Taking a breather...

Ugh.. This day has been hectic, to say the least. Actually, the entire week has been crazy busy. I'm tired, I'm sore, I'm tired. I only just got my makeup on. I was busy doing everything else. I even did the last minute run to the store thing. The girl insisted on getting all done up. So I did her hair up in a princess-y bun and threw her in a dress. I bought her new earrings-- from Macys, natch-- to match the dress. She is much pleased. The boy decided to go low-key like the rest of us. Jeans and tees. I couldn't decide whether to go with smokey eyes or sparkly eyes, so I did both. Smokey, sparkly eyes. It works.

And now to get back to work..

Strange Happenings

There I was, getting my daughter's hair ready before her dance class-- I was giving her a bunch of little braids in her waves; very bohemian-- when I heard an odd little noise. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It was this little squeaky noise. At first, I thought it was the floor. But, no, it couldn't be. Tested it. It's not. My shoes? No, wearing slippers. It was driving me nuts. Then I realized it. I didn't believe it at first because it's just too weird, but it is true. My bra squeaks.

So what's the first thing I do? I squeeze my boob to check it out. Yep, the bra. She squeaks. Isn't that the weirdest thing? I've never had this happen before. So I run over to my mom and say, "Hey, mom! Check this out! My bra squeaks!" and honk my boob at her. She, of course, says, "Weird! Do that again!" and leans in to hear it better.

That's when I turn around and notice that my daughter is staring at us like we've lost our minds. I release my breast and shoo her into her coat. She's going to be late for dance class. She looks relieved to not have to discuss this odd situation and kisses me before she runs to her grandfather's car. The boy? He notices nothing. Just throws me a kiss and stumbles after his sister. Poor girl. You'd think she'd be used to me by now.

***

I've noticed that I've got the whole house singing my idiotic cat songs to the cat. My poor cat looks harrassed. It's the funniest thing.

Ew

Had to transfer my header over to photobucket since imgheap seems to be down and flickr resizes my images. Much ickiness all around.

Time to bake the cookies!

The Best of...2004

I thought it would be a cute-ish idea if I did a Best of 2004 thing for my blog. I'd hand-pick my 10 best blog posts and list them. I was shocked that I actually had 10 posts decent enough to make the list. Go, me!

So here they are, in chronological order...

The Best of 2004

1. The Meat Man story-- a popular favorite and, yes, I swear it's all true!
2. My letter to my psycho ex.
3. The first part of my two-part post about my evil children.
4. The second part of my two-part post about my evil children.
5. The leaping fish story.
   
6. The apple picking story.
   
7. My essay on fear(s).
8. My children's school's Halloween parade.
9. Some of the odd things I've said to my kids.
10. My ode to Aunt Jo.

Enjoy!


Yes, I know I just wrote the Aunt Jo one, but it's good! It's funny! Shut up!

Technology for Dummies

Dear Aunt Jo-

I do not even know you, but I feel as if I do. You've left many messages on my voicemail. I don't know why you think my name sounds like "Sally"-- it's not even remotely close to that-- yet you still leave messages for dear Sally on there. You're an angry woman, Aunt Jo. I guess that's why Sally's mom had your number blocked. Or were you calling another wrong number there, too?

Even when I answered my cell phone to tell you that you had the wrong number, giving you my name so you would stop thinking I was Sally, you didn't get it. Did you, Aunt Jo? Because not five seconds later, you called again. I heaved the sigh of all sighs and let my voicemail get it. You just don't listen well, do you, Aunt Jo? You left another message for poor, dear Sally and even your cell and house numbers. I won't be calling you, though, Aunt Jo. I doubt Sally will either. You're a bit clueless, Aunt Jo, because either Sally gave you the wrong number or you keep dialing the wrong number. Don't you have caller ID, Aunt Jo?

I might answer next time you call, Aunt Jo, and suggest you find out Sally's real number, Aunt Jo, because as much as I enjoy our one sided conversations, Aunt Jo, I'm afraid they must stop, Aunt Jo, or I will have to find Sally myself, Aunt Jo, and scream a lot at her, Aunt Jo.

-R

P.S. Sally, if you're out there, please call your Aunt Jo.

Hate

I'm feeling much hate right now. Where's all of this hate directed? Saran wrap. Yes, saran wrap. Actually all plastic wraps in general.

I made this wonderfully perfect cheesecake. Not a bubble, not a crack. Just perfectly smooth and creamy goodness. I go to cover it so it doesn't absorb all kinds of ooky flavors in the fridge-- as creamy products tend to do-- and the stupid wrap stuck to my cheesecake. It took off little chunks of it! My perfect cheesecake. Ruined.

