiding out of fear of being ostracized or of burning crosses in my front yard.

Or maybe I will get this: "Why can't you be like other parents?"

I don't know.

Reality Bites...Hard

Intro: Misty is sitting in the backseat of her car in the daycare parking lot, buckling Jelly Bean into his car seat. Brother is already buckled and waiting to go. Misty gets out of the rear passenger door, shuts it, and begins to walk towards the driver's side door, on the other side of the vehicle.

*Father and twin sons walk out of Daycare door. Twins appear to be about 3 years old.*

Father:*shouting* We don't like any dumb old GIRLS!
Boys: YEAH!
Father: Because we are in the Cool Club!
Boys: YEAH!
Twin 1: Let's beat them up!
Father and Twin 2: YEAH!

Misty: *a little slack-jawed, but musters up courage* Yeah. That is a positive thing to teach them.
Father: *throws a dirty look at Misty*

Misty, still stunned, gets into the car with her two sons and drives away.

Ok, so it does not make such a thrilling drama, but doesn't it rend your heart? Let's insult a person's intelligence and physically harm someone based on their gender.

Do we REALLY wonder why a woman is beat every 1.4 minutes in this country? Is it any wonder that the legislature will NOT protect people from hate crimes that are based on gender? From the mouths of babes shall come the truth, unadorned.

I am moving to Norway.

Damn Dress

So, remember this dress? The beautiful kick-ass one that is supposed to make my extra chunky self look like a super model?

Yeah, it fit and then it didn't fit. Right around the boob area, there was a serious lack of space. So, I figured I would get it let out. Um, no. I drove a million miles and missed an hour of work for a cute little southern lady on a gravel road to tell me that there was no extra fabric to be let out. She couldn't even give me a half an inch, she says. I needed probably 3.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

Back to Square One.
Anybody need a dress?

Hullo, Stranger

So, I haven't been around for the past few days. Hope your holidays were lovely! We had a bit of Thanksgiving Fiasco to go with our turkey. It was interesting.

See, my mother didn't really want to put the time, effort, and funding into making a Thanksgiving Feast with all of the trimmings. I can understand this. She works hard. Cooking is time consuming and expensive. We good naturedly call holidays "the curse of the vagina" because she and I clean the kitchen repeatedly, load the dishwasher, grate cheese, put food away, clean turkey carcasses' of all the leftover bits of meat, peel and boil potatoes, make special desserts we know my grandparents would like, etc, etc, etc. whilst the men folk play with children and watch football and game shows. You know what it takes to make Thanksgiving. My grandparents, her in-laws, come every year for Thanksgiving, so we always have out-of-town guests.

So, this year, my brave mother says: No More. Not THIS year. And decides to order Thanksgiving from the local gourmet grocer. This feast includes a turkey, and a ham. Green Bean casserole, candied sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, two kinds of rolls, on and on and on. She is not working this year. So, I make a few obligatory holiday desserts (no bake cookies and orange jello yumminess - sounds weird, I know.) Honey does a bang-up job on the pumpkin pie. We tromp over to Mama's for Thanksgiving. It is getting close to noon and everyone is getting peckish. She and I pop ourselves into the car and scoot over to the gourmet grocer, we pull into the parking lot...

The store is closed.

We press our not-so-dirty noses to the plate glass, doing our best Oliver impression...there is no one here. She had ordered the dinner over a week ahead of time. Proceed to mother-freak out. She is huffing and puffing. Can't understand. Why isn't the store open. Is there a sign? Gah! Where is the sign. Is that a person in there? *Press noses to glass once more*

I finally got her to concede that what we needed to do was go back to the house and call the store. Short of giving her a paper bag to breathe into, I calmly talked her off of her mental ledge while we were driving back. She had to be upset then, because she couldn't very well go back to all the hungry people and be upset. So, we call the store and miracle of miracles, someone answers!

Some guy: Gourmet Grocer
Me: Thank God! Are you open???
Some guy: No, we are closed today.
Me: But we ordered Thanksgiving Dinner from you guys over a week ago. How are we supposed to get it???
Some guy: Oh, you were supposed to pick that up yesterday.
Me: But Thanksgiving is TODAY!!!! Don't you think that someone should have told us that when you order Thanksgiving Dinner from Fancy Gourmet Grocer, you don't actually get Fresh Food, you have to pick it up the day before and have LEFTOVERS for Thanksgiving?!?!?!
Some guy: *silence*
Some guy: You didn't pay for it, did you?
Me:No! We we supposed to pay when we picked it up!
Some guy: Well, Have a nice day.
Me: *Hangs up on Thanksgiving-ruining-bastard guy*

So. We run to the regular grocery story, buy the most thawed turkey we can find and run home and cook our asses off for the next 4 hours. In the end, we had a nice Thanksgiving. I think we learned a pretty good lesson. There are no short cuts! Holidays are work! Deal!

Hope your Thanksgiving was lovely.

Off the Wagon

I fell of the NaBloPoMo Wagon (!!!)

And I couldn't be more thrilled. It just happened on Sunday. I woke up Monday morning and realized that I hadn't posted. Oh, I am so glad I screwed up. This blogging everyday is not for wimps! Kudos for those of you who have stayed on the wagon. Really. I can't imagine how you juggle your busy busy lives and still manage to be here every single day.

But, oh, the relief! Now I can focus a bit more on quality and not so much on quantity. So, I have some questions for you people.

What is the best best best present you have ever given a little girl that she love love LOVED? I need presents for my two nieces, ages 2 and 9. Not in the same household, not even cousins! You get the picture.

Also, I have NEWS. My Honey's company is having a Christmas Party, semi-formal. I am so excited I could just pee my pants. Thanks to my sheltered life as a teenager, I never went to school dances, so getting dressed up to go out sounds so fun to me. This is the dress I have scathingly bought online due to rave reviews by the "curvy" (better known as chunky-monkey, got-some-junk-in-the-trunk(and elsewhere...), chubby girls). Hope it will work, because, did you see that price? A STEAL.

Now I need jewelry...shoes....hair appointment....Oh, I probably won't do all of that. Will find someone to bum earrings from and do my own hair, most likely, but it is fun to dream!

Dear Me,

I was looking for some blog posting ideas and came across this one: Write a letter to your 18-year-old self. This spoke to me, so I will speak to myself. Wanna eavesdrop?

Dear Me,

There is so much I want to tell you about your life and what is going to happen in the next 9 years. You would be astounded at the events that are going to take place. I won't outline them, because even though some are unpleasant, I really don't want to change much. I like who I am now. You will like who you will turn out to be, too. The occurrences in your life will make you into me, so just trust your best judgement. It will be ok. Just remember that. You will need a lot of encouragement.

You will not recognize yourself, soon. Soon you will become almost the complete opposite of what you are now. In less than 2 years, your ideals will be challenged. The things you believe about yourself and the world will be proved false. It will take years, but you will finally understand how petty, immature, and judgemental you are. You will walk away from your faith and you will be happy about it. You will realize how imperfect you are and embrace that. You will forgive yourself for being human. You will learn to live without guilt.

