Friday, July 31, 2009

One of the examples of how sick in the head I am (Mental Health Number Alert!!)

I turn to Michael and HAVE to ask, "Gingi was really dead, wasn't she? I mean, what if I was wrong? What if I didn't look closely enough?"

Michael: "I SAW her. She was really dead."

Me: "Okay. I mean, I was just worried ... like what if we'd buried her and she wasn't really totally dead ..."

Michael: *shakes his head and gives me a hug* "You're cute."

Me: "No, I mean ... she was REALLY, really dead. Right?"

Michael: "Yes."

And people wonder why I'm so wracked with nostalgia.
It could be that I just overOVERover-analyze nearly everything when I get stressed.

But I'm glad that I didn't accidentally bury a still-living kitty.
Because then I'd REALLY be going to Hell, I think.

But, no. I really made sure. I mean, she was dead. She had no color in her lips (can you call it lips? ... It's MY kitty and I AM calling it lips, so no matter.) and tongue. There was no breathing or pulse. She was cold ... She went though all the things that the websites warned of - emptying the bladder, little convulsions ...

I really am sure. But I sure don't want to be.

When it rains ...

Let's start with the good news: Bruise and Bucket each earned a new book from one of the Summer reading programs. Bucket was asleep in the car when Bruise and I went in (Hey, relax! Michael was napping in the car, too. I don't leave my kids unattended in the car for minutes at a time!), so Bruise got to pick out his book and Bucket's (I had it narrowed down to three choices for her: Disney Princesses, Hello Kitty, and My Little Ponies. He said she'd like the Princess book the best. He chose a board book of Mo Willems. Nice choice, if Dana [one my my librarian ladies] and I say so ourselves!).

We spent the morning at the zoo after I got up, cleaned up Gingi's abscess (and had to giver her a shower to clean up the abscess after she lay down in the litter box), and got dressed. Michael had packed up a lunch while I did all that. The new African Safari exhibits are getting closer and closer to being completed. I'm getting eager to see the lions and Cerval cats.

We got Michael's truck towed (we think there's a problem with the fuel line. Ugh. He's going to be working on fixing it this weekend. Wish us luck!!). (Also, if you need insurance, I totally love our AmFam. They're not paying me to say so. Not that I'd argue if they really WANTED to give me some money. ^_^)

We got home ... and I checked on Ginger. She wasn't doing very well at all. Not responding to visual or aural stimulus. She was breathing and her heart was beating. She'd moan a little, like a wana-be meow-thing. She would stretch out and do a lying-down-trying-to-run-thing. And he breathing would be either really quiet or little gasps.

The vet's office had closed ... or we would have taken her in.

I just cuddled her as best I could in my lap, brushed her, pet her ... gave her some water (she wasn't drinking, so I got a bottle and used the nipple to shoot some water into her mouth. She'd swallow it).

It really seemed like most of her was gone ... that there was just brain stem kinds of activities. Which just breaks your heart to watch, really. I gave her permission to go. A few times, even. I noticed that she had peed on the towel I had her wrapped in. So I changed that towel, since she was still breathing. I pet her some more and finally cuddled her on my lap as I tried to do some online research for the process of a cat's death. As I read, I looked down at her ... and she was sticking her tongue out a little. Just little lickings of the air. About another minute later, I stopped reading and scratching her head and noticed that her mouth and tongue had no color.

She was gone.

It sucks. Not going to deny that.

But, at the same time, she was in pain. She was just a little shell. It was really time for her to go.

I don't know how Diana-cat is handling it. She seems okay.

Bucket and Bruise asked me, at one point, what I was doing.

"Are you laffin', Mom?"
"No, I'm crying."
"Why you cryin'?"
"I'm sad. Gingi died. And I'm going to miss her."

And Bucket gave me a good pep-talk about how when Jesus comes again and the resurrection happens, Gingi will be alive again "And she'll be able to run and meow!"
(Obviously I'm a slightly better mom that I give myself credit for.)

Of course, after I talked to my mom on the cell phone as we buried Gingi-cat (Michael, doing all the hard labor. I prepared Gingi in a box, and Bucket chatted to and poked at the box Ginger was in), Bucket and I came back into the house where Bruise was watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory ... and Bucket goes, "Hi [Bruise]! Gingi diiiiiiiiiiied."

And Bruise said, "Oh."