I couldn't find any of those thicker wraps that have the elastic on it. That's what started this whole mess. If I'd had that kind of wrap, my cheesecake would still be perfect. Now I have to dump hot fudge all over the fucking thing to hide the missing chunks. So mad. So much hate.

Fucking plastic wrap.

Jesus Christ Superstar

I seem to be on a religious kick lately. Well, at least where my movies are concerned. Earlier in the week, I got Saved! and more recently I got The Passion of the Christ. I know. Polar opposites. And I loved both, but for very different reasons.

Saved! doesn't take itself too seriously and I love that. It's quirky and irreverant and over-the-top, yet believable and endearing. You laugh at and with the characters. You grow to care about them. And I actually thought Macaulay Culkin was cute in this. I haven't thought of him as cute since Home Alone. (As a side note: I just read Macaulay's bio and I'm shocked. He's the same age as one of my exes. I really am a craddle robber. Yuck!)

The Passion was very serious. It was incredibly intense. That's the only way I can really describe it; intensenly moving and powerful. It was hard-- even painful-- to watch at times. I was choked up through most of the film. Yeah, me, choked up. This is no feel-good flick here, but I'd recommend everyone watch it. It sort of transcends religion and borders and it is something you aren't likely to forget. It really was amazing. (Another side note: I felt like a sicko for ogling Jesus a bit. When he wasn't all bloody and flayed, he was kinda hot. I feel so wrong for saying that. I'm going to hell.)

***

When I'm not ogling Jesus or a wheelchair-bound Macaulay-- I'm in the express lane to hell-- I'm planning my New Year's party. I finally found the third, and complimentary, dessert. A Chocolate Fallen Souffle Cake. My mom said I was going overboard....again. I said that this was for me, not anyone else. I want these desserts, dammit! I'm making the cheesecake tomorrow. I love that all of these can be made ahead of time. I'll be busy enough this week.

It's been only one day home alone with the kids and I'm already going insane. They fought constantly. Then my father came home and drove me nuts. On top of that, I've been dropping and spilling things when I'm not bumping into and knocking over other things. I think I'm cursed.

I really jumped topic, didn't I? I went from Jesus movies to cake to insanity in .05 seconds. That's a new record, I think.

(Menu) Changes

We decided to keep New Years low key this year. I think we kinda sorta really overdid Thanksgiving and it made us a wee bit shell shocked and gun shy. We planned on only inviting a few this year. We'd keep the whole thing small and casual. No big meal, just assorted sandwiches and wraps, chips, cheese, crackers, and my desserts. That sort of thing. Nice and light. Well, except for my desserts.

Then my uncle decided that he'd get the sandwiches. He offered to get either that or arabic food. I started feeling that things were going to spiral out of control. They did. My mom told him to get whatever he liked. I gaped at her. Now, if you knew my mom, you'd know that she's nothing if not a control freak. It's where I got all of my control freak tendencies-- and I'm the laid-back one. For her to relinquish control over something as monumental as our meal was, well, indescribable. It's never been done. Even when we did our holiday celebrations over at my grandparents' farm, brought we brought and prepared the food. And she wasn't even being passive-aggressive about it! She really didn't care! But I care! I care a lot!

You see, I carefully plan and stage our menus. I'm the one who agonizes over choices, flavors, everything! I had it all carefully planned. I knew what I wanted. And it's all gone... Ruined. Left up to other people. I'm at a loss. And it shows.

That's the worst part. It shows. I stumbled around the food store today, completely bewildered. "What drink should we have, mom?" "Whatever.." What kind of help is that?! My desserts.. I have no idea what to make now. I realized that I had two very rich, creamy desserts and that just would not do! I had to decide to cut one. I ask for a suggestion, I get a shrug. After much soul searching-- yes, I'm a Martha Stewart at heart, shut up!-- I decide to keep the cheesecake. But I must have at least a second dessert. Just in case someone wants something else. And it has to counterbalance the rich creaminess of the cheesecake. I've nearly torn my hair out over this. It's torture. So many desserts, so little time..

I've decided on biscotti. I found two recipes that I think will do. A nice anice-almond biscotti and a dried cranberry and white chocolate biscotti. And I'm serving hot fudge with the cheesecake 'cause I usually do some big chocolate thing, but don't want to overdo the heavy desserts.

I still feel like something's missing. I feel uncertain, unsteady, thrown. My menu, she will never be the same. R.I.P. my darling.

Oh, happiest of days!

It was true. The miracle I have been waiting for has arrived. I got a new phone. And I really like my phone. It's a good phone. It's another camera phone, too. I got the Motorola v551. It's pretty, isn't it? And I got some rockin' ringtones. They're the mp3 kind. I couldn't decide between two of them, so I got both. 'Maps' by Yeah Yeah Yeahs and 'Float On' by Modest Mouse. I almost got 'Ocean Breathes Salty', also by Modest Mouse, but I managed to restrain myself. Jealous yet?

