Wouldn't It Be Good to be On Your Side. The Grass is Always Greener Over There

Here is my new hot water heater. She isn't really all that pretty, but she has a great personality.

Today was a series of hits and misses. The theme today was gaining and losing and minor annoyances, I suppose.

As you can see, I did get my new hot water heater installed, but it doesn't look like I'll get that extra $100 rebate from the state. I sure wish they had a better system for people to get their rebates, or would somehow figure out that everyone and their second cousin twice removed was going to want a piece of it, because it was so frustrating trying to access the website or the phone number. They were totally overloaded. I tried on and off all day, just to get to a place on the website where I could reserve my rebate. Fat chance. At one point in the afternoon, I got as far as the part on the site where I could enter my information and the minute I hit submit, it kicked me out of the system. Bastards. I don't know who actually was able to access the website in order to overload it, but I'm assuming they were people who didn't have to work during the day and could try every 2 seconds. Again - bastards. By 1:30 when I was finally able to access the site enough to get to the registration and before it kicked me out, I saw that they had already given out all the money and were only putting us on a waiting list. I'm not quite sure what we'll be waiting for. To see if some people have invalid claims? To see if there is more money allotted or maybe they just want to appease us so we don't revolt.

Since it doesn't look like I'll get my rebate, I figured I might try to give plasma to recoup my losses. It would take two weeks of donating to get that money. But, alas. It wasn't meant to be either. After I drove all the way out there and went through the whole rigamarole of questions and tests, it turned out that my crit (iron level) count was one point less than it needed to be. So, I was shut down there and had to drive home with no cash. Wah.

Once I got home, though, things looked up a little. I'm the opposite of those helicopter parents who hover over their kids and do everything for them, because they're sure they won't do it..Or at least won't do it right. So, I've been trying to get Coadster to fill out her financial aid application for a month now. She was good about filling out scholarships and auditioning for money from the school of music, but she really wanted me to do her FAFSA for her. I refused. Believe me, it would have been a lot easier to do it for her, but I'm supposed to be raising her to be independent and self-sufficient, and part of that is being here to help her with any questions she might have, but not do her shit for her. Anyway, of course she waited until the last minute to fill out her paperwork, (this weekend) but she did finally get it done and right now it looks like she'll get a grant to cover much of her tuition. Now, we'll just have to see if she gets any scholarships, before we make the decision to take out loans.

All We Are Saying, is Give Sleep a Chance.

Here is the fire station in Riverside, Iowa.

So, here's the dealio. It seems as though I caught an annoying Summer cold from the lovely Stinky. She has had a sore throat and swollen glands for a few days now. I am feeling really weak and tired and I think I have a mild fever and runny nose. Because of all that, this may very well be my lamest blog post ever...And as we all know, that's really saying something.

I was going to try to go to bed early, but Stinky ended up babysitting for someone who is staying out very late on a weeknight. Stinky doesn't have to get up early or anything, but I have a really hard time sleeping when one of the girls isn't home. I'm going to give it a good college try though and see if I can actually fall asleep when Stinky isn't home. I'll let you know how it goes...

Along With the Sunshine, There's Gotta be a Little Rain Sometime

Here is another flowering tree. I feel like it' s the least I can do for you after writing this whiny post.

Well, kids. I finally did it. I reached my saturation point and quickly turned into a whiny, self-indulgent, poor me'er and wah fuckin' wah'er. My head was full of I'm tired and how great would it be to have help or have my ex contribute anything, financially or time wise just to give me some kind of break, and I need a day off, and wah and wah and woe is me and bullshit, bullshit, bullshit...I do get that most people in the world have it way worse and for the largest chunk of my life, things have been so much harder than they are right now. I know that. In terms of the rest of my life, I'm living on easy street. It's just that some days I can live my life with much more grace than others, and today I seemed to have misplaced my grace.

More lilacs, because I can't get enough, and I suspect, neither can you.

Because I am one of those annoying fix-it people, (my friends have to tell me when they just want to vent, or I try to find books or ideas to help them) I asked myself what would help me right now. You know, if I could have anything in the whole world that I wanted. I decided that a couple of days off, by myself on a beach somewhere warm might do the trick. I wouldn't even need the internet or movies. I could get by just fine with music, books, food and beer and/or wine. My days and nights would be spent running, walking, swimming, reading, eating, and drinking. There would be no one around to ask me questions like, "have you seen my shin guards?" or "Can I have $10?" or "Can you come and pick me and three of my friends up and drop them off at separate destinations all across town?" or the most hated, "What's for dinner?" and when I tell them they say, "Oh, I guess I can just have some cereal..."