Yeah. That's my boy. A man of many words. *grin*

Oh! While we were driving in town today, outside of one of the florist shops (a member of our [church] ward owns it), there was a sign. ... They have a sign that says "If your name is _____, Come in and get your free rose!"

It was Bruise's name! (Obviously not "Bruise," but [Bruise] ... if you see what I mean.)

So he got a lovely yellow rose. And a yellow balloon to go with it. Which, I think, is pretty cool.

So yeah, that's really been our day.
Started with a trip to the zoo, ended (well, PROMINENTLY FEATURING) with my baby-cat's passing ... but with quite a bit involved.

Oh, also -- Happy anniversary to my mom and stepdad!

Now I'm going to get some tylenol. Crying so much gives me a headache.
(And my stupid hormones don't help. *sigh*)

Thursday, July 30, 2009

The Good, The Excellent, and the Gross

Yesterday was a good day.

The Gross part and the Good part are rather intertwined ... so if you don't want to read it, just skip down.

Gross/Good: Ginger-cat's abcess poppped. I'll be blunt. There was a LOT of pus (I mean, her chin was about TWICE as big on one side!) and the wound is deep. But she's moving around a lot more and drinking more water. This is a VERY good thing.

And I was told (by Bri) that I'm a good "fur mom" ... since I had taken Gingi to use the kitty box ... and I clapped when she went potty. ... Also, Ginger wanted to be held, and I did hold her ... and she got the yucky stuff from her chin (blood and some pus and some drool) on my arm. And I didn't freak out. I wiped it off with a wet wipe and put a clean wet wipe on my arm for Gingi-cat to rest against. ... And Gingi licked my arm. Silly girl.

Also (really gross): The pus makes my arm smell like butt. I'm not joking. It's nasty. And I'm SO GLAD that it's not in her chin/jaw anymore, making her hurt.

Good: I love prayer. It rocks.

EXCELLENT: Bri-bri came over!!!!! I haven't seen my Bri in, like, a YEAR!! But we chatted and shared links on the computer and played with the kidlets and petted Ginger.
Yes, my friends are my Balm of Gilead. Seeing Bri changed my day from "Pretty good since my cat's doing better" to "HELLS YEAH! MY LIFE IS GREAT!!"

Good: I finally finished the books that I borrowed from Jenny a year ago. Now I just need to return them to her. :P

And when I (finally) got dinner made, it was really good. I certainly enjoyed it. Too bad the kids didn't eat so much.

Okay ... I need to get ready to take the kids to storytime.
Good thing it's going to be much cooler. Only in the low 90s today!! (As opposed to the last few days where it was in the triple digits. ... Yes, there is a reason why I DEMANDED a heat pump when we were looking for a house. Totally worth it. ^_^)

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Stuff and more stuff

Well, this has been an interesting week so far.

1- I've proved to myself again that I'm not graceful. Yesterday, when the kids were playing in their pool, I tweaked my ankle a little walking. JUST WALKING. It's mostly fine. Just is a little ... tender.

2- Our water heater is silly. It wants to think that since it's THAT HOT outside, that the water INSIDE of it is getting TOO HOT and it needs to shut off. Ugh.

3- I've called up all the vet offices I could find in the yellow pages for our town. I have quotes for how much it costs to put Ginger to sleep (i.e., a LOT) ... just in case. Ugh. But be proud of me. I didn't cry on the phone. I must be doing better at faking being all stoic and stuff.

4- I've had "Llama Llama Red Pajama" stuck in my head. Good thing they had it at the library. Dang catchy ear-worm of a children's book. Dang cute, though.

5- My kids are silly. Bruise asks, ... no... BEGS me to put my glass of ice water on his head or against his back. Weirdo. And he does the BESTEST EVER fake snore. It's great to cuddle with him and Bucket ... and then he'll be all "GRHONK-chuuuuuu" ... It's really great. Makes me happy.

6- I actually slept last night. Which was nice. I could have slept in another few hours. If I hadn't had to wrestle away a lolipop which some CERTAIN CHILDREN got it in their heads would be a healthy breakfast. (Now, if they'd gotten out ice cream? I could maybe have let them get away with that. It's DAIRY and CALCIUM. A Dum-dum?? That's sugar and water and chemicals. Not gonna happen. I'm just sayin'.)

7- I like having air conditioning. A heat pump is one of the BEST inventions ever. It's true.

