Moving on...

I've been going about all of this the wrong way. I realized this last night. He's done everything to provoke us. To either try to send us into a panic, begging him to stay, or to royally piss us off, making us scream, rant and rave. We've done neither. We haven't shown any reaction to his little stunts. But we've been panicky and angry. The stress has worn us down. We've been doing this all wrong.

It came to me late last night. I couldn't sleep. I was thinking again. I think too much. My mind was churning with all of the things he could do to us. Everything he could take away. That's when it hit me. Who fucking cares?

Who cares if he takes the house? Who cares if he takes the computers? Who cares? We still won't beg him to stay. We'll still have each other. We'll make do. We'll pull through. He can't take that from us.

And, really, all he's accomplishing here is making himself look like a complete ass. The community is small enough that rumors fly around before you know it. He hates it when people think bad things about him. Drives him nuts. He always cared what people thought. He's not going to much like what people will be saying about him. I think he got a hint of that last night when we had my cousins over.

My cousin's wife is a real estate agent. We thought he had called her to help him look for an apartment or something. When she and my cousin came and we saw she was appraising the house, well... They realized that not all of us were in on it. And things grew more uncomfortable when they realized that we were unhappy with the situation. Really unhappy. I think that's when my father realized he might've screwed up. He looked bad. He no longer looked like the wonderful and loving husband, father, and grandfather. And since his temper is well-known around these parts, people will assume things.

I never cared much what people said about me. There've always been rumors. Those I care about know the truth and that's all that matters to me. Mom's the same, but she's worried about what they'll say about him. As she said, she can't just shut off 30 years of love. Even if she hates him now. But, then, love and hate do go hand in hand.

I've kinda rambled off subject, didn't I? Anyway, even if he does sell the house and take things away, what will that really accomplish? If he tries to take all of the money, it'll just get him a law suit. And, eventually, we'd just get another house. We'd still be together. Granted, I don't want to shuttle the kids around-- they've had enough drama and trauma in their lives-- but if we have to, we'll move. Another town, another state, whatever. He'll still be angry and alone. He won't be able to move on.

We will.

A little good news..

...to break up the bad.

1. It's actually nice outside. I think it might be around 60 degrees.
   
2. The bad stuff has made the rest of us (mom, kids, and me) much closer. We've been doing a lot more things together, such as...
3. The daily walks we've been taking have been paying off big time! Just a half hour a day and I dropped 5 lbs. Of course, stress probably played a part there as well.
4. Erwin! My beloved, clunky, dinosaur of a computer. I forgot that I had him stashed away temporarily. I was going to donate him to a school, but might need him after all. (Yes, I named my computer. I name everything.)
5. Also found old notebook comp that my father gave to my mom after he got the newer one. It's loaded down with viruses and spyware, but I'm sure I can get that up and running, too.
   
6. There was no screaming last night. I think he realized that it was only working him since it only had my mom telling him off and me asking when he was leaving. Also had The Girl asking me why "grandpa was being such a jerk" and wishing he would either go away or "behave himself" prompting me to reply, "He may be a jerk, but he's still your grandpa-- nothing you can do will change that, believe me-- and you should be more respectful. And I hope soon because he's really being a jerk."
7. I impressed my mom with my resourceful budgeting. Told her I could at least cut the food bill in half, if not more. Might actually get it down a lot lower. Most of our food spending was to please the only person in the house who didn't like leftovers and refused to eat them. I pointed out all the food we wasted that the rest of us actually prefer to eat. Also suggested ways to slash other bills. Things might get tight for a bit, but I'm not feeling panicky because I'm sure they'll smooth out. (That's saying a lot. I'm a classic worrier.)

Hoping things stay good and get better.

Worse and worse..

That's how things are now.

Last night was bad. He started snipping at everyone. I asked him why he doesn't leave. He wouldn't answer. He said he's determined to ruin my life like I ruined his. Because it's all my fault. Only he believes that one.

I might not have a computer. He claims he's taking mine (since it's under his name, not that he pays for it) on the 1st. We're hoping that means that he's leaving then. I warned my mother that if he even seems like he's going to hurt anyone, I'll have him thrown in jail so fast that he'll have whiplash. Then I'll slap a restraining order on him. He wants to be vicious? I can be even more so.

I've taken to staying out of the house, during the day, while he's at home. I don't want to have to have him arrested-- I worry about how traumatic that will be for the kids-- but will if I have to. If he takes the computer, I'll try to update from the library however sporadically I can.

I'm praying things get better soon. I haven't slept well. The kids aren't sleeping well either. Keeping my fingers crossed.

The Kids

The kids..

Ugh.

What have I told the kids? Nothing much yet.

I know they can tell what's going on. Grandpa's never home and when he is, he won't talk to anyone. I've only told them that we've had a big fight and their grandpa's in a nasty grumpy mood and to avoid him.

The Girl.. She's not one to take any answer at face value. She can turn full on gestapo on your ass if you're not careful about it. She did that with him the other day when he didn't show for dinner. I didn't catch that, my mom did. She was smirking about it.

The Boy.. He's always been very sensitive to tension. That coupled with his ADHD.. Well, it's difficult at times. He's subdued, almost unnaturally so, and then when my father comes home or leaves he's almost spastic.

The Cat.. The poor thing was there during the huge blowout. Since then, he's been very angry with my father and extremely protective of me. If my father's home, he's either by my side or on my lap. If the kids are in the room with my father, he's sitting in between. He's become very protective of us. He's also had some bad dreams.

My mom and I have spent most of our time reassuring the kids (cat included). I've let my organizing compulsion free. I've been scrubbing and reorganizing like nobody's business. Martha Stewart would be proud. I've also spent time assuring my mom that no matter what, I'm suporting her. I don't want her to worry unnecessarily. I already know how draining everything is for her.

We're waiting to see what will happen before we really have a talk with the kids. I've always been big on coming straight out with the kids. They know anyway and if you lie, they just distrust you. Unfortunately, there are always some questions that never have answers. They just dealt with my divorce last year-- finalized just a few day's before The Girl's birthday-- and it may happen all over again. All I can tell them is that we're family and that no matter what we will stick together and take care of each other. Mom tells them that no matter what, they can always depend on her and me. I just wish that the men in their lives felt the same way.

Stay or Go

I can feel my whole body tense up when he enters the house. It's worse when he's in the same room. And it's not just me. I can see how he negatively affects everyone in the house. He's become the elephant in the room that we're trying so desperately not to see. He's ignoring everyone as well. Every so often he'll drop a "request", his tone dripping with venom.

Last night's request was that we clear off a shelf on the refrigerator for his food. He refuses to eat any food we buy or prepare. I've told my mother that this will actually help us with our budget since he always refused to eat leftovers. We will only have to make a few big meals and coast along on leftovers the rest of the week. But back to the shelf thing. He made his request, my mom shrugged at him never taking her eyes off the tv-- she does the silent treatment better than anyone I know-- and I couldn't help myself, I gave him a dirty look.

I offered to clean off a shelf for his food and meant to set about doing so just as soon as he left the house for the day. Since it was only me in the house, he decided to linger. I stayed in my room and studied. The cat hung out with me and we studied together. I then passed out for a bit because I got no sleep last night and when I woke up he was still home. Eventually he left and I puttered around for a bit and when he returned it was a bit of a stand-off. I pretended he wasn't around.

