Thursday, January 31, 2013

I managed to complete 1 thing off my list of little things to do and it wasn't even the actual list of little things to do!

Yay me!

In other news-I'm going to attempt to take the weekend off from here so I can make that recording of a post to send to Chris and Joe. Then I am going to get my ass in gear and finally finish the second draft of "the Really Long Story"

It has been a tough week, both kids had days off from school-G faked and got sent home yesterday. (Incidentally, her best friend Iz of the cotton batting beard also went home)

I am tempted to send a note to the nurse requesting that I only be called if my children vomit blood or start to excrete insects from their orifices.

So not a lot of writing has been done.  I am officially grounding myself.

But before that I am off to see Les Miserables! B took the day off from work just to take me. What a guy. (I wanted to see Transporter 20&1/2 but he wanted to see the chick flick-what a wuss)

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow when I break my vow of no internet to write a post!

BTW-thanks to everyone who shared my links, to the person who followed me, and to Marianne of We Band of Mothers, who always leaves comments-thanks guys XOXO

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Help Here!

So, a lovely friend of mine is arranging to have one of my blog posts animated. I am thinking it will be me reading the blog, with the animation added.

So if you are just dying to see the mental picture of my dog noisily licking himself or my kids or father doing something kind of fucked up, drop me a line, let me know so I can send it along.

Joe Bilicic is the artist who is kind enough to do this so check him out when you get a chance-his website is 

Ok I'm waiting..

Yeah, I Bought Him a Gun-So Shoot Me

My mother in law sent this to me-it's pretty damn funny

My groove and routine have been destroyed today by that boy. He had 2 doctors appointments and insisted I take him out to get him a Nerf gun for an early birthday present.

It looks like a toy, it's not realistic, it shoots little foam darts. It's actually fun, the darts only sting a tiny bit when you get shot in the ass.

I have been shot in the ass many times today.

He is hardwired for certain things-Von is-trains, guns, breaking things with large sticks. So you know, in this day and age-every destructive act and purchase of an item resembling a gun includes a lecture about how guns belong only in the hands of people trained to handle guns and please don't ever shoot people when you grow up.

The dog is a whole other matter.

The dog is not especially bothered by being shot with Nerf darts. I have been acting out my own personal fantasy all afternoon.

It could be considered cruel, but it is very therapeutic-I have been feeling so much better about him after pretending to kill him the first few times

So that's that. It's all I have right now. I have been thrown off by this change in my routine-I hope to be here tomorrow.

So far-no bug-I have one more set of bedding to wash. It's coming soon.

Sanjay Gupta (speaking of personal fantasies-he is so hot) says that it is very hard to prevent/avoid the norovirus. We all might as well go lick some public toilet seats and get it over with.

Ow-shot in the ass again.

Monday, January 28, 2013

It's About Time

I cannot wait any longer. It has to be done.

I know in my heart that in doing what needs to be done, I have sealed the fate of everyone in my household.

I am washing the bedding this week and will most likely mop the living room floor.

As soon as I am through cleaning it all, we will all get the stomach flu.

Most likely the dog will get diarrhea too. The cat will scrape her ass across the floor.

It happens every time.

You don't become superstitious for no reason. When you are the primary caregiver of 3 children and an adult, you fear things like stomach bugs.

You don't want to jinx yourself.

I looked at the calendar and saw that we do not have any big events or holidays coming up. I have a bit of sick time and no planned vacation.

It's time to jinx myself and get some cleaning done, only to have to clean some more.

In the end, my house will be really really fucking clean. And smell like bleach!

I try to make the most of the noro-virus. I'll lose some weight, watch some TV, cleanse my system and have a clean house that smells of bleach.

It is time for the Big Green Bowl to come out of it's home beneath V's bed to get some work done!

Did I mention that B and I are planning to limit the kids screen time to only a half an hour a day?

That's another one. As soon as we try to implement this, we will all get sick. the only way to keep the kids from killing one another while we lie in bed in bed in stinky agony is to let them watch the pretty screens all day.

We are screwed. So screwed. But it has to happen sooner or later and now is a good time.

Tune in tomorrow-I might be here, if not I was right and will be camped out in the bathroom.

Otherwise, I'll tell you about my list that I plan on making, to help me finally finish all the little tasks around the house that I have been putting off for years.

Then only thing that is holding me back is the first item on the list, which is: Write a list of all the little things that need to be done.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Drowning Kittens

Yesterday was one of "those" days.

Happily, it was not a day spent in the ER, or cleaning a large amount of something gross, which is always a faint possibility where I work.

Actually, I always bring a book where ever I go, so the ER is a snap now. (Last year I was in there with a tome-like copy of Swan Song-but the weight was worth it, I was there for 10 hours)

 I'm used to gross stuff. (I also carry a pair of..the word is escaping me..rubber, but not actually rubber gloves, surgical gloves? I guess that's it.)