This is so the best day after Christmas ever!

A Christmas Miracle!

Could it be true? Could this finally be happening? Is it all too much to hope for? Will I actually get a new cell phone tomorrow?

I'm keeping my fingers crossed while knocking on wood.




Yes, that's all. What did you expect? It is a holiday after all. I do deserve a day off.

Happy Blah Blah

Due to much lack of sleep and even more errand running, I'm not much into thinking at the moment. My brain is fried, my friends. It is gone. I'm having serious trouble remembering things. This is why I'm running so many errands. I'd write little notes to myself, but I keep misplacing my notepads, lists and pens. I even had a funny anecdote, but it's gone. So have a happy holiday, if you're having a holiday. If not, then don't. I'm off to find my lists.

A Duck!

You are Sir Bedevere! Wise and creative, you are
able to counsel others as well as come up with
some really ingenious plans of attack...sort
of.


Which Monty Python & the Holy Grail Character are you REALLY?
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I'm hauntingly delicious...

Which General Mills monster-themed cereal mascot are you? Boo Berry You are a blue, bowtie-clad ghost with drooping eyelids. Your blueberry-flavored cereal, while still in circulation, is excruciatingly hard to find, and countless cereal consumers have never even heard of you let alone tasted a bowl of the marshmallow-filled cereal which bears your name.

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Odd Things I've Said..

Usually to my kids. I'm quite sure the neighbors think we're all quite insane and I'm not too sure that they're wrong. I've found myself shouting odd things to my kids. But then, my kids do very odd and/or stupid things. Actually kids, in general, do very stupid things. It's amazing that any of us survive childhood. But enough of that, some things I've said to my kids...

"We do not chase each other with sticks. Do you have a death wish?"

"No, you cannot drag your sister down the stairs by her feet!"

"I don't care if you do have a rock collection, I'm tired of finding them in the washing machine. You're going to break it one day."

"I don't care if you do want a tattoo, we do not draw on ourselves with permanent marker. Do you know what a pain that is to get out?"

"6 year olds do not get tattoos. They'd stretch and get all weird looking when they grew." (This twisted bit of logic was the only thing that actually worked with my kids. I've never seen my poor mom look more lost.)

"Are you Kelso's child? I swear I've never seen a child poke her eyes so many times.. I'm amazed you're not blind."

"No, I will not dye your hair pink. Do you want to kill your grandfather?"

"I'm cold. Put on a sweater."

"I'm tired. Can't you take a nap or something?"

"Don't pick that up! You don't know where it's been. A dog could've peed on it and you had your hands all over it and-- ew-- your fingers are in your mouth. You have dog pee in your mouth." (You'd think after that that they'd never pick up anything off the ground, but no..)

"If you keep throwing a fit, you're going to turn all green and ugly like that nasty witch on The Wizard of Oz." (I still feel badly about this one. After telling my daughter this, she promptly let out the biggest wail ever and then proceeded to puke...on my feet. Guess I deserved that.)

"No, you can't have hot pink platform shoes. I did not raise a hooker."

"You know how much you love Toys R Us? Well, Macys is mommy's Toys R Us."

"You really need to stop watching Lifetime movies with grandma.."

"You really need to stop watching Oprah with grandma.."

"If you keep that up, I swear I'll sell you to the circus."

"If you keep hitting your sister, I swear I'll tie your arms in a knot behind your head."

"No, I will not tie your arms behind your head. Sheesh.."

"Just because I won't tie your arms behind your head does not mean that you can still keep hitting your sister!"

"I told you she'd belt you one. Should've stopped hitting her."

"Don't you people understand cause and effect?!"

"Your eyes will rot if you keep playing that Game Boy."

"No, Oprah will not buy you an XBox. Yes, I do know that it's cheaper than a car."

I'm sure I've forgotten many more. But those are just the ones that came off the top of my head.

Smile, Part Deux

Class pictures. When I was little, I looked forward to them. When I was a teen, they were the bane of my existence. I still hate having my picture taken. For years, I was that blur on the side. I was also that turned away face. And the one behind the hand/shirt/magazine. I've become resigned to smiling nicely for the camera, because it's less painful than the alternative.

My kids love the camera. They love having their pictures taken. That's because they're young and cute. The only problem? They don't know how to act in front of the camera. I've got a slew of bad pics. A lot of them are blurry-- thanks to the boy who, no matter how many times I tell him, doesn't seem to realize that the camera will not catch action. "It isn't a video camera! See the flash?" I also have many pictures of spazzy, fidgety children, making weird faces, and hamming it up for the camera. I don't mind that so much. Kids are kids. But I'd like a nice picture every once in a while. Just a pleasant smile. Is that too much to ask for?