You are going to make some crappy decisions about love. It is ok. In the end, you will be happy, although not with the person you think right now. #1 is a mistake. #2 is an even more colossal mistake. The list you have of standards for the man of your dreams? Throw it out of the window. It is crap. The next list you make? Throw 75% of it out of the window after the first. Most of it is crap, too. Relax. Learn to relax. Realize that love is important and most of all, possible.

You are going to have a child out of wedlock. It will be ok. You will be a good mother. I know this goes against every principle you have, but your principles will change. This one event will make you more human than anything else in your life thus far. You will understand how things happen. You will understand that this even actually made you a better person, rather than a worse one. You will be sorry you ever judged anyone in this predicament as weak because you will find out the level of strength needed to walk in these shoes. You will never ever ever regret it or think of it as a mistake. Your choice in father for this child....this will be your only regret. Do not fear him. Time will take care of him. Much time was spent being afraid, but you will be saved. By someone else. Sometimes we have to rely on others to be our rescuers. Realize that it is ok to ask for help. It is ok to depend on others.

On some lighter notes:

• Look at your body. You are one hot mama. You will never look this good again, so enjoy it. Buy cute clothes. Go out dancing. Have a good time. Be young. Your youth is very fleeting.
• Sex is not a sin. Repeat that over and over.
• You are a child-birthing genius.
• Wear high heels as much as you can. Your husband will be a shorty-pants.
• Best years of your life? Your undergrad years. It. was. Awesome.
• You will barely remember grad school, so don't moan and groan so much while you are going.
• You are gonna have some damn cute kids.
• Life is going to turn out GREAT. Sometimes it won't seem like it, but it will. I promise. Trust me, I have been there.

Love,

You

I feel good...ba na na na na na

So good...bom bom
So good...bom bom
I got youuuuu
Bom bom ba bom!

Anyway, Today is a good day. I feel better today than I have for a long time. I think it is because my hair looks nice. Or maybe because it is Friday. Or maybe because I am wearing heals that go tippy tap when I walk. I feel like such a woman when my shoes tippy tap.

!!!

Anyway, last night I washed my quilt and took it right out of the hot hot dryer and snuggled in my bed with it. Ahhhh. Ahhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhhh. It was an awesome feeling. You should try it.

I have nothing productive to say. But it is the weekend and everything will just work out. I know it.

Relax...

I think the term "funk" is what I have been in. Sometimes I think it is work and sometimes I think it is money. Sometimes I think it may just be the passage of time and the kids getting older.

But I want out of this state of mind. Know what would make me feel better?

I want to get into a clean car with Prodigal Summer read by Barbara Kingsolver on cd playing. I want to eat good Godiva Chocolates and drink delicious Starbucks coffee while I drive and drive on country roads to a spa resort in the middle of nowhere. Then I would proceed to wear fluffy comfy pajamas and order room service. Maybe read a bit. Sleep a bit. Just forget everything and all my responsibilities. Then, I would have a whole day at the spa with hot stone massages, uplifting facials, and a Cleopatra milk and honey body wrap. Then I would get my hair done and a pedicure and go to dinner in the hotel, by myself. I would order whatever I wanted including appetizers and dessert. On second thought, I think I might order dessert to be served in my room with a bottle of my favorite Italian dessert wine. Or two.

Then I would sleep until noon, put on comfy jeans and a sweatshirt and go walking outside. Maybe sit in a pile of leaves off of the beaten path and remind myself how small I am. How big everything else is.

This is my happy thought/fantasy. Whenever I get confined or down, I imagine doing this and I immediately feel better. Of course, I purposefully forget any responsibilities that would inhibit such a jaunt. Anyway, what is your happy place? Where do you go physically or mentally to escape?

Night

According to folks who know about such things, we are to have an unseasonably warm winter this year. In the mid-November night, our windows are opened in a lot of rooms and the house resounds with the whirring of fans. I actually like this because it reminds me of my childhood summers in Ohio where, at least at that time, most homes did not have air conditioning. I remember only the very few and select having temperature control in the summer. Even now, my parents' home is always warmer than I would like in certain months. They just keep the thermostat higher than I would like, I assume because they grew up with warm summers and no freon-enhanced air. Can you imagine what it was like to live in the Deep South before there was such a thing as air conditioning, Scarlett? I can't. I wonder what that was like.

The whole house is dark, save for a few flickering night lights and this bold computer screen. Once again, I have hoisted myself from dark sleep to come here to blog in the night, alone with my thoughts. I think it was Emerson who said something around the lines of perseverance is not completing one long race, but many short races in succession. That will be my thought as I head back to dreamland.

Blog, Blog, Blog

So, I wake up at like 11:45 PM because Jelly Bean is fussing to nurse and I realize that I didn't blog today. Work kicked my butt and I didn't have time to even think about it. So here I am. Think this counts?

Hope so. Going back to bed.

'Night.

NaBloPoMo Sucks

You know, when I didn't blog everyday, more people commented. Now, either because I blog everyday, there is either one of two things happening:

1. I am boring because I have to find something interesting to say every. single. day. And am failing miserably.
OR
2. There is so much crap in the blog-o-sphere that you wonderful bloggy people are just spread too thin!

Personally, I am voting for maybe a mixture of the two, but if I had to pick, I would pick #1.

Broccoli Pudding

Sounds nasty, right? That was my first thought. Today we went and visited Honey's grandparents and Granny brought up this dish she used to make. She said that every time she made it, she always said to Poppy, "Boy, I wish "Honey" (of course she used his real name) was here to eat this with us." This is the dish she completely associated with my husband. No small feat to be strongly linked with one thing in a veritable sea of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I swear, there must be a million folks in that clan.

Anyway, I want to be the kind of wife that my husband pats on the cheek (the blushing one next to my nose...get your mind out of the gutter) and says, "Oh, tastes like Granny used to make." Also, I feel like the vestiges of his childhood need to be protected in the house filled with my mementos and amidst weekends and trips filled with my family. Check out the recipe:

(Broccoli Casserole is its real name)
10 oz frozen chopped broccoli
1 can cream of mushroom soup
2 eggs
1 cup mayonnaise
1.5 cups shredded cheddar cheese
Crushed potato chips

Cook and drain broccoli according to the package. Combine soup, eggs, mayo, and cheese. Fold in broccoli until well mixed. Pour into buttered casserole dish. Bake at 350* until set. (Granny says about 35 minutes.) Remove from oven and cover with crushed chips. Bake until brown.

**Things I did differently**
I forgot to butter the casserole dish. Ooops. I thought the recipe looked like it would be a little 'soup-y', so I did a whole bag, 16 oz of broccoli. Also, I added approximately 3/4 of a cup pre-cooked cubed chicken breast I had already on hand. It was surprisingly good (Unlike the crow I had to eat (besides the two generous helpings of casserole) after telling my husband, repeatedly, that it sounded gross. Anyway, need some comforting creamy chicken? Here go.