Yeah, I wouldn't have any of that for at least two days. In my fantasy, my girls would be well taken care of and out of any kind of trouble. Oh, and while I was at it, I invented a tribe of elves (do elves hang in tribes?) to clean my house from top to bottom too. There. That would probably do it.

After I finished conjuring up my pathetic single mom fantasy, I actually felt a hundred million times better. I had a little talk with the girls about how it would be great if they tried a little harder to show me some respect and not take all the shit I've been doing for granted. I said I knew we were all busy and stressed-out, but I'm not their maid or chauffeur or chef or waiter and I'm also not made out of money. So, maybe if we all pitched in, I wouldn't be so frazzled and all of our lives would be better. They apologized and agreed they'd try harder. We'll see how it goes...

After working on getting my daughters' respect, I also cleaned my kitchen and made some banana bread. It's nothing like a beach getaway, but it's what's here right now, and it did make me feel better. Hey, I'll take what I can get.

You're Looking All Around, There is Trouble to be Found

Tonight I'm putting up some photos of us being extremely mature and making fun of really bad paintings. I would like to meet the artist who wanted to paint topless women with HUGE asses. I'd ask that person what his/her motivation was and laugh myself into a coma when they tried to give me a serious answer.

So, here's how it went today: I made it to work and it was fine. Then I left a half hour early to walk to the dentist. The temperature had dropped substantially, while the winds whipped up, and I froze the whole way there.

The dentist was also just fine. I really hate getting dental work done, but my cavity was very small and took less than a half hour to fill. A Neko Case song even came on their satellite radio station during the procedure.

Here is my girl crush reaching for the big gun.

After the fun of all that, I had to hurry to my daughters' track meet. I stopped at home to pick up blankets and change into my warmer, Winter, big man boots.

The meet was almost unbearably cold and windy. Those two girls are the only people in the world I would ever sit through that for. I'm sure the rest of you are very nice people and all, but I can't think of anyone else worth the torture of sitting on the wet, hard ground while freezing winds blew snow in my face. Honestly, I would rather have gone back to the dentist and let them drill some of my other teeth for a while.

All whining aside, Stinky did pretty well at her first home high school meet. She's still not 100% after her illness and is sleeping 12 - 13 hours at night, but she came close to hitting her personal best in shot putt and wasn't too bad in the discus either. Coadster may have pulled her hamstring and wasn't able to jump or run this time around.

Here is me pretending to make-out (just so you know, I was goaded into posing this) with a painting of what I think is supposed to be Chuck Bronson, but who looks a little more like Freddy Krueger.

I stayed around until Stinky was done throwing. She still had to run in the throwers' 4 x 100 relay. I had given her the option of me sticking around for another two hours in the frozen depths of hell to watch her run, or to have me go to the store and buy food and then go cook, so that they could come home to a nice hot meal. Both the girls chose what was behind door number 2.

I get paid once a month on the first, and learned this little trick early on. If you have ever lived paycheck to paycheck, you may have heard of it. You go the day before payday and write a check for money you won't really have until midnight. See how creative I am? Neat-o.

So, I came home and made chicken breast sauteed in garlic, butter, white wine and basil, some rotini pasta, red sauce and steamed asparagus. Coadster called me at about 9 to come pick them up and they were both very, very happy to come home to a pleasant smelling house, and a carb replenishing meal.

The end.

I Face the Day With My Head Caved In

Here is the pool at my aunt's house, cold and in terrible disrepair.

On my way to work this morning, I was in a mood. It was cold and I was tired and I was feeling a little sorry for myself for being broke and not being able to find a guy who lives anywhere near my town, anywhere near my age who I could actually date. I was whiny about having to walk a mile just to sit in a cubicle and answer stupid questions over the phone all day. Those people who say there are no stupid questions, need to sit at my desk for an hour or two. They will definitely change their minds and then instantly develop an extremely unhealthy alcohol addiction. When I almost slipped on the ice for the 18th time and actually said, "Whoa!" out loud, just like Joey Lawrence, I started to ponder the bad decisions that had brought me to this point. What if I had stayed in California that last time instead of moving back to Iowa? Would I be somewhere fun, like I was when I worked at the ski resort, or would I have a more interesting and important job to go to like I did when I was working on the Salmon Restoration Project?