Apparently, it is. Every year, I coach them before class pictures. "How will you sit? How will you smile? Don't forget to fix your hair before!" Every year I get a messy haired child who either looks somewhat constipated or like he or she is about to start a rebellion. This year, I got an inkling of hope from the girl's picture. Though the hair is...well, a nightmare, she is smiling! And it's a lovely, toothless smile. And this year, the boy doesn't have food on his face. That's something, isn't it?

Smile!

Went to the dentist today. I can't even remember the last time I'd been to the dentist. I just never had the time or money. And I'm usually very meticulous-- freakishly so, even-- where my teeth are concerned. Except for flossing. I forget to floss sometimes.

But lately, I'd been having pain/sensitivity on my left side, so I needed to go to the dentist. Turns out, I have beautiful teeth. Really. That's what he told me. No cavities. Can you believe it? I'm 29 and have never had a cavity.

The bad news? I've had a slight gum recession due to age. Makes me feel old. I was told to use Sensodyne. Has it come to this already? Don't I have to be at least 40 for this toothpaste? Oh, and I was told to floss more.

On the way back, I dropped off my application for testing. Turns out that I now have to pay even more-- $130 instead of $100-- and I get to fill out even more paperwork! Yay! Yes, that was sarcasm. No, I can't help it. Eh.. It's my fault really. I should've applied sooner. Let's hope that they didn't make the test harder, too. Guess I'll have to keep my fingers crossed.

Things that make you go...

Hmmm..

Why does Blogger keep putting in the wrong time on my posts? I have to keep editing them and changing the time. It's a bit annoying. But it doesn't happen all of the time, just some of the time. And it's completely unpredictable with this. Rather frustrating.

Also, have I mentioned how much I want to make out with my header? I'm rather in love with it right now. I'm sure that'll change soon enough. I'm a fickle one.

The goodness just keeps happening...

I was a good girl today. I got everything done that I needed to do. I even made time to be a good friend and call someone I'd been neglecting a bit lately. Ok, maybe I'm not such a good friend since I'd been neglecting her.. But I never meant to! And, to be honest, she said she was crazy busy anyway and hadn't had time anyway. So it's all good.

And I set up my dental appointment. I had to go with a different dentist. Everytime I tried to set up an appointment with my kids' dentist, their computers would go down. I think it was a sign or omen or something. So I went with another-- and there was a really bizarre coincidence there that made me go with them, but that's another story-- and I got an appointment for tomorrow. It was all weird and Twilight Zone-y. And I'm sending off my testing application tomorrow, too! And the really good part? They dentist is near the school-- where I have to go to drop off the application-- so I can do it all in one trip!

How sad am I? A trip to the dentist makes me happy..

Double Hee!

Very funny descriptions for various rockstar iPods. [link via Hamish, via pamie (or is it the other way around?)]

They're all so funny, I can't pick a favorite!

Head Games

As you see, I couldn't leave well enough alone. I changed the header once again. Gave J one, too. I have to say, I'm pretty pleased with both of them.

I just feel like creating lately. When this used to happen, I'd draw or paint or sculpt. For some reason, I can't do that so easily anymore. Photoshop is my way to create now. It helps me channel my muse.

I'm dying to get that Photoshop CS, by the way. I'm stuck with the lowly Photoshop 7.0. I know, I know. Boo friggin hoo, poor me. Maybe Santa will give me the CS for Christmas? I've been sort of a good-ish girl...maybe... And I could make more headers!

Waving the White Flag

I tried hard to battle code, but I'm pretty much unarmed there, and went down in flames. I give up. ...at least for now. It was mostly my way of avoiding even more study of something I do know. But it only frustrated me and lead to sleepless nights and migraines. I'll have to study html and/or css some other day.

I'm dreading the next few weeks. There are so many things to do. It's always very manic this time of year. It was unbelievably insane last year. I still don't know how I got through that. Actually, all of last year was extremely hectic. There was school, work, and the kids. I got little to no sleep. This year was considerably less hectic, but far more stressful. This was the year of the near breakdown. I try to have one every few years of so. I feel it helps flush out the system. Yes, that was sarcasm. And I know, I know.. "Fucking starting over." It's been that kind of year.

Here's to hoping 2005 is better!

Life as we know it..

The kids and I were playing that classic board game, Life, tonight. The game was over and we were reading aloud our Life cards. You know the ones. "Build a better mousetrap.", "Cure the Common Cold." and so on.

It was the girl's turn and she was reading. My favorite one? When she said "Impose a Music Symphony."

And still going..

Still tweaking the blog. Another new header. New background, too. I think it's coming along nicely. I should, hopefully, have it how I like soon.

Keeping my fingers crossed.

Chugging along..