If I ever...

...get to have a little girl. First thing I am going to do is buy one of these:

I had perused the sweet handmade baby bonnets at craft shows when I was growing the Brother, so sure he was a little girl. But I held off buying one...good thing.

And then, some of these:

Because I am in love with them and the whole idea of teeny strawberry toes. Cute, huh? My sister-in-law is due to deliver a baby girl within the next month and I have got a bunch of cutsie pink things for her. Maybe someday I will get to buy pink things for a bebe of my own! Maybe. I think the gods have a sense of humor and I would end up with another boy. :)

Ohio

So, remember how I said that I wanted to go to Ohio sometime in the near future?

Well, the wish fairy must have been reading my blog, because my folks offered to buy me and the boys some plane tickets. I really want to go, but going creates a whole new host of problems. Like Honey, who doesn't have the time off from work. And hotel rooms. And food. And nap time. Etc.

Christmas is coming and we have to find money for gifts for people as well. Our budget is really tight right now. Of course, this is our decision. We want to be out of debt, so tightening the belt is a necessity.

It is just hard. I want stuff. Honey wants stuff. We want to get stuff for the kids. Macro lenses, Nintendo GameCubes and plane trips are difficult to come by on tight budgets. Anyway, so I am a bit stressed today. So, my childhood best friend, who also happens to be a co-worker played 45 minutes worth of hooky to have a giggle-filled lunch at McDonald's. (What better way to commemorate not having any money than by going out and spending money. Ironically, this almost always makes me feel better.)

I need to be my own cheerleader. We can do it! We can do it!

I am going to cozy up to my calculator now...but I hope you guys have a lovely weekend. See you tomorrow.

To the Fourth

I have been tagged! For a meme!
*Insert little jig*
I take this to mean that folks like me. And I like that about folks. So, thank you TFM. I so enjoy being on your radar.

Four jobs I've had:

1. Sonic Waitress-y person - my very first job which taught me to never ever ever work in fast food again.
2. Waitress at a Chinese Restaurant - which caused me to be a very very picky Asian food consumer. I like good things. When I go eat there now, I feel like I have died and gone to heaven.
3. Grain tester on The River - I did this for a while when Brother was very small. Essentially, I worked at a grainery pureeing dried corn and doing a bit of chemistry to make sure those big barges didn't have any corn with its genes mixed up. Half the world won't eat that corn, you know. If it went all the way over the big blue ocean and THEY tested it and it came back positive? They don't have to buy it. Interesting, yes?
4. Bank Teller - Never ever EVER be a bank teller. It is awful sweat-shop type employment and you make more money slinging burgers at McDonald's. Nuff said.

Four movies I could watch over and over:
1. French Kiss - Love Meg Ryan. Love this Movie.
2. Beaches - *Sniff* *Sob* A gut-wrencher from my youth.
3. National Treasure - because it is so damn exciting. And Honey bought me a copy. And it is so damn exciting.
4. Tommy Boy - It is funny. I can't help it. (PS Don't tell Honey.)

Four TV shows I like:
1. Reba - I love Reba. She is so great. And funny. And red-headed.
2. Scrubs - Spastic, Eccentric, and Fun-NY.
3. Dirty Jobs - Honey and I watch this sometimes.
4. Good Eats - I watched this like a fiend when I was pregnant. I was in love with Alton Brown. Now I never see him. Funny what pregnancy does to you, eh?

Four places I've gone on vacation:
1. Ohio.
2. Ohio.
3. Ohio.
4. Ohio.

Have I ever mentioned that I am originally from Ohio? And that is where all my kin-folk reside, except for my own little family and my parents? When we left when I was young, my parents were soo soooooo homesick that twice a year, we would go back. And we rarely went anywhere else. But, I have been a couple of other places. Like, Disney World, Destin, and the occasional fleeing to Tennessee to avoid hurricanes. And Boston to go to a conference once. And Ohio.

Four favorite foods:
1. Sugar - I think sugar in my favorite form would be ice cream. But I am sweets-craving-nut. Chocolate, if it weren't for my man, you and I would be married.
2. My Aunt's Chicken and Dressing - So delicious that if I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, this would be it. But my Aunt has to make it. Weird, huh?
3. Cream of Wheat with white toast and eggs - Made by my grandmother. I am beginning to see that it isn't so much food, but who makes it. Weird, yes?
4. Pasta. Because it is so good. Or wait, the Bean Soup at the local Mexican Place. (I know, sounds lame, but with the chorizo and cheese and avocado, to die for. I swear.) Or my current kick, Lettuce Wraps from Chili's? Delish. OR Have you tried the new Kobe Sesame Teriaki A1? I could drink it. Ok. So I like to eat. Sue me.

Four web sites I visit daily:
1. My own blog as I use the sidebar to to visit all you nice people.
2. My work's website, because I am in charge of it and it is also my homepage.
3. Gmail. A girl has to check her email 80 million times a day, right?
4. Um, do the bloggy people count? Because I visit everyone's site, everyday. Because I have no real friends. But there you have it.

Four places I would rather be:
1. On the beach somewhere. I love the beach. Nice beaches, with turquoise water and white sands. *sigh*
2. On a tour of Europe *double sigh*
3. Home with the family. Because I love them so.
4. In Ohio. Surprise! I won't get to go visit them this winter as my parents are. And my baby is so deliciously cute and I want to show him off, but I can't due to finances. So, even though I have been a million times, I kinda wish I were going soon. Even though I hate the cold and the never ending visiting and...Yeah.


So, I don't tag folks, because I am a weenie and a scared-y cat. But I like to play. So. Hope you had a good time. I sure did. ;)

Advice

Hey, I was just wondering. Do you ever, like read a blog that you don't usually read and get kind of riled up and then think, I would like to say XY and Z and then you get to the comment form and allllmost type in what you were thinking until you realize, Umm Assvice? And you just clam up and don't say anything?

I do that sometimes. (I do not wish to be hated bitch of the blog-o-sphere.)

But now, I am asking for your advice. If NaBloPoMo goes according to plan, my 100th blog post should hit by the end of the month.

What should I do? Jack Sara's 100 things about me post? 100 things I want to do before I die? Wax poetic on the number 100? List 100....somethings?

Or should I spare you all and not make you read 100 of my ramblings. It is tough. I am open to suggestions.

Paaart-A

Guess what? You'll never guess. So guess! Oh, guess what!?!?

I have a floating holiday(!!!)

Oh sure, you are all like, "Misty, what the hell are you talking about?"

And I am all like, "Just gimme a sec and I will tell you (!!!)"

See, I worked on Columbus Day. I know this because I had a planning meeting and did a fact sheet for a project and emailed half a million people that day. Plus, I wrote it on my calendar. And my agency has that day, that glorious hard-working day, as a floating holiday. Usually I take them whenever they occur. Why save them up? I could be dead by the time I want to use it. Gah. But! This one came and went and I worked on that day so, I have a whole day to take off.