Actually that stuff is Ok, it involves the people I support and I don't mind helping them out with whatever they need. It's Ok.

They are there for a reason.

So, I had an unmentionable interaction with a family member who shall not be named, which resulted in my screaming several times in my car at the top of my lungs.

I was alone of course. The scream allowed me to get on with my day, though it really hurt my throat. I should take singing lessons in order to screech properly and not injure myself.

So, after that I was already feeling blech. Just a bit down, not too great.

I sat down with a fellow employee and gave him a few things to do.  Just reading and stuff to write and check off on. Nothing major.

As a supervisor, I am required sometimes to go over things with people, give people stuff to do, tell them to do something they didn't do. Things like that.

I have a little motto I try to work by: I never tell anyone to do something that I wouldn't do myself or haven't already done.

You would have thought, based on their reaction, that I had handed them a tiny kitten and said, "Here, you go drown this."

Or handed them a tablespoon of dog shit and said, "Here, you have to eat this right now."

It was kind of crazy. I found myself unable to retort in such a way that would allow me to maintain my professionalism. So I just said nothing.

The Person said they'd talk to our manager and I replied that that was a very good idea.

Which brings me to another motto I came up with: In life one must accommodate, placate and do everything short of fellatiate, some really screwed up people.

Today is a new day. I was able to watch a bright orange moon set first thing this morning,

I'm going to take the kids for Sunday indoctrination, I'm going to make a batch of pulled pork and go run around in the woods.

New day!

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Yoga Klutz

Before I begin, I feel I must tell you that in no way am I soliciting sympathy or reassurance.

You know those posts on Facebook or whatever, that say I'm ugly or Im miserable and sometimes it is just a way for people to get reassurance from others? (by the way, doing that is totally fine-it's Ok to ask for reassurance)

This is not that type of thing. I am just writing a simple truth, that I totally and completely accept as just being a part of who I am.

Here is one of my favorite SpongeBob episodes, mainly for the beginning, where Plankton yells out

"I can deny it no longer! I am small."

I can deny it no longer:  I am a klutz.

Take a few Winter's back. I had come back from walking the dog as B just finished using this ice chipper roofing tool thing to completely clear the large concrete area in our back yard.

I walked up the stairs and beheld him in the Winter sunshine, standing tall with a roofing tool in his hand like the staff of some Greek god. He was finished, he was smiling hugely-very proud of himself at his accomplishment.

Chipping and clearing a 4 inch think sheet of ice that is probably 10 square feet in diameter is no little feat.

I got to the top step, congratulated him and tripped, knocking over a small brick wall that stood on the side of our gate, spewing brick and bits of mortar all over his freshly cleaned surface.

B told me to get inside, I stumbled in, not looking at him because I didn't want him to see how hard I was laughing.

I do shit like that all the time.

The only time you will ever see me move in a graceful fashion is at the beehive. You have to move the bee boxes, which weigh about 20-50 pounds each and are full with irritated stinging insects, in a very careful, gentle way so as to not anger them further.

I do that well, but to be honest, the bees leave me little choice-move us gently and gracefully or we sting your fucking face. And everyone else's face that may be nearby.

I can't dance. I won't dance unless it's sarcastically. If you ask, I will say no thanks. If you try to drag me onto the dance floor. I will hit you.  In the mouth. It's a simple fact.

And it's OK.

One time I went with a friend, a friend from work whom I used to think sometimes would take me out with her to make herself look good, to a cardio kickboxing class.

What a fucking nightmarish mess that was. I couldn't keep in sync with the class, I was so out of shape that I couldn't keep up, and my friend had me terrified. She kept saying to me, "You can't stop in the middle, you'll pass out!" So I stumbled along, flailing my arms and legs in pathetic half kicks, surrounded by svelte young nymphs high kicking in unison and punching the air in glory.

My half ass attempts made them look awesome.

I have not been to an exercise class since. It has been 13 years.

I started going to a gym with my friend Heather, you know, Heather Jean from this post from last year:

It's great-she gets me in on her membership.

Most mornings that I plan on going with her, I call to check in. In my head I'm saying, "Please say no, please say no"

When she says she can't go I am happy, because I hate to exercise. When she says yes, I am even happier because I know that if I do get off my ass for a bit, I'll feel much better for the rest of the day.

I'm even getting a little better at the abdominal strengthening exercises we do after the treadmill. Either that or I'm realizing that nobody is looking, nobody gives a shit about some uncoordinated broad in the corner who can't do a plank to save her life.

Next week, I'm actually going to go with Heth to a hot yoga class. That should be interesting.

I can totally see myself somehow tripping and knocking over several people who are in precariously balanced  and complicated yoga positions. I will most likely be very worried about farting while everyone is quiet and contemplative.