Lunch rolled around and I got a phone call during my meal. It was my dear Albanian friend calling to tell me that she failed a test by two points. We wallowed in our misery together and she took me up on my offer to help her study. That killed a few hours and the fridge still hadn't been cleared.

I finally got around to it and was all squicked out by the nastiness in the fridge. I attacked that grunge like it was my father, all the while grumbling under my breath to the cat. I threw his crap on the shelf, swore a bit, grumbled more and wondered if he would either come to his senses or just leave already.

Mom came home for lunch. We had a little bitch session. Sometimes when I look at her, I see that she almost hopes for divorce. I think mostly to just have something definite. "He pulls this every couple of years," she said to me. "You didn't beg him to stay," I reply. "Not this time. Not anymore." And I see the years of frustration and anger and pain on her face.

"I gave him over 30 years of my life. 30 years of walking on eggshells. 30 years of giving up everything for him. It always had to be his way. I wasted 30 years of my life on that man." And I want to cry because I know that feeling well. Only I didn't put up with it for nearly that long. I also know how scared she must feel. Even if you want to leave a bad situation, it was the only situation you've known for so long. The rest is unknown. Unknown and terrifying.

I only had to contend with 5 years of marriage and 3 years of separation. I wanted out so badly and even then it was difficult. I had a nervous breakdown of sorts. I can't even fathom how difficult this must be for her. And I'm still thinking selfishly at this point. I can't help but think it would be better for all concerned if he did just leave. It would be easier than this at any rate.

Why?

I'm sure some of you out there are wondering why I'm posting about the current situation. Particularly since it's a painful and ugly situation. This blog has become a sort of release for me. I've never been able to keep a diary or journal before, but now that I am I want to keep it going. It's had a positive influence on my life. It's helped me sort out things.

But strangers are reading this.. Yes, I know. It's easier to tell things we'd normally keep hidden to strangers though, isn't it? And, yes, I have a few friends who read this, but they'd hear about it anyway and in probably more gruesome detail and for longer periods of time. (Pity my friends.) I may like keeping an air of mystery, but I've also never felt terribly secretive. Yes, I keep things private. I enjoy my privacy. But maybe talking about this here might not only help me sort out my feelings, it might help someone else going through something similar. Also, as weird as this may sound, I want to keep a record of this time. I want to be able to look back and say "We survived this. We made it through that."

Ode to Divorce

I found out today that my father asked for a divorce. Will he go through with it? I don't know. I don't know if this is one of his little ploys. Whatever it is, mom's called his bluff. She said if he wants it, he can have it.

Mom and I talked. She said it's been a long time coming. She's sick of the way he's treated her, me, the kids. She's sure he was waiting for anything to happen so he could pin the blame there. I said that he was just like my ex. She nodded. I knew then that she never left because she had nowhere to go. She saw herself in me. I got away. Ran to her. She needs me now.

Whatever happens, we know that we'll take care of each other. Just like we always have.

Atmospheric Tension

Things are not well in the Prophet household. We had a huge family fight last night. Things are distinctly uncomfortable. Only because my father continues to act like a child who's in dire need of a time out.

I'm proud to say that I kept my calm. I didn't yell back. I didn't become cruel. (I tend to do these when attacked.) I managed to remain an adult. Whatever he'd hoped to accomplish with his fit backfired royally. He only managed to piss off my mother. She's giving him the silent treatment. He's giving everyone the silent treatment. He doesn't realize that it's only making him look worse, but it's always been this way with him.

My father and I have never gotten along. Mostly because of his vicious mood swings and more vicious barbs. I've taken the brunt of his attacks all of my life. I did it gladly. I'd rather be hurt than see my loved ones hurt. My mom is a loved one. I hate it when he hurts her feelings, so I turn his anger towards me. Always have. I finally told him that I was done. I was done being his punching bag. That no one does anything to incurr his wrath. That it's all him and he needs to get it all worked out because I refuse to play now. And my mother backed me up.

This, of course, was seen as a huge betrayal. I've been disowned. Again. I usually am anytime I manage to make a stand without sinking to his level. In turn, I think my mom's disowned him. I don't know. Everyone's on edge. Even the cat.

I can't do it anymore. I've told him, time and time again, that he needs to stay on his medication. He's awful when he's not on it. I won't have him behaving like this around my kids. They've been through enough. He tried to kick me out and almost got himself kicked out instead. I guess mom's had enough of it, too.

Happy Easter.

Just Ducky!

Yesterday, to get out of my funk, I decided to wrangle the basement into some semblance of order. We got rid of all of the toys the kids no longer play with, separating the unbroken from broken to be sent off to Goodwill or Salvation Army.

The girl has decided that Barbies are so five minutes ago. The new hotness? Little beanie duckies with taped on headbands that resemble long, curly blonde hair.

Don't you just love the luxurious blonde locks?

Tape and headband. Up close and personal.

She loves the camera and the camera loves her!

I have to say, this did get me out of my funk. I laughed a good solid five minutes with intermittent giggles throughout the night. I only have to say "Ducky" to crack my mom up now.

Of Want and Need

Or Why I Really Shouldn't Think or Write While in a Gloomy State of Mind.

It's grey today. Again.

Just when I thought spring was ready to kick down the doors, it snowed yesterday. Now everything's damp and grey. Cold, damp and grey. It's days like this that chill me to the bone and make me wonder if I'll ever feel warm again. My thoughts are as grey as the sky.

The irony of all this? I'd been wondering how I'd get into the mood to draw my Despair desktop. Now I'm wondering how I'm going to get the motivation to stop moping and start doing.

I hate these moods. I don't do them well. I hate feeling down. It feels too much like self-pity. I then become angry with myself and berate myself, dragging myself to an even further low. This goes on and on until I manage to haul my ass into gear and do something, anything, productive. The only way out is to do. Not think. Not feel. Do.

But even while I'm busy keeping myself-- and my mind-- preoccupied, every so often a nasty little nagging thought will enter my mind and destroy whatever calm I managed to create. The zen-like feeling I had from creating that elaborate meal or drawing that detailed drawing-- you can tell when I'm feeling badly, I become very detailed in my work-- is shattered in that one split second. That happened for me yesterday.

The thought? Well, it started when I thought about my impending 30th birthday. I know, I know. 30 isn't old. But I'd had such plans. Things I would do. Adventures I'd have. I feel like I've let myself down somehow, but that wasn't what really got me. It was the knowledge that I'm still as vaguely dissatisfied as I was 10-- and even 20-- years ago. I figured that, by now at least, I'd know what I want.

That's the thought that's always bothered me. What do I want? It's not love. I've never really needed companionship. It's a nice perk, but not necessary for my happiness or well-being. Understanding? Not really. I like being a bit of a mystery. Will a job fulfill me? Not really. I'd be content with a variety of jobs. My job isn't who I am. And, all in all, I'm generally content with my life. It could be better, but it certainly could be worse. I know, I lived worse before. It's not an issue of needs. So what's the problem? ...I don't know.

I've always felt that there's this missing piece. I figured it would come to me in time. And I've waited. And searched. I'm no closer to it than I had been all those years ago. I'm not a patient person, I want to know what I want to know and I want to know it now.

What is it that I want to know? No fucking clue. Do I need to know it? I wish I knew.