Yes, yes, I have other time off. Sick days and vacation days. But I am so so paranoid about not having any time off that I barely ever use these if I can help it. What if a kid gets sick? What if I have no time off? What if awful personnel department treats me like evil, non-profit screwing criminal again? (This happened when Brother had tonsillitis and other nasty infections my very first week back after having Jelly Bean.) Oh. Can't take it. Have to hoard hoard hoard.

Needless to say, I am thrilled about this new development. And do you know what I am thinking of doing with said day?

*Flash a dangerous look*

Nothing. I am thinking of staying home and sending kids to school/daycare and eating a whole pan of brownies and gallon of ice cream all by my own self, while watching girlie movies that I would be too embarrassed to tell most folks I even want to see! But, you and I know me much better than that. I will most likely take off the day before Thanksgiving. To cook. Yeah, I know. Plain Jane, hum drum, vanilla.

But it is fun to dream.

Sunday Worship

I had a realization whilst driving to the grocery store yesterday morning.

Grocery shopping is like my church.

Weird, you say? Let me explain myself. See, I really like to grocery shop, but I don't like crowds. I like to go early on Sunday mornings because much of my community is either sleeping or in church. I have a swelling feeling in my chest, very akin to falling in love, when I go out into the dew drenched sun dappled morning into my sunlit sleepy neighborhood on a Fall day. Wave to the guy walking his dog...buckle the baby into the car and turn on the windshield wipers to clear the moisture from my windows. The air is crisp and I feel something holy, going out to get food for my family. (Mind, this is a private church. If too many of my lovely family members go with me, I get stressed and can't add properly.)

I had prepared for this moment much like some read scripture prior to their holy day as to prepare their hearts for a message. As suggested, I looked at all of my local ads on Saturday morning, furtively scribbling with pencil and paper what things to buy at which stores. I plan to stock up on sale items and procure things for dinners and lunches for the week, and beyond. I make a route in my mind of which store is closest, as to not waste money on gasoline. When I walk into the store, there are very few people in the sanctuary, just a couple of clerks gossiping at their stations. First it is the rainbow of produce followed by the heavenly scent of the bakery. Buy one get one free signs catch my eyes like the glitters of the streets of gold. Aisles lined up as soldiers of god. I march in between. I use my discernment, given to me by reading the sale papers. Good price. Bad price. Great price, buy two. After collecting the treasure, in between kissing my own sweet angel in a carrier, I lay out green bills to the "Saint Peter" who will allow me to pass through the gate into the parking lot. I like this moment. I feel like I have made good choices and have achieved something. I feel like this is what I work for. To provide for my family.

When I get home and am putting away bag after bag of good things to eat, it makes me feel rich. Like I am well provided for and a good provider. Once, in a Dawkins book (I think it was The Selfish Gene) he said, "after all, legs are made of food." Think about that for a second. Your body, all the bodies of the living beings you love, are made of food. What is more sacred than that?

Halloween Recap, Part II

So, after this day...here comes Halloween night.


I checked Brother out of school, went and picked up the Bean, because the daycare was closing early (but I would have checked him out at the same time, nonetheless. Ever complain about stuff for no good reason?) and brought the boys home from school. On the way home I called Honey to see when he would be starting the hour long commute. He said soon. Come to find out that everyone was checking out early to bring the kiddies trick or treating and he sat in like 2 hours of traffic to get home. Oi.

I made dinner, which Brother tasted and made the most awful face in the world, as if I were making him eat cow pies. Ok. Food is gross if it is not cereal or eggs or cheese or broccoli. Got it. I nursed and fed Jelly Bean, Honey got home and decided to eat. It was all going fine until I realized that it was getting dark outside. Ack! I put the candy in a festive gift bag and placed it by the door and made sure our porch light was on. Then we got dressed up (i.e. the kids got dressed up). Well, Brother dressed himself and even got the huge-o-ginormous head for his costume on. Jelly Bean's costume was still in the car, so we dressed him in the driveway. Don't ask, because I couldn't tell you why. Anyway, then we headed out.

We went down two little streets. Ok, two little streets is deceptive. It was two streets, but the streets were looooong. The houses were faaaaar apart. It was a trek. And I chose the worst pair of shoes imaginable. Oh, my poor feet. But we got some good candy out of the deal. I promptly stole all the Hershey bars and m&ms to make cookies with at a later date. Maybe peanut butter cookies with chocolate chunks and m&ms? Opinions?


All in all, we had a good time. Take a look!

**Edited to remove photo of my sweet bratlings, because I am afeard of nasty Internet predators. Lik e you! Muahahaha!

Non-Festive Lemon Cookie Recipe

Oooo, you like?

I will give you the double secret recipe. Actually, not secret at all. But it is so easy easy and I would rather everyone thought that I slaved over them. But, we know slaving is not all it is cracked up to be. Case and point.

Ingredients:

1 box lemon cake mix

1 8 oz tub of cool whip

1 egg

Mix these all together until you get yellow thick dense tar-like substance. Put it in the fridge until chilled. Will be reasonably firm. Take out firm yellow blob. Use a spoon to create a walnut sized ball. Roll ball in bowl of powdered sugar. Put on greased cookie sheet. Repeat 11 more times.

Bake at 350* for 10-15 minutes. This really depends on your oven. My oven does well at 13-14 minutes. They shouldn't really be brown, per se, and will be very non-stable when you take them out of the oven. You want to catch them right before the pretty yellow-y color starts to brown. (My first dozen is always browner than the subsequent dozens.) They have to cool a bit before they set up enough for you to remove them from the cookie sheet and will stay really soft. But if you stick a tooth pick into one, it shouldn't appear...soupy when it comes out. Does that make sense? Anyway, it is really easy. Tell me if you like them. Also, tell me if you decide to try chocolate cake mix, because I think that would be really good. And you wouldn't have to worry about browning them and ruining the color.

Mmmmmm.

Halloween Recap, Part I

So, this is how it went:

Jelly Bean and I went into the daycare a bit late in the morning and I hung around for about an hour and a half before the trick or treating started. All the other little kiddies wanted to sit on my lap and be my friend. Jelly Bean? Jelly Bean? Where are you? Off minding your own business whilst I am swarmed over by barbarians? Oh. Ok. So, he was totally not caring whether or not I was there at all!

We wrangled children into costumes and tried to get them all to three separate classrooms to "trick-or-treat." It was rough. In the end, I grabbed up all the bags and laid them in front of the teacher in the other classroom. She looked at me bewildered and I said, "Fill 'em up!" Did she, or anyone, really expect the 1-year-olds to wait patiently, holding their candy sacks to be filled? Um, whatever.