Shit, now that is all I'm going to be thinking of for that entire class, so I'll probably be falling over, trying not to think or laugh about farts when I'm supposed to be in a serene downward dog or what ever they call it.

It's OK though because no matter what, I'm going to make Heth look awesome.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Fuming Over The Fumes

Wow -it's pretty cold out there.

Yesterday was a snow day for me.

We have to do a lot of shoveling at our house. There are large expanses of concrete arranged in such a way, that if we do do not shovel all the snow off, it will melt and freeze all winter long, resulting in my house being surrounded by a large ice rink.

Our driveway is also ridiculously long and bumpy.

So it it snows, I usually cancel all plans, get the kids off to school and go home to shovel at my leisure.

I also cook. I made a big pot of vegetable soup and tahini cookies. I OD'd on the cookies after dinner and ended up passing out on the couch, but I guess my sugar issues I can save for another day.

I have been looking at the forecast over the next week and decided that I should wrap the beehive in insulation. I wasn't going to, but it worked out well last year, even though it was mild. I just have to commit to taking it off in the beginning of March.

Like an idiot, last year I left the insulation on too long and the bees overheated and almost swarmed off on me. It was a mess I'll tell you, but I fixed it in the end.

Here is a small video that shows the hive insulated. It's from last year. I promise to get better pictures when I work the hives this season.

So it's 7:15 so I have to start moving people out of bed. As an extra incentive to get me off my ass, Horst has managed to chase me out of the kitchen where I write by over spraying Lysol in his bathroom in the basement. The noxious fumes are climbing the stairs, seeping under the door and are now hitting me. 

 I must be off quickly, forgive me for any grammatical errors or typos.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Dog Days of Winter

Gus is staring at me with an imploring look in his eyes.

I fed him, we even took a walk in the snow. He has water.

I look back at him and shrug my shoulders and say, "What the fuck do you want now?"

Usually I will be finished with everything I have to do, cooking, cleaning up, getting people out the door.

I will sit and breathe a sigh of relief, I'm all finished and now I can relax...

And there's that damn dog, standing in the middle of the room, gazing at me intently.

You can almost see the baboon in his head playing Whack a Mole just behind his eyes.

I drag myself out of my comfortable position to do whatever it is I have to do to make him stop looking at me with that intent but vacant expression.

But this time?

"What the fuck do you want now?"

Then it hits me, 2 hour school delay, the kids are supposed to be at school, instead they are sprawled all over the couch, watching Mythbusters.

The couch, where Gus spends most of the day. He wants me to make them leave so he can have the couch.

"You're on your own, dipshit."

Gus, disappointed, curled up on his bed.

**Thanks Howell Golson for the Whack a Mole reference**

Monday, January 21, 2013

Thoughts on Work and Hot Wind Machines

Horst graced me with a wake up call at 5:45 this morning to drive him to the bus station.

He gets up at 3 am everyday and leaves to get on a bus to Newport to work at a coffee shop/restaurant.

He is 72 years old and you really got to hand it to him. The guy still works his ass off. I think it's what keeps him young. My Aunt Eli too. She still works a bit and she is 82.

I had a pretty good weekend. I went out for sushi on Friday night. The kids had their skating lessons yesterday. I took them to the zoo with some friends. V had a friend sleep over and G went to a friend's house to sleep over. Lyd loved having her room to herself for once.

On a side note-if you take a group of kids to the zoo-spend  the two bucks on the "Hot African Wind" machine. Cramming a bunch of kids into that thing like clowns in a car and watching them screech in delight while getting hot smelly air blown into their face is a great laugh and totally worth the money.

I worked my 16 hour shift on Saturday. It's not usually all that bad. I'm used to it. I do find myself getting very tired when 10:30-11 Pm rolls around and it's a struggle not to doze off. Not a big fan of working until midnight. I struggle on Mondays and Wednesday with the staying up too. I have to time that last cup of coffee just right to where it'll keep my up until 12, but not after.

I often find myself breathing a big sigh of relief at midnight on Saturday when I get into my car. I then spend the week just waiting to get to Wednesday, which is my Friday. This is followed by Thursday and Friday off. By Friday I am dreading Saturday..

I try not to get caught up thinking about the endless cycle of waiting for Wednesday only to find myself back at Saturday, and to do it all over again. And again..

The thought of doing this routine for the next 34 years frightens me. I am pretty sure that I'm not retiring until I'm really old-unless I need to.

And I do like my job. It is a good one. I provide a good service, helping other people. I get 4 days off a week, which allows me to have the time to keep my bees and write. Even so,  I just can't bear to think of doing this forever.

I see some of my coworkers. They are in their 50's and 60's still doing what I do. I inwardly cringe. I just can't.

I guess it's a good thing that I am reading my bee books, getting ready for the Spring expansion. It's good that I sit at my computer or my notebook every day writing as much as I can in whatever time I can find.

