A little of this and that...

• Scooter is bona fide walking. He has been taking a step here and there for a month, maybe, but now! He is taking like 7-10 steps before he wobbles over like a drunk wino. It all started with the toy lawn mower over the weekend. He was walking and pushing it around the yard. Something clicked and later he walked right across the bathroom! (Riveting, I know.) Now he is toddling all over. He still crawls some when he wants to get there quickly. There. My last baby. Walking.
• Work is stressing me out (Surprise!) and children stress me out. I had two Screwdrivers last night and fell asleep at 7:30. Alcohol works better than Benedryl. Who knew? I did feel guilty abandoning Honey in my anxiety-laden haze. But there you go. I am a featherweight. Two shots does me in for the night. Sometimes we do things of which we are not proud.
• I wanted to have Thanksgiving at my house this year because LAST year, I went to my mother's and cooked and cooked all day. Then, I had to come home and make dinner. Because there were no leftovers. No leftovers. From Thanksgiving. I was obviously scarred. That and my mother has decided she is jaded and just wants pizza for Thanksgiving, but I have little kids, you know? I am not jaded. I want a real holiday. So, I have to make that happen.
• I am currently not so sure this was the best idea I have ever had. This means I have to clean and plan and clean up the yard and buy a bunch of food and cook all day and and and...you know, everything you are likely to have to do yourself.
• While I was passed out last night, Honey went to the store to buy a ham and picked me up some Peppermint Mocha coffee creamer. Ya'll. It is good.
• He also picked up some fancy cheese for Thanksgiving. His choices are interesting. Namely the Asiago which I am pretty sure is a hard, Parmesan-like cheese, meant to be grated, not enjoyed with crackers.
• Invited my MIL to Thanksgiving. She's not coming. We haven't seen her for a year. Heh.
• The auction is really picking up. Things are starting to fall into place. We still have a lot of work ahead of us, but things don't look nearly so bleak. Hurrah!

Man Cold

So Monday morning I started to feel a bit off and by that afternoon, I was getting close to misery. Tuesday was the day of severe exhastion on the tails of a sleepless night because I couldn't breathe. (Oh, functioning nostrils. You are so dear to me. Forget my eyes or nice smile. You might be my current favorite feature.) All day I was sooo tired and I wanted to sleep so bad, but I couldn't. I would randomly jump out of bed and wonder what I was doing there because I was so tired, standing up seemed like the worst idea in the universe. Stupid cold medicine. So now I am sans cold medicine because it obviously made me psycho.

I referred to my current illness as "my man cold" because I am such a freaking baby. I want chicken soup! In bed! With Orange Juice! And I want to be patted and asked what I need and offered Tylenol. I want fluffed pillows, dammit. And I do not want to have to tell anyone to do it.

So I called my husband while I was dying in bed around lunch time on Tuesday. I though he might bring me something. Stop in to see me since his office is in town. Check up on me. But. He was having lunch by himself at a local restaurant. He had no intentions of delivering sustenance to me in my time of need. He said he was planning on calling...hmph.

Well, what do you think about that? I am of the opinion: Minor Husband Fail. Not a huge deal fail, mostly an eye rolling, "What did you think was going to happen, Misty?"

I tend to be good at nursing and if the shoe was on the other foot, I would have rushed home and brought him lunch in bed and made sure he had a gallon of juice, ice water, assortment of symptom relieving medications at the ready. Some folks are nurturing. Some folks have to be told to nurture. Some folks are whiny brats when they are sick. *Ahem*

Oh well, at least I am on the mend.

Thank You

I am writing this on the DL. I should be doing 800 other million bazillion things. Really. And my anxiety levels are through the roof. But you know what makes it all better? (Ok, maybe not allll better the way a bottle of vodka and unfettered access to the entire Godiva inventory would make it all better. Ok, not even that. It being-post December. That is what will make it alllll better. Sorry. I'll start again.)

You know what makes it better? You. Emailing me and basically saying, "How can I help? Will this work?" I am reminded of that schmaltzy ebay commercial that goes on and on about how "We knew the world was full of basically good people."

YES! The world IS full of basically good people. And you are one of them. And I am so overwhelmingly thankful.

