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.

Yet Again...


Another sparrow nearly killed itself on our front window this evening. For all I know, it was the same on mentioned in my last post. Maybe the poor girl just really doesn't get windows. Maybe she just really likes me. Whatever the case, I heard her hit it pretty hard. I went out (like last time) and found her lying on the porch. This time, she was on her back and her wings were twitching so I knew she was at least alive. I picked her up (gently) and she sort of relaxed into the cradle of my palm. The way her head slumped to the side I was afraid she might have broken her neck, but she soon became more alert and began looking up at me.

I stroked her tiny little back while she snuggled against my open hand. She just kept sitting there and I kept talking to her softly. Every once in awhile she'd cock her head and gaze up at me with her pretty brown eyes, but she didn't seem at all frightened. She even started to doze off a couple of times. It seemed almost surreal. This tiny, wild creature seeming so at ease in my hand. Of course, she was probably just too dazed to know any better. And she did crap on me. Still, I'd rather think of it as a magical sort of experience than the more realistic version.

Of Birds and Booby-traps



Have you ever heard the saying about how a bird hitting your window means someone is going to die? If that's true, The birds around our house are the death omens of half the city. I swear, it's an almost daily occurrence around here. It's not like my windows are all that clean either. Between the kids and the kittens, there are plenty of prints on them. I am mystified by this. Do they really not see the giant house in front of them? Maybe it's their reflection they're attacking, but is that really any smarter? I know, I know. Birds aren't known for their large brains. Hence, the phrase "bird brain". Still, you'd think after the first half a dozen or so had made impact, word would have gotten around in the avian community. Apparently not. See the photo below.



Can you see the imprint left by this unfortunate soul? I mean, the poor bird had to have hit the window head on to have left a mark like that. You can't tell from the picture, but up close, you can see the fine details on each individual feather. Wings, breast, head. There's even one tiny white feather that's stuck to the glass and refuses to blow away or be washed off by the rain. I looked for a body, because I honestly didn't think it could have walked..er...flown...away from something like that. No body. I must admit I'm impressed. Maybe because it was a larger bird. Probably one of the mourning doves or a robin.

The other day, I heard one hit the front window. I went out to check and found a sparrow on the porch. I picked it up and it opened its eyes. She was merely stunned, I guess. She got her wits about her (if she had any left) and flew off. Probably to smash into someone else's window. At least she didn't leave an imprint on mine. The only thing I saw there were the muddy bird footprints from a few weeks ago where some other bird (slightly brighter than the rest) must have realized at the last second that it had misjudged and glanced off the window. Honestly.


Not to sound superior or anything, but if you've never had small children, you're missing out. The way their minds work is unequaled. They have this weird oxymoronic ability to have no common sense and perfect common sense all at the same time. For example, they'll run into a street full of moving cars without even THINKING to look first, but they'll come up with new words or phrases that make more sense than the "grown-up" ones. Perrin, Heath, and I were at Home Depot last night looking at carpet. Perrin overheard the voice on the loudspeaker and asked us what that noise was. We told him it was somebody talking. He then asked, "Whobody?". "Whobody". I've never heard that word before, but it makes perfect sense to me. Why ISN'T that a word?

Perrin has also made his own deductions about my underthings. He picked up one of my bras out of a pile of laundry the other day and, at first, I didn't get what he was trying to call it so I just said "uh huh" and sort of ignored it. A couple days later he said it again (I do a lot of laundry so don't think I let my kids play with bras all the time) and I actually got what he was saying. He calls them "booby-traps". How fitting. My Aunt Carol always called going without a bra "letting those puppies roam free". Perrin came to the conclusion all on his own, though. At least, to my knowledge he did. It's hilarious to take him to department stores now. Whenever we pass the lingerie department, he shrieks "booby-traps" at the top of his lungs. I could be embarrassed by this, I suppose, but it's too funny. He is so often my comedy relief.

I think I'm going to go do some research on the birds flying into windows thing. Maybe there's a real reason for it after all.

At the Races


The kids spent the night at my mom's last night so Heath and I went out with Will and Betsy. We met up for dinner at a new restaurant called "Torroco". The atmosphere was nice and the food (Italian) was good. The Sinatra playing in the background was enjoyable, but the more "authentic" selections were a bit on the annoying side. We met up at eight o'clock and the place was virtually deserted considering it was Saturday night. I can only guess that they are still working on building their clientele base. Whatever the case, I actually enjoyed the lack of other patrons.

After dinner, we decided to meet a couple of Will and Betsy's friends at the local racetrack. (Don't disown me mom.) I'd never actually watched a horse race live before and neither had Heath. Heath decided we should place bets on a horse. While he was trying to get the inside scoop from the man taking our bets, I chose the dark bay (oh, so handsome) horse in the blue silks. A natural choice as blue is my favorite color. I didn't even read his name. I told Heath to bet on him, but he decided to go with another horse and bought me my own ticket, instead. Telling the man behind the counter, "My wife says...". When they asked me if I wanted to place the bet for him to win, I said "Sure. Why not?" and the guy behind the counter looked at me like I was a little nuts. I guess I hadn't looked at the horse's odds when I made my choice. He was dead last in the odds. Everyone else in our group placed their bets. Will's friend, Pat, also placed a bet on my horse. Probably just because he was the longshot. To each his own.