Because I have to start somewhere. Better late than never I think is the story of my life at this point.

Friday, January 18, 2013

Great Hair Day

My favorite photo of myself. It was on a terrific hair day and the only time I actually got around to documenting it.

Today was another terrific hair day. Unfortunately, my terrific hair day happened on a day that is in the 20's so my terrific hair day turned into a hat day.

That's Ok.

I hate working out. Going to the gym with my friend Heather makes it 100 times better, but I still find it hard to get there. Today I made it there and am now sailing on a wave of post work out bliss.

And perhaps a smidge of mania, but who's to say?

Had a lovely conversation with the kids and Iz-(of the cotton batting bearded Santa Claus post from a week or so back) on the ride back from school.

We discussed dreams, mainly R.L.Steins dreams of eating a bologna sandwich and my recent dream of a ratty green kitten walking amongst baked goods at a coffee shop where I was at with B.

We talked about how I think that groundhogs are agents of the devil. I told the children that Groundhog in ancient Aramaic means "tunneling dirt devil from Hell". They didn't buy it.

I told them about the puppy infestation that the announcer talked about on the podcast of "Welcome to Night Vale" that I was currently listening to.

Iz told me that she wished for an infestation of naked mole rats.

I told her that she would wish that until they started nibbling her ankles and toes. She wouldn't want them there after she was forced to sleep in a plastic bin with the cover on because the naked mole rats would bite her legs under the covers while she tried desperately to get some sleep.

She said that she would just put the naked mole rat infestation in the plastic bin.

I replied that that would probably be the best place for a naked mole rat infestation.

Ok, I'm stopping. I just wasted the last 30 seconds to 1 minute of your life rambling about naked mole rat infestations. Depending on how fast you read of course.

Sorry about that. I can't promise that it will never happen again.

Thursday, January 17, 2013


Good morning! I'm am stopping in for a moment. I have things to do today, but before I go, I'd like to share:

Today on my Simpson's calendar it says that Queen LiLiuokalani was deposed back in 1893. she was the last monarch and only queen regent of the Kindom of Hawaii.

Also a very happy birthday to Konstantin Stanislavsky, Kip Keino and Jim Carrey!

I made 2 wonderful discoveries this week.

I heard an NPR show about a band called Timur and the Dime Museum.

In the interview, the lead singer, Timur talks about being on America's Got Talent. One of the judges comments after hearing the band play, "Now I know what Hell sounds like."

Which made me go search them out and listen. Fuck it, I really like them.

Timur is an opera singer, so his voice is pretty amazing.

I read a Twitter re-post (a Tweet?) from Joe Hill yesterday that stopped me for a second. I put it here yesterday

When a person dies and no one will miss them, the mourning is assigned to a random human. This is why you sometimes just feel sad.

It's from this podcast show called Welcome To Night Vale. I just downloaded all of the shows. I can't wait to get into the car to start to listen.

Ok-so if you are bored, or down in the dumps, now you have some stuff to do.

Have a swell day.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

I just found this on a twitter feed and loved it so much I had to put it somewhere

When a person dies and no one will miss them, the mourning is assigned to a random human. This is why you sometimes just feel sad.

Ok-carry on.

I Really Think There Is a God

Totally unexpected snowy day. I kind of knew about it, but had forgotten.

B stood at the window early and said to me, "Wow, it's really snowing out there!"

It's too bad that todays snow, that occurred during the morning "commute", just so happened to coincide with my entire family's decision that it was their turn to be the biggest bunch of dicks on the planet.

I wrote a whole detailed description of the Hell that it really was and then promptly deleted it. It doesn't matter. What matters is that I kept my cool, through people I love yelling at me and even declaring that they shall hate me for the rest of their life.

I will say that at least B apologized for snapping at me on the very stressful drive into work. (I had to drive him in, we only have 1 car) and he wasn't the one who hates me.  The rest of them..

ah. screw em.

I am alone now, I'm writing and listening to a new album and will do some shoveling in a bit. I was going to go into work for a few hours to get some stuff done, but called in.

I am in for the day and very happy about it.

In my last post, I mentioned that despite being bullied, I was fortunate enough to have 2 moments at school where I felt totally vindicated.  I decided that I would share 1 of the 2. I would say that this moment went a long way in helping me believe that there is a higher power that sometimes looks out for me.

I feel I must give a warning before I continue-there is mention of menstruation. If you are one of those weird people who get totally freaked out buy this, although this happens to every single woman in the world for at least part of her life, by all means stop reading now.

Go look up pictures of puppies or something. Pretend that there is no such thing as periods. Go ahead.

It's really Ok.

I was in 8th grade. It was the second half of 8th grade, so by that time, my friend and savior Charlie, had quit school and abandoned me. He left me for the wolves in a way. Things were so much better when he was in my class. If someone said anything to me, he would threaten to punch them.