So, when that was over, we stripped the kids out of their hot/frilly/uncomfortable costumes and I got to see magic. No, not a show. Real Magic. See, Jelly's teacher is the hip punk-rocker kinda chick with dyed hair and black eyeliner. She got out a box of cookies and said, "Come sit down if you want a cookie!" And...all the little babies toddled over and sat, good as gold, around her like a ring of fairies around their queen, daintily nibbling on cinnamon treats. Whoa. Blew my mind. I mean, I can't get my kid to sit down nicely, um...ever. Even when he is strapped down in the high chair, he is struggling to break free...or jump and break his neck, or something. But here, she got fifteen babies to do her bidding for cinnamon cookies. Magic.

So, then to work for a bit. Frantic. Frantic. Gotta get it done. Newsletter. Committee. Please no one call me....

Leave 10 minutes later than I planned to, armed with boxes to go home, load up cupcakes and juice boxes and head to Michael's school. Frantic. Frantic driving. Ruuuuunnnn into the house. Ruuuunnn back to the car. Do it again. Finally driving towards the school. Yes. Please don't let me get stopped by a cop. Please don't let me get a ticket. Ok. We're here. Quick! Quick! Grab up as many things as I can possibly carry, resign myself to two trips and rush into the school.

Receptionist: How may I help you?
Me: (frazzled) IneedtosigninMsTeacherisexpectingme.
Receptionist: Sign in here and go on back.
Me:(scribble name, hoist up load, and off again!)

Get to the classroom, lightly knock. Go in, Ms. Teacher says, "Hello." I say, "I have to make another trip." Ms. Teacher says, "Ok." And goes back to reading the children a story. So I ruuuunnn out to the car, grab the rest of the treatbags/juice boxes/dirt cup cakes and head back in.

And wait.
And wait.
And wait....while Ms. Teacher reads the kiddies yet another story, in a fabulously witchy voice, I must say. I didn't know what to do with myself. I just stood there like a big oaf for 25 minutes, (yes, after all the rushing and 5 minutes of lateness) until she was done. Then, she informed me that they had just had pizza, right after lunch. Oh, I think. These kids are not going to be hungry for these cupcakes. And do you know the little buggers didn't even want the things I slaved over? The prissy little 6-year-old girls wouldn't touch them because of the cookie dirt and the candy worms. And half the little boys? Ate the worm and threw out the ENTIRE cupcake. Without even a bite. I just handed out napkins and juice boxes with a fake smile plastered on my face while they threw away the baked goods I slaved over, and had wrung the funding for from our BeeGee-tight budget.

As Honey would say: Those little shits.

Anyway, the whole thing was really uncomfortable. Ms. Teacher barely spoke to me at all. I really felt like an intruder. Oh well, you live and learn, right? No realistic looking cookie dirt for school children. Got it.

Challenge:NaBloPoMo

Hello all and Happy November!

It is National Blog Posting Month and I, with my happy upbeat self, have decided to participate. OOoooo now you can get a glimpse of what I am like every. single. day. Scary, yes? Frankly, it is my hope that I will come off as being more even keeled than I am now, when I only write when I am thrilled or excited or pissed or depressed. Yeah.

I am going to get together a Halloween recap for you soon, so don't forget to tune in tomorrow. But for today! I have this!

Join the Scenarios USA Selection Committee!

Scenarios USA needs your help to select the winning entries from our"What's the REAL DEAL about Masculinity? " writing contest. Scenarios USAis a nonprofit organization that hosts an annual story, play, andscriptwriting contest for youth ages 12-22. The winning writers will bepartnered with Hollywood directors to transform their stories into shortfilms for national distribution.

Join our SELECTION COMMITTEE and you will read raw, revealing writing and get first-hand insight into how young people think about and see the world.What's involved?You will read and rank 10 entries of 1-10 pages each. All the entries and ranking form will be online and you will receive info and directions via email. How long will it take?Approximately 90 minutes. You will have one week to read and rank the entries. The entries will be sent to you in early January, 2008. Who can join?Anyone (age 12 and up) can join! We need hundreds of people from all different backgrounds and professions.

How do I sign up for the Selection Committee?Sign-up takes less than a minute! Go to the online sign-up form or visit www.scenariosusa.org to sign up by November 28, 2007.

And now...I have to pee.

My Halloween Costume? Domestic Goddess

Look at me! I am Swistle! I am the Pioneer Woman!

Ok, maybe I am just a poser, but look what I did.

For Halloween-y celebrations for the Brother, I did these a couple weeks ago, with the assistance of Brother and Honey...

They are pumpkin treat bags. To go with the treat bags, I got orange Kool-Aid juice box things and I spent hours (yes, hours. I suck.) Doing these: (Dum Da DA DUM!)

Two dozen perfectly decorated dirt cup cakes, complete with gummy worms and home crushed cookie bits (Please don't tell me you can buy the crushed cookie bits. Just...don't tell me that.) And since Jelly Bean's daycare teachers were having a hard time getting parents to participate in the Halloween-y celebrations (but not me, never me. I have been Teacher's Pet forever, even when they aren't my teachers. I am surprised my nose isn't still brown from high school.) that in addition to the bananas I promised to bring, I made these:

Soft Lemon Cookies, perfect for little tiny mouths...and big mouths too. Maybe even your mouth! I know they are not very festive, but it was the best thing I could come up with. Shoot me. Anyway, I might post pictures of the boys in their Halloween-y gear later or tomorrow or something. Check back! I am always hanging around.

Blah

I feel so gross, lately. Stressed and depressed and not wanting to be here. It is like a revisit from the time when I first had to go back to work full time and Jelly Bean was in the daycare all day. Oi. Sometimes I think I need therapy or drugs or something. Then I completely reject the idea. Who has time for therapy? Who has money for anti-depressants? Better to just go sit in the sun and eat cookies.

I am really anxious a lot. How does one stop stressing out when there are so many reasons to stress? I simply don't know. One thing I do know, I would give a million quadrillion dollars to be home today with my baby, baking cupcakes and cookies for various Halloween celebrations. Not worrying about committees and online newsletters or whether or not I deserve my paycheck because, here I am, writing blog posts to all you fine people when I am supposed to be worrying about committees and online newsletters.

But! If you are tired of my mamby-pamby whiny self (God knows I am), go look at this. Everyone needs a chuckle, sometimes.

Good Advice

Ever get tired of being odd man out? Feeling like an alien in your own neighborhood? Having to explain to your son why, indeed, going trick-or-treating and carving pumpkins is really not a form of devil worship? I get so tired of being different. It makes me want to break free and fly away from the intolerance of the Small Town inhabited by Small Minds.

The other day, when stuff was going on, I contacted an old friend and told her I wanted to feel normal. And this is what she said to me:

"Feel normal? In what way?
You have chosen to be not normal, but exceptional. . . Feel that.

It's way better."

Thanks. I think I will do that.

Stall Tactic #594

My son does not want to go to bed. He has lost privileges earned. He is currently punished tomorrow. All because he won't get his rear to bed. He still sits there looking at me with large doe eyes.

He wants to sleep in our room.
He is lonely.
He needs love.
His nightlight is not bright enough.
It is too dark in there.

And then...he pulls out the big guns.