Five down..

Two more to go!

Desire is done:

If a stick is wood and wood floats...

Then the stick that just bonked me upside the head must be a witch!

Or it just means that I've been chosen, by the brilliant Edana, to do this book meme. Here goes..


You are stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?

The one that doesn't get burned? Oooh.. How about those books that the townspeople memorized? Probably Shakespeare's Complete Works.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

Oh, my.. Have I ever! Westley from The Princess Bride-- I do love a pirate-- and Dream from the Sandman comic book series.

The last book you bought is:

It's been a while since I've bought books-- I usually stop at the library--but I did buythe first two of Garth Nix's The Keys to the Kingdom books. Very good.

The last book you read was:

The last book I read was A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle because Sawyer, on Lost, was reading it. Every book in that show has a meaning. The book was only so-so. It ended much too abruptly, but I found the whole idea of tessering fascinating.

What are you currently reading?

Watership Down by Richard Adams. Also because Sawyer's reading it on Lost. Who would've expected Sawyer to be such a reader? I'm liking this book so far, but it is kind of embarrassing when people ask you to describe what it's about because all I can say so far is "It's...about bunnies. Migratory bunnies..."

Five books you would take to a deserted island:

1. To be practical, I'd first bring Toxic Plants. I don't want to eat the wrong thing.
2. American Gods by Neil Gaiman because I could read it over and over and never get bored.
3. Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Prachett. The funniest book about the apocalypse that you'll ever read.
4. Hogfather by Terry Pratchett because it still makes me giggle and I love any Pratchett book that has either Death or the Four Horsemen in it.
   
5. No Exit and Three Other Plays by Jean Paul Sartre. Unexpected, isn't it? But I do love the plays. Great in English, better in the original French. Read them in high school, then again in college and I'm still in love with them.

Now comes the passing of the stick!

Oh, crap. I hate picking. How about the next three willing victims to comment on this post get passed the stick? Sounds fair!

This 'n' That

PMS does a real number on me. Not just physically, but mentally, too. Yes, yes, guys, I know you're all icked by this topic. Deal with it. If you have women in your life, you'll eventually have to come to terms with it.This is what's happened to me this week:

1. I've been having this weird allergy thing going on with my face. First it was the welts on my throat, now it's my weirdly puffed eyes. It's not a product allergy since I've used nothing new. And I take allergy medicine every day, so I'm baffled by the whole thing. I've switched to a different allergy pill and slapped on soothing creams and ointments to de-puff.
2. I had my PMS breakout. Add that in with the puffiness and I look sexy!
3. I lost 3 pounds, but I'm bloated. My loose jeans-- at least they were loose this weekend-- were suddenly snug. But no weight gain. I'm really confused.
4. I accidentally scheduled the dentist appointment for the day my daughter goes to her very pregnant teacher's baby shower. This is also the last day the teacher will be there. (I scrambled to change the appointment today. I am not that cruel.)
5. I'm constantly ravenously hungry; but as soon as I take a few bites, I'm full... Until a minute later. Then I'm ravenously hungry again.
6. February really messed me up with its 28 days. I kept thinking my period was late until I counted back. Stupid February.
7. The flakiness? Only getting worse.. I keep wandering through the house, trying to remember what I was going to do. I still don't remember.
   
8. My father tried to take my entire bowl of lollipops from me and I shot death rays at him from my eyes. I then snatched my bowl right back. Never take my lollipops away.
9. I keep thinking it's Wednesday. Since yesterday. I really love Wednesdays. Is it Wednesday yet?
10. That thing I should be doing? Is probably studying. Yeah, need to start cracking open those books. Not looking forward to it with the headache, blurry eyes and cramps I've got going on right now. Determined to read at least a chapter some time today.

Also posted my bit of bad writing up at Inferior Ink. J picked this week's theme.

Average them out...

Two new desktops.

One I am not to proud of, but since it's part of the Endless series I'm throwing it up anyway..

I tried!

I almost-- as a joke-- left it blank, since Destruction left the Endless. And because I wasn't thrilled with how this turned out. But I think I more than made up for it with this one...

I painted and drew this one. Yes, in Photoshop. Really.

I don't think I'll ever do one like that again. It took forever to do and my wrist now hurts and my (puffy) eyes are wonky. Enjoy!

It was like pulling teeth...

Today the kids had to go to the dentist for their 6 month cleaning. I should've known that things wouldn't go well when we got a call several weeks back from the dentist's office saying that we were overdue for an appointment when I had a card with the appointment's date and time on it right at my desk. I had scheduled them the last time I was there. So I called them up and straightened things out. They wound up switching the time. Oh, and the receptionist? Very bitchy.

I woke up early and noticed that my eyes were weirdly puffy and quite red. I wondered what fresh hell I stumbled into this time. I hate my allergies. I slapped on some de-puffing cream and didn't bother with makeup. I look very scary.

I left a bit early to pick up the kids at school. I go to the attendance office to sign them out and to let them know that they'll be coming back after. In the office is a teacher who I've seen around, but didn't know. He turns to the women in the office and asks, "Here's something I've always wondered.. How do you know for sure that it's actually the parent getting the child?" just as I'm signing out the kids. This causes everyone to turn and look at me. I crack a joke about picking up more compliant kids than my own and wait. The Boy comes down quickly, but The Girl takes longer. She totally forgot that she was coming back and dragged everything but her desk with her. I shuttle them into the car and off we go.

We get to the dentist's office a few minutes early for our 10:00 appointment and I shoo the kids off while I deal with the very same bitchy receptionist from that voicemail weeks ago. I settle down with my copy of Watership Down-- still reading when I can-- and we wait. And wait.

The first hour went by pretty quickly. The kids were flipping through magazines and chattering. I had my book. But then, during the second hour, things began to sour. We were stuck on these little bitty kiddie stools and I wasn't comfortable sitting with my knees hovering near my ears. We all got fidgetty. It was around this time that The Girl started telling me the time. Every five minutes. "Mom, it's 11:15 now... Mom, it's 11:20 now... Mom, it's 12:05 now..."

Whenever I asked her the purpose of this exercise, she would just shrug and tell me the time again. I handed her a magazine and told her to read. That was when I noticed The Boy ogling a rather voluptuous female vampire in a video game magazine. I helped him flip the page and got a scowl for my helpfulness. I turned to my cell phone to vent my resentment. It seemed to be the trend in the waiting room. One person gave up entirely and rescheduled. I grabbed the couch before anyone else could. Ahh..

It wasn't until around 1:00 that The Boy was called in. Things went rather quickly there on out. I got some reading done. All I can still say about the book is....it's a book about bunnies. The kids got their cleaning. No cavities. Just before we were going to make a run for it, I'm told that they need to come in on Thursday. They want to put a sealant on their molars. I whimpered and asked about an afternoon appointment. It seems that I go to the only dentist in the world who doesn't have afternoon appointments. They said we got the first one on Thursday. Maybe we'll get out by noon next time..

Anyway, since we'd been so long at the dentist's the kids missed lunch entirely. They were thrilled with the stop to Burger King, but not by my orders of "Less talking, more eating. Maybe you'll get in an hour of school today." Which is about all they got. And I get to do it all over again on Thursday. Aren't I the lucky one?

Oh, and I found out that they need a trip to the orthodontist, too!