The ski resort was called Snow Summit and it was in the San Bernadino Mountains, East of Los Angeles. I had to walk to work when I lived there too. Of course, the walk was beautiful, but I had to be at work by six in the morning. My boyfriend didn't have to work until eight. I hiked up the hill in the dark. Usually, I could hear the coyotes following me and I was okay with that, because they didn't bother me - they just tagged along. The dogs were the big problem. Everybody had dogs and none of them ever seemed to be on leashes. My boyfriend found a big stick that he left outside for me to take with in case I was attacked. It wasn't the least bit comforting.

One morning, I saw a black German shepard in its yard. I walked to the other side of the road in hopes that it wouldn't see me, but it didn't work. Its owners were nowhere in sight, and it came charging for me. I really didn't want to have to beat it with a stick, but I also didn't want it to bite holes in my face either. Finally, I scolded it like I was its owner. "Bad dog. Go on! Git." I tried to sound authoritative, while masking that scared hitch in my voice. Oddly enough, it worked. The dog stopped running, but still barked and growled. I yelled at it to go home and eventually it did. I walked the rest of the way to work so spazzed out, I didn't even notice the coyotes following behind me.

It rained every day this time of year in Northern California where I worked during my stint with the Salmon Restoration Project. We also raised 10,000 steelhead trout in pools during the Winter months. Since we were in the California Conservation Corps., it all had to be eco-friendly. We used rain water brought down in PVC pipes from where we collected it in order to create a current for the fish to swim around and around in the pools. The only problem, is that it would rain so hard over night that rocks and silt would clog the pipes. We took turns during the week, waking up every two hours at night to check them. If it was your turn, you messed up your sleep schedule, never dried off and you were miserable the entire time. I remember dreading my turn.

Thinking about the jobs I could be working and the scary walks I could be taking, made the twenty minute trek in the cold to sit in a warm office answering annoying questions seem almost pleasant. Even feeling the cubicle walls slowly sucking my soul all day, was comforting.

I Don't Believe in Fairies Anymore

Here is a photo of some boats. I'd like my ship to come in, but I'd settle for something smaller too.

I've been weird lately. Okay, weirder. Whatever. Shut-up. I wanted to blame it on hormones or the full moon or the fact that the seasons are changing, or that the world economy seems to be going straight down the shitter or that I pretty much let my boy prospects dry up heading into hibernation season (stupid, stupid, Churlita), but I think it's something else this time. I realized tonight that I've been waiting for something to happen. Not just anything. I realize that when I don't specify that I want that something to be good, I get hit with a veritable shit storm of bad things and so, I'll just make a point to say right here and now that I'm waiting for something good to happen.

I've been letting things go - forgetting to pay bills until the last minute, leaving a trail of kicked-off shoes in my wake once I get home, my plants are all completely parched and the lightbulbs should be changed. I think I've mentioned before that I know when I need to get my shit together when I have to walk two rooms away in order to find a light that actually works in my apartment. Well, I'm getting close to that point. Meanwhile, I wait for things to get taken care of. I'm passively hoping to get saved. I'd settle for a Mary Poppins if she would promise not to be so annoyingly cheery and singing all the time. Money would be another great savior. Can you imagine being able to pay someone to simply take care of all your annoying shit for you? Don't get me wrong, it's not just the details, although taking care of the details is what I'm the worst at. I would also like to find something to get a little excited about. For most of this year, I had my trip to plan and look forward to, and now I'm just kind of hanging out.

When I was at the training academy for the Conservation Corps., one of my co-workers asked our crew leader if he had some kind of energy pill to help her get started cutting fire line. He just laughed and said, "Yeah. It's called my boot in your ass. Is that the kind of pill you were thinking of?" Which is what I probably need, to essentially kick myself in the ass and get going on shit. Because, when I think about it. I probably go through this every year about this time, when I'm broke after the Summer and I've used up my vacation time. Sooner rather than later, I'm sure, I'll just get over myself and clean my shit up, figure out a project to work on and just save my own damn self.

Caught Between Confusion and Pain

Here's the dealio. My interenet server sucked and wouldn't work for me at all last night and not even this morning. I'm in hate with Mediacom right now. So, I wasn't able to finish the very last day of NaBloMe. AND, AND, AND, since I had to live in the real world all night, I started noticing what a mess my house was and I cleaned the hell out of my bathroom. Yeah, how scary was that?

So, if my internet provider gets off its hairy ass and starts working in my neighborhood this weekend, I'll try and bore you some more later.

And No One's Gettin' Fat Except Mama Cass

Here are the farmer's market glads on my kitchen table.