Brother: I don't like the feeling of the precedent.
Me: Um, do you mean the President?
Brother: Yeah.
Me: When have you been feeling the President? (Sick, twisted comment. I know.)
Brother: You know, he only cares about money. Duh.

*Honey and I dissolve into stifled laughter.*

Talk about politics much at your house?

*SLAP*

Me: I feel really guilty. Next year I will be able to participate more in "X." Jelly Bean won't be breastfeeding and I will be able to stay the whole time.

Co-worker: You are still breastfeeding? Why?

Me: Because the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding (see #10) for the first year and longer if desired by both mother and child and the World Health Organization recommends breastfeeding for the first two years.

Co-worker: *sips coffee* That's sick.

Me: Thank you for insulting my life choices.

Co-worker: I didn't mean to insult your life choices.


Well then, exactly what did you think you were doing when you called my feeding my child "sick"? Like I am abusing him or forcing him? Just goes to show the level of ignorance. How do you breastfeed an unwilling child?

If I were gay and told you about a date with my partner, would you say "that's sick"?
If I voted in a way you didn't approve of, would you say "that's sick"?
If I chose to use a birth control method you wouldn't even consider, would you say "that's sick"?

Kind words? Anyone? I think I might cry.

Dr. Jesus

So, I am having the thrush issue again and the things I did last time to save myself from the red hot pokers repeatedly stabbing me in the sensitive bits? Not working.

So off I go to the OB...I need an annual anyway.

And oh, remember when I talked about the practice I used to go to getting all shaken up and the cream coming to the top and forming their own frothy and delicious practice? Oh yes. I got to go see THEM. When I went in, I got to see the Nurse-Practitioner-that-I-love who gossiped about babies and breastfeeding with me because our sons are the same age and basically have the same views on nursing. We were pregnant at the same time. After I got my bits taken care of, the two nurses made sure I saw the doctor who delivered my baby. Just informally in the hall.

I cried.

I know, it is pathetic, right? See, this is what happened. I HATED the last practice. The doctors were so mean to me, asking me why I was there when I was told to come back in 4 weeks. Asking me if I had my baby yet when I was sitting there, pregnant as ever. I felt like...cattle. Just another animal in the holding cell to do a pelvic on and shoo out to pasture. So, I only saw the Nurse-Practitioner-that-I-love until the very last month. But I knew that she wasn't going to deliver my baby; she couldn't. So I was really really scared of having to go through birth with my novice husband and some doctor who had no people or medical skills. Who can feel confident enough to push a new life out of their yoni with all that negativity in the room? I was terrified. Then the Nurse-Practitioner-that-I-love told me that I HAD to at least have one appointment with each of the doctors, just so they could "familiarize themselves with my chart." Bah humbug. But as an obedient little patient, I did it. There were three. The last one was Dr. Jesus. And I had hardened my heart and my resolve as a coping mechanism to deal with the situation saying I didn't give a crap who delivered the baby, as long as they went through med school.

She completely broke those walls down and even though I said about half a million times that I had no questions/concerns, she kept asking me until I finally did ask her the questions that I had. See, it was like because I was being treated as sub-human, I was reducing the birth to that level and reducing myself to an animal in a way. Kind of a just-do-it-and-get-it-over-with kind of thing. I couldn't care about it because if I did, it would have added so much stress to an already stressful situation. I don't think I could have handled caring about it. She held my hand and looked into my eyes and stayed with me for a pretty long time. I wasn't emotional or hysterical or anything. She just waited with me until I was well. With that one appointment, she made me a person again. A person who could care about how this was going to go and could expect to be treated with respect. I was lucky enough for her to deliver Jelly Bean.

So, I boo-hooed a bit at being able to see her again and remembering how she took this thing that I was dreading and made it wonderful. And we all laughed and hugged. I can't wait to have another baby, just so I can see these wonderful women every month. I know that is a little weird and I really wouldn't base my family planning strategies on wanting to visit with a certain doctor...But it was good to see them all in their pretty new office where I could receive health care as a whole person.

Um...What?

So, I am cruising along in my check-my-email mode when an article catches my eye: Feminists Have More Fun.

OOooo. Interest peaked.

So I go and read, this article based on a review of an academic, peer reviewed journal (for those non-information buffs, this usually means that the information/research/methodology is credible) and my eyes bug out of my head. Not because of the premise that feminist men and women tend to have better relationships, a more satisfactory sex life, laugh more, etc. Well yeah. I mean, if you view your partner as someone equal to you as opposed to a subhuman, you might connect with them better, yes?

But I am thinking most folks don't even know what feminism is. Check out this quote:

"Along with the sexually unattractive stereotype, some women also view feminism as a movement for victims, or for women who aren't competent enough to achieve success on their own merit, according to the Rutgers University researchers." (emphasis mine)

WhatwhatWHAT?????

Do people really THINK that? Oh. My. God. It is education time. This statement excludes men completely. My partner is a feminist. I wouldn't have even had a second date with him if he didn't think I was just as much of a person as he was. Feminism is a movement for victims? I guess I might be able to understand why a person who would take a cursory look from the outside might think this. A lot of women who have been victimized by male violence might be feminists. Because, you know, the lack of egalitarian attitudes contribute to rape and domestic violence. Right? Doesn't everyone know this?

But that women who are feminists are weak? They can't do anything on their own merit? These people obviously don't know any feminists. Granted, there are the pushy big shouldered broads in the world (I occasionally aspire to be one). But I know women who are so pleasant and funny and beautiful and educated. Women who have this amazing perception and level of intelligence, who are the most accomplished people I have ever come in contact with (and my university career is nothing to be sneezed at). These women are feminists. Believing that men and women are equal and deserve the same opportunities does not make you dumb or weak or incompetent. It makes you human.

Gloria Steinem once said if you are a woman, you are either a feminist or a masochist. Because no matter what a woman might think about feminists, we are still out there fighting for her right to have children when she deems it appropriate, to be able to buy whatever birth control method she chooses at her local pharmacy without discrimination, to have a life free of gender-based violence, to be able to speak out and be heard and be educated and go to whatever damn golf club she chooses.

So, here's to the uninitiated. Here's to reclaiming the word Feminist. I am one, you know. It makes me a better mother, a better partner, a better person, and a better citizen. And every single day, I fight to make this world a better place for my children and yours.

Because I am a Feminist.

Me, too.

So, LoriD wrote this random post and got good reviews.

Hey, I can do that.

So, I am thinking of trying machine embroidery, but am unsure how to adequately learn about it. I am afraid of blowing a bunch of my family's hard saved money on a project that may cost me a crap load of the hard saved money and not bring in any more of the much needed cashola. Do any of you folks do this? Can you point me to someone that I can grill...er confer with about the pros/cons?

See, the way I figure it is that the learning curve and the cost are the cons, but the pros would be the ability to make things that people might actually like to have. Or to be able to have local folks bring me stuff that I can monogram or whatever. I have been wanting to do this for a while, but the more I learn, the more dumb I feel. Is it that way with everything? Maybe I need a "For Dummies" book. But they don't have one. I looked.