Old No. 13

Well, I went ahead and did it. If you missed a desktop and don't feel like digging through the archives, head on over to Old No. 13.

Why Old No. 13? I don't know.. It just came to me. I follow my whims.

I should be cleaning...

But, instead, I finally got around to setting up my gmail as a personal file server and threw those desktops I drew up on there. That meant that I had to change my links and some were being little buggers, but I think I've got them all straightened out now. If a picture's not showing up, please let me know.

I think I might set up another blog just for the desktops I draw. Yeah, J, I know you've been telling me to do that. Just hush. It'll just be for the desktops I draw. Nothing else. I don't need to overload myself when things are just starting to get busy here. I'll keep everyone posted if I do. That way you won't have to weed through the archives in search of them.

Anyway, here's the latest:

Probably my favoritest Endless.

Three down, four more to go.

No rest for the wicked...

I couldn't sleep last night. Yesterday was a very bad day. A very bad day. Needless to say, I was very stressed out by it.

When I was a young artiste, I'd draw nearly all day. I loved summer vacation because I could literally draw all day. Art was my meditation. It was my way to relax and de-stress. For a very long time-- what I like to call my "Marriage Period"-- I almost never drew or painted or sculpted. It was rough.

When I got back into it, I hated how rusty I'd become. And I lacked inspiration. When I was young, it seemed that I never ran out of things to draw. I never needed an excuse. Now it was different. It was frustrating.

Photoshoop always was a good outlet for me, but it never was like drawing used to be for me. Yeah, I could paint, but it wasn't the same. But now that I've started drawing in it.. It's like it was. Everything melts away and I can just draw.

Unfortunately, I was drawing until sunrise.

The original emo.

Looks like I got cracking on that Endless series sooner than I'd expected.

A Happier Death

It's after midnight-- way after midnight-- so, of course, I must post my most recent drawing done in Photoshop. This is turning into the Photoshop blog. I wasn't content with last night's drawing. Death didn't turn out how I pictured her in my mind. She turned out more like Siouxsie Sioux instead.

Isn't she the Death you'd want to go with?

I have to say that I'm very pleased with this one. She looks just like I imagined. Now to tackle the rest of the Endless..

Fangirl

Have I mentioned how much I worship Neil Gaiman? How I collect his works? How I lost my entire bloody Sandman collection in a fire? How I seem to be a magnet for natural disasters? (Mostly in human form; but have been through flood, fire, tornado, hurricane, etc.)

Anyway, enough of that. I should be sleeping, but instead I was making this:

The weird thing about the drawing is that it came out nothing like I'd expected. This, of course, means I'll have to try to make more until I get what I wanted. I might even try for some other Endless.

Before you ask, I totally cheated on the little spiral under her eye. I used the spiral shape already in photoshop because I couldn't get it to turn out evenly.

Plucking Twangers

I don't think a video clip has ever made me laugh so hard. If you scroll down a bit, you can read the transcript.

I agree with Rachel, we should get this show back on the air.

(link via Rachel, via Miss Kimberley)

***

In other news, my did some weird, very bad thing to my back yesterday. Or was it the day before? I don't remember anymore. I only remember thinking, "Oh, that doesn't feel good.." So I'll probably be hanging out on the couch with my copy of Watership Down that I've been trying to find time to read.

Request

Greedy J requested another desktop. Click on the thumbnail for the full-size image.

Jenny Lewis

That's all for tonight. My eyes are hating me now.

The Icelandic Pixie

Did I mention that I'm addicted?

Today I've made my offering to my favorite Icelandic pixie, Björk.

Maybe I'll sleep peacefully tonight.

Even More Letters

Dear Photoshop,

I know I didn't play with you last night. I wanted to get to sleep sometime before 4 A.M. And I did. But did you have to haunt my dreams? That was totally unfair. I made some great stuff and then woke up and realized that I didn't actually do squat. That put me in a bad mood.

Does this mean I'll never sleep again?

Your bitch,
R

Dear Angie,

I pouted. A lot.

I told you to get rid of the hicks. They were intimidated by you, as they should be. When you see them, could you kick their asses for me? Just a little? Thanks!

Still love ya,
R

Dear Bobby Jon and James,

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE.

With disgust,
R

Dear Ibrehem,

Dude, could you have flubbed that challenge more? Seriously. That was really bad. My cat could've done a better job than you, man.

But you're pretty, so I don't hate you. Gang up with Stephenie and get rid of the hicks!

This is your first and last warning,
R

Dear Tom,

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrowr.

This may be the second time in history that my mom and I are both drooling over the same man. Please walk around shirtless forever.

Sitting in a puddle of drool,
R

Dear Koror tribe,

Well played, well played. Give the immunity to the putz. You're evil geniuses all of you. Marry me?

Merely a puppet,
R

Dear Lost,

Please come back. I miss you. I can't eat. (Ok, I can eat. But it's not as good without you!) I can't sleep. (But that's mostly Photoshop's fault.) I need you back in my life.

Suffering from withdrawal,
R

More Drawings

Made some more yesterday. Clicking on the thumbnail will take you to the full-size image.

I present The Audreys:

Pictures + Parents = Pain

I was so excited over my little drawings yesterday that I ran to my parents with them. Because I'm five years old.

Conversation with my father..

Me: "See? Isn't it neat? I did it on the computer!"
Father: "Why's the nose so big?"
Me: "The nose isn't big."
Father: "It's too big."
Me: "The nose is fine."
Father: "No, the nose is too big. Why you make it so big?"
Me: "Ignore the nose! Look at the rest. Good, huh?"
Father: "It's good, but the nose.."
Me: "Enough with the nose! It's like the cheese all over again.. 'Try the cheese. The cheese is good. Eat the cheese.' You're obsessed!"
Father: "What does cheese have to do with the nose?"
Me: "I give up."
Father: "You should try this cheese I got. It's good."

Conversation with my mother...

Me: "See? I made it on the computer!"
Mom: "It's good."
Me: "...."
Mom: "Really good?"
Me: "Dad keeps going on about the nose being too big."
Mom: "Maybe that's how you see it.."
Me: "I did the portrait from a photograph! I didn't exaggerate the nose!"
Mom: "It's fine."
Me: "You were more excited over the portraits I made out of pistachio shells, the kitchen sponge and dental floss.."
Mom: "Hee! Those were so adorable! You were such a creative child."
Me: "...."

The moral of this story? Parent's are insane. And like cheese. A lot.

Vector-y Goodness

I've admitted that I'm horribly addicted to Photoshop. This is true and has not yet changed. But there was always one thing I was reluctant to try. Vector drawing. It just seemed too complicated, to be honest. If I want to draw a curved line, why can't I just draw the bloody curved line? I shouldn't need anchor points. I don't sketch with anchor points! So I avoided the whole mess. For many, many years.

I decided to give it a go last night. Why last night? I don't know. But I should remember to never start projects after midnight. The first one didn't take very long, but the second took me nearly two hours. It was nearly 4 A.M. before I got to bed.

I kept the first simple..

Yes, eyes. What else were you expecting?

I got a bit more complicated with the second...

Not too shabby for my second go, eh?

I have a new addiction.

Top 5

I like making lists. It's almost a disorder.