In my homeroom class, 2 seats ahead of me, sat Nikki C.  Directly behind me was Stephanie C.  Total jerks. They were best friends and very mean to me and a lot of other people in my class and the school.

My last period of the day was history, which happened to be taught by my homeroom teacher, Mr Oakley-best teacher ever, for the record.

 For this class, I sat up front, in Nikki's homeroom seat.

It had been a long day. When I was younger, I would have these horrid heavy periods. I've written before that it is fortunate that I was never upwind of large predators at those times.

Last period and my period was terrible. I realized with a sinking feeling that I had bled through. Lucky for me I had a sweatshirt handy. When the bell rang, I tied it around my waist and ran out without a backward glance.

I'm glad I didn't look back because it would have been a sleepless night for me, with many fervent prayers that a fastidiously clean janitor with a good work ethic would take charge of cleaning Mr Oakley's room.

Walking by that seat the next morning, my heart sank. Big mess on the seat. It was obvious what happened. I sat down and began to pray that nobody would notice. I was so doomed.

Nikki sauntered in, as she usually did. I think back now and shake my head. What an asshole.

She looked down at her seat before sitting down and cried out in disgust, "Mr Oakley! Somebody ragged all over my seat!"

I sat two seats back, composing my face to make it say, "Rag? Rag on someone's seat? Who would do such a thing?" Inside I was tense, tense, tense. I kind of felt like I was going to puke.

And then, it was like a little speck of Heaven opened and I heard choirs of angels and saw golden light. Only it was really just Mr Oakley's voice saying to Nikki, "Go get a paper towel and clean it up."

I got to watch Nikki clean up my menstrual blood, she did so very dramatically, making noises of disgust as she did so.

I sat in 2 seats back covering my delighted grin.

I suspect Mr Oakley knew who did it, but he never said a word.  The man was an angel.

For the rest of that year, whatever Nikki said or did, it didn't matter. I would just look at her and think to myself, "Ha! you had to clean up my rag!"

I rode high on that moment for a long time.

Oh, and today is National Nothing Day, National Fig Newton Day and International Hot & Spicy Food Day.

So Happy Nothing, Newton and Hot & Spicy Food Day!!

Monday, January 14, 2013

Slothful Day

I am fighting sloth and a mild case of mid-winter depression. The nice thing is that I do know what's going on in my head and knowing sometimes seems to be half the battle.

I do feel like things are starting to turn around a bit. I got the door necklace that I ordered. It was made specially for me by The Copper Camel on Etsy. You should check it out and buy things from her.

My sensitive plant that I mentioned in a previous post has finally sprouted and soon enough, it will be time to start planning the garden, order more bees and start setting some groundhog traps.  Actually, I should just get off my ass and start planning now. Cheers! Something to do!

Here is a picture of me that my friend took a long time ago. I was 12 and it was the summer of 1986. Earlier in the summer, 1 or 2 days before school got out,  I was chased by a pack of girls who pushed me, called me names and pulled up my skirt. This was because I was stupid and brought in my yearbook, in which I drew and wrote horrible things about these girls. I can honestly say that all the bad things I wrote about them were true. They were pigs and they were bitches.

But I definitely should have left that yearbook at home. Needless to say, I was on the radar. I had been on the radar of the types of kids who pick on others for a long time. I didn't need a mohawk, punk rock clothes or anything else to put me there.

What put me there was a moment that I decided several days ago, was one of the most shiny, good moments of my life.

I was about 6 or 7. I was always a weird kid, my parents didn't provide the best care or discipline, so I was basically feral and a bit dirty.  I had friends in the neighborhood, but a lot of times other kids didn't really like me. I think that I was generally tolerated on my street.

I did have a friend named Phillip, who was a few years older. Everyone thought he was weird, which he was. I liked him though. I think we used to play a lot of Star Wars together.

He had this crazy dog named Toby, who used to run all over the neighborhood. One day, these kids, who had just moved to the neighborhood, but lived in the new development behind our street, decided to trap Toby on their patio.

Phillip was really upset and kept on calling for them to let him out. They just laughed and kept Toby there. So I did what any good friend would do in defense of another friend.

I gave those kids the finger.

It was kind of crazy how much that one simple gesture, given to 2 other kids, who were obviously being assholes, set up this storm of hatred for me that lasted until high school.

Don't get me wrong. I did have some friends in elementary school and junior high. I suspect it was hard for those friends at times when the "cool" kids disliked me so much and would say mean things to me. No one at school ever really stuck up for me, but some of them stayed my friends despite everything. I don't blame them for staying silent.  I am still thankful for them.

I'm thinking of this lately as I mentioned, because as I am wrapping up one story, I am thinking to my next one, which involves a bullied child.  You saw my post about Amanda Todd.