I've been on the go today. Lots of errands. Tweaking the blog.

I changed the header. It's a temporary change. I'm going to make a better one. I might even go for a total redesign, but I'm not pushing my luck. It's mostly a lot of stumbling around with this stuff. I understand the basics, but only the basics. I've got ideas. I know what I want to do. Well, I have a general idea of how I want things to look. Implementing these ideas into a design? I'm not so sure about that.

It's all about baby steps.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Sometimes I'll pass by the bathroom and I'll find the cat just sitting there. Right there in the middle of the bathroom. On the bath mat. That's not so odd, really. What's odd is his expression. He always looks confused about why he's there or maybe how he got there.

Last night, he shoved past me as I was coming out of the bathroom. He froze half way into the room and turned to look at me as if I told him to sit there and he was awaiting further instruction. When I said "What?", he gave me a disgusted look at walked by me with his nose and tail in the air.

Later, I found him staring at me while I was watching tv. It was disconcerting. It wasn't for a few minutes either, he was watching me for a good 10 minutes. I couldn't take it anymore. I told him to stop staring at me, it was creeping me out. Again, he gave me a disgusted look.

He's a strange little kitty.

I should just keep my big mouth shut..

...because I just keep jinxing myself!

I just had to mention how I've been stalkerless for a long time now. I just had to say how good it felt to not receive oddly cryptic and very disturbing messages. So what happens? Over the past few days, and today particularly, I've been getting odd phone calls at odd times from unknown numbers.

At first, I blew them off. Must've been a wrong number, right? But then, tonight, I get phone calls way past the time any of my friends would call. And, again, the either private number or "no number" on my cell's caller ID. But this time, he left a message.

When I first heard the message, I was confused. The voice was familiar. The message was....odd. Confusing. Disturbing. That's when it hit me. My fucking stalker is back. Then I realize the date. His birthday just passed. He must've been calling me, as he was wont to do, on his birthday. And when I didn't pick up, as I am wont to do, he took it as a sign that I didn't want to talk to him. So, of course, he had to call a bunch of times days later. Wouldn't you?

That's when I got all icked out. I thought he was gone. For good. He thinks I'm in a tiff. For about half a year or so, maybe a few months more. He also thinks I'm madly in love with him-- silly me for not realizing this-- and will one day marry him-- it's that "till death do we part" that gets me every time. I think he needs to go far, far away for a very long time. Like forever.

Why haven't I told him this? I have. But he seems to hear "Please convince me that I'm madly in love with you and call me many times over the course of the day. Also send me several dozen text messages and at least a dozen emails. Yes, all in one day. All of them telling me how you love me to death." See how that death part keeps sneaking in?

Why do I keep drawing this type of man?

Always the beacon of good taste..

FOX, with the exception of a few really brilliant shows (ok, one-- Arrested Development--the rest are only ok), does it once again. Slipping further down the spiral, they're now having a new reality/game show called Who's Your Daddy. In this demented twist on To Tell the Truth, a grown adopted child must pick, out of eight men, her father. If she "wins", she gets the $100,000 prize; if not the fake daddy wins the monetary prize.

Ugh.. I could barely get that out. I feel dirty just talking about it. Excuse me while I dip myself in some battery acid.

Brrr..

I was going to do it. Really, I was. I'd bought some sweatpants last night during the kids' dance class shopping spree and I planned on using them. The sweats, not the kids. This was all part of my fucking starting over plan to a healthier, better me. I really need to stop watching that show. I quit smoking, I eat healthy-ish, and now I need to incorporate some exercise. I figured I'd jog or, at least, walk briskly. There's tons of hills around here, I'd get in a good work-out.

I get ready, get set, head out the door and.. Fuck! It's cold out there! Why didn't anyone tell me this? It's worse than winter, this is cold. Like I lost my breath and it wasn't coming back cold. It was "Fuck this shit, I ain't running around like a fool in this cold" cold. It was also "Dear fucking god, why is it so cold?" cold. It was all of those and more. So I got back inside where it wasn't cold. I wondered if the spastic "Gah, it's cold!" dance I did on the porch burned enough calories and decided I didn't much care at the moment. I needed tea and warm food.

So I didn't actually exercise. Unless cooking up some lunch counts? I'll say it does. Between the dance and the cooking, I burned off a whole Tic Tac. Maybe. What are those? Nine calories?

Boo!

Thought I'd torture you all with pictures of my cat. I'm preparing to become Scary Old Cat Lady. J says I need more cats to become Scary Old Cat Lady, but I'd like to be able to breathe. And not have a house that smells like a litter box.

Without further ado, I introduce my kitty, Buttons. Or as I like to call him, Boo.

An action shot of Boo and his Blue's Clues toy.


Boo also loves the laundry basket.