Top 5 Things Running Through My Head Right Now (in no particular order):

1. I'm so going to kill The Boy for his laziness.
2. I wonder if it's abnormal to think that you will be hacked to death by a giggling clown weilding an ax..
3. Brittany Murphy looks so cute now that she's de-skankified herself.
4. A Wrinkle in Time ended much too abruptly for my satisfaction.
5. I probably shouldn't obsess so much over Lost.

Top 5 Albums (this week, anyway, and in no particular order):

1. Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea-- PJ Harvey
2. No Wow-- The Kills
3. Soviet Kitsch-- Regina Spektor
4. Nouvelle Vague-- Nouvelle Vague
5. So Jealous-- Tegan & Sara

Top 5 Favorite Books (also in no particular order):

1. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass-- Lewis Carroll
2. American Gods-- Neil Gaiman
3. Maze: Solve the World's Most Challenging Puzzle-- Christopher Manson
4. Good Omens-- Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
5. Invisible Monsters-- Chuck Palahniuk

Top 5 Movies (as is above, so is below):

1. Clue
2. Labyrinth
3. Monty Python and the Holy Grail
4. Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory
5. Young Frankenstein

Top 5 Favorite Foods (you know the drill by now, don't you?):

1. Stuffed grape leaves (a.k.a., dolmades)
2. Godiva anything
3. Tiramisu
4. Tabouli (I lurve Mediterranean food)
5. Cake (vague, I know, but I can't narrow it down further than that)

Any of these are, of course, subject to change at a moment's notice or whenever the wind changes direction or I have a whim.

Kids Are Cruel

Mom: "No more cake. I need to lose ten pounds."

The Boy: "Yeah, you really do.."

Mom: "Ouch!"

Me: "How many grandmas do you think look as good as her?"

The Girl: "I don't know. Tons, at least.."

Mom: "Ugh.."

Me: "They really are cruel, aren't they?"

Busy, Tired and Possibly Dead

So much to do, not enough energy to do it. I really need to be a good girl and get to sleep at a half-way decent hour. So, in lieu of an actual post, I'll lamely-- and very shamelessly-- plug the other blog.

I suck, I know.

Ahem.

So, over at Inferior Ink, we've had quite a nice week. We've each submitted our bits of atrocious writing. Of course, the actual writer had to struggle to write badly. I didn't. I'm naturally sucky. We also had a submission! How very exciting! (I was lenient since it was our only submission and he's working at central time, whilst I'm plugging away at eastern.) I even posted this week's theme. I'm going to have fun with this one. Go on over and read, point and laugh, comment, submit, whatever.

And so ends the shameless plug. Off I go to make some cabbage rolls.

Marathon Mom

Part of this is my own fault. I know this. I know I didn't have to-- nor should I have-- stayed up until 4 AM talking music with J. Part of that was because I had a song stuck in my head all day and had to listen to it on repeat to get over it. It wasn't even a whole song, just a bitty part of the song. I don't even know how the song got lodged into my brain like that in the first place. It was the darnedest thing. I haven't even listened to Siouxsie and the Banshees in god knows how long, and now I have "Peek-a-Boo"-- but just the "Peeeeeeeeeeeeek-a-boo!" part-- slowly driving me insane. It's such a catchy song.

So when I woke up-- very late, mind you-- with the kids-- early birds, both of them; don't know where they got that from-- once again fighting, I wasn't a happy camper. But I got up anyway. Lots to do an' all. I make sure the kids are fed. For some reason, on the weekends only, they feel the need to eat two breakfasts each. One when they first get up-- at whatever god forsaken hour that is-- and another later on when the rest of us rise from the dead. I tell them to get dressed and get ready, we need to go, go, go.

An hour later, The Boy decides that because it's around lunchtime, he must eat lunch. I tell him, once again, that he shouldn't eat by the clock, he insists that he's really hungry. I make lunch. I get ready. I wait. And wait. And wait some more. Before we get to the door, The Girl runs to the bathroom. Eventually, about 3 hours later than I'd intended, we set out for the library.

I pick up a book. The kids pick up some books. The Girl got lost a grand total of four times in the library. It's not a large library. But then, she gets lost in the house, too. I worry about the child. This time, The Boy runs to the bathroom.

We have to stop at Macys so I can get this face cream. It's the only thing that keeps my face from seriously freaking out. I cut back on it and got these huge welts on my throat. You know you look bad when you show your mom your welts and she flinches. Yes, this is the woman who had oozing blisters on both hands for several weeks, but she flinches from your welts. You really know it's bad when she offers to buy the cream for you. You need the cream. The cream was bought. The Boy decided to almost get hit by a car and complained when I yanked him to safety. I know there's not enough yoga in the world to help me deal with my family and this is very likely why I have big, nasty welts on my throat.

Next is food shopping. The Girl knocks down a huge display. I manage to reassemble it, all the while cursing under my breath and shooting poisonous looks at The Girl when she offers "helpful" suggestions. My mother yanks The Girl to safety and asks her if she has a death wish. We then ponder if they warn people in advance when we come to the store because she either knocks displays over or drops something and makes a large mess every friggin week. Now she whines that she needs to go to the bathroom again. It's been exactly one hour since she last went and she's had nothing to drink. I feel that familiar throbbing pain in my head. I send The Boy with her so she doesn't get lost. Again. I hate getting paged in the store.

We make it home. The kids are in one piece, but just barely, and my mom and I have matching headaches. But I found Black Jack gum! I'm really excited about that.

This is my growly face..

Because Blooooooooger is still misbehaving.

And don't tell me to switch to Haloscan. I looked them over before and wasn't impressed. I also won't switch over because this has become a matter of principle. Yes, I know I always say that when I've decided to become bull-headedly stubborn. I'm determined to make Bloooooooooooooooooooooooger work! It will bend to my will, dammit!

Don't make me pout and throw a fit, Bloooooooooooooooooooooooooooger. No one wants to see that. And stop sending me to your status page and your known issues page. You haven't updated in almost a month. I checked. I always check. I don't send in complaints all willy nilly. I research beforehand. Is it really so hard to keep these pages up-to-date? I think not.

And also? I'm irked by the lack of user stats updates. I thought that problem was going to be resolved, like, last year? Because I'm quite sure I've written more than 117 posts. I also know that my most recent posts were not in November. I know this because I sit here click-clacking away at my computer at least daily. So, if you could, fix that!

I'm sure there's a 12 year old out there somewhere who can fix all of this shit in a day or less.

Dear Survivors...

Dear Angie,

Girl, I'm so proud of you! You've been kicking so much ass. You're still my favorite, though, so here's some advice. This is Survivor, you can't kick too much ass or your ass will be gone come merge time. Also? Your team sucks. Really. You're being picked off one at a time. It's sad. You'd better hope they mix up the teams soon or you'll be going. That would make me unhappy.

Don't worry about your victory cry not making sense. I was still behind you with "Yeah! You got that?! In your face!" Because you just stomped your competition. And get rid of Bobby Jon and James. They irk me and you could probably benchpress them. Or, better yet, find a way to get on the other team. You and Ian would make a cute couple. He looks much better on tv than he does on his photo.

Taking the names for you,
R

***

Dear Ian,

You're a geek. And you kick ass. I adore you. Why do you always look like you're wearing lipstick in your photos? And also, the hair? Not loving the bangs, hon. I covet your glasses, though.

I <3 geeks,
R

P.S. Psst! Check out Angie!