8- I really don't have anything for eight. ... I guess that I could mention that on Facebook, there's a quiz about which Death Eater are you (Harry Potter) ... I'm SO Severus Snape. Squee! I get to be the one with the luscious accent and that can get away with slapping around Harry and his gang. :P

9- Bruise is right, I AM a WEIRDO. (Srsly, while I was talking to my mom today, he YELLS across the room, "Mommy, you a WEIRDO!!" ... Couldn't really argue with him, you know. He's got a point.


Okay, I'm done. I need to finish a book and do something productive. I don't know what, though.

Monday, July 27, 2009

To your right is a perfectly nice ... SOMETHING. But, here? Um ..yeah.

So, I have a cat. Two cats, really. But I'm only really going to talk about Ginger-cat right now.

She's 17. That's as old as some of the girls that I get to hang with in Young Womens (and older than most of them!).

Lately she's gotten really, REALLY skinny. We've started giving her canned cat food. And she's started ... using other areas instead of her litterbox. Like, say, bath mats, towels or piles of clothes on the floor, our coverlet.

Sunday morning, I washed all our sheets and our coverlet. Sunday night (last night), I roll over and put my foot on the covers, right into a cold and wet spot. *sigh* I kick the cats off the bed, trying not to wake Michael (which doesn't work, since he's a light sleeper). And, as Gingi's in the hall, I start to worry that she's going to die during the night, expiring as she feels that I'm mad at her and don't love her. ... Issues much? Nooooooooooo. (Yes.)

So we get up, get a cat bed set up for her next to my side of the bed (she ends up sleeping on a towel at my feet. Spoiled? Yeah.) ... she's still alive, though. Right now she's chillin' on my lap as I type.

I finally asked the Google about how she's doing. Yup, renal failure ... which I rather suspected (got the inkling about). And she might have an absessed tooth, poor gal.

... Talked to Roxy. She had to take her 7-year-old ferret in to be put to sleep. He was in a LOT of pain. And their regular vet? Wouldn't take him in until after normal business hours (because he didn't want to bum out his other patients by having that go on before 5:30 .... Um, WITHER THE FRIES? Dude, an animal is HURTING. You want it to suffer for HOURS so that some person doesn't feel SAD? Dude, life is HARD. And most people in there are adults. I think they can handle it. How about you just have the "bummer-visitors" leave out the back??). Finally, she called another place who not only took them in IMMEDIATELY, but they even provided a box with Spry's name on it, covered with stickers. ... That's really treating your customers well. It's good to know that SOME vets (and their staff) realize how hard it is for a person/family to have to grieve for a loved pet.

I don't know when Ging is going to go. I kinda worry that I'm going to have to take her in at some point. At the same time, I worry that she'll die before that happens. For the time being, though, we're just trying to keep her comfortable and as happy as a geratric, losing-her-teeth kitty can be.
(Though, it'd make US happier if (1) she were still totally healthy or (2) she, at least, would make it to the catbox. Just sayin'.)

I was talking to Bucket the other day ... about how Gingi-cat probably won't be with us so long, that her heart or something will break down and stop working ... or that she'll need to get a shot so she won't hurt anymore.

As we talked, Bucket looked at me with tear-filled eyes and condraticted, "Gingi can't die. Heavenly Father and Jesus love her!"
"Oh baby, Heavenly Father and Jesus love EVERYBODY and people die all the time."
(Yes, I do sugar-coat it, don't I? Gosh, I'll have SUCH well-adjusted children, no?)

When I was telling her what'd happen when Gingi dies, I told her that Ginger's heart would stop, she'd stop breathing, and she'd get cold.
"Then I'll cover her with a blanket so she won't be cold anymore!"
My sweet Bucket-girl. It doesn't quite work that way.
(Though if it did, would we have a zombie-Ging on our hands? What would we feed her? If she eats cat brains, it would seem that Diana-cat is safe. :P)

... And I still need to do the rest of the dishes. And get the blanket dry.
Ging's trying to purr. She used to have a decently-loud purr. It's quiet now. Strange that her purr is one of the first things to go. Just sayin'.

And now Bruise had to come over to give her hugs. Cuuuute. And makes me get all misty-eyed. Ugh. I'm nothing if not productive right now, getting my grieving started early.

In a way, I almost wish that this was all over. And that makes me feel like a jerk. Ging is able to move around well enough. She is able to eat and drink. She can use the catbox (mostly) ...

