Privacy


I seem to have been a little lax in my privacy settings. I suppose it was naive of me to think all of the people I wanted to avoid from my past wanted to avoid me, too. Especially my ex-boyfriends. I mean, seriously. If I WANTED to have anything to do with you, I'd have let you know by now. Considering I've been married for nearly four years I think I've had ample time to make that contact. Silly me. Thinking silence spoke for itself.

So, now I've had to modify some things to keep unwanted "guests" out. How irritating. Having to invite people to read this. Having to change all of the privacy settings on every semi-public profile I own. Feeling all creeped out by the fact that people I try my hardest to forget can't seem to let go of the past. Ugh. Get lost already!

Ugliness aside, Christmas was great. Perrin loved his John Deere pedal tractor, of course. Abby is having fun with her new dollhouse. Those were their "big" gifts. They've been enjoying all the "little" ones, as well. I'm surprised they lasted as long as they did on Christmas Day since we had to get them up at six in the morning. We had to be at my mom's by eight so Will and Betsy could get on the road to her parents' house. I can't really complain, because I know it wasn't an easy for them, either. Of course, keeping us up drinking on Christmas Eve didn't exactly help. (Just kidding guys!)

Heath finally got to open the new television. He's been waiting for an entire month to do that and I know it hasn't been easy. Now he can enjoy football on 42 inches of lovely plasma and actually SEE the score. It's nice to see him enjoying something instead of just working. I'm sure it was nice for him to have a few days off. I have to admit, even I enjoyed having him around more. Maybe I don't need to be crabby all the time, after all...

Counting Down


I can't believe it's almost Christmas again. 2008 is almost over and the kids will be having birthdays soon. How is it possible that my "baby" is going to be three years old?! And Abby is going to be FIVE! She's going to be in school by the time I've blinked. Crazy, crazy, crazy. I've been dragging out Christmas stuff from the boxes Heath got down from the attic above the garage. I don't even know where to put all the little knick-knacky things to keep them safe from the kids and the cats. The tree was bad enough. I had the presence of mind to use shatterproof ornaments on the lower half of the tree and thank goodness I did. The cats won't leave them on the tree. It could be worse, I suppose. They could be CLIMBING the tree. I actually don't understand why they haven't tried this. Perhaps not having front claws actually HAS hindered them in some way.
Abby and Perrin have really been enjoying the advent calendars. That's the first thing they want to do when they wake up each morning. Finding stuff to fill Perrin's wasn't easy. They really don't make tiny toys for boys. Oh sure, Legos are tiny, but how much fun would THAT be? One Lego each day? Those were out. Matchbox cars were too long to fit. Candy wouldn't really have been fair to Abby (or his breakfast). I managed to find a few little animals and a tiny tractor, but I used Littlest Pet Shop toys to fill in the rest. Technically, they're girl toys, but he usually wants whatever Abby has anyway, so... I did what I had to do. He's having fun and that makes me happy.

I've gotten all of the Christmas cards ready to mail out. I just need to get the money for stamps to mail them. I really should have controlled my spending better. I also have to mail Heath's mom's Christmas gift and on ornament for an ornament exchange for Perrin's Birthday Club on Baby Zone. I haven't really started the baking yet, but my mom bought me a stand mixer for my birthday. As soon as I pick it up from her house I can get started. I'm lazy, though.

The kids and I have been watching all of the usual Christmas specials on television. Rudolph in still my favorite. The animated Grinch is a close second. As for "grown-up" Christmas movies, "A Christmas Story" is, by far, my favorite. How many of us grew up with the classic "You'll shoot your eye out!" line? Not Heath, apparently. He hadn't seen it until he met me. Poor guy.

I don't know how much time I'll find to write before Christmas, but I'll try. Probably late at night when I'm having trouble sleeping. All I want for Christmas is a good night's sleep.

The Holidays Begin


I can't believe how long it's been since I've written anything. I guess it's just that time of year. It seems like everything gets so much busier after Halloween. Heath's birthday was on November 7th and mine was on the 25th. We went out with Will and Betsy and some of their friends for Heath's birthday and Betsy took me out for a "Girls' Night" at Mickey's for mine. The last part of that night is pretty fuzzy to me, but we had fun. If only I could remember the name of the guy standing with us in the picture on my camera...

Having a late night out drinking was a nice change, especially with Betsy, but I didn't stick with my plan to take it easy and I paid for it the next day. It was the day before Thanksgiving (which I was hosting) and our house was still a disaster. Yet, all I could do for most of the day was lie around and try to rehydrate myself. Heath took pity on me and helped me clean, though, so we managed to get most of it taken care of. Thanksgiving went well and I somehow managed to get all of the food ready at the same time. Hosting my first holiday dinner wasn't as bad as I thought. Although, I was more than ready for a nap when it was over!

Heath and my dad got up somewhere around 3am on Black Friday to go to Wal-Mart. They each bought a new 42" flat panel television. I even persuaded Heath to pick up a few things from the rest of the ad while he was there. I went out to a couple of places later that afternoon when it wasn't so busy. I'm always glad I no longer work in retail when this time of year hits. At least my years doing so has taught me to have patience with those who DO still work in retail.

I started reading the "Twilight" books just before my birthday. Curiosity finally got the better of me. I read the first two in about 48 hours and started the third before my birthday and Thanksgiving hit. I bought the fourth on this week, but I also read another novel in between, so I've read over four books in the last week and a half. I've really missed reading. I've been trying to get the kids to bed earlier and then I stay up and read. Sometimes, for hours.

As for my medical issues, all my tests came back normal. That means there is no underlying cause for my mental issues. I was kind of hoping for a scapegoat. The increased dose of Lexapro seems to be taking the edge off of me, anyway. I'm a bit less unpleasant.

Now that Thanksgiving is over, we're getting ready for our first Christmas in the new house. I bought advent calendars for the kids to countdown to Christmas. They're having fun with them. It's nice for them to have a tangible way to see how many days are left. We also got the tree bought and put up. Still haven't gotten to decorating outside yet, but maybe tomorrow. I hate snow. If only it wasn't so cold. I'm really loving our fireplace right now. Not too much though, because it's not cheap to use it. So, Santa, you don't need to worry about being toasted when you come in. I'll just leave a nightlight on.

Restless & Waiting


I'll admit that doctors and other medical professionals are pretty busy people, but I hate waiting for test results. Test results that probably won't even tell them anything. It's probably nothing, but I'm still agitated.

The weather doesn't help things. I need to see the sun every so often. I've always thought that I would like to live in England, but isn't it dreary most of the time over there? Of course, it would be England and not Iowa, so I'd probably feel differently. Actually, that probably wouldn't last, but I'll never get to find out. I have to be realistic in my expectations. England is simply out of reach for me. At least I have BBCA to keep me warm at night.

The kids had an interesting conversation the other morning. Perrin woke me up to say, "Mommy, you's not wearing your booby trap". (By this he meant my bra, which I then realized he had in his hand. I was NOT going to explain to him why I don't sleep in it.)