***

Dear Tom,

Grrrowr.

Really.

Don't usually go for older guys, but willing to make an exception,
R

***

Dear James,

Why must you soil a perfectly good name? Why do you have to be such an ignorant hick? I cheered so hard when Coby kicked your ass. "Hairdresser" indeed!

I think I hate you,
R

***

Dear Coby,

Loving you! Keep kicking redneck ass!

Smooches,
R

Waiting for the anvil...

Dear Blooooooger,

Please get your ass in gear and work properly already. Also? Update your status page. And your known issues page. I'm tired of my comments not working. I'm also sick of having to save my posts in notepad because I don't know what your mood will be like today.

Not your red headed step-child,
R

The Kids' Latest Get-Rich-Quick Scheme

The Girl: "If we mail this all around the world, we'll be rich!"

The Boy: "Can't we just email it?"

Me: "You can't email an actual object."

The Girl: "Yeah! And I don't think other countries have computers.."

Me: "Of course they do!"

The Boy: "Yeah! I'm pretty sure Australia has them.."

Like Topsy, it grew...

It was only supposed to be one man. A long-time friend of my father's, in the country for a brief period of time, was to be invited to the house for dinner. Simple enough, even with the odd dietary restriction. "No onions. He hates onions," I was told. That's fine. I can adapt, even though I put garlic and onions in nearly everything I cook, and find something suitable for the meal.

Then the friend's family member was invited. Again, no biggie. I can stretch a meal for yet another person. No problem.

Then two uncles were invited. Ok, I'll scrap that meal and come up with something else. I'll set up the gentlemen at the dining room table and we'll eat in the kitchen. Not a problem. I can do this.

Now there are eight people coming. Eight. How did this happen? "Your father doesn't have people over that often, we'll manage," says mom. Fine, but eight? I don't have people over often either, but you don't see me going from one person to eight in less than a week. But fine, I'll deal. I need to plan a larger dessert. Don't complain about my grumbling.

"So you're telling me that it's moved up 2 days and now in the afternoon?" Many swears were muttered. There was also some growling. I get to not only deal with two very hyper children just coming home from school, but eight hungry men. On top of that, I have to get the kids ready early for their dance class later on. And we do know how nasty father dear gets when his food isn't served exactly at the time specified. This will not be a good day. I expect screaming and tears and a whole lot of swearing.

"Oh, he's decided that I'm to make the tiramisu now? When was he planning on telling me this?" At this point, I'm seriously considering running away. At least for that day. Dearest father keeps changing things in the menu and not telling me. I wonder if the day will end in a homicide. Who will play the body?

I'm very much dreading this Friday.

The Toilet Book

After realizing that the girl had been in the bathroom for a half hour-- I only realized this because she hadn't kissed me good night and it was awfully quiet in the house-- I go to check on her.

Me: "You ok in there?"

The Girl: "Uh huh! I'm fine!"

Me: "What are you doing? I'm coming in."

The Girl: "I'm...brushing my teeth!"

Me: "You lie."

I open the door and find...a book. I look at her, I look at the book, I look back at her.

Me: "You were reading?"

The Girl: "Uh..."

Me: "In the bathroom?"

The Girl: "Well..."

Me: "Are you your grandpa suddenly? What's up with this?"

The Girl: "I was looking at it and brushing my teeth.."

Me: "But you only started putting toothpaste on your brush.."

The Girl: "I got distracted!"

Me: "So you got distracted yesterday, too?"

Dooce? Rocks!

Dooce (and friends) totally kick ass and take names.

All I can say about the man in question, jackson.matt@att.net, is that maybe he should put some money aside for therapy 'cause-- whoa, Nelly!-- his mom did a number on him. I'd almost pity him if he weren't such a complete asshole.

Snow. Ice. HATE.

Yesterday was a lovely day. Nice and sunny. Very spring-like weather. The temperature hovered somewhere in the low 50s (around 10 C). I opened the windows and aired out the house. It was marvelous. Booboo was extremely excited to be sitting on his window seat and feel the wind blow through his fur. Oh, how I miss yesterday.

Today is hell frozen over. It's windy, snowy, icy and icky. I'm not happy. I've heard nothing but sirens all day. No one was expecting this. Light snow and rain, my ass. Everyone's home and staying home. It's not safe with all of the ice on the roads and all of the cars slipping and smacking into each other. The worst part? The shoveling that will have to be done. There isn't enough snow out there for the snow blower. And the wind is insane. My poor cheeks will receive a beating from the snow being whipped at them. At least I'll be getting some exercise. Something I haven't been getting lately.

On a cheerier note: I couldn't resist. I already posted my bit of bad writing over at Inferior Ink. The deadline's Saturday, I know. Not rushing anyone else. I just had to post. Had to.

Amused

A snippet of conversation from earlier today..

Me: Did you check out my post?

J: i can't believe you won two cereal contests

That's right, folks. Out of all of the things on that list, that is what amazed him. Ok, granted, he'd already heard the flashing story, and the mafia story, and the cinderblock story and the SNL story-- which he loves telling people more than I do, but don't listen to him 'cause he lies-- but the cereal contests? I'm scratching my head at that one.

Another Meme

Stolen, yet again, from Michelle.

Ten things I have done that you probably have not:

1. Accidentally flashed a crew of construction workers. (Yes, it was a complete accident!)
2. Had a slight run-in with the Russian mafia.
3. Had a moon-eyed skinhead attempt to woo me.
4. Went to college that had around 400 students. Total. All women. (Well, except for that one guy but he was so-and-so's boy toy so he didn't really count.)
5. Had my portrait painted in Moscow.
6. Was almost crushed by a falling cinderblock. (Pretty sure it was pushed off of building. Quite sure it was intended for someone else even though it almost hit me.)
7. Met two minor SNL alums in one night.
8. Knew a kid-- went to my high school and had just asked out a friend the week before-- who was killed in a bizarre cult ritual.
   
9. Have been on the news. (The story wasn't about me, it was about a freak accident that lead to a person's death. I was in the background while another student at my school was interviewed.)
10. Have won two cereal contests-- Life and Captain Crunch-- and received $100 from each. (I don't like either cereal. I nagged my mom to buy them just for the contests alone-- which she swore I'd never win. I told her I'd not only win, but that'd I'd compensate her for the cereal. I love being able to say "I told you so!")

That was a lot harder than I thought it would be. It also makes me realize that my life is a lot weirder than I'd previously thought.

What could that be?

Is it our very first theme for our very first bad writing exercise?

Why I think it is! Check it out!

Those 7 Deadly Sins

Michelle brought up the topic of sins which got me thinking. Yes, I know that thinking-- for me, anyway-- is usually a bad thing, but I had to seriously consider which sins I'm really guilty of. And it's a convenient blog topic for when you've got nothing else on the burner.

So we have the sins (in alphabetical order since I can't help myself): Envy, Gluttony, Greed, Lust, Pride, Sloth, and Wrath. Let's consider each one, shall we? (All definitions from m-w.com.)