The Boo. Fear the belly!

Aww.. Isn't he cute? Well, not when he's not letting me have my bed back, he isn't. Those are some vicious claws. And he's huge. At last check, he was 13 lbs. I'm sure he's heavier now. The kids ride him to school. But I love my Booboo Bear. He's so pretty!

Back in Black

Had to run out shopping tonight. Needed to get all black ensembles for the kids and dance shoes. It was easy enough finding stuff for the girl, nearly impossible finding stuff for the boy. It took several stores before we found all we needed. The sad part? We only needed black sweatpants and black shirts. Who would've known that this would be such an impossible task?

The girl was beyond thrilled to go shopping for dance things. She got the works. She wanted pink, but the class requires everything black. There were tons of black things for her to get and wear.The boy was not thrilled about getting dance shoes. I asked him to try the whole dance thing for at least a month. If he still didn't like it, he could quit. I got him the more masculine-looking jazz shoes as opposed to the somewhat femme-looking ballet slippers. He tolerated them. And me? I get 2 1/2 hours free every Friday night. I'm a happy camper.

Alas and alack..

I went today to sign my kids up for dance class. I'm surprised it went as smoothly as it did as I've had problems with these people nearly all of my life. We never really got along, you could say.

So why am I signing up my kids then? They need to get out more, they need to learn some sort of coordination, and they get a dose of culture at the same time. Also, my father threw a hissy when I first nixed the idea and my mom asked me to please at least consider it.

I figure that eventually they'll get bored with it. Particularly the boy. If it's not a video game, electronic or a cartoon, he couldn't care less about it. The girl might actually enjoy the class, though. Then I'll be sucked into many a dance recital.

The sacrifices we make for our loved ones.

Self Portrait?

Take the Quiz and build your portrait!

The bigger, the better?

I was a complete slacker today. I only studied a bit and gave my mannequin the biggest, most helmet-y hair I could. It's a veritable wall of hair. I didn't use a spritz of hair spray either. Just teased the hell out of it. I even have a picture for you. Ignore the fugly, scary mannequin face.

This doesn't even show how big it was. I flattened it out a bit so I could take a picture. Dear god, that's an ugly mannequin, isn't it? Sorta looks the type that would sport this kind of 'do.

Panic!

I've been in full-fledged panic mode lately. I haven't even sent in my application for my licensing exam, but I'm panicking. I should've taken the test months and months ago, but, well, life got in the way and I couldn't. I almost gave up on the idea altogether, but I'm too stubborn-- an too much of a masochist-- to do that. So I'm prepping. And panicking.

Today, I decided to throw a roller set on my mannequin head. In part of the exam, we have to do what is called The State Board Set. In this, we use rollers, perm rods, pin curls, and finger waves to show that we know how to do all of those things. We have to complete it in 35 minutes. My weak point is the finger wave. I haven't done it in so long and it never was my strong point. So I thought "Why not do a roller set with a finger was in the back? Just like State Board!"

If only it were that easy. The rollers went in fine enough. A bit difficult, but it always is on a mannequin. Then I attempted the finger wave in the back. I nearly went batty. It kept falling out. The wave was very weak. I wanted to cry. Then, I remembered why it wasn't holding so well. You need wavy to curly hair for a finger wave. Especially if you're doing it on a mannequin. The hair on the mannequin I was using was bone straight. There was no way it would work.

I felt stupid, but relieved at the same time. Luckily, I have another mannequin with a perm. The hair is on the short side, but I'm sure I can get something done. If not, I'll find a victim to practice on.

Eccentric?

I had a meeting at my kids' school today. Nothing wrong. We have annual meetings concerning my son for his speech class and to discuss how his medication is working (he has ADHD-- Attention Deficient Hyperactivity Disorder) and so on. It gives me a chance, too, to kinda snoop into his school life. I get to see his progress, scholastically and socially. It's pretty cool. Turns out that he's smart, uses lots of big words, excells in science and tends to be eccentric.

Sound like anyone you know?

Couldn't be me. No.. So what if I'm called Ms. Thesaurus? And, yes, I did have 3 chemistry sets by the time I was 10. And a microscope. I'll have you know that I'm not the least bit eccentric. Nope. Is it working? Am I fooling anyone? Yeah, didn't think so. I've got another Mini-Me.

Paging Dr. Freud

Had an intensely Freudian dream last night, when I managed to sleep between coughs. I only remember part of it. I was running and hiding from some monster. I was warning everyone I passed, but no one was taking me seriously. Then I realized that it was only after me.