I don't know how much it would cost. I don't even know if they'd let us take her home afterwards to bury her. ... I don't know much at all, really. This is what comes of having mostly indoor-outdoor or outdoor cats when I was growing up. Miss Priss wandered off (and came back YEARS later. And wandered off again -- arthritic, spunky gal).

Yeah. I'm just a bundle of joy here, huh?
Well, I should clean the kitchen and get dinner started.
Or go soak my head or something.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Two fun things ...

After such a HEAVY post, here's a short, little pick-me-up:

Test your sense of pitch:
(I got 26/26 ... I think that might be worth it for all the cringings and the wincings and the flinchings I had to do for the off-key things. Not that I have perfect pitch, mind you. But some of these were rather painful.)

And something sweet:

Don't you love it??
(Even though he's a little slack-jawed for MY taste, it's so darling!)

Guess what I did yesterday?

I hugged a Holocaust survivor.

And he was wonderful and amazing ... beyond words.

We had Alter Wiener come to speak to us in our town. A few months ago, he had come to speak at the library. And tons of people got turned away. So a couple of gals in my ward (at church) took it upon themselves to arrange for him to come back. And I'm so that that they did.
(And I'm also SO GLAD that T2, Michael's sister, was able to watch the kids for us.)

Mr. Wiener was born in southern Poland. His father was murdered by Nazis when he was 13 (They knew his father was missing. He had to be identified out of the bodies left in a mass grave months after the German soldiers had come through the town). At 15, he was taken from his home, unable to say goodbye to his stepmother, and sent to a work camp ... where he was reunited with his brother, who Mr. Weiner was unable to recognize -- due to the harshness of life in the camps.

After his time spent in the camps, when he was liberated by the Russian army, he weighed only 80 lbs. When he was able to return to his hometown, he found only four cousins still surviving. Over 120 other members of his family died were murdered in the camps.

... And Mr. Wiener? He ... is AMAZING. He doesn't hate the Germans for doing/allowing these atrocities. He is a voice preaching tolerance and understanding. He strongly believes that each and every person needs to be judged solely on his or her own merits -- not on stereotypes or generalities.

He was subject to daily beatings, he was reduced from being a PERSON to being a number (it was not tattooed on him ... but he was labeled with it on his cap, shirt, and jacket. Referred to as only that number) ... and he has truly risen above it.

He can compare the German soldier who punched him, knocking his teeth out, with the wonderful example of a German worker who risked her life daily by hiding a cheese sandwich for him for the thirty days that their paths crossed (before he was transferred to another of the five camps in which he was imprisoned).

Before I went to the lecture, my mom had called. One thing she said to me in the conversation was, "I just want to be sure that you know that the Holocaust happened."

I've been learning about the Holocaust since I was in Jr. High. In 1992, there was a traveling exhibit about Anne Frank and the Holocaust. I remember our class walking down the street to the tiny museum in my tiny hometown to view it when it came for a few days. I went back again with my mother later before it left our town's museum. Somewhere, I know that I still have some of the papers from that exhibit -- a reproduction of a page from a German newspaper, articles about intolerance and the effects thereof ... When I'm at Mom's house, I often drink my cocoa out of the mug we bought with quotes from Anne Frank.

It didn't hurt that I also had been an avid reader of the American Girl books (and longed for the accompanying dolls) ... I loved Molly, the girl from the 1940s. And had done some supplementary reading about the time period.

We also learned about the Holocaust in my Freshman year Block class (Language Arts and Social Studies). Mr Hoque, the Social Studies teacher, who speaks German, played the part of the Nazi soldier, shoving our class of around 30-40 students into a space about the size of a handicapped bathroom stall and yelling orders in German. (Since I was taking German, I understood most of what he said, which put me at quite an advantage.) Neither he nor our English teacher gave us any warning about this -- we were sitting at our desks as the morning bell rang and -BAM- suddenly it was nothing like any other day at school.

Due to my past reading (since I'm not much besides precocious), I had more than an inkling of what this object lesson was about. Which also put me at an advantage.

Of course, nothing that was allowable in school would come anywhere near what the victims of the Holocaust ever went through.

My mom made me watch Schindler's List. It's not my favorite movie (I think the scene that's supposed to be illustrating what a womanizer Oskar Schindler was -- the sex scene-- could be taken out easily) ... but it does help give a glimpse of what terrible, terrible things people can allow to happen ... what some people can DO to each other.