1. Envy- painful or resentful awareness of an advantage enjoyed by another joined with a desire to possess the same advantage. (I'm probably least guilty of this sin. I don't tend to resent people for having something I want. I also don't get jealous easily. This has been a big problem in most of my relationships, oddly enough. I have been known to say "I wish I could ______ as well as ______", so I guess that would count as envy minus the painful or resentful awareness.)
2. Gluttony- excess in eating or drinking. (Oh, boy. I'm in trouble here. Not so much anymore, but very guilty of it in my younger years. I was very fond of excessive behavior back then. Something I've said: "Better buy two pints of the Godiva ice cream, I'm so inhaling that one tonight.")
3. Greed- excessive or reprehensible acquisitiveness. (I've been known to be greedy. I like stuff. I like having stuff. I like buying stuff. I want more stuff. I'm always saying "Isn't this cute?! I have to have it!")
4. Lust- usually intense or unbridled sexual desire. (Yikes. Seriously guilty of this one. Not only is my crush list at least a mile long, it's growing daily. Something I've said: "Grrowr! _______ is nummy!" And I have gotten very graphic, but won't do so here.)
5. Pride- proud or disdainful behavior or treatment. (I'm extraordinarily arrogant. I know it. I try to temper it. I've said: "I am a goddess! Bow before me and worship at my feet.")
6. Sloth- disinclination to action or labor. (Oh, hell, yeah. I'm lazy. I'm very lazy. This doesn't mean I'm not active. I've been known to buzz about in a flurry of activity, but then come the very long periods of rest. I'm ashamed to admit that I've said "I can find the remote and don't feel like getting up to change the channel." when asked why I was watching crap on tv.)
7. Wrath- strong vengeful anger or indignation. (Very guilty of this. Again, mostly in my younger years. I have said: "I will hurt you. A lot. And then? I will kill you. And then I will laugh. I will laugh and I will point and point and laugh. Because I hate you so very much. And also? You suck.")

I'm so going to hell, but I already knew that.

All Done!

All of the interviews are done and up! Yay! This was a fun little side project that I might attempt once again in the future.

• Rory's interview answers are up here.
• J's are over here.
• Rachel's are sitting pretty over here.
• Viv's are hangin' over here.
• platinumgirl's are over in My Interview comments. (Questions from my interview were provided by Edana.)

Read. Enjoy. Say "hi!" and get interviewed yourself. It's fun.

Heartless Bastards

A conversation with much disliked manager from music store disguising himself as mountain man today...

Manager: "Hi! Can I help you with anything?"

Me: "Uh, yeah. I can't find Heartless Bastards.." I quickly tell The Girl to not go around saying that.

Manager: "Pardon?"

Me: "I was looking in the H section, but they're not there.."

Manager: "Who?"

Me: Big sigh because I know how bad this sounds. "Heartless Bastards. I can't quite remember the name of the album. I think there was something about stairs and elevators or something." (Note: The album's name is Stairs and Elevators. D'oh!)

Manager: "Are you serious?"

Me: "Yes. I'm a bit too old for prank jokes, don't you think?"

Turns out they didn't have them after all. I didn't overlook them as I sometimes tend to do because I'm far too impatient to rifle through everything. But I got Donnie Darko- The Director's Cut, so it's all good.

Inferior Ink

begin shameless plug/

I'm sure you've noticed a new category there on my sidebar, right? And the new link under it? Of course you have! You're not only brilliant, you're observant!

For the rest of you, look under Where You'll Find Me Now and you'll see it. Inferior Ink. Yes, there isn't much there yet. I know. We've only just started it.

What is Inferior Ink? Well, we're hoping to bring you outrageously bad writing-- and maybe some bad poetry-- in the spirit of The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. The wonderfully bad writing there has inspired us.

We will be posting a "theme" for the writing in the beginning of the week and will be posting our bits of bad writing sometime during the week. ("Theme" day: Sunday. "Bad writing" day: deadline of Saturday.) We also hope you'll honor us with your tidbits of fantastically wretched writing. You can post them either in the comments or via the email link on the site. J and I will each pick our favorite bad writing out of the submissions-- if there are any-- and post them along with our own submissions. Yes, this means you will get a link back and you can show all of your friends and family how truly awful your writing can be. It will be a proud day for all.

So far, J and I are the only main contributors. Don't despair as we will be adding more in the future. We hope to make this a fun project for all.

/end shameless plug

Current Interview Update

As of now, we have:

• plantinumgirl's interview answers in My Interview comments.
• Viv's answers over here.
• Rachel's answers over here.
• J's answers here.
• Currently awaiting Rory's answers.
• And a partridge in a pear tree.

Read and enjoy!

Results of Ass Flake Steam

Did the ass flakes steam. Not quite three days in a row due to yesterday's scheduled activities, but I got back onto the program today. Here are the results.

After the first steam:

• Skin was a bit red. Steam is hot, you know.
• Dripping. There was lots of dripping from the steam. Was it condensation? Pores being purged? Both?
  
• Got two pimples later that day, but skin was congested so the steam might've just brought them out.
  

After second steam:

• Less red this time.
  
• Skin looks a bit glowy and more evenly toned. Wondering if steam and Lush products are the holy grail of skin care.
• Got four pimples later that day. Yes, the same day. Yes, FOUR. But other two went down. Hm.. That was quick. The life cycle of a zit is usually much longer. Again, Lush or steam? Or both?

After third steam:

• More drippy this time. Water just poured off of me. It was gross.
  
• Looking glowy and smoother. Skin appears to be less congested. (Congested: Clogged pores. Either blackheads, milia or whiteheads. That zit that you know is just waiting to pop up.)
• Haven't developed any new pimples yet today and previous pimples are either going down or gone.

So, all in all, I'm rather encouraged by the results and will be giving my face a weekly steaming from now on. I will also keep using the Lush products I bought (Aquamarine, Coal Face (use only once a week or so, very drying), and Eau Roma Water) and plan on adding a moisturizer and/or eye cream from there in the future. No, I don't work for Lush. If I did, I'd spend my entire paycheck there.

More details about the ass flakes. They are an herbal laxative, in flake form, made by Swiss Kriss. The ingerdients are as follows: dried leaves of senna, licorice root, fennel, anise and caraway seed, dandelion, peppermint, papaya, strawberry and peach leaves, juniper berries, centaury, lemon verbena, cyani flowers and parsley.

If you are allergic to any of the ingredients, I strongly urge you to avoid using this product. You could probably get similar results from another herbal tea. Or you can make your own using any of the above ingredients listed.

Interviews

Results are coming in...

• The phenomenal platinumgirl answered her questions in My Interview comments.
• The vivacious Viv supplied her interview questions here.
• I'm currently awaiting the radiant Rachel's answers. (Psst! Your questions are in the comments section of my interview)

I still have room for two more victims! Any takers?

Update:

• Rachel has posted her answers! You'll find them here.
• All interview slots have been filled. Stay tuned for further answers from Rory and J.
  

Conspiracy Theory

I was sure they were all out to get me. It couldn't be plain and simple paranoia anymore. How could something so simple as handing in an application be so difficult? It isn't. People were sabotaging me. I was sure of it.

First, there was the lack of money. My boss has severely cut back my hours. Business was bad. This, of course, happened just after I finally graduated cosmetology school and was able to now work more hours. When I was going to school-- for a full 9 hours a day (from 9-2:30 and again from 5-9)-- I was only working weekends. Well, sometimes a few hours during the week and all day Saturday. The pay wasn't the object, I was there to learn more than anything. And tips were good, even for a lowly assistant like me. During the Christmas rush, I was shuffling between work and school for a good 13 hours per day. The kids had almost forgotten what I looked like. I was exhausted. I still don't know how I got everything done. But I did. I went to school double-time in order to graduate early so I could work. Then, the slump came. And it stayed. I was laid off. A first for me. I've never been fired or laid off. Ever. It hurt my ego in a bad way. That led into...