I feel kind of bad for talking about this at all, because I know how hard it is for people to lose weight. But I still haven't even put on one pound since that one blog post where I told you my doctor gave me lease to eat as much fatty food as I wanted.

I'm sure it's like if I were to read your blog and on it you bitched about how much money you had and how you just didn't know what to do with it all and what a burden it was to be rich. I have no doubt that I would want to find out where you lived, travel any distance to get there, punch you in the face, and relieve you of said burden. It would make absolutely no difference how many hours you worked for it, or how much corporate bullshit you put up with (which I'm so NOT willing to deal with) to obtain your wealth, I would still resent the hell out of you anyway.

That having been said, I'm a little frustrated with my inability to gain weight. You can ask anyone who knows me, I eat. Yes, I probably run too much, but you can ask any of those same people who know me again, and they will tell you that not one citizen of this planet would benefit from me doing without my free high. So, now I've decided to bring out the big guns. That's right, butter, bacon and Krispy Kremes. There. That oughta do it. The gauntlet has done been thrown down, bitches.

I'm Working So I Won't Have to Try So Hard

So, basically, I had a bad day today. I think I woke up kind of out of sorts and work made it worse. By the time I got home, I was just feeling cranky and needy and all sorry for myself. I called my friend K. to whine and even though she had just slammed her finger in the screen door, she was awesome as usual. She wanted to know if I'd feel better if I came over and got my birthday present. Why, yes. I believe I would. Her dogs were really happy to see me and we had a good talk. (K. and I, not me and the dogs) Then Mr. Dateman called and I went over there for a while, and unfortunately for him, I brought my weirdness with me. Sorry Mr. Dateman.

Tonight I figured it would be safer to go back in time. I haven't posted old photos in quite a while, so I thought I'd bring some out. In the top one, my mom is by some big river somewhere. At first glance, I thought she was fishing, and I was about to be really surprised. I couldn't imagine my mom being all that into fishing. That's more my thing.

In a lot of ways, my mom and I were very similar. I got a lot of my traits, both good and bad from her. I inherited her sense of direction...Or lack thereof, I got her spazziness, and her music appreciation. I wish I had her comedic talent. She was one of the funniest people I've ever met and she could mimic almost anyone's voice. The big difference between us, is that she was super girly and I am super not. Don't get me wrong, I wear dresses and skirts and make-up and stuff. I just don't get a lot of womens' fascination with shoes and accessories and pedicures and manicures and why people pay others money to cut their hair, when you can all just do it yourself. When I was trying to get my shit together a few years ago, (thank god I gave up on that pursuit) I read this book on motherless daughters. One of the things it said, was that sometimes when girls lose their mothers before puberty, they don't get the girlie education and so I was glad to have a reason. I think the other part for me, was that when I was a kid, I hung out with my brother and our boy neighbors a lot. I spent tons of time catching lizards and playing army and building forts. So, anyway. Those are my excuses and I'm sticking to them.

My friend K. gave me the gift of a haircut by a real, live person who cuts hair. (what do you call them? Stylists?) She claims I'll love the woman because she's fun and loud like us. And she's from Sigourney, so we might have similar accents. This will be my first foray into formalized girliness in several years. I'll have to let you know how it goes. What if it makes me turn and I start drooling over handbags and wearing tons of perfume and actually trying to walk in shoes that hurt my feet? I guess it wouldn't bother me that much if I could wear them with one of my mom's cool old dresses from the sixties.

Strange Days Have Found Us

Here are some yellow flowers in a sea of green.

Well, Kids. I had kind of a weird day today. It started out with me passing out at my doctor's appointment this morning. I'm one of those people who faints easily. My Doctor wasn't worried. She thought it was probably just one of those things where my knees locked and then I was down for the count. On the plus side...My blood pressure was back down again, from being too high a few months ago, and because I've lost so much weight lately, my doc gave me the go ahead to eat as much fatty food as I needed to get it back up. Woooo-hooooo!

As soon as I got to work, I found out my bosses were pulling us all out individually to talk to us about speaking to each other respectfully. We're like a huge dysfunctional family at my office and we flip each other shit all day, but we don't really mean it...Much. What? Just because I call John, Mr. Freakerman? At least I refer to him as mister. On the plus side...One of the women I work with said she'd bring duct tape for all of us to put over our mouths. You know, if we have to say something nice, we can't be trusted to say anything at all.

Things got better after work. I ran and listened to the songs on my phone. (there was some strange twist of fate, and it let me download 39 more songs into it before I got the error message again) I took a shower and then headed over to Mr. Dateman's place. We talked a lot of shit and he made me laugh like he always does...As an additional plus, Mr. Dateman reminded me to watch for deer on my drive home, and for whatever reason, I love it when he does that.