Abby: "That's not a booby trap."

Perrin: "What is it?"

Abby: "It's to cover mommy's boobies."

Perrin: "No! It's a booby trap!"

I've come to the conclusion that I need more privacy. I don't let them see me naked and I try not to change my clothes in front of them. I think maybe I waited too long to start this. I just didn't realize how big they've gotten. It sneaks up on me. One day they're learning how to walk and the next they're trying on ALL of your clothes. I want them to have SOME modesty, but if they're anything like their father that's going to be a challenge. It's great to be comfortable with your body, but there still need to be limits. (I love you and your quirks, dear)

If anyone happens to see the sun, send it this way, will you? I'm tired of the squishy lawn.

Testing


I went to the doctor yesterday. She doubled my Lexapro, had blood drawn, and scheduled me for an ultrasound on my thyroid. I think that if there IS anything wrong with my thyroid, that it's just coincidence. I mean, surely, with all of the blood I had drawn and tested throughout both pregnancies SOMEONE would have caught that. (By the way, baby ultrasounds are much more fun.) Whatever the case, I won't get the results for two days. That's right. Leave a pessimist alone with a vague suggestion and the internet for two days. Thanks alot.

Okay. So I'm obviously imbalanced. I made a call to the doctors' office today and I'm going in tomorrow morning to have my head checked. I want to be optimistic, but it's not in my nature. They'll give me more tests to take and I'll fill them out. They'll score them and not actual give me a diagnosis. That's not to say they won't write one in their little file, but they won't tell me.

Then, they'll either up the dosage of the meds I'm already on, add something to them, or put me on something new altogether. When they started me on the Lexapro, they informed me of something I hadn't known. Apparently, changing anti-depressants once increases your chances of having to be on them again. Changing them MORE than once pretty much guarantees that you'll be on them for even longer. I'm on my fourth different anti-depressant. So, yeah, I'll be on them forever.

Anyway... I have realized that my rocker is off kilter and I'm doing something about it before I rock right off the porch. More drugs. Maybe they'll even recommend a therapist this time. I'm going to come back and read this later (Hi, Self!) and probably delete it. Although, perhaps I'll leave it for posterity.

Confessions of a Desperate Housewife


Maybe "desperate" isn't exactly the right word. Maybe "depressed" would be more appropriate. Just doesn't have the same ring to it, you know? I'm pretty sure I wrote previously that I wasn't going to talk about my mental issues anymore. Well, I've failed at everything else so I might as well fail at that, too.

I've never been a real bucket of joy to begin with. I've never been deeply analyzed by a professional so I'm not sure if it's nature or nurture that made me this way. Either way, I'm sure it's my fault. That's not to say I haven't been in therapy, because I have. Several times. They let me talk and talk, but they never really give me any insight. Let's face it. I'm not doing all that well on my own, here.

I'm lousy at keeping the house clean. It doesn't matter if we live in 700 square feet or 7000 square feet. I would still not be able to keep it tidy. I'm a hoarder. I'm one of those people that could easily be on one of those HGTV shows where they intervene because some poor husband calls in and says his wife is useless when it comes to keeping the house tidy. The ironic thing is, I LIKE organizing things. I LIKE it when things are in order. I'll be damned if I can keep it that way, though. I pile things all over the place. I keep things that I don't really need to keep just in case I might need them "someday".

I'm horrible at putting variety into the family feeding schedule. I'm not even good at including vegetables a lot of the time. I'm not very patient in the kitchen and touching raw meat practically makes me sick. In spite of the fact that they like it, I think my kids eat entirely too much peanut butter. At least I make them eat "real" food while I manage to exist on junk food and strawberry soda. Of course, strawberry soda IS junk food...

I've slacked off in my parenting duties. My kids are intelligent. Abby could easily be reading by now, but I've not been working with her like I should. We used to do all sorts of fun and educational things, but since Perrin was born (and this is in NO WAY his fault), I haven't done as much with her. I still read to them and let them color and occasionally, we go someplace fun, but I'm not challenging her mind like I used to. Or Perrin's for that matter. I'm probably ruining them for life already. It seems like I spend every waking moment with them, but it's not enough. Then, I feel like I NEED to get away from them for awhile, but when I do, I feel guilty that I'm not with them.

I spend money. I can't seem to STOP spending money.

I'm not even going to BEGIN to get into my failures as a wife.

I have a great husband, great kids, a great house, a great car, great pets, great family. WTH do I have to complain about. And yet, I do. I feel tired and crabby and lonely and depressed. And I hate myself for it.

I suppose all this should make it clear to me why I can't keep friends. On the rare occasion that I do connect with someone, it never lasts long. Eventually they stop calling or ignore my emails (Sarah, you still email me almost daily even in the "dark place"). Heath and I had friends who were a couple. They came to our wedding and then wouldn't return our calls. I still don't understand that. An explanation would have been nice. Even a "Hey. We just don't really like you guys after all." would have sufficed.

Maybe friends are overrated. I mean, I already have enough people telling me what a pathetic job I'm doing at everything. Between them and my own inner voice, I'm doing pretty well with it all. I know I'm going to come back and read this later and feel like an idiot. At least I'm familiar with that. Those of you who are NOT challenged by emotional unrest will likely read this and decide to avoid me from now on. I'm used to that, too. I can't say as I don't understand why.

Happy Halloween!

I couldn't have asked for a more perfect night for trick-or-treating. It was warm enough that the kids (and I) didn't freeze, but cool enough that they were comfortable in their costumes. Our neighborhood was an awesome place to trick-or-treat! They more than filled their pumpkin buckets in the few cul-de-sacs around our house. Everyone was really nice and of course, their costumes were a big hit. Especially Perrin's. I guess all that work was worth it.

Perrin got pretty worn out with all the walking and wanted to be carried toward the end, but it was getting late by then. He was so funny to watch when he was walking, though. He looked adorable. His costume looks so top-heavy, but it isn't. It's all fluff. He didn't want to take it off when we were done!

Both the kids have been stuffing their faces with candy all day and I know I should stop them. I'm just not looking forward to the battle that will surely ensue. I want it to be gone quickly, but not at the expense of their health. Besides, it's not as if I WANT to be cleaning up chocolate puke from my new carpet. I guess this is what's meant by picking your battles.

Lots of Pics


I haven't been writing much lately because, in the spirit of Halloween, I've been a real witch. I knew my writing would reflect that, and who wants to read anything like that? I'm still not quite myself (or maybe I AM myself and this is just the way I am), but I'm not so bad as I've been.


I should probably post a couple of pics from our annual pumpkin farm trip. It's something I look forward to all year, but this year, the kids were pains in the you-know-what about letting me take pictures. I usually take over a hundred pictures, but not this year. Usually, I have trouble deciding between the best ones. This year, it's more like deciding which are the least disappointing. Oh, well. What can you do?