The monster was a large snake. It seemed perfectly aware of every hiding space I ran to and never hesitated at all in its pursuit. Then, I realized it was chasing my perfume. I tried to spray my perfume in a bunch of other places to throw it off, but that wound up not working me. It caught me and rammed me in the chest, knocking me over. When I got up again, I went to spray it in the eyes to hurt it, but that didn't even faze it and it wound up locking its jaws around my head, its fangs sinking into the base of my head in the back. I knew it had poisoned me.

And that's when I woke up. And that's when I started cracking up. Sometimes a cigar isn't just a cigar, huh?

My daughter, myself..

Today, my daughter's class went to their Holiday Shop to buy things for their families for Christmas. I told her to get something for the grandparents and she could spend the leftover change.

She's a good girl. She did as I requested. She got what I asked her to get for the grandparents. But her gift for herself kind of surprised me. It was a pen, but not just any old pen. Remember those 4-in-1 pens? The ones with the red, blue, green and black inks? Yep, she got one of those. Just like I used to when I was her age. I even had a pen with 24 different colored inks. It was huge!

I guess I shouldn't be shocked. The girl has had a love affair with pens and paper since she was a baby. She's "written" a few books and is always coming up with stories and plays. Scarily, she reminds me of myself at her age. Except I was a frustrated non-writer trying so desperately to write. That never worked out, but I found I could turn my stories into pictures and I turned from frustrated writer-wannabe to an artist and never looked back.

Ok, that's not true. I have looked back. I've always wished I could write. Really write. Tell stories that would move and inspire others, weave a spell with my words, all of that good stuff. But I've kinda sorta accepted that that isn't likely to happen any time in the forseeable future. I've channeled my obsession with paper and pen into, well, an obsession with paper, drawing pens, and other various art supplies.

She hasn't given up on the writing. I'm happy about that. She's certainly a creative child with an abstract mind and I can't wait to see the stories she'll write one day. But I have noticed that she seems to be drawing more and more lately. It's like deja vu....almost.

You try to do the right thing..

I went to the doctor yesterday. It was my day to get poked and prodded and bled. Blood work and my Pulmonary Function Test (big words that mean "a test to see how my lungs work"). Turns out that my lungs work just fine, excepting my asthma of course. I have a lovely bruise from the blood removal. And I got sick. The stupid lung test got me sick.

Ok, I should explain the lung test. It's this apparatus attached to a computer that measures my breathing to see how my lungs work. I'm told to breathe in different ways; normally, deep inhale and exhale, sharp inhale, sharp exhale, and so on and so forth. At one point, it shot a burst of oxygen into my lungs, which I was then to blow out in a sustained exhale. I'm guessing that that's when I got the lung thingie.

It started last night. The wheezing, the weird tickle in my lungs, the hacking cough. These things do not a good night's sleep make. All night and all day today I've been plagued with achey lungs. I've had to use my inhalers to breathe slightly better.

Doctors are the root of all evil.

Also...

Should I be happy that my old salon shut down?

'Cause I kinda am. Don't get me wrong, I feel badly for the other workers. They don't deserve that. But my old boss was a heinous bitch at times and she kinda does. But I kinda feel guilty about feeling happy.

And I'm not even Catholic!

Confusion

Who knew that Amazon sold beauty supplies?

I've been searching high and low, on land and on internet, for large Barbicide containers. Well, only one. I don't have that many combs. The one I have now is far too small for my combs. I can only fit some of my hair cutting combs in there. I searched and searched and searched and was startled to find them at Amazon of all places. And they were affordable. So I bought. Now I can wait until next year to receive them because of all of the Christmas shopping orders going out.

Vive la internet!

Revenge of the Mountain Dew

The caffeine has worn off and now I'm tired and getting a bit sore. I cooked enough food to feed several small countries and I raked up all of the leaves in the yard. Too many leaves. Then I came back in to finish cooking. Made my stuffed shells and chili and some cornbread and then some brownies. Vast amounts of each. I don't know why I do that. It's like I'm cooking enough just in case a bus-load of people decide to drop by. I've always done that.

I don't mind the cooking. I love to cook. I'll cook all day and night. Love it. But I hate cleaning. I did a lot of cleaning. Hate the cleaning. Much hate. I need to hire someone who will just follow behind me cleaning up my mess. I'd be a very happy person if I had that. I'd cook for them to show them how much I appreciated the cleaning. Of course, they'd be cleaning up after me while I cooked for them, but I'm sure it balances out somehow. I'm a good cook.

The problem is when I start craving things. And then I have to make all of these things I crave because I saw them at the store, in a commercial, on a show, whatever. That's why I made all of that food today. Something made me crave each and every item on that list. Probably something on the food network since it's almost always on when I'm not watching Lost or Arrested Development or Dead Like Me-- the sneaky little buggers from Dead Like Me decided to air reruns without my knowing.