And Honey and I have been looking for places to print notecards with his photography on it, and I think people would be interested in that, right? But the usual suspects all want to put their logo on the back. Maybe we would have better luck with a local print shop. Just anywhere where they don't want to advertise on his art simply because they printed it.

Today, at work, I have a bazillion quadrillion things to do. And I don't want to do not-a-darn-one of them. I am supposed to be making phone calls and I *did* make phone calls. But they are not being very fruitful and the folks I have spoken to are all like: You want me to do what? And it will take how much time? Umm, chaaa. So, anyway. People are dumb. Next topic.

So, my daycare drives me bananas sometimes. They like to randomly close down because, you know, the leaves are a particular shade of green or the sky is blue for the 30th day in a row or something completely stupid like that that they KNEW would happen. So, they are closing 2 hours early and will fine anyone who is a hair late on this early closing day....so that they can drive home to give candy to trick-or-treaters...on Halloween. Ok. I understand. That is nice. But, um, hello? I pay you. You should be working around my convenience, not the trick-or-treaters'. Do I get back any money when you close down randomly? Nope. So, just. Stop.

Work is better. Thanks for the kind words last week, folks. I have decided to stay in my own little office, in my own little chair where I can be whatever I want to be...er just do my job and stay out of anything messy. Don't talk to people and they can't get mad at you, right? Or at least, they can't get mad at you for a good reason. Yeah!

What? You say this battle plan is weak? That I am a mamby-pamby soul who avoids conflict and maybe if I put myself out there, I would have more friends in my pathetic little socially bereft life? Well, just goes to show you that you have no idea what you are talking about. I adore solitude. In fact, I have had my eye on a little hermitage in the hills for a long while now. I am an island!

Yeah, yeah, I know I am full of crap. Just like this post.

Courage

There is a group of people who are unbelievably courageous. Who fight against ignorance and prejudice to support women's health every single day. I encourage you, whatever your personal beliefs, to go and take a look. To see the slander, the triumph, the hate and the unbelievable tenderness. Have your views confirmed or challenged. I dare you.

I Am Emily X

Autumn Whisper

I am loading the car. He is buckling the baby into his car seat. The windshield is dewy and opaque. He walks around the car towards me and takes me in his arms. I smile. He is so warm. His eyes, set off by the green t-shirt, are level with mine.

We draw a face in the glass between us and the baby. I draw the eyes. He draws the gaping grin. All the parts run as if the absurd smiling face is weeping. His arms wrap around me once again. I say something. He says something. We laugh. The air is too cool, but I feel so warm. He says that we are funny. I don't know why; I think we are perfect and not funny at all. Just happy. The baby yells at us. We make silly faces at him from our embrace. I inhale. Beautiful. Crisp. Autumn. I exhale a little cloud. The change of season, incarnate.

I glance at the merry marigolds, all dressed in the most appropriate colors. The lawn is littered with children's playthings and the sunshine is seeping through the trees, highlighting the mists. And I am here. In his arms.

Is there a moment more beautiful than this, I wonder.

Up

I am up. Been up for a while. Can't sleep because still upset by the rotten day I had at work yesterday. That and I think the thrush is coming back (as detailed here).

I am hoping today is better. I will make a conscious effort to NOT be passive-aggressive, even though I feel undervalued for the extra time and effort I have been putting in lately and generally despised by my fellow co-workers. I might not feel that way in a couple days, but I feel that way now. And...heartbroken. I literally had someone who I felt I was really close to tell me the most heartwrenching thing. I feel like we have "broken up," in a way. I am not sure how I am going to face her tomorrow. See, I don't have many friends (gee, Misty, I wonder why) and I feel like I lost one.

*BIG Sigh*

So I am just bummed. I do think that I am going to quit putting in overtime though. I have been having issues where I was wondering if I even wanted to have more kids and even rethinking my SAHM fantasies. Did I really want this? Budgeting is really hard and I feel like we are just swimming in circles in the great fishbowl of debt. Maybe if I work my ass off, my boss will notice and maybe I can move up, or get some new responsibilities or maybe even a promotion. I just have to show her I am willing to "do what it takes." But when you are in this office, the work never ends and really just piles up around you like the fall leaves. So, I have been doing the time, leaving the kids in daycare longer, doing work at home, educating myself on work-related topics on my own time. Well, a lot of work was getting done on my own time. But is this all worth it? I am not sure I want to deal with all of the crapola that comes with this job. Who needs responsibilities that never get accomplished and stress you completely out, anyway?

Anyway, I am starting to rethink this whole idea. If I buckle down, I could be a SAHM in about two years. It will take some tightening of the belt, but we might be able to swing it. Or maybe I could get a little part-time job in a public library or something, to try to contribute. Make some mad money. But Mission One: Pay off the cards and the vehicle. Think I can do it? I am going to need some encouragement. Sometimes I feel like Honey isn't really into this whole "life plan." Understandably, he is scared about having to take care of us all by his-own-self. But! He will deal. I have wanted this since I was a teenager.

With that, do you have any mad-money making schemes? I like the idea of making gift baskets and I am pretty good at them. (Believe it or not, I do them for work sometimes.) Or some other type of crafty thing. (Not that we have the capital or the space to do such things. Ah, pipe dreams.) I like the idea of getting Honey to take more pictures to maybe sell online. I think that would make him really happy as well. I like the idea of sending out some submissions like the kinds listed here, but think that maybe I am not good enough. I don't know. What do you think?

Forget work. Maybe I will take the day off.

Breathless

Every once and a while I come across something magnificent. Do you ever see something that simply takes your breath away with longing? Something so moving that your heart stirs deeply in wonder?

Antique. Nostalgic. Delicate. Nature. Charming. Perfection. Beauty divine.

I want to build a whole room in my house just to honor this art, I am so desperately in love with it. Go take a look. And maybe another.

I am hoping you will like it as much as I do. Let's be moved together.

Why?

Every time I read this post (I think it is the 7 millionth) I get So. Angry. See, these kinds of things don't happen in our house. We have rules, understandings, and a no-pressure-in-the-bedroom relationship. Why is that? A number of factors. We are socially aware. My place of business works to end violence against women as its mission. My husband respects me as his equal and, to my knowledge, doesn't buy into stereotypes about femininity and masculinity. He believes in what I do. I *think* he "gets it." We also talk. A lot.

From the comments, my husband and I are obviously from Jupiter because everyone seems to go through this. Husbands pressuring their wives for sexual access. Why would this be ok? Um, why would you want to have sex with someone you guilted into it? Why would you want to be with a woman who doesn't want to be there and finds it irritating. To me, sex is when two people are together and it is not forced/coerced and is completely consentual and mutual. If a man is using a woman to get off, I call that vaginal masturbation at best.

Remember men of the world: I am not an object, I am a person. So if you are just looking to get off? Head to the bathroom with the KY and take care of business. Guilt/Silent Treatment/and all that jazz are types of coercion in my book. And coercion is WRONG.