I've also been trying to get ready for Halloween. Heath and I went to a costume party at Will & Betsy's last Friday. It was fun. Plus, it was a nice change to hang out with other adults. Betsy wore a naughty nurse costume, so I wore a naughty Red Riding Hood so we could share that our skirts didn't cover much. Although, I wish I had her tan from Jamaica. (Maybe we'll have a honeymoon, too someday.)

Will's costume didn't leave much to the imagination, either, which is wrong on so many levels I'm not even going to BEGIN to describe them. The picture speaks for itself.

Thankfully, I was the only one with a camera so there are no pictures of me. Disappointing, right? Not for me!
Beggar's Night is tomorrow, so I'll probably have pictures of the kid's in their costumes up soon. It's taken me three days to make Perrin's monster costume. It's awesome, but there's fur all over the house. Guess it's a good thing Heath bought me that Dyson.

R.I.P. Falcore


Today was a sad day. Our dear fish, Falcore, has ceased to swim any longer. I don't know for certain how old he was, but we had him for over two years. I know fish don't live forever, but it was still sad to see him go.

Everyone else always said he was ugly, but I never thought so. He wasn't the typical gaudy red or bright blue of more popular betas, but that's why I liked him. He was kind of a misfit. He liked me better than everyone else. If I put just the tip of my finger into his bowl, he'd swim up and "kiss" it. (Go ahead and tell me he was just looking for food. See if I care.) He'd start swimming faster in his bowl when he'd hear my voice, too. (Again, maybe it's because I always fed him, but so what?) I'm going to miss the little guy. Even if he was "just a fish".

I refused to flush him down the toilet after all he'd endured in his long (for a fish) life. It seemed wrong (even if it WAS a watery end) so I buried him by some of my flowers. I don't know if I'll get another fish soon or not. That seems kind of wrong, too. We'll see how things go. Rest in peace, Falcore.

Walking With Dinosaurs

We took the kids to see "Walking With Dinosaurs" at a local events center this past weekend. We bought the tickets months ago and, surprisingly, I didn't lose them. (A good thing, too, at $35 a ticket. Even for Perrin!) I prepped the kids by showing them clips of the show online. I didn't want them to be freaked out by the whole thing and start crying. I knew Abby would be fine, but with Perrin, you just never know. He's sensitive about things sometimes. I told him it would be loud and the dinosaurs would be really big, but that Daddy would beat them up if they tried to hurt us. (Maybe not the best thing to say, but parenting is a trial-and-error thing.)

Turns out, I needn't have worried. They weren't scared at all. Perrin plugged his ears once when the T-Rex was roaring, but that was it. He even asked me if we could watch MORE dinosaurs! Who could blame him? They were awesome! I know it's dumb, but even I almost forgot they were fake sometimes. Especially if you were looking at their faces. The people who built them did a phenomenal job and the details were incredible. I think the only thing missing was hot, stinky breath, and we were sitting close enough to have felt it if there had been! Maybe they'll add that for next time. Even though it was expensive, I would absolutely go again.

I took some video of the show on my camera, but as they frown upon you doing so, I'm not going to post it. (I only took it for the kids to watch later anyway.) They have a couple of videos on their website (http://www.dinosaurlive.com/) that show how they made them and what the show is like. YouTube is littered with illegal clips, too. I'm not going to add mine. I probably got enough bad juju just from taking them in the first place.

The next day, we went to the apple orchard again. I even remembered to put batteries in the camera this time. The kids had fun watching the honey bees land on their apples. I had to teach them to be still and not swat at the bees or try to touch them. After that, they did fine. At one time, Abby had three bees on her apple. Now that we have apples, I guess that means I have to bake. It's that time of year again. Apple pie, then pumpkin cookies, then all the Christmas goodies.

I've actually got plans to go out on Monday, too. Pandora (I've mentioned them in a previous post.) is having a get-together at the 4th Street Theatre downtown. It sounds like it'll be fun, plus, it's right next to Java Joe's and I can't remember the last time I was there. High school maybe? Somehow, you just can't take kids to a coffee house. I used to love them, though. (Coffee houses, I mean. I'll ALWAYS love my kids. Even when I don't like them much.) Maybe I'll get to stop in. A little "me" time might be nice.

Post #80


Why do you read this? Do you wait for me to divulge secrets that I can't actually speak, or are my everyday rantings really that intellectually stimulating? Neither, right? That's what I figured. I've written eighty of these things now and I've still no idea what purpose it serves. I'm not supporting a cause or changing the world. I mean, I recycle and take reusable bags to the grocery store, but the cloth diapers didn't last long. (Maybe I should take another look at that as a way to goad me into potty-training Perrin...) Why do you care what I think? Why do I care what I think?

I spend entirely too much time thinking. Especially when I'm still. I'm back to taking sleeping pills at night. The OTC kind though, not the Trazodone. It's the only way I can make my mind stop running in circles. That or alcohol, but who wants a hangover? I try to read until I feel like I can't keep my eyes open, but as soon as I close my eyes to sleep, my brain really acts up. I've always been a night person, but I can't be nocturnal. It's just not practical. I guess, Wal-Mart is open all night, but not much else is. Plus, I have the kids to think about. If I keep them up all night, pretty soon they'll be wanting to sleep upside down, too.

So what do I think about when I can't sleep? Now there's a question for the ages. What DON'T I think about? I wish there was a way to plug my brain into a printer that could just print out all the thoughts as the came and after an hour or so, I could unplug myself and sort through the printed thoughts. I could sort them into groups that made sense and get them all organized so I could stop them running about inside my head. Wouldn't that be nice. Especially if I could plug it into other people's brains, as well. For now, I'll just have to keep leaking random thoughts onto this blog as I feel the need.

A New Quest


I found a list at the library entitled, "The 100 Greatest Books of the Century". I've decided to work my way through it. I've already read twenty-three of them, so I've got a good start. I checked out three more today, including Faulkner's "The Sound and the Fury". I read "Watership Down" last week. It's not on the list, but it was a good read nonetheless. Who'd have thought a book about rabbits could be so interesting? I read "The Picture of Dorian Gray" the week before last. One more thing I owe to James Blunt. I can't believe it wasn't a book I read in high school. It should have been.

I figure I can read two books a week, on average. More, if I can turn off the television and stay away from the computer. That means I should be finished with the list in thirty-eight and a half weeks. I think. I'm not good with math. Much better at reading. I need to get into a book club or something. It might be fun to discuss some of these books with other people who've read them. Do people read older books anymore?

At least all of this reading seems to be doing something for the ennui that had set in. It gives my idle mind some exercise. Maybe soon, I'll be able to write about something interesting. At least I've made sure to have more than one post for the month, right? That puts me ahead of some other blog writers.

Writer's Block


I haven't written lately. I can't think of anything to write about with interest. I think it's more than just writer's block. I think it's a general life block. I'm stuck in a mind-numbingly boring pattern each day and I haven't been able to break free of it. The weather has been wonderful and we've barely been outside. I love autumn and should be enjoying this too brief time while it lasts, but I'm not. The kids are bored, too. They express this by causing trouble. There's been alot of that lately. I can't even bring myself to get too upset about it because I know it's my fault for not keeping them more entertained. We should be going to the park or out for walks at least. Reading more books and watching less television. I did sign them up for a children's art class that starts next week. Maybe that will help.