Thank you.

Cry Baby

My children are addicted to electronics. It is pretty sad. When we are driving home from the sitter, Jelly says, "When I get home, I'm going to play on the tablet!" Not go outside and see his friends. Not run and play in the yard with the gaggle of neighborhood children. No. Stare at a screen. Brother does much the same thing. He has a single friend who seems like a good enough reason to get off of the computer or Wii. Anyone else who comes knocking? Nah. I even had to chase him outside to carve Halloween pumpkins with his dad this past weekend.

I mostly blame Honey for this. We have so many electronic gizmos in our house; at last count we had 9+ ways to connect to the Internet/play Angry Birds. I hate video games (Goddamn smirking pigs!) and would wholeheartedly rather read. And while I have sacrificed and early bedtime for a good story, I wouldn't give up a friend visit for a book.

I am not blameless when it comes to allowing the children too much screen time (which consists of mostly gaming. We don't have cable and there is next to no TV watching in our house. I am not sure if this makes it better...) If they are playing Plants vs Zombies, they are occupied. They are safe. They are happy. I guess it is hard to intervene when there is no ensuing chaos, at least until the electronic devices are forcibly removed.

THEN all hell breaks loose. Jelly didn't go to bed last night well. Dawdling. Not listening. Getting out of bed repeatedly. So he lost the tablet today. (Oh, gee. One of the 9+ ways to play video games. Darn.) He was a weepy mess this morning.

Me: Good morning, sweetheart
Jelly: BWAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: Would you like a snack?
Jelly: BWAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: I love you more than the sun and the moons and the stars in the sky!
Jelly: BWAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! BWAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!BWAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

It was ugly. Anyway, I think we are back to square one which is this: "If you cannot effectively police yourself when it comes to video games, then we shall have to do it for you." And the timer comes out. And we will have to start actively shooing children away from screens or unplugging them and encouraging other stuff. Things will get better for a while and then Honey and I will relax a bit. In probably two months or so, I will be right back here complaining of my children's lack of non-screen time.

Parenting. Sheesh.

Hide Me! or How to (in)Effectively Raise Funds for Nonprofits

I think there are two kinds of people in the world. The kind that asks for things and the kind that doesn't. The kind that asks for things, the "All they can do is say no!" kind of people don't understand the kind of people who don't like to/won't ask for things. There are reasons we don't ask, you know.

• If they really wanted to do it, they would do it without prompting.
• They will think you are a total jerk for having the presumption to ask.
• They may say no, which makes everyone feel awkward.
• They may say yes, but under duress and no one wants this to happen so it is better to spare everyone's feelings and JUST NOT ASK.

Until, of course, it is your job to ask. And they write you paychecks with the assumption that you will put on your big girl panties, lay aside your pride and ask for free shit.

*Ahem* It feels so smarmy to ask people to give you stuff. Can you imagine? I feel like a pan handler or one of those fellows at the bottom of the interstate ramps asking for spare change. I am currently having a panic attack. Anyhoo.

This isn't my first rodeo. I do this every year. You'd think that by now I would be immune, after sending out 500+ letters a year to every business type I can think of, but no. I still get the willies. We send to those do-your-own-art shops, big box stores, restaurants (both local and chain), B&Bs, antique dealers, car wash places, casinos, theatres. I have now made it my personal mission to try to infiltrate where crafters gather (which would be exactly where? Flea markets? Etsy has eaten the world!) But everyone gets hit up all the time. We know this. Grantors that be all expect match. They expect you to fund raise in order to get their money to do the work/help people. From larger institutions, I often hear "we have met our donation quota for the year." Which means, no stuffs for us.

What I was telling my co-worker is that we need is stuff. One year an Avon lady unloaded her miscellaneous/discontinued items on us. It was great. We were able to work with that. (Lots of bubble bath baskets that year...) I have another lady who works with a funder of ours who gives us her "I Christmas shop all year. Here is all the stuff I didn't want to give to anyone" stuff. I am creative! I can do something with that. It is all about who you know. (Great job for an introvert, right?)

This year we are at a loss. Donations are the lowest I have ever seen. It feels like 2008-2009 all over again. Hey! Want to be me for the next month?