I decided it would be more fun to watch the race from as close as possible being as it was my first one and all. We all headed outside and I found a place at the fence right beside the finish line. I told Heath I wanted to be close enough to feel the dirt in my face. The horses came to post (or whatever the technical term is) and everyone was in the gate. The bell rang and the gates flew open. My horse stumbled on the way out, but kept it together. He was in third when he came past us the first time. He held back a couple of lengths behind the leaders and I suspected he was just biding his time. Sure enough, as the came around the second to last turn, he closed the gap. As they came around the final turn, he made his move and took the lead. He just kept gaining ground and won by over three lengths at odds of thirty-eight to one.

Pat and I celebrated and Heath couldn't believe my luck. I say it was faith in my horse. Wayzata Bay is his name, by the way. I insisted on staying to watch him brought into the Winner's Circle. I had, for once, forgotten my camera, so the only pictures I could get of him were on my cell phone. Not good enough to share, but at least I have one. All the excitement made me shaky, but it was fun. We went to collect our winnings and I sweet talked the guy behind the counter into letting me keep my ticket after he marked it as paid. Heath tried to get me to place another bet, but as I don't feel elated very often, I declined. I wanted to end on a good note. I felt it couldn't get any better than that.

So, thank you, Wayzata Bay, for making my first race a memorable one. You've been trying to win the race for three years and you finally did it. Congratulations! Guess we both had a great night!

Trip Planning


Sarah and I have been trying to plan her trip out here. We looked for flights while we talked tonight. Can you believe that to fly from Pittsburgh to Des Moines anytime in the next two months is going to cost $440? At LEAST! Yeah. I don't think so. I decided it was worth checking flights into Omaha instead. Oh, my goodness, am I glad I did. $179. Are you kidding?! Why is it so much more to fly into Des Moines? Did it turn into some kind of major metropolis without my noticing? I realize it's the capitol city, but seriously. Have any of the people pricing these flights actually BEEN here? I might pay that much to get OUT of here, but certainly not to fly in. Idiots.

At least we'll definitely be able to get together now. I can hardly wait. Her kids will be at home and mine will be at my mom's for several days. We'll finally get some "girl" time. Now, I just need to think of some interesting places to go out. I'm so out of the loop when it comes to that stuff. What a loser, right? Haha. You try taking kids to a bar or club and see if you get in. That's what I thought. What's that you say? Date night? What's THAT?

In other news, I didn't go to my ten year high school reunion. I'm not sad about it either. If the people I went to high school with really gave a damn about what I was doing now they'd have kept in touch in the first place. I'm sure most of the night was spent bragging to each other about how far they've come since graduation and how great their lives are. I have nothing to prove to them. I didn't care then and I don't care now. Those were wretched years and I'm glad they're over. I actually have nightmares where I'm back in high school and they ruin my entire day when I wake up. No, I didn't get made fun of on a regular basis or anything. I just never fit in there. I always thought there was something more out there than who was breaking up with who. Although, I DO miss having access to a marimba on a regular basis.

I found our Netflix movies in a box yesterday. It's about time, too. We've been paying our monthly fee for the same three movies since before we moved. I didn't even watch them. I just stuck them in the mail. I'm hoping we get something good for the weekend. Like I should be sitting around watching movies when there's so much to be done still. Ugh. Priorities. Speaking of movies, someone out there still has one of my movies. Must be holding it for ransom. Hello, out there! I need to know your terms if I am to consider them. Keep in mind, I don't have a lot of money. We just bought a house, after all.

I'm going to take my leave by sharing some pics of the kids from the last couple of weeks.

Rabbits & the Cinema


Have you ever seen two rabbits fight? Yeah, me neither. That is, not until tonight. Right about dusk, there are usually two or three rabbits stalking around our backyard. They've been here at least as long as we have, so I figure they have about as much right to use it as we have. The kids really enjoy watching them and, on occasion, chasing them (although I try to discourage this) around.

This evening, there were two in the yard near the flowerbed. They squared off and then commenced with what I can only assume was a battle. It was one of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen. One would dart right for the other and the other would jump straight up into the air a split second before impact, thus dodging contact. They would then circle each other and repeat the procedure. They went at this for a couple of minutes and then suddenly one started grooming its fur and the other (not two feet away) began grazing. It was like someone had flipped a switch in their tiny little brains. How bizarre. I'm still not sure if it was fighting or foreplay.

Have you ever watched a movie that started out well and took a weird turn somewhere far enough into it that you felt it would be a waste to turn it off? I watched one of those tonight. It was like watching the first half of one movie and the last half of a different one. I'll admit, I have some strange taste in movies, but every so often there's one that even I don't get. Maybe it's not that I didn't get this one, but that I didn't like the ending. I knew what was coming (like I always seem to in any movie) and I felt disappointed. It was depressing.

I've had a headache all evening, too. Ibuprofen, you're useless. It's probably because I hardly slept last night. Between the sunburn (yes, I've learned my lesson), the cats pouncing on me and eating my hair while kneading my scalp with their claws (Lola actually joined Charlie for this last night. They were quickly escorted out of my bedroom.), the bloody robins singing at four in the morning (WTH?! The sun's not even UP yet and I feed your sorry butts!), and the garbage truck. A little after dawn I managed to get in an hour or so of actual sleep and had a fantastic dream that I woke up all too soon from. *sigh*

Abby just told me Perrin is asleep on the floor upstairs. I'm such a great mom. I hope he's at least on the rug where it's soft. Guess that means I'd better get him into bed. Me, too. Before I fall asleep here and wake up with those embarassing keyboard imprints on my head.