It's ... I don't know if there's a word that fully encompasses the concept of what I'm trying to convey -- heartbreaking, unexplainable, madness ...

BUT, my mom's done a damn good job of raising me to understand that racism, anti-Semitism, any form of intolerance such as this? It is, to be absolutely blunt, WRONG. STUPID. MAD.

I know that I'm preaching to the choir here (or, at least, I hope that I am). But I feel that it is important that I write this.

As I said to my mom, "I have NO DOUBT that the Holocaust happened. Anyone who denies its existence is either terribly naive or has an agenda."

There is no reason to deny the Holocaust. It's, to me, as senseless as denying ... the Civil War or the eruption of Mt. Saint Helens or the internment camps that our nation had during WWII. It's a terrible thing. BUT IT HAPPENED. And we should never forget it.

Pre-WWII Germany was not a happy place. Then this charismatic man came, proclaiming that Germany would rise and that the people would have nice things and food in their bellies. Truly, putting it that way, it sounds really nice. (Kind of like how proclaiming that we will all have health care or lower taxes or something like that sounds wonderful.)
And when people are starving and poor, they are ready to follow someone with a vision.

And because they were so willing to follow this man's vision, unspeakable things happened.

And some people today try to deny the existence of all this.

Which scares me.

Because if we can conveniently forget or overlook all this, we have learned NOTHING from it.
And it will end up happening AGAIN.

If I had one wish, however unrighteous this may be, I wouldn't wish for world peace or millions of dollars. I'd wish that EVERY SINGLE PERSON would be COMPLETELY AWARE of the SOUL INSIDE EVERY OTHER PERSON.
This way people would be horribly aware of the effects of our actions on other people.


(See? I told you it was somewhat unrighteous. It's not kind to WANT people to suffer IMMEDIATELY and TO A GREAT DEGREE when they're ... not nice.)

And this is why Alter Wiener is a better person than I am. When someone asked him if he ever felt the desire to take a rifle to Hilter's head, he responded that he wasn't a violent person. He doesn't even know, after being in the Israeli army, how to fire a gun. He would prefer, rather than REVENGE, that JUSTICE be done.

He also said that Hilter's main problem, in his opinion, is that he didn't know how to love. No one who knew love or how to love would have ever done these things. ... "I don't think he knew how to make love. *audience laughs* He should have talked to me. I'd have given him advice. *more laughter*" <-- See why I adore this sweet man? He survived conditions that are less than what we give to stray animals. For YEARS. He survives. AND he keeps a sense of humor and humanity. He. Is. AMAZING.

And it kills me that these Holocaust survivors are all dying off. Soon there will only by their accounts. And ... it worries me that not enough people will read/hear/be aware of them and their stories, their histories, their experiences.

Within the last couple of weeks, I read "The Butterfly" by Patricia Polacco to my kidlets. There are very few books for young children that deal with the Holocaust.
In a way, I understand ... we want to keep our children SAFE. We want them to know that they're loved. ... This is IMPORTANT. I also want to have my children be aware that, as much as they are loved, there are dangers. I want them to be able to protect themselves ... to know, if (God Himself forbid) something should happen, where they can go for help. (Hey, one family that I'm descended from? Let's just say that they weren't putting the FUN in dysfunctional. And, hey, if ANYONE tries anything with MAH BAYBEES, I want to be aware of it to keep him/her the HELL away from my kids and any other people that he/she might hurt on his/her little self-destructive path. I'm just sayin'.)

Still, reading "The Butterfly" with my daughter (since my son, Lord love him, wasn't exercising his attention span, so to say) was ... difficult. I wanted to be SURE that she understood it, that she GOT it ... why this story of a member of the French Resistance and her daughter was SO important -- that she understood the morals involved. The she will know that just because a group of people choose to follow one rhetoric, it's not neccessarily CORRECT. That sometimes doing the right thing is DANGEROUS. That, even if it's dangerous, it's IMPORTANT to do it because it is the RIGHT thing to do. That NO ONE is more important or more worthy than any other person. That we are ALL worthwhile and valuable and loveable and precious.

I keep questioning myself about how old do they need to be before I can talk to them with more depth about this -- How old do they NEED to be before we read The Devil's Arithmatic (Jane Yolen) or Number the Stars (Lois Lowry) or The Book Thief (Markus Zusak) ... though, they have overhead a good portion of The Book Thief as I've read it aloud to Michael...