The depression. Maybe if things were different, it wouldn't have been so bad; but my ego was already in a bit of a sad state from the move back to Jersey, the incredibly long separation which finally led into the somewhat contested (by him, not me-- never me-- but only because he wanted to get back at me) divorce, being a single parent and having to live with my parents, the kids wondering why daddy won't call anymore, trying to find some direction in my life thing. And maybe if I'd been able to immediately look for a new job, the depression wouldn't have been so bad. But between numerous family issues (several car accidents, kids needing care during the summer, my lack of money to fund any child care, the kids needing time with me after so many hours AWOL at school and work, etc.) I was needed at home. And it seemed that every time I made an effort to move forward, it was thwarted by someone. I eventually gave up. For a little while anyway. Depression.

But I can never allow myself to stay still for very long. I get restless. I also like to finish what I started. I was determined to finish this. I really like doing hair. Particularly color because it combines my loves of art and science. Yes, I am a big geek. You should know that by now. With grim determination backing me, I set about getting my application sent in. I would get my license somehow.

That meant I needed to get to a doctor and get a physical. I scrounged up some money and did just that. I had my doctor fill out his part on my form and set out to conquer my next obstacle. The money for the application. I'm kind of ashamed of this part. I begged my parents for the money. Bad enough that I was living with them, bad enough that I was now jobless and already dependent upon them, but now this. I got the money and another dent in my ego. I sent in the application.

At least a month later, I get a thick envelope from State Board. I got all nervous and fluttery. I tore it open, expecting a date for the test and a list of things to bring. Instead, I got my application rejected. Rejected. Why? Because my high school transcript didn't have the official school seal.

Ok, not terribly bad. I can get that fixed easily enough. But then The Girl got sick. Then The Boy. Then The Girl got sick again. As did I. It was a game of musical illness. Who will get sick next? The suspense! Finally got over the cold, then it snowed. And snowed. Then the school told me that now wasn't a convenient time, come next week. And it snowed again. I was sure that not only people were working against me now. No, it was far more insidious. Not only did I have all of mankind working against me, but also weather and very likely any and all gods in existence!

Today I was determined. I would make them give me what I wanted. I called the school bright and early. And was told that testing was today. I think she could tell from my tone that I wouldn't back down this time. No, sirree, I was getting shit done today. I was told to come in the afternoon. So I did. I got there a bit early in case the wait was long. It only took 2 minutes. Most of that time was spent finding the embosser and removing staples from my application. I almost feel let down. So anticlimactic.

And so now I wait...

It's all fun and games..

..until someone loses an eye.

The kids were outside playing. Well, throwing snowballs at the house. Which I asked them not to do. Many times. Finally, after the millionth time, I made them come inside. I felt it was time for a lecture.

Me: "And when I ask you nicely to please not throw snowballs at the house, what should you do?"

The Boy: "Not throw snowballs at the house?"

Me: "Exactly! So you know this. Why? Why were you doing it anyway?"

The Boy: Some shrugging and mumbling.

The Girl: "We had to throw snowballs up at the icicles! We wanted them to come down!"

Me: "So you stood directly under the icicles you wanted to knock down..?"

The Girl: "Yes! And did you know.."

Me: "You stood directly under the sharp, pointy icicles that you wanted to knock down?"

The Girl: "Uh huh! But the.."

Me: "YOU DON'T STAND UNDER THE SHARP, POINTY ICICLES!! YOU DON'T KNOCK THEM DOWN EITHER!"

The Boy wisely stayed quiet this whole time. He's been through this many times. He's finally learned the value of keeping his mouth shut.

The Girl: "Because there was no room on that side of the house and they were melting on the other side.."

At this point, my mother intercedes. Probably because I've turned very red in the face and am sputtering. I wonder if this is what a stroke feels like.

Mom: "Icicles are very dangerous. You should never stand under them. They're like knives! What do you do when you drop a knife?"

Me: "Her? She tries to catch it. I've yelled at her about.."

Mom: "Ok, you don't catch knives either... Just..stay away from anything sharp or pointy."

Me: "You know how she's always poking her eyes. I've watched her. She just..pokes herself in the eye! And is surprised! By her finger poking her eye!"

Mom: "Maybe you should go rest. Kids, leave mommy alone for a while. I think you gave her too much of a hard time today."

And so I'm here. Because I couldn't continue the discussion. My head hurts.

WWJJD?

What would Joan Jett do?

The lyrics to "I Love Rock 'N Roll" according to The Boy:

"I love rock 'n roll
So put another dime in the juice box, baby
I love rock 'n roll
So come and dance with me"

He was pretty close, I have to admit. Missing a few words there and changed one over there, but not terribly bad. I guess.

Whimper...

The first thing I noticed this morning, before I was fully awake, was that my stomach hated me. A lot. With all of the stretching I did, the muscles were still tighter than my grip on the bottle of ibuprofen after I managed-- I think it took me a full 10 minutes-- to pull myself out of bed. my morning went something like this:

Rolling onto side to slam evil alarm into silence. Pain. Noise. Must stop. Arm.. Ow.. SLAM! Ahh.. Stretch. Ow. Ow. Ow. No more stretching. Remember all of the snow waiting to be shoveled. Cry a little. Try sitting up. Not happening. Try pushing self into upright position. Ha! Nice try. Not gonna happen either. Attempt a slight rocking motion, hoping momentum will carry the upper body into an upright position. Ow. Stomach doesn't like that. Rock the other way in an attempt to roll out of bed. Bang head on side table. Lay back and rethink position. Think about calling children in to lift self into upright postion. Imagine how gleefully the little demons would torture you in their attempt to "help". Stay silent. Grunt through the pain and force self out of bed. This, of course, takes a while, but-- yay!-- upright. Ease feet into slippers and head off to the bathroom.

Big mistake. Wonder if the sink will come out of the wall if used to pull self off of the toilet. Sink holds! Feeling better. Loosening up. Decide to throw on sports bra for yoga after shoveling. Laugh grimly at own masochistic tendencies. Wrestle with bra, throw it aside, put on an easier sports bra. After sliding into the "kinda snug; except when I sit, then very snug" jeans and realize that they aren't so snug anymore. Determined to do yoga later. Slowly get everything on and look at clock. Notice that it took a half hour to get dressed. Grab a shovel and head out.

Eye the snow and say a quick prayer of thanks to the god of snowblowers. Make pretty quick work of driveway and sidewalk. Feeling the burn in the arms. Shovel stairs. Ta da! Not so bad. Only took an hour. Which, compared to everything else this morning, seems downright speedy. Head inside, stuff face, steam face, shove kids outdoors to play in snow, curse the school for closing and settle down for yoga.

Get attacked by cat who wants to be pet now. Shoo cat away. Repeatedly. Also shoo kids away. Repeatedly. Try to block out whining children while in relaxation (or corpse) pose. Play dead. Pray children and cat go away. Growl until they do. Not relaxed at all. Sigh and start making lunch.