I've got to start getting out of bed earlier or something. I feel like I just waste most of the day. I feel bad about it and tell myself I'm going to do something different tomorrow, but I seem to forget all about it during the several naps I take at night. I would say "in my sleep", but I'm still not sleeping well at night. I even quit taking the Trazodone that was supposed to help me sleep because it just made it difficult for me to breathe which kept me awake even more. Perrin has a cold now and wakes up several times a night coughing and crying so that doesn't help either. Poor guy. I just want to cry right along with him some nights. It always seems to hit him just about the time I start to fall asleep. Oh, well. Who needs sleep?

We all had a good time at Will and Betsy's wedding. The kids did great and everything was beautiful. They had a reception like I wish we could have had. I didn't get any really good pictures of Will and Betsy since they had a professional photographer and I didn't want to get in the way. Perrin had everyone laughing because he'd say "cheese" right AFTER the picture was taken.

After he did it several times, it became a joke. Abby almost didn't make it down the aisle at all because she fell and hit the bridge of her nose on a trash can not ten minutes before the ceremony started. She got over the pain quickly enough, but the embarrassment was harder. She finally calmed down enough to let me put some "make-up" on her to hide the mark on her nose. Her eyes were still a bit red when she walked down the aisle, though. Who knew a four year old could have such self-esteem issues?
She had forgotten all about her nose by the reception and became the belle of the ball. I think she even got more attention than Betsy at times! Everyone wanted to dance with her and Perrin. They both had so much fun. Abby even talked Aunt Betsy into letting the DJ play "The Chicken Dance". I think everyone in the room got up and danced it for her.
We stopped by the zoo in Omaha on our way home from the wedding. It was hot and crowded, but the kids seemed to enjoy it anyway. They were pretty impressed with the sharks swimming over their heads in the aquarium. Somehow, we managed to get away with not riding the train. That was a miracle, by my standards. So. I've written something. Nothing exciting, but something. I plan to start potty-training Perrin soon, though, so things might get more interesting. I keep putting it off, but you can't avoid the inevitable forever. I'm not sure you can really consider yourself a parent if you've never had to potty-train a child. Like all of those people who drop their kids off at daycare for seventy hours a week. It's nice that the daycare staff do that for you, isn't it? I'm not going to get started on that right now. I'm going to go watch "Love In the Time of Cholera" and expect a happy ending.

Phone Home?


When we moved into our house, I bought some chalkboard paint and painted a spot on the wall in the basement for the kids to draw on. Little did I know they would come up with this:

Tell me you don't see E.T. in that mess. I was staring mindlessly at it when the face just popped out at me. Kind of creepy. Interesting, but creepy all the same. Just look at it for awhile. You'll see it.

I Am Ashamed

I have sold my soul to the devil of the worldwide web and set up a MySpace account. After my many grumblings about how vile it is and how it's nothings more than an online mall for child predators, what would make me sign over my info to them? James Blunt.

Yes, James (I'm certain you read my blog on a regular basis even though we've never met and you haven't the foggiest idea who I am). It is entirely your fault. I, like so many of the more obvious women who have posted their love for you on MySpace, have fallen victim to your emotionally vulnerable songs. However, as I still have a decent grasp on reality (managing a house full of kids and kittens will do that to you), I will not be professing my love for you. Sorry. I know you're disappointed, but that's life.

I feel like I have become a sellout. I feel ashamed that I have succumbed to my weakness for information. And it's all your fault, James.

House Pictures


Thanks to the bridal shower I threw for Betsy, the house was actually clean enough to take some pictures of the work we've done so far. There's still a LONG way to go, but we'd have to win the lottery to do it all the way I want. We did buy two decent slabs of granite off Craigslist for $65 each. One of them is going to be used for a vanity top in our bathroom. Heath wants to build a bar out of the other. I like drinking as much as the next person, but I'm not sure about the bar idea with kids around. Plus, my grandparents would make me feel about two inches tall if they found out. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I still care what they think of me.

Anyway. Here are a few of the pictures and my excuses to go with them.


The dining room. It desperately needs a buffet or corner hutches or something. At least we got rid of the trailer-park chandelier.

The living room. There is a blurry Abby in several of the pictures I took. I really have no one but myself to blame for her hamminess. She's been subjected to countless photo shoots since the day she was born. I absolutely love the rug in this room. Too bad the pic doesn't do it justice.

Perrin's room. Underneath his bed was a favorite hiding place for Charlie and Lola until their heads got too big to fit. You wouldn't think they could get under there, would you? Between the head of the bed and the wall is a small gap. Once in that gap, they had access to the entire underside of the bed. That's where I always had to retrieve them from at vet visit time.

Abby's room. Can't guess the theme here, can you? I still need to finish the painting of her headboard. Primer white is not the intended finish. I have so many ideas for this project, but I'm trying to make myself be realistic about the time I have to do the things I want. I've even thought of making each shelf a different "room" in the castle when I paint them.

Our bedroom. I wanted to make a new headboard for the bed, but after finding the fabric to make the drapes I decided to use the one we had. At least for the time being. The gold accents on the headboard bring out the gold in the drapes. The blue and brown matched perfectly, too. The only fabric in town that met all of my qualifications. Now if we only had espresso finished furniture...

And, the basement. Looks a lot better with the new carpet installed three days before the shower. I'm still not fond of the wall color, but I got so sick of painting. The round, white thing on the couch is a balloon from the shower that I drew an animal of some sort on. Or maybe it was one of the face balloons. I can't really tell.

Exciting wasn't it? Be grateful I can't charge admission on my blog. That's all the picture sharing for now. I've got to get some sleep.

Bad Dream

I know my last post was less than twenty-four hours ago, but I had the most unsettling dream last night. It was one of those dreams that feels so real you almost think you're awake. I can't recall what was happening in the dream before or what happened after, but this part is very clear to me. It was nighttime wherever I was and I was outside. I heard my cell phone ring and looked down to see my pink Razr (Yes, my "real" cell is a pink Razr) in the palm of my hand. There were other people around me. No faces, but I "knew" my children were there and I had the feeling that Heath was somewhere slightly farther away. I flipped open the phone and said, "Hello?". I then heard a voice reply from the other end which I recognized instantly as I had hoped to never hear it again. Jeff.

***Background info: Jeff was Heath's best friend/roommate when we all lived in Atlanta. I met Heath while I was dating Jeff. Heath was dating someone at the time and he and I had the chance to become really good friends. Long story short: Things ended badly between Jeff and I. I know he had problems, but I was tired of trying (and failing) to help him solve them. I believe I have a decent caring side to me, but I can only be pushed so far.***

So, back to the dream. He asks me how I'm doing and I get the feeling he's depressed and lonely. I rather coldly ask him what he's doing calling me. It's been over between us for a long time. He mumbles something about how wanting to know how I'm doing and I tell him Heath and I got married and have two kids. He seems to be saddened even more by this and the call ends. I don't know if he hung up or if the call was dropped and I consider calling him back to make sure he's alright. In the end, I don't. It's not my responsibility to look after him and I didn't invite him into my current life. Perhaps that's cruel, but there you have it.