I have a bit of a cold, but I couldn't take any medicine for it last night because I was afraid it might raise my blood pressure. Tonight, though? Tonight, I'm planning to go get all hopped up on Nyquil and hope tomorrow isn't quite so friggin' weird.

Well I Tried to Make it Sunday, but I Got So Damn Depressed

I know last week I said something about maybe posting a photo of me relaxed and passed-out with an empty bottle of Jack in my hand, but I was really just talking shit. Alcohol doesn't really relax me so much, as make me that much louder. Instead, I'm finally posting this pic of the gigantic wooden nickel that I promised you ages ago.

Kids, there's no way to sugar coat this for you, I'm feeling kind of down today. It's not a full blown funk or anything, I'm just at that point where I have to eat that reality sandwich and it tastes like shit. Killer predicted this would happen in the comments of my post last week and because I can be overly optimistic, (read: delusional) I didn't believe him. Silly, silly me.

At first I thought I'd try to do something creative tonight, and then quickly realized I didn't have it in me. So, maybe I'll just do a little whine first, and then try to wrap it up by trying to be at least a little positive and, oh, just maybe try getting over myself. Jeesh.

Whine:

The last few days I've been running around trying to get Coadster ready for camp. There were papers to fill-out and clothes to buy and then wash and then more toiletries to purchase and then pack and since Coadster was at her dad's on Saturday night, there was also some one-on-one time where we watched a movie and lounged on our couch together on Friday night.

My landlord called last night to let me know that the inspectors were coming back to check and make sure the ten year old fire extinguisher had been replaced and the bathroom was repainted. Which means I have to go around and tidy up everything that we threw around while we were looking for suitcases and papers.

It's the first of the month, so I have to take care of all my bills. I already dropped my rent check off to the landlord along with my new phone number. Which reminds me, I still haven't cancelled my land line or sent out that gigantic group e-mail to all my friends updating my phone number.

Have I ever mentioned what a horrible procrastinator I am on here before? After reading this, I probably don't need to mention it, do I?

I have to go to the Verizon store and see why my phone is only letting me upload 100 songs on it.

I woke-up with a nasty migraine. I've been trying to ignore it all day, but it finally kicked my ass around four o'clock.

Getting over myself:

Coadster's gone and Stinky has been out most of the day. I've had a lot of alone time to get some shit done and to lie around when my head exploded. I try to make a big Sunday dinner every week. In between swimming at the quarry and going to the Jazz Fest downtown, Stinky invited one of her friends to eat with us. It helped fill the Coadster void.

The kid who was over on Thursday night with the really stinky shoes, (the kind that smell like stale cat piss) took his shoes off outside before entering my house today without me even having to ask him.

I still have 100 songs in my phone and running with music again after 20 years is seriously one of the best things ever. I can't believe I went so long without it.

I have real migraine meds, so even though the pain was intense for a few hours, my headaches don't wreck me for three days anymore.

The Fourth of July is on Wednesday. So, yeah. I can whine all I want, but I still don't have to work a full forty hours this week either.

Okay. Good enough. I'm sure I'll never completely get over myself, but at least I'm feeling a little better now.

Who's Got the Funk, When You're Feeling Low Down?

Oh, look. It's another recycled picture. One of these days, I swear I'll get out and take some more.

So, I guess I'm just gonna go ahead and get a little more open than I should on here. You'd hate for me to practice any kind of discretion whatsoever on these here internets. I mean, it's not like just anyone can read this or anything, right?

What I'm trying to say, is that I went through a little funk this weekend. I used to have them a lot more when I was younger and fucked up and afraid to honestly look at my issues and work on shit, so they could get fixed. It's actually been a long time since I felt this kind of self-indulgently moody. It wasn't bad, it was more like this thing that would come at me in waves and sometimes kind of creep in and other times just blindside me. Basically, on Saturday I did some lying around and thinking too much about really stupid shit that, in the scheme of things, probably didn't matter or wasn't really going to ever happen. I woke up on Sunday morning kind of down and feeling sorry for myself, and then again, this afternoon, I relapsed into another bout of the wah-fucking-wahs.