I was lucky. So very lucky. I can honestly say that Punk Rock saved my life. I had a whole entire life that I could immerse myself in outside of school. It was 6 hours of hell and then over. I didn't have to worry about Facebook or hateful emails. I had good friends that let me forget for awhile.

I ended up having a bit of vindication in the end. surprisingly, the help came from the older sister of the girl that I flipped off so many years before. That is a story for some other day.

My eight year old self and probably my past selves up until the age of maybe thirty would probably want to kick my ass for saying this, but that day, the day that I stood there and flipped off those kids in defense of my friend,  the moment that bought me years of pain that in some ways I may never get over

 I wouldn't change that moment for the world

*I have so much more to say and a lot more stories for some other times. I'm a bit rushed today as my earlier sloth has caught up with me, so sorry if this whole post seems that way**

Sunday, January 13, 2013


I don't know about you guys, but this weather is killing me.

Everyone I have talked to has mentioned that they feel "Bleh" lately.

I'm really sorry that I haven't been around and I just have nothing at the moment.

How are you?

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Extremely Gratifying

When I was younger, I used to hang out with people who were at least a few years older than me, if not more.

It really sucked back then, well, sometimes.

 Nobody wanted to date me. I was the last one to reach the legal drinking age.

Lots of things that are totally insignificant to me now, but really mattered back then.

I obviously knew jack shit about anything.

I will say that I have found one thing extremely gratifying about being the youngest.

From time to time, I'll come across a picture of some guy that I used to have an enormous crush on way back when, and now they're old and kind of gross looking.
I have a lot of very nice looking, well-preserved older friends whom I still keep in touch with and see pictures of. You're beautiful. I mean it. I'm not just saying it. ... No I didn't mean you when I said old and gross..Believe me.

I especially like seeing the not so flattering pictures of the ones who weren't very nice or who dumped me, etc.

First I think, "Ewww, what the hell was I thinking?"

Then I think of Nelson from the Simpsons:

Feels good.

Maybe tomorrow I'll come back and tell you about one of my life's most gratifying moments and what happened after.

Monday, January 07, 2013


Well, I was really looking forward to a late breakfast of oatmeal with raisins. Just putting everything together in the bowl when Gus, who was lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, started licking at his butthole.

I won't go into detail about the loud licking noises that he makes, but lets just say that after banishing him from the kitchen, I decided that maybe I wasn't that hungry after all.

If there are any new people to my blog here, Gus is my dog. Not my husband. In case you were wondering.

Look at that poor bastard. His days are numbered.

I hear that temperatures are supposed to go up into the 50's by this weekend and we are to get some rain. Horst informed me as I drove him to the bus stop today.

I like this time of year, I like Winter cold. I hate when it warms up and we get a mess of rain with leftover snow. I wish it would just stay cold until it's supposed to warm up. In early March would be nice.

We took down the Christmas tree last night. B stuck it in a snowbank, so it feels like I get to enjoy it for a little longer.

Last night G and her friend "Iz" decided that Iz would dress up in V's bathrobe, scotch tape cotton batting on her face and pretend to be Santa Claus. 

It was very funny, they had a great time torturing V and making the rest of us laugh. When it was time for Iz to go home, they refused to clean up and change until V sat on Iz's lap to tell her what he wanted for Christmas. 

V adamantly refused, so I volunteered

I hope her Mom doesn't mind that I put her picture here, but I figured that her face is covered in cotton batting, so I think it's Ok. Her face and the tiny Santa hat cracks me up.

I love the things that G and her friend come up with.
Here is G dressed as an elf-note the slippers at her knees.

Ok, enough sharing, I'm going to put some music on to drown out the sounds of butt-licking coming from the living room, eat my oatmeal and try to get some work done.

Sunday, January 06, 2013

A Link and a Thought

I have an very busy day that needs to start in 5 minutes.
I have been thinking a lot about bullying, internet bullying and such for the past few days, even before I saw that video I posted from yesterday.
You should see the comments that people put up on You Tube about her. Even though she is dead.

Here is a very good quote from Justin Halpern's father, who wrote "Shit My Dad Says" in regards to people who say whatever they want on the internet:

 I don’t condone fighting, but when a human being understands that his or her actions might result in a giant fist up his or her ass, he learns a thing or two about acting before he speaks. 

You can read the whole post here. It's really funny.

See you Monday!

Saturday, January 05, 2013

One More Thing

Before I go.
Let me share this.
If you get a moment-share yourself.
Poor kid.

I don't have time at the moment to look further, but she killed herself.

I am writing something new and in doing so, I have been thinking a lot of my formative years and the crappy things that happened. No way as bad as poor Amanda Todd.

Those kids who did this to her.
Karma, I hope. Or maybe compassion and remorse someday.


Got to be a quick check in here.  My 16 hour shift looms.

I think I had an allergic reaction to something I ate last night. I kind of can't figure out what though.