Add to that the fact that I woke up near dawn this morning and took some cough medicine on an empty stomach and went back to sleep and I feel really out of sorts today. I feel dizzy and half asleep from the cough medicine so I'm not clear-minded enough to push this unpleasant dream out of my head properly. I've eaten since I woke up for real and it hasn't helped. Heaven help me if I'm like this all day! The kids will destroy the house and the cats will likely drink all of the water out of the fish bowl. I wonder if I could sneak a nap in somewhere. (Oh, my. I actually forgot how to spell "sneak" for a moment there. WAKE UP, BRAIN!) Doubtful. Good thing twelve-hour cough medicine doesn't actually last twelve hours.

Coincidence?

I recently ranted about the flashing tower with ultra-bright bulbs that peers into our house at night. Last night, on one of my trips downstairs (I hate summer colds) I noticed it was no longer flashing with all the power of the sun. The conspiracy theorist in me says "they" are behind this and it was all some evil ploy to mess with my head. "They" read my blog and realized I had, indeed, noticed their little "improvement". Now, they've dimmed it back down to normal and I'm supposed to wonder if I imagined it all. Well, I have other witnesses so your plan had failed!

Of course, I merely jest. I still want to know why it was so much brighter for that week or two. Some sort of strange memorial custom I've never heard of? Someone installed the wrong bulbs? Security? Whatever the reason, I'm glad it's back to normal. As much as conformity irritates me, I think all towers should have lights of the same brightness. Actually, I like conformity in most all THINGS. It's really just conformity in PEOPLE that bothers me. I especially hate it in myself so don't go calling me a hypocrite or anything.

If "they" are reading this, I'm onto you.

Reminders


I haven't been writing much lately. In part, because I've been fairly busy, and in part, because I just don't know what to write. Even I get bored reading my writing about cats and nature. My cousin Dylan has been hanging out at our place a lot in the last week. I didn't realize he lived about a block away from us until our grandmother mentioned it a couple of weeks ago. I dropped him an invitation in the mail the next day and that Sunday he showed up at our front door. (Makes more sense than showing up at the back door, I suppose.)

It's been nice to have him around. The kids have a ball with him and he's an awesome chef. He's even helped out with stuff like mowing the lawn, cleaning the kitchen, painting, etc. He's also been a reminder to me that I have interests and talents that I've been neglecting for awhile. Like watching foreign and independent films or creating original artwork. He let me borrow a Latin textbook he had so I could teach myself something I've been wanting to learn for years. I let him borrow a Kurt Vonnegut novel. Which reminds me that there are still books of Vonnegut's that I have not read yet.

I finally unpacked most of my books. I discovered I need another bookcase. Maybe two. I've still got a long way to go to have the library I want to have, but at least it's a start. Just going through them made me want to hole up in a semi-quiet corner for weeks and read. Of course, there are still some books that I only keep because I hate to get rid of books. One of my flaws, I guess.

I've also been playing Brain Age again on my DS. Personally, I think Brain Age 2 is more difficult than its predecessor. Although, I do love the piano playing. Now, I wish (not for the first time) we had a piano. Or a rosewood marimba. I miss playing music. Playing an octave+2 sized keyboard on a handheld gaming system is a sorry substitute for the real thing. At least I'm exercising my prefrontal cortex, right? I can just imagine it doing Pilates inside of my skull. That's weird.

That thought has thrown my train of thought completely off-track. I'll have to try this again another day.

Hello, Universe!


The other night, I was up in the middle of the night for a drink (non-alcoholic) and as I was standing in the dark kitchen, I noticed what I THOUGHT was thunder flashing in distant clouds out the back window. As I was still half asleep, it took me a few moments to realize that the flashing had a regular rhythm to it. Upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn't lightning at all, but rather a tower of some sort that seemed to be affixed with several ultra-bright strobe lights. Has this been there all along and somehow escaped my notice? I find that difficult to believe as I have, on occasion, spent time on the deck stargazing. And the night we were all staring at the sky waiting for fireworks?

Therefore, I can only assume that this is a rather recent addition. Or at least they replaced all of the bulbs in an existing tower. Whatever they've done, I don't like it. There are three other towers right there near it and they aren't NEARLY as blinding as this one is. It's like they've stolen a tower from the airport or NASA. What, are they trying to contact aliens or something? Hello, E.T.! Come visit Ankeny! Playful City USA! Whatever the hell THAT means.

Heath, (who thinks I'm a bit off my rocker about all this) suggested that perhaps it's just bright because it's pointed toward us. I happened to be driving down a nearby street tonight facing a different direction than the rear of our house faces and the things was STILL annoyingly luminous. Flashing at me with this malicious glee. Alright. Maybe not malicious. It's still irritating, though. How am I supposed to view the Perseids with all of that nonsense obstructing my view of the night sky? Bastards. If this is the new standard in radio towers, my next home is going to be entirely underground.

Driving Miss Ditzy


Okay. I abhor driving about on Saturdays. I don't know what it is about the weekend, but it seems like every idiot and their brother old enough (not necessarily WISE enough, mind you) to have a license is out to wreak havoc upon the world. I've probably complained about this before, but it really irks me. Today, it happened to be a woman in a Mercedes (why doesn't this surprise me) driving ten mph BELOW the speed limit. And no, it wasn't because there was someone in front of her. Apparently, Mercedes don't come with turn signals anymore. At least the brakes work. Not sure about the air conditioning. The fact that the driver had to hang her arm out the window makes me wonder. I mean, how could she talk on her cell phone that way? Or, perhaps she was doing that to keep that nasty cigarette smoke out of her expensive automobile. News flash: YOUR CAR WILL STILL SMELL LIKE SMOKE AND SO WILL YOU!

Morons.

I'm not being judgemental of smokers. I used to be one, too. It's been over five years since my last cigarette and sometimes I STILL crave one. I probably would have caved in and bought a pack by now were it not for my amazing willpower. Plus, I can think of alot more cons than pros these days. Who can afford to smoke AND put gas in their car? Obviously a Mercedes driver can.

Now I sound like I'm being judgemental of Mercedes drivers. I suppose, in a way, I am. I'm sure some of you will say I'm just jealous. You're entitled to your opinion. It just seems like there's a certain pompous quality to (most of ) them. I know, I know. That's like saying everyone who drives an Escalade listens to rap music. (Or DO they...) I was once told I didn't seem old enough to be driving a Buick. I suppose Buick is considered a make favored by older drivers. Maybe my soul picked the car. It's better than one of those hideous minivans. I'd have to chop all my hair off, shop at Younkers, and start wearing white Keds.