It's been a while since I've felt this way, so it took some time to figure out what to do about it. I wish there was a way to put up barriers in the parts of your brain, where you shouldn't oughta enter. Instead, I did my lying around, I took copious naps, I ran, I ran some more, I distracted myself, and then just spent some time by myself so as not to infect anyone around me. I did bother my friend K. about it (who is a saint, by the way) and then when I got home, I had a voice mail from another friend of mine, who I didn't want to bother. I didn't call her back, but I did message her to let her know that I was too annoying to talk to and that she was totally welcome to thank me later for saving her from myself.

The thing about this funky stuff, is that if I could be logical, I'd see that there is very little basis for it. I have a halfway decent job, my daughters are amazing, I'm the luckiest girl ever in terms of friends, I can usually cover most of my bills and I've discovered the things I need to do for myself to make me happy, and I do them. The funk just makes me concentrate on the couple of things that aren't exactly what I want, or worry about stupid shit that might could happen in the future. It's such a self-indulgent way to look at my life. The kicker is, that when I'm in the funk, all that stupid shit seems so real.

Everything Will be Alright, Tonight

Here is our garden from last year.

I have agreed to do an interview from Margaret. I was hoping I'd be in a better space tonight to do this, but unfortunately, I'm still not the happiest girl in the whole USA right now. I'm not sure I'll do it justice, but I'll try really hard. I'm supposed to ask people if they want me to interview them, but again, I don't think I'm up for that. I can't imagine anyone will be too shocked that I'm not playing by the rules. Here are the five questions Margaret asked me:

1. What reality TV show would you be on if you had to be on one?

I don't think anyone would ever pick me to be on a reality show. I don't do drama. A friend once told me I should be on Survivor, but after everyone started getting all bitchy and mean, I'd probably take off and find someplace quiet to hang out by myself. They wouldn't even be able to find me to vote me off.

2. Newspapers, magazines, books, or the internets: which is your favorite media?

I would like to be able to answer this question by saying books, but the numbers don't lie and I spend WAY more time on the internet than I do reading novels these days. Hmmm.

3. If you had to give-up one of your 5 senses: which one and why?

This one is really tough. I've always thought that if I lost my sight, I would finally become completely autistic and never leave my scary little brain. I love to eat, so taste would be out. As Mr. Atrocity pointed out, not being able to hear, would mean not being able to listen to music. Being a very affectionate person, my sense of touch is also really important. I guess it just leaves my sense of smell. There are a lot of scents I'd miss, but after being in high school and detasseling corn next to a giant feedlot on the hottest day of the year, I know there are plenty of aromas I'd be happy not to have to experience.

4. If Ben & Jerry's were to name an ice cream flavor after you, what would it be?

Answering this question tonight, I'd have to say, Piss and Vinegar. I guess it'd have to be a sorbet. It would also probably be the least profitable flavor they ever tried to market.

5. If you could start a new holiday:, what, when, and how would you celebrate?

I think I'd invent a "Get out of jail free day". It would be one day out of the year that each person could pick whenever they wanted to take off work and do whatever they wanted without hurting anyone else. Once again, I'm all for people doin' their own things, man. You dig?

Can't Find a Thing to Ease the Rain

Hey, look what survived the frost and cold?

Dear Gentle Readers,

Although I feel much better now than I did earlier today, I am still tired and sick and sick and tired. Plus, I have a thing or two stuck in my craw as of late. Don't worry, I won't dig it out and unload any of it on you. You have all been so wonderful and supportive and shit, and I think it's stuff that will work itself out, or it won't. Some of it is work related, and I just wasn't feeling well enough to have to deal with it today. Who knows, maybe tomorrow, if I feel better, my craw could be completely empty.

Tonight, though? Tonight, I'm kind of in a mood, and I just need to take my trusty cold meds and see if I can't pass-out as quickly as possible. Please feel free to take a gander at the super-duper close-up flower picture below. Can you tell I'm trying to make up for my whining by showing you pretty, perky flowers?

Love,

The Churlish One

Spitting in a Wishing Well

Here is a messed up bike in a rack I saw on my way to work one day.

On Tuesday and Wednesday of this week, I was grouchy and I don't know why. I may have been sleep deprived or I might have had a little Spring fever, but whatever it was, it made me all spaced-out and irritable. I wasn't the only one. I walked into the bathroom and one of my co-workers was hiding in there by the sinks. I asked her how she was, and she said. "Churlita, I don't know, but I think I hate the whole fucking world right now. And obviously, it's bad enough for me to drop the f-bomb at work." I told her, that to me, there was no better place to drop the f-bomb than at work. It's almost always justified.