So tell me, bloggy sages. How do I make sure that my sons do not grow up into men who think that this is acceptable behavior? As far as I am concerned, there is obviously an epidemic. A failure in masculinity. Something.

Little Help?

Survey SAYS:

I was hoping you might consider participating in this survey a friend of mine is doing. It is for professional purposes and not prurient interests, but it is about a commonly-thought-of-as-uncomfortable topic. So take a peek and help out the researchers!

From mi amiga:
This survey is ANONYMOUS. Let me reiterate that this is completely anonymous. You will be asked your age range, and that's it for identifying information. Your computer's IP address will not be stored. I have neither the technical know-how nor the desire to link responses back to specific people. Of course, you may skip any questions that you prefer not to answer. And yes, I am aware that this is not a scientific survey. It will be used for training purposes, not for peer-reviewed research.

Thanks guys.

Impossible...

"Alice laughed: "There's no use trying," she said; "one can't do impossible things."

"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was younger, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've done as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

Alice in Wonderland

image by Shirley Holt, found at http://www.carmelart.org/artists_pages/holt/holt.html

Whim

I am not spontaneous. I very much have both feet on the ground. Realism. Planning. Lists. This is who I am.

But I have decided. Yes. And I can do these things (after calling my honey, of course). Life is short. I am tired. I miss the gemstone beaches and beautiful sandy dunes. We are going back. Tomorrow.

On a whim, just this morning, I decided that the beach is just the place for us this weekend. We will drive on Friday afternoon, play all day Saturday and Sunday morning, and head back Sunday afternoon. It will be wonderful. I can't wait.

Do you know how sometimes you just need a little something? This is it.

Gun Jumping...

It is Fall! It is October! It is Halloween time!

What? No its not October? But it IS Halloween time. Know how I know? Because the costumes are 50% off and the X-Mas stuff is on display. In fact, according to that, I have missed Halloween.

But, just to share my wondrous consumerism with you today, I wanted to show you the boys costumes. Disney is having a sale with a coupon code (TODAY)more off for today only! Plus, Disney costumes are so well made, Brother plays dress up in his and years later, I get to give them away to smaller folks because they are still in mint condition. Look at these:

For the Jelly Bean:

For the Brother: (per his request, even though he has never even SEEN a movie with this character in it. Go figure.)

And just because it was on sale and Brother LOVES costumes (it will be put back for X-Mas.)

PLUS, I got pumpkin treat bags for Brother's class complete with gummy skeletons, pumpkin-shaped suckers and chocolate eyeballs to stuff them with. Too exciting! AND two reusable fabric treat bags that look like Jack-O-Lanterns for the boys to go trick or treating. In a couple of weeks we should go to the pumpkin patch. I love Fall. Did I mention that?

Skimpy Randomness

This month has been a bit slim on the posting from my end. (Do I hear a bloggy outcry? Nah. I didn't think so.) I will try to have more to say in October.

But oh! Fall is coming. Yesterday was the first day of fall. I love fall. I wish fall actually *happened* in my neck of the woods. Clean crisp air. The scent of decaying leaves. The exhuberant bouquet of color everywhere. Apple time. These are things that really don't exhist where I live, so I like to read about places where it does happen. Tell me. How does fall look in your neck of the woods? Do you have to take "too hot" into account when buying your children's Halloween costumes? When do you don a jacket? We are lucky if jackets are needed one month out of the year.

Also, on a brighter, yet TMI note...I have been reading Jen's fiascos of late. Poor thing! I have a terrible collection of OBs as well. There is Dr. Bitch, Dr. Stupid-as-a-box-of-hair and the redeeming Dr.-that-I-LOVE. A female, baby-delivering Jesus, if you will. But guess what! The luck gods have thrown me a windy burst of fortune and my Dr.-that-I-LOVE went into private practice without the other crazies AND she took the Nurse-Practitioner-that-I-also-LOVE.

*Insert Happy Jig*

Because, do you know that unpleasant office workers and mean/stupid doctors will actually cause me NOT to seek healthcare when needed. Who avoids conflict/unpleasantness? Show of hands? Anyway, so when I received the glorious news that they have purged the nutso folks, I promptly called my husband and told him that we should now, to celebrate, have another baby.

H: MMmm, I am not thinking that is a good reason to have another baby.
M: What are you talking about? This is the PERFECT reason to have another baby.
H: Silence

What?

Stay-at-home Mom

Hey! Guess what?

For one day and one day only, this limited offer has been made. Oh yes! You have been given a sick little baby who will not get up until 8:45 and play for an hour then proceed to sleep all day and therefore you can:

• Watch Will & Grace
• Eat Sugar-Free, Fat-Free Cook and Serve chocolate pudding out of a fancy wine glass
• AND completely shave your legs as you haven't really done a thorough job for weeks!

THEN, my friend, you can catch up on all of your blogs and write a blog post about how this is the life and you wouldn't trade it for anything.

Of course, I know that this is not how it would be if I were home all of the time. And Jelly Bean being sick really does stink (literally as last night I think he blew chunks all over me, Honey, two outfits, my bed, the crib, the carpet, and every towel we own. Is it gross I am *still* finding puddles? Oy.) but he seems to be getting better. At least he is just sleeping and not throwing up.

Anyway, I am glorying in the proverbial 'me time.' Big grins all around. Now I just need a perfectly delicious book to read. A real page turner. Got any suggestions?

Beaches

Hello. I am back. I think I am pretty much caught up on what you folks have been up to while I was gone. Man, were you busy! Surprise pregnancies, new cookie recipes, and I got to read two of Catherine's entries one right after the other (Pinch me.)

Speaking of waking dreams, the beach was beautiful. If it wasn't for the whole horrible global-warming-hurricane-if-you-actually-lived-here-your-property-will-all-be-underwater-before-you-hit-40 thing, I would want to live there so bad. The sand is so fine and white, the dunes look like snow drifts. The water is the most exquisitely beautiful shade of translucent aqua, it feels like you are wading in a gemstone. I love the sound of the ocean and the smell of the salt in the air. I adore the way my boys look like little rosy peaches in the pinky light of the sunset. The sun looks like a magenta orb over the clear water and miniature white horses gallop on the waves. If there were a heaven, I think it would be here.

But. There is a downside to vacations. Like, this one really wasn't a vacation for me a lot of the time, as I was at a conference for work. Good conference, but a good conference in my line of work usually causes sleeping issues. Like there is so much yucky scary stuff in your head, you can't sleep. And then there was Jelly, who thought it would be fun to nurse every 2 hours or 20 minutes, depending on the night. And the loud loud LOUD people in the swanky hotel chortling at the top of their lungs at 3 AM right outside our door, just for funsies.

We were glad to get home. I did wish I could stay. One thing I would love to be able to avoid is the feeling like you never left. Like how you walk in the door to the house and all the displaced responsibilities crash down upon you and it is like you never saw the sandy drifts or smelled the salty air. Like the whole experience was a dream. And now...You are awake.