In all honesty, I think I'm writing this to avoid the inevitable cleaning that must occur before the carpet is installed on Wednesday. And again before Betsy's shower on Saturday. Actually, before Tuesday and our trip to the zoo with Nicci and her kids. I'm never going to get it all done. What was I thinking?! Trying to groom myself for the fateful day when I, as the eldest daughter, become the matriarch of the family and have to take care of all holiday get-togethers and showers and such on a regular basis. I'm not nearly organized enough for this... Can people my age still change their habits? Guess we'll have to see, won't we?

Another Mundane Day


I don't know exactly how it's happened, but I've actually gotten busy lately. Between bachelorette parties, baby showers, vet appointments, errand running, and the like, I hardly know what to do with myself. It's been strange to have a social schedule to juggle. I sent out the invitations today for Betsy's bridal shower on the 16th. Short notice, I know, but it was either that or the weekend before the wedding. We're supposed to have our new carpet installed on the 13th so at least that will be done. Of course, that doesn't leave me with much time to get the basement back in order. Then there's the menu planning and entertainment for the shower. Nothing naughty since my grandma will be in attendance. Let's hope I manage to make my first hosting experience at least slightly better than a total disaster. I mean, we've had people over for dinner or cookouts before, but this is different. I love Betsy to death and I want it to be fun for her.

We upgraded our satellite package last week. Our DVR receiver up and died on us a couple of weeks ago so everything we had stored on it is gone forever. One day it works and the next day it won't turn on, but the fan is still running. ??? Asinine technology. Lucky for the DirecTV people it wasn't during a new season of "House". I'd be lost without Hugh Laurie's biting sarcasm. (I realize, it's probably actually the WRITERS' biting sarcasm, but without Hugh's delivery, there would be no House.) Alright, so I might not be lost, but I wouldn't be happy either. I really think the thing that's going to push me over the edge someday (if anything can) is having to fix the cushions on the upstairs couch. Seriously. All anyone has to do is sit on them and when they get up, the cushions need pushed back against the back of the couch. It drives me nuts. Every time I fix them I think to myself, "One of these days..." and I just want to throw the thing through the picture window. The chair doesn't have that problem. Why does the couch? Anyway...

I think I was going somewhere with the upgraded service... Oh, right. So we get more channels than we used to and one of them is always playing these old cartoons that Heath and I watched growing up. "Pound Puppies", "The Smurfs", "The Snorks". The kids love them. Some of them seem really unintelligent to me now and I wonder how my parents let me watch them, but they're still funny.

I should really be making dinner now. I'm slacking off on my wifely duties again. Although, I don't remember there being anything about cooking in my wedding vows...

Survival


I managed to survive my weekend with Betsy and her bridesmaids. In spite of the fact that I was at least four years older than all of them and a bit grown out of my party-girl days, I had a lot of fun. I dropped Abby and Perrin off at my mom's on Friday night and stayed over at Will and Betsy's as we were planning on getting an early start for KC in the morning. Of course, get a bunch of girls together and they'll stay up half the night talking (and drinking in our case). At least Jenny and Katie got naps in on the way down. We went to Oceans of Fun first thing. My feeling self-conscious in a bathing suit lasted less than ten minutes. I may not have a flawless body, but most of the women surrounding us at Oceans of Fun made me look like Jessica Alba in comparison. Okay, maybe not QUITE that good, but pretty darn close. There were even women with smaller breasts than mine. Seriously! I know, I didn't think it was possible either!

After a few hours of water play, we checked into the hotel and got ready to go out. It's a good thing we don't all live together. Four girls trying to get ready in one hotel room is a near nightmare. Especially when they all need showers to wash off the chlorine from swimming. We made it work though and it went better than I thought it would. Ever the pessimist. We went out to eat at this awesome underground restaurant called Boca. Italian, of course. It had I don't know how many rooms and seemed like it went on forever. The food was excellent and so was the bartender. I was all warm and fuzzy after two drinks. It made me a little unsure of my ability to keep up with Betsy, Jenny, and Katie all night. Turns out, after I actually ATE something, I felt better. Go figure.

After dinner, Betsy's parents dropped us off on Westport in the middle of the bars. Then the drinking REALLY started. Naturally, Betsy was all decked out in "bride-to-be" paraphernalia so we drew all sorts of attention. Not paying any covers was a nice bonus. We met a group of guys having a bachelor party in the first bar. I believe they'd already had a good start on their drinking. Each of our groups made up a list of ten things to do before the night was over for the other group. Of course, most of their list was about showing your boobs to six guys from Minnesota. Can you guess where they were from? Real original guys. It was also at this bar that we decided to use my permanent marker to keep a drink tally on each of our arms all night.

From there, we went to a couple of places we weren't all that impressed with and finally ended up at a place called "Dueling Piano Bar". It was fun. The best, by far. The guys on the pianos up front meant there was never a dull moment. They entertained the crowd with everything from Disney themes to "It's Hard to Say 'I Love You' When You're Sitting On My Face". In between drinks, we all got hit on by guys in various stages on intoxication. The one that we actually had a good time with was this older gentleman who Betsy dubbed "Rodney" because she thought he looked like Rodney Dangerfield. He kept asking her to dance. Once he decided to give her a break, he turned his attentions to me. I don't dance. Only, by this time, I'd had enough to drink that I heard myself say "okay". Thank goodness I still maintained some degree of gracefulness. Not that I ever have much. I didn't step on his feet at all and followed his lead with only one minor mistake. It's not like it was complicated, but I'm still kind of proud of myself for remaining upright (except for the dipping) on my tall shoes. He was a sweet old guy. He kept telling me what a natural I was and that my husband needed to take me out dancing. He made me feel pretty though, and I thanked him for that as the bar closed. I told him how rare that was for me. It still makes me smile.

Once the bar closed, Jenny and I were starting to feel the weight of the day and wanted to call it a night. It was just after two in the morning. Betsy wanted to stay out 'till three, but by that time, she had no idea what time it was anyway. By the time her dad got there to pick us up, we were the only white people (besides police officers on foot, in cars, on bicycles, on horseback, etc. I'm not kidding. They were EVERYWHERE) to be seen in any direction. It was a good time to head back. We made it to the hotel without anyone puking, although Betsy came close. If I counted the tally marks on my arm correctly, it's a wonder I didn't too. Guess I can hold my liquor better than I thought. Betsy had us all beat, though. She had eleven tally marks and most of them were shots. Needless to say, she passed out as soon as we hit the hotel room. At least she had a good night!

We all slept pretty much the entire way back to Des Moines. I really thought I'd be sick, but it was just tired. I napped a lot Sunday, but by Monday I felt like normal again. Boring old normal. Expect that I've had a lot to do this week. The cats had their big vet visit yesterday. They are now incapable of reproducing and have no front claws. They were so out of it all evening I felt kind of bad. They're much better today. Charlie even kept me up half the night licking my hair. Obviously, he's not mad at me.