I have a suspicion it was English Breakfast tea.

It was kind of crazy though. I got a weird buzzing/light sensation in my body and then a little while later, I broke out in a few hives.

I'd know for sure, but before the weirdness, I had an upset stomach. So yeah, I can't narrow it down.

Sorry guys, I'm wiped and I gotta go to work.

Better day tomorrow.

Friday, January 04, 2013

Pretty Eggs

I made G a perfect omelette yesterday morning. I made a point to use the grater to add shredded cheddar cheese to it. I did this instead of being lazy and slapping a slice of American onto the eggs.

I even checked with her to make sure that was what she wanted.

I placed the lovely half moon shaped, lightly browned, eggs in front of her. Perfectly formed, smelled delicious, resplendent on a pink flamingo plate.

She took a bite, declared that the cheese tasted funny and walked away from the table.

That is a call for "cold cereal for breakfast for the rest of your life" if I've ever heard one.

I declare 2013 to be a year where I no longer feel guilty if my kids don't eat a meal.

Screw em!

Von ate all of his eggs, but then again I already told him that he could live with me rent free for the rest of his life. Unlike his sisters..

Thursday, January 03, 2013

"Bee-ing" Anxious

I checked the bees yesterday and fed them. I check the bees about once a week in the Winter. I stick my ear up to the side of the hive and knock. You can hear them buzz when you do that.

Last year, I used fondant as a supplemental feed. I bought a few pounds from the bakery down the street and that worked really well.

This time,  to feed them, I used a new sugar recipe that I got off the Rhode Island Beekeepers Facebook page. It involved 5 pounds of sugar and a cup of water.

For reasons speculated but not confirmed because..I don't know, I just never investigated,  You can't find a 5 pound bag of sugar, only 4.

I added a little less water and made a big soft cube of sugar.

Problem was, since the measurements weren't exact, I worried and fretted that there was too much moisture in the sugar and it would kill the bees.

In this area, excess moisture and starvation are what kill bees during the Winter.

I know the sugar is fine, I know that the bees are fine. They were all in a healthy happy cluster when I opened it.  I threw the sugar in and got out.  They're hive is in a sunny, protected spot, so it was actually kind of warm when I was there.

Of course now I'm paranoid that I chilled them and wet them with a big ball of sugar and now they're going to die.

But then I was worried before that they were going to starve. Although I fed them in the Fall and they had a modest supply.

It's only my third season and although I'm getting it, it's all coming together, I'm still very unsure of myself. I think it's because I am so damn fond of my bees and I would be seriously crushed it I lost the hive.

It's Ok, they're Ok.

I did read this morning that a fellow beekeeper lost one of his hives recently. Of course now I'm tempted to set up camp in the snowdrift next to the bees and knock on the side of the hive every five minutes and yell, "You Ok in there?".

Don't get me started on my extreme anxiety about attending monthly beekeepers meetings. I rarely go, but every time I do, everyone is very nice, it works out fine and I learn a lot.  But the entire time,  I am a tense ball of anxiety and I feel like throwing up. Obviously some social issues.

I'm thinking of going to the meeting in January-second Sunday of the month, anyone want to go with me and hold my hand?

Wednesday, January 02, 2013

Book List

I love spending time with my kids, I do. I love vacation with them. But like fish and guests, hanging out with children starts to smell after a few days.

Yesterday afternoon, the fights were really cooking. I looked to today at 9AM, when the school door shuts on my last child, as a beacon of hope and sanity in the darkness of Christmas vacation.

My hope dwindled and died as I realized that poor V would have to stay home another day in order to see the doctor about his persistent cough. Crap.

Oh well-there's always tomorrow.

Here is my annual reading list from last year-Sorry it's a day late. I think the final count is 57 books for 2012-Not too shabby.
All of the books were good-if a book starts to suck-I stop and get another. My favorites for this year were "Steampunk!", "Neverwhere", "Anansi Boys", "A Monster Calls", "Shadow Show" and the Ray Bradbury short stories. But seriously-they were all pretty darn good.