In fact, I was watching something on the food network that made me crave cheesecake. I'm thinking about making an eggnog cheesecake for New Year's when we have our little get-together. I need to hunt down a recipe. I won't go all out, like they did on the show, and make chocolate-covered cheesecake pops. Even if they did look like heaven on a stick. It's just too much work.

I do have my limits, you know.

Oh, happy day!

Today, I braved the mob scene at Sam Goody and got my Arrested Development season 1 dvd! I'm so happy! I did a bit of a dance on line. I was still happy 20 minutes later when I finally got up to the register. Yes, I love this show that much.

I also checked out the price on Dead Like Me's season 1 dvd ($60) and asked the cashier about the Nirvana box set. He had it behind the desk. I told him to not bring it to me, but he did anyway. I carressed it and nearly sobbed when he told me that it was on sale, $10 off. I wish I had the money for it, too. For all of them. I need to find Dead Like Me at a lower price because $60 is just too much.

But I'm happy that I got my Arrested Development. I'm going to watch it now. I might never come back.

Love is in the air..

...for everyone except me, that is.

Just this past week alone, both kids had "romantic" encounters. They're only 7 and 8 and already getting more action than me. It's sad.

The boy was late coming out of school. We wondered if he maybe had detention and forgot to tell us. Then he comes strolling out of the school, chatting up some girl. He said that she liked Spyro, too. Obviously, it's TLF (that's True Love Forever in 3rd grade speak). He claims she's not a girl friend. Just a girl and just a friend and never the twain shall meet.

Today, I find out that the girl kissed a boy. My mother picked the kids up from school and she said a boy-- let's call him R-- shouted out to her that the girl kissed him. So, of course, when she came home, the interrogation began. There was much blushing a few attempts at evasion, but my mom and I were determined to get some details. Apparently, R kissed her hand and she just had to get him back by kissing him on the cheek.

Whew.. Close one. Could've been worse. Couldn't have been cuter. R's had a crush on the girl since they took some summer classes together before kindergarten. They've been in a few classes together. I adore the boy. He's so cute with his little glasses and, no, I will not kill him, J. He's just too darn cute. I've told the girl that she needs to marry this boy. He's cute and I like his family. No, I don't think I'm jumping the gun by arranging a marriage between two 7 year-olds.

I, uh, need a life.

If only..

I'm worth $1,683,325.88! How much are you worth?

Grumpy

It ain't just for the dwarves-- oh, sorry, vertically challenged-- anymore.

Today I had my doctor's appointment. Nothing serious, just a physical. And it when well. As well as those things can go. But I have a problem. I hate, hate, hate going to the doctor. Really hate it. And I never sleep well the night before an appointment of some sort. I'm always afraid that I'll miss it somehow. Yes, I'm paranoid, but it doesn't mean that it couldn't happen.

That's two strikes right there against a good mood.

So I'm at the doctor. My father insists on taking me and won't leave. He even asks if I want him to go in with me. Yes, I am 29. No, he does not seem to realize this. I fill out forms-- god, how I hate insurance forms and medical forms-- and wait. And wait. And wait some more.

Then I get called in. I'm weighed-- really not happy now-- and poked and prodded and shuffled from room to room. I'm feeling quite like cattle right about now. Then I get to wait some more. Another doctor. Felt up a bit. Wait. Another doctor. Felt up once again. Wait. I hear my name being paged. Turns out it's not for me. I'm surprised because I'm not used to people having the same name as me. It's...on the exotic side, I guess.

And I wait. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm missing Buffy! I'm really grumpy. Turns out I get to come back...two other times. For two different procedures. Yay, blood work! Woo, pulmonary function test!

I'm not going to sleep for the next week and I'm going to be a very grumpy girl.

Starting Over and Over and...

Fucking Starting Over.

That's my new euphemism for overanalyzing everything I say and do. Yes, even I'm trying to figure out my own motives now. Fucking Starting Over.

It's all that show's fault. I keep saying that I need to stop watching it. Now I'm wondering things like "Am I stepping into myself?" What the fuck does that really mean anyway? Iyanla, you're killing me.

I also need to stop watching Oprah. She's the one who started the whole finding your spirit thing. But I adore the woman. Oprah for President 2008!

Because of these two shows, I'm now a wreck. Emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Last week, I found myself tearing up-- even weeping!-- while watching. Guess I shouldn't watch while PMS-y. Lesson learned, y'all. All that crying made me crave potato chips. And I can't sleep at night. I'm picking apart everything I'm doing, have done and am about to do. I'm second guessing myself. Picking apart motives like some private eye in a film noir. It's stressful! And my hair looks bad! But I think that's due to the sudden shift in temperature. It's freezing here. We skipped right past fall and jumped right into winter.

Did I mention that I'm watching Starting Over while typing this? Yes, I'm that far gone. Send help!

Not a life coach, though!