I got crankier as the day progressed yesterday too. In that frame of mind, I decided to put my futon back together. I'm sure I've said this a million times, but I'm not very mechanically inclined. I actually did okay with that part, but I could really have used another pair of hands because it was not only heavy but cumbersome. Next time, I'll be smart enough to wait until I can get my neighbor, who is always very good about helping me with mechanical fixes or heavy lifting projects, to assist me. I actually did kick it and swear at it at one point, and yes, it did make me feel much better, thank you.

Tonight though, things started turning around. I ran for a long time after work, and then later in the evening, I did a wonderful thing for myself. I took in about an hour's worth of Jackass. I'm telling you, it's the perfect antidote for grouchiness. If watching sixty minutes of grown men farting, crashing into shit, and kicking each other in the balls doesn't perk you up and restore your faith in the world, I don't know what else will.

Break It On Down

Hello, big, tall tree in College Green Park.

So, last night my futon broke. It, being a futon, is our couch and the bed I sleep on when the girls aren't at their dad's house. (which is most nights) I think something unscrewed and one whole side came down, pulling out the mission style slats under the arm.

I seem to be going through another break cycle in my life. I'll be humming along, not really noticing how good I have it and then, bam! Things start breaking down. It didn't happen when I was younger so much, because until my mid-twenties, I could fit pretty much everything I owned in a backpack and one of those huge army duffel bags. As my brother says, the less bells and whistles you have, the less things that go wrong. But now I own things, and things eventually fall apart. This past month has just been a painful reminder of that.

I would like to say I calmly surveyed the damage, trusted my instincts and fixed the situation, but I think you all know me better than that. I don't ever trust my instincts, because they always tell me to spaz. I did survey the situation and called in Stinky, who is the one in our family who can fix things, to help me figure it out. We tried a bunch of stuff, but there are little nail thingys that keep the slats in their places and most of those nails had been pulled out and twisted. I tried for over an hour to get the dowel thingys in their holes and the nails back in the wood, but it never quite fit together. I stepped away from the whole mess, thinking that I was so not above, just duct taping that whole side and hoping for the best. Instead, I threw my futon down on the floor and decided to sleep on it. (literally and figuratively)

When I woke up today, I had an amazing idea. I would go to The Futon Store and see if they could fix it. The guy at the store told me to bring it in and they'd see what they could do. This is the first time in years and years, that I've had enough money (read, credit) to pay someone to fix shit for me. I doesn't seem quite real. I'm sure I sounded like a total hillbilly at the store when I said, "You mean to tell me that alls I gots to do, is bring that puppy in here and ya'll 'll put it back together for me, for just a little bit of money? Well, shooooot. Hot damn!"

So, tomorrow, I'm going to take my futon couch apart and bring the right arm in to see if the futon guys can make it all better for me. After Stinky helped me work on it last night, I apologized for being stressed out and said I hoped she didn't feel like I was taking anything out on her. She replied, "No. You were good. I just knew you were upset, because you kept saying the F word. I wanted to laugh, but I remembered how you say there are times when you can laugh at yourself, and other times when you won't think it's funny, and I thought this was one of those times." Stinky has never been more right.

If I Had a Rocket Launcher...

Dell's tech support sucks: Let me count the ways.

1. Their hold music sounds like they stole it from a bad eighties, movie soundtrack. The kind with overwhelming saxophone played over a moody synthesizer. It's usually on during the romantic scene just before the lights go out.

2. I was on hold a lot.

3. The gentleman "helped" me for way too long, (where I was mostly on hold) just to figure out my warranty had run out and I needed to be transferred to the expired warranty tech support area.

4. The gentleman couldn't figure out how to transfer me and for the first five minutes we sat in silence, and after that he felt obligated to make small talk with me. "So, how's the weather there?" Was his first question and it went downhill from there.

5. The gentleman got his supervisor and after five more minutes, he told me that everyone at the other office were at a meeting, and gave me a number to call them back in an hour.

6. When I called back to the new number, it got me to the same office I called before, but thankfully, to a different representative. The woman who answered seemed much more competent. She figured out right away that I needed to go to the other office, and was also aware that other office was only open during the day, (what about the meeting?) right when I would be at work.

7. Since Dell can't help me, I had to call my friend Bob. And you know how hard it is to me to ask my friends for help.

My friend Bob was at work, but his wife thinks I might need to do something called a "hard start". Hopefully, Bob will be able to help me with this.

The saga continues...

Behind the Wall of Sleep

Here is a picture of the alley behind my house with immeasurable snow on it that I took on Saturday...