I took Perrin to get his hair cut this afternoon. I made sure to have the lady leave it long enough to cover his ears on the sides since they tend to stick out. It sort of disguises them. He doesn't look so much like a girl now, although I liked his hair the way it was. I thought it might be nice for him to have a more boyish haircut for his stint as ring bearer. I'm still kind of nervous about the kids being in the wedding. I just KNOW they're going to do something embarrassing. Please, let me have a sense of humor that day! More importantly, let everyone ELSE have one that day!

Change In Plans


I'm going to KC after all! My mom got back to town today so she's letting me leave the kids with her. I'm more than grateful for this considering she just spent the past week taking Sam to Arizona for his orientation for college. She could have told me no, but my mom is great. And I am thankful. Maybe she knows I could use a night out with the girls or she knows I never had a bachelorette party of my own. Whatever the case, thanks Mom!

I'm looking forward to this more than I probably should be. As you know, I don't get out much. I also don't drink like I used to. I guess that means it'll be cheaper for me to drink, right? I must remember not to wear tall shoes. I like to think I know my limits, but just in case, I don't want to wear anything that will making walking in a straight line harder. At least Betsy's parents are going with us to be our designated drivers. She assures me they're pretty laid back. And they'd have to be, wouldn't they?

I forgot to ask if the other girls going are married or not. I suppose it doesn't really matter, but does being married mean behaving differently at things like this? Do I have to act all grown-up or do I get a free pass to act like I did "back in the day"? I don't mean picking up guys or crap like that. (Although if they want to buy me drinks I might let them. Just don't get any ideas, punk.) I guess I don't really know what I mean. For once, I can't seem to describe what I mean. Weird.

Whatever happens, I'll likely enjoy myself and maybe even take lots of pictures. If they turn out to be the kind that shouldn't be shared, well...

Musings on Heirs


My sister-in-law, Alicia, is pregnant. I'm excited for them, as they have been married longer than we have and this is their first child. That makes one sister-in-law and three cousins of mine who are expecting at the moment. I'm staying away from the water. I'd better warn my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Betsy, too. I'm pretty sure she and Will are planning to wait awhile before adding a human baby to the family. I think Patrick, the puppy, is enough entertainment for them now. Of course, I think they're going to make excellent parents. That's why they're our choice for guardians if anything should ever happen to us. Not sure about the kittens, though...

Back to Alicia. Because she is my sister-in-law, her child will be my niece or nephew, effectively making me an aunt. Obviously. I'm going to be Auntie Em. Yes, I find this funny. Rather than being annoyed by it (like my younger brother Sam who became "Uncle Sam" when Abby was born), I'm going to embrace it. Maybe I'll even get a house in Kansas. I like "Auntie Em" much better than "Aunt Emily". Aunt Emily sounds like a little old lady. Someday, that may suit me, but definitely not yet!

Speaking of Kansas (or, rather, Missouri), Betsy's having a sort of bachelorette getaway this weekend in Kansas City and I want to go. I'm invited, that's not the issue. The problem is that Heath is going to an arena football game with Will and both of my parents are out of town. It's not fair. I want to have a night out with the girls, even if I only know one of them. Besides, I'll bet they could use a photographer. I'll bet there will be drinking and I would love to have a chance to do that with just girls for a change. Anyone want to volunteer to watch my kids this weekend? Haha. Oh, well. Maybe next time, right?

Watching "The Other Boleyn Girl" the other day inspired me to do some reading about English history. I read a book yesterday that covered some 300 years including the Tudors and Elizabeth I. It was rather bare bones type stuff, but it was interesting. The only thing that bothered me was the fact that the British historian who wrote the book seems to have a very low opinion of Shakespeare. For a man who is, quite possibly, England's greatest bard, giving him a mere few sentences seems like an insult. Chaucer and his pervy tales got an entire chapter. Needless to say, I think it's absurd to have given Shakespeare so little.

After finishing the first book, I began one on the wives of Henry VIII. I'm already intrigued by Anne Boelyn, but I want to know more about each of the six women who endured such a man. Divorced, beheaded, died... Divorced, beheaded, survived. Thank goodness men can't behead their wives for not producing a male heir these days. At least not here in the United States. Not legally anyway. Although, I'd be safe, I suppose. I feel for poor Catherine of Aragon, though. So many stillbirths and miscarriages. I don't know how she kept it together. Especially married to Henry. I'm pretty sure I'd have been beheaded fairly quickly.

On that note, I'm going to do some more reading and be grateful for the fact that I'm not medieval royalty.

Sleepless Again


Last night was unpleasant. I went to bed early feeling sick. Not too long after I fell asleep, some vile insect or arachnid bit me on the cheek and in felt like a bee sting. Having been so rudely awakened, I got up and went to take my nightly supplements. Heath is in the basement playing "Grand Theft Auto" with Abby. Yeah. I thought we'd agreed about that game. (He later told me he wasn't killing anybody or anything, just letting her drive the tractor. ????) So that got me all annoyed and I couldn't go back to sleep. I checked my face in the mirror to see if whatever it was that bit my face left a mark. Didn't see anything. If we had ducks in the house there would be no bugs. Of course, there would be duck poop...

Eventually Heath put the kids to bed and came in to go to sleep. We had a brief "discussion" about the video game with me being extra crabby since I wasn't feeling good and was still a bit pissed about the bite thing. (Aren't you glad you married me, dear?) I don't even really remember what we said, but I think we went to sleep on good terms at least. (If not, put a quarter in the "Bad Wife" jar for me.) FYI: The Breathe Right strips don't really stop snoring. I took something to help me sleep, but ended up crawling into Perrin's race car bed desperate for sleep. I had just curled up with my pillow when the rain started. Then the tornado siren, which they have finally mended, by the way. It's definitely working properly now. Wow.

Heath and I took the kids and went to the basement. I checked the weather and we all settled down onto the couch. Yes, it's that big. Then the power went out. Then it came back on. Then it went out and stayed out. Which means, (Oh, can you guess?) the sump pump was out of commission. And it was still raining. Next, Perrin starts saying he's going to puke. Rather than risk him puking on the new couch, I took him upstairs (by the light of the cell phone). The tornado sirens had ceased rattling the windows of the house so I decided it must be safe. He ended up puking once. In the toilet, thank goodness. I was really hoping to avoid scrubbing vomit out of the carpet in the near total darkness. There's the silver lining, folks.

We all finally got back into our beds. I stayed with Perrin in case he threw up again. Just as I'm falling asleep, this giant machine grumbles down the road and starts removing tree branches from a house 'round the cul-de-sac a bit. I guess it's dangerous to leave tree branches in the middle of the road when all the street lights are out. It took him several tries and a lot of backing up (backup sensor in working fine) to get it done, but yay for him.

By this time, it was nearly dawn and I was cross indeed. I don't feel like I got any sleep and the power didn't come back on until mid-afternoon. At least the basement didn't flood again. (Another silver lining) Did I mention I didn't get much sleep? Is the world really against me? It's probably retribution for all the sleeping-in I did in high school. They warned me about this.