The Night Circus-Erin Morgenstern
Monsters of Men-Patrick Ness(Chaos Walking Trilogy)
A Monster Calls-Patrick Ness
Steampunk!-short stories by Holly Black, Kelly Link and others
Nocturnes-Jonathan Connolly
The Infernals-Jonathan Connolly
**if you can, check out the Book of Lost Things" by Jonathan
Death Comes to Pemberley
Stay Awake-Dan Choban
Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children
Good Omens-Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
The Hunger Games-Suzanne Collins
Catching Fire-Suzanne Collins
Bird by Bird-Anne Lamont or Lamott
Mockingjay-Suzanne Collins
Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk by David Sedaris
On Writing-Stephen King
Gods Behaving Badly-Marie Phillips
The Graveyard Book-Neil Gaiman
Lamb-Christopher Moore
The Wind in the Keyhole-Stephen King
That's Disgusting-Rachel Herz
**Then I read the Hunger Games trilogy again to decide if they were actually good (they are) so that counts for three more books**
Gregor the Overlander-Suzanne Collins
Gregor and the Prophecy of the Bane-Suzanne Collins
Daughter of Smoke and Bone-Laini Taylor
Anansi Boys-Neil Gaiman
Neverwhere-Neil Gaiman
Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
This is How-Augusten Burroughs
American Gods-Neil Gaiman
A Wizard of Earthsea-Ursula LeGuines
The Tombs of Atuan-Ursula LeGuines
The Farthest Shore-Ursula LeGuines
The Other Wind-Ursula LeGuines
I Suck At Girls
Anansi Boys (again)
Shadow Show (Anthology of short stories in honor of Ray Bradbury)
The Giver
Short Stories of Ray Bradbury (I read 1/2 but the book itself was enormous)
Days Of Blood and Starlight-Laini Taylor
The Twelve
Let's Pretend This Never Happened
Happier At Home
I hear Lyd groaning in frustration upstairs so I better go and see what's wrong this time.
Happy day to you!

Tuesday, January 01, 2013

Happy New Year!

My favorite New Year's sentiment-written by G a few years back on our chalkboard.

It has been a tough few days, getting back into the swing of regular life after the holiday craziness. Yesterday was a day filled with a lot of self doubt, with the little voice that lives in my head asking me why I even bother doing anything.

No, not the psycho, mentally ill voice. Just the little voice of doubt that everyone has. The one that always seems to pipe up when you are going to try something new, or things aren't going quite the way you hoped.

I spent yesterday doing a whole lot of nothing, but again very busy trying to squash that tiny voice. I guess I did it because here I am this morning, up before the family, with my old man's sweater on.

I worked last night, I missed the ball drop. I don't mind. I am happy to hear that G made it to midnight for her first time that didn't involve vomiting or a case of explosive diarrhea.

It's amazing how time flies. There is this saying-The days are long but the years are short.

I just realized that I don't think that G has ever woken up with explosive diarrhea so scratch that one. She has only been up at midnight to vomit.

For the record-she hasn't shit the bed since she was a baby, so don't think that she is regularly incontinent either.

So, in keeping in what I guess is a tradition of many people, here is my "reflection" for last year. Some really bad things happened. Really bad. Thankfully, my family pulled through unscathed. Some nice things happened so that was good.

I kept my resolution from last year. For the first time ever.

I know, deep and profound, right?

I will say that I have chosen a word for next year. I will try not to sound too flaky, but I like the idea of having a word to guide you, to remind you for the coming year. I think it's even better than a resolution in some ways, although I made one of those as well. Actually several.

And here I thought this was going to be a short post. I guess I'm hitting my stride.

My word for the year of 2013 is Door.

Door because of the many that we shut, the many we leave open a crack, although we need to shut them or open them wider. The ones that we need to open although it is difficult and we are very afraid of what may or may not be on the other side. (Ever notice that the little voice of doubt is always very loud at the thresh hold?).

Here is a nice door

One of my favorite books from this past year involved a lost princess who could open any door she wanted.

My resolutions are the typical silly things that people resolve. I resolve to take 15 minutes out of most days to devote time to tasks that I have been avoiding for forever. I also resolve to take more cat naps if I feel tired.

I also resolve to say nicer things about my dumb ass dog.

My father in law was appalled this past week after being a part of a conversation that featured my dog.

We were watching one of those shows about animals of different species forming bonds. One story was about a male deer raised by people. When he grew up, he would go to the woods, but come back to visit.

His family worried that he would be shot during hunting season, so they put a big red collar on him and hung signs around the town with the deers picture asking people not to shoot him. His name was "Bucky".

B made a comment about sending Gus, our dumb dog, into the woods during hunting season. I countered that we could send him in with fake antlers on and I could knit him a sweater with a bulls-eye on the side.

My father-in-law shook his head at me and said that I was a cold, cold woman.

He went to bed shortly after that.

This was good because B and I entertained ourselves for a while after he left the room with how great it would be to get a pair of ridiculous plush antlers for Gus and the sweater. We could hang up signs with a picture of him dressed as a deer with the caption reading, "If you shoot this dog, please call (insert phone number) to claim your reward".

I am kidding. Both about the resolution and wanting him shot. For the most part. My only way to cope with that dog is to say mean things about him. It keeps me from actually being mean. He responds very well to my string of profanities that I throw at him in a happy high pitched voice. He also comes with his tail wagging when I call out, "Dumb Motherfucker!"

He's got it pretty good-I promise. He has actually gotten a lot better, behavior wise over the past year. Maybe he kept his resolution? Heh hah...

I'll come back a bit later and leave you with my traditional book list for the year. I think it's a good number!