I know that I always seem like I'm broke and harried on here, but it's only because I don't have any time or money. On this post I plan to celebrate my three day weekend where I didn't have to travel, deal with extended family or have a houseful of screaming teens with which to contend. It is amazing what a few days off can do to one's outlook. It was just nice to finally have the time to take care of little things and remember how I enjoyed my life when I didn't work seventy-five jobs. (0nly one of which, I get paid for) Here is a list of things I did on my Winter vacation that enhanced my life a little or a lot.

1.) Went around and changed lightbulbs and watered plants. Most of my green things are succulents, so I have plenty of leeway before I actually kill them - I had used most of it up before this weekend.

2.) Could have really cleaned and organized my house if I had wanted to. I didn't, of course, but I like the idea of having that option.

3.) Had two whole hours of quiet time (in a row) without the girls on Friday night while Stinky was ice skating and Coadster was showing some choir or choiring some shows or whatever show choir looks like as a verb. I have no recollection of how I spent that time, but I can guarantee you it was very quiet in my house then.

4.) Went to El Ranchero to help celebrate my friend K.'s birthday. I ate some sub-par Mexican food and drank Margarita's like they were kool-aid. I kept telling my friends that I didn't think the drinks were very strong, while my cheeks gave me away by turning redder and redder. (stupid ruddy Irish complexion)

5.) Finally went to the library and checked out Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian. Dexter's been talking McCarthy up since I met him, and I like Westerns, so I thought I'd check it out. My friend K. thinks I'll like Suttree better, which means I'll probably have to read that as well. I'm a sucker for peer pressure.

6.) Backslid right into my gigantic mug of herbal tea before bed habit. I don't drink coffee, ( I realize that admission could lose me some loyal readers, but I gotsta be honest on here) but I make up for it by having close to thirty different kinds of tea in my cupboard - you never know what kind I'll be into at any given time.

7.) Watched Wife Swap on Monday night. That show makes me feel so balanced - Hey, I take what I can get. My favorite line from Monday's show went something like, "My daughter is looking forward to being able to dress-up like a Leprechaun..." Maybe I should make my girls watch it with me, so they can compare me to all the crazy mom's and appreciate me that much more.

8) Finally, I got at least eight hours of sleep all three nights. I've been functioning on so little sleep lately, that I forgot what it was like not to see phantom movements out of the corners of my eyes or continually swat away at the air in front of my face anytime anyone asked me something that was too difficult to process, like, "What time is dinner?" or "How many fingers am I holding up?"

I know I'll get over my beautifully restful holiday weekend and be right back in sleep-deprivation central, but it was so much easier to go back to work today after catching-up.


...And here is a picture of my alley on Monday when the snow was finally measureable.

Who's Gonna Drive You Home, Tonight?

Here is a picture of a trailer piled with junk and stuff.

I'm sure you're all sick of listening to me whine about how much driving around I do for my girls, but I'm going to whine just a little more. I drove over two hours on both Friday and Saturday. It's not just picking up and dropping off my own children, it's picking Stinky up from Rock and Skate at the mall on Friday night to find she had three other kids with her who all needed lifts home. I try to give all the kids rides who need them, because when I was in high school, if I was ever allowed to go out at all, I had to depend on everyone else for transportation. And, of course, all the kids live out in the country in totally opposite directions. Johnny lives just on the Missouri border and Sally lives closer to Illinois. (or something like that, but way less exaggerated)

It's not the driving that's so hard to take, but the conversations going on in the back seat. Usually, it's a big group of junior high kids letting their ADD flags fly. Sometimes it's amusing hearing which kids in school pick their nose and eat it in study hall, but mostly it's so disturbing, that if I weren't driving, I'd just put my hands over my ears, shake my head and say, "HowmanyhowmanyhowmanytimesdoIhavetosayhowmany" until the voices stopped.

This last Friday I was picking up one of Coadster's friends who just recently moved out to the country. On the way back into town toward the bowling alley, we were discussing how they dealt with living so far out of town.

Coadster's Friend: Sometimes I have to drive for my mom because she gets tired.

Me: Do you have your permit?

C's Friend: Almost.

Me: Well, at least it's only about a twenty minute drive. So, your mom gets too tired to drive in that time?

C's Friend: Well, actually...My parents are big partiers and usually it's just safer for me to drive us all home.

Me: Oh. Um, sure.

I'm not sure which scenario I should have found more alarming: if her mom had such bad narcolepsy, she couldn't drive for twenty minutes without falling asleep at the wheel or that her parents take their fourteen year old daughter out partying with them in order to have a designated driver.