I had about thirty library books that were due today so I couldn't sleep all day. I took both kids to both libraries we frequent and they actually behaved surprisingly well. I was optimistic about how much I'll be able to read in the next three weeks and picked up several new books to read that don't have pictures. I also got an email from Sarah today, who informs me that the only ones allowed to call someone "emotionally unstable" are those who are also "emotionally unstable". She was offended that someone called me that. I love having a best friend who sticks up for me. So, to the person who called me "emotionally unstable", take it back or join the ranks!

I'm just teasing. Sort of. I can take the occasional hurtful comment if I know it's meant to improve me as a person. That's constructive criticism, right? I've known one or two people in my life who used to be really excellent at giving that to me. Not that I LIKED it, mind you.

A friend of mine sent me an email of famous women caught without makeup. I have to admit, I felt better about myself after seeing it. I'm just glad I don't have people stalking me with cameras all the time. Still, having a team of professionals to pretty me up and take pictures would be nice to try just once. That's likely the only way there will ever be viewed photos of me around. We all know I'm much better at being behind the camera than in front of it.

I forgot to mention the rest of the story about the bite. By this afternoon, I'd developed this weird spot of almost burned looking skin from whatever bit me. It doesn't hurt, but it looks like I have an abnormal birthmark. That creepy little bastard better pray I don't find it and that this mark goes away soon. Otherwise, I may just go buy a duck.

My Day Off


I had a day without the kids on Wednesday. What did I do with all that freedom, you ask? I tended to a few things I'd been putting off for long enough and then I went shopping. The funny thing is, I don't actually LIKE shopping all that much. I never have. (Unless it's for books.) Heath would probably beg to differ based on our bank account alone, but I swear, it's not because I actually like shopping. It's more about boredom and this weird need for stuff I seem to have. I have "stuff" that I've never even taken the tags off of or removed from their packages and even I can't remember how long I've had them. I find things buried in piles of stuff (yes, more stuff) that I had completely forgotten about buying but I seemed to think I needed it at the time apparently. It's this disease that I can't seem to cure. They probably have anonymous groups for people with problems like this somewhere. Sign me up.

What was I writing about? Oh, yes. My day off. I decided to pick up a movie just for me. I haven't bought a "me" movie in quite awhile. Let alone a new release, so I bought "The Other Boleyn Girl". It was beautifully done and I think the casting was good, too. As far as the plot, I'm not all that polished on my English history so I don't know how accurate it was, but Anne DID lose her head in the end. There was a lot of spouse-sharing. And one woman who had the power to get what she wanted and knew how to use it. Of course, things didn't exactly end well for her...

After the movie, I tried to get in some reading. Ironically, there was more spouse-sharing. I'm not making this up. I was NOT expecting it in the book I'm reading now. It gave me a different view on why people cheat though. In fact, it came dangerously close to glorifying it. Pointing out that these two people had been lovers for fourteen years and how the passion never wore off. They never had to deal with each other's bad habits or argue about whose turn it was to do which chore around the house. They only had the good parts of a relationship. None of the bad. That is the first time I have thought of cheating as understandable. NOT THAT I'M CONDONING IT! I'm just saying I could see the upside someone might see when it was put this way. Anyway, I'm sure it's going to end badly for them in the book. Besides, most novels are meant to be a break from reality, not give you a dose of it.

Again, where was I going with this? My day off. Right. The short version is that it was good. In my world, there's always room for improvement, but I'm trying to complain less. For posterity. I'm also going to try to make fewer references to my medication and my mental state because it seems to have given some people (who shall remain nameless) the idea that I'm emotionally unstable. If I didn't have a sense of humor I might be more offended by that.

I know this has nothing to do with anything I've written so far, but what is with the people who pick up our recycling? Is it really necessary to come before dawn? I wanted to put the box (which would be overflowing were it not for my packing prowess) out at the curb last night, but as it was pouring rain I thought I'd wait until morning so as not to give you guys a wet mass of paper, cardboard, plastic, glass, etc. I even got up WAY before my usual time to put it out. But what do I see when I open my front door? All of the neighbors' bins are already empty. You bastards. I try to do you a favor and you insist on coming at some unholy hour. Thanks. I really was hoping to keep this stuff around for another week. I'll bet you don't even recycle your own stuff, do you? That's fine. See if you get any cookies for Christmas. The mailman will.

...It Pours.

If I'm to be honest, I must admit I'm a little freaked out at the moment. I've been standing at the window nervously dancing on my toes. A bit like Abby when she has to go to the bathroom, actually. Except, I DON'T have to go to the bathroom. I'm watching the rain and watching the flood rise in our backyard. Each flash of lightning reveals a slightly higher water level and I start to get slightly more agitated. Bodies of water upset me. Especially when they're ones that aren't supposed to be there and it's dark AND they're in my backyard. I don't like it. I try to distract myself by grabbing my camera and trying to take pictures of it so I stop bouncing around.

Now, I know this picture is next to worthless, but when you take into account that is was nearly eleven o'clock at night, taken through a screened window, and was attempting to be taken timing with the lightning, it's not bad. This was from my bedroom window toward the east. You can see our neighbor's house across the way and in the foreground, to the left, is the kids' wading pool. That pond reflecting the lightning is supposed to be our (and the neighbor's) backyard. Evil, evil water. Our poor little Elmo sprinkler might have been washed away were it not for the fact that he was still attached to the hose. I'm certainly not about to go out and rescue him.

This picture is slightly improved. It actually rained during the day for once. This was after it had stopped raining and the water had gone down a bit. It's nasty water, too. It brings all manner of garbage down into the reeds behind the house. Once the lightning stopped that day, I actually went out (barefoot, naturally) and took a walk into the water in a few places just to see how deep it was. I didn't go in past my knees, but I could have. There was more than enough water there, but I have no desire to be sucked into the murky depths by some bizarre water snake or alligator. People will tell you those kinds of creatures don't live around here, but I have my doubts. Speaking of snakes, where do they go when it rains like this? Can they all swim or only certain kinds? Maybe they put on little snake snorkels and masks and slither along the bottom of the water.

Outside of being freaked out about the water, I talked to my mother-in-law for awhile tonight. She asked about our new carpet and I told her we were going with tan for the basement and a very light, almost white, for our bedroom. I told her the carpet for our bedroom felt so soft it was like walking on kittens. At the moment, it was the softest thing I could think of, okay? Thank goodness she has a warped sense of humor, too, sometimes. She laughed instead of making me feel weird and twisty. I'll have to remember not to use that phrase when we go to order the carpet, though. "Yes. I'd like to order that carpet that feels like you're walking on kittens." On the other hand, it might be kind of funny to see their reaction. If only I could keep a straight face. And speaking of kittens...

How can something so small smell so HORRIBLE? I mean, I've changed some ripe nappies in my day, but nothing NEAR what that smells like! Couldn't they put something in cat food to make their crap smell a TAD less offensive? And they always, always have to "christen" the litter box after I've tidied it. Honestly. I swear they do it just to prove something. Their day is coming, though. They will no longer have front claws or reproductive abilities. I'm still the Queen of this house.