I know that I'm being more verbose than usual about this ... but ...

It just scares me that, someday, people won't remember what's happened. And they will forget the incredible power of a mass of people with a single goal, when the means are so ... inhumane/evil/heart-wrenching as they work toward an end.

Michael likens it to the pride cycle in The Book of Mormon. There were people who WITNESSED miracles ... and the next generation? Didn't care a whit!

I like to think that it's in our best interest to learn from others' experiences ... and I also believe that, like a bumper sticker that a wonderful friend of mine bought YEARS ago, not to estimate the power of stupid people in large numbers.

We need to be wise. Our children (and our children's children and so forth and so forth, worlds without end) NEED to be wise. We all should do our darndest to ensure that nothing like this EVER happens again.

As Wiener was talking about a student who corrosponded with him (She was legally blind from birth. In Hitler's regime, she'd have been murdered at birth. To achieve his ends of a perfect ... gene pool, he allowed no one with any handicaps to survive. Babies were killed at birth. Those older were sent to death camps, to the gas chambers and cremotoriums.), I thought to myself, "Perhaps the best way to judge a society is how they treat the disabled/"otherly-abled" among themselves."

(Confession: I could do better at that. I am not the most patient. I do okay with people who are hard-of-hearing or visually impaired ... because that's what I'm most used to. Like I've said before, you can often tell if I've been visiting with my dad or his eldest brother. I don't make great eye contact for a bit. True. And also, it appears that my voice is taller than I am. No wonder my dad thinks I'm almost his height. When I'm about six inches shorter. :P)

But, yes. Hug your loved ones. Show your love and appreciation for those you love. Try to love the unlovable. And remember the past. Learn from it.

I believe that it's vitally important.

And I'd love to be completely wrong about it.

Though I'm frightfully sure that I'm not.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

LinkylinkylinkylinkylinkyHEAVY Blog!

Okay, I have linksandlinksandlinksandvideosandvideosandvideos to share!!

Hope you're ready to kill a few hours! ^_^
Here we go!

Filed under funny, but slightly blasphemous: Noah's Blog and Facebook of Genesis (not doctrinally correct. But very funny. I know, I know, I'm going to Hell.)

Along the same lines (but not blasphemous) Austenbook and Hamlet (Facebook News Feed Edition)

Here are some that are ... special. Read where you aren't near childre, coworkers, or anyone who will look over your shoulder. Or be disturbed by hysterical giggling: covers a Danish sex-ed book for children. (You HAVE to read Jezebel's comments! I CRIED!! And burned off a brownie, I think.)

Hitler's real downfall was bad subtitles (stolen from mental_floss) -- There is language. Subtitled. And lots of angry shouting in German. Which always sounds angrier than other shouting.

Fallen Princesses - a photographer's take on a "Where are they now?" for the Disney Princesses.

Back to the safe for EVERYONE! (Or mostly):

Another fun clip from Britain's Got Talent - Greek Dancing!!

Because Neil Gaiman is AWESOME ... the Coraline Trailer he did!!

Cute stop-motion music video - "Her Morning Elegance" - Oren Lavie

Music video - "Yo Comments Are Whack!"

Somethings that makes me laugh/smile EVERY TIME: Star Wars as told by a toddler and a Non-viewer (via mental_floss) -- Seriously, the one told by the adult? HILARIOUS!!!!

Something sweet: Family (via Fried Green Craziness)

Flight Attendant Rap (Why don't I get on the planes with the rappers??)

Funny XKCD comic (if you didn't watch PBS over a decade ago, you may not understand this.)

Fan-made Wolverine Trailer (realize that this came out before the movie did ^_^)

My Milk Toof - Pure KAWAII-ness-essence

Here are some Hollywood icons that are WORTH talking about (too bad they're from, like, our GRANDPARENTS' generation):
10 celebrities that served our country (mental_floss)
Seriously, these are TRUE heroes. Especially Jimmy Stewart. He's just so darling and dear. I LUFF him! I want to put him in my pocket (not that he'd fit) and sit at his feet and adore him, the sweet, modest man. We need more people like him. ESPECIALLY in Hollywood. It'd be nice for some integrity and morals in that area.

Sardine Run:

Gender-Targeted Advertising ... Do you agree?
Is this summing the messages that seem to be doled out by advertising? I think so.

How living in the movies DOES make life harder ... Answering the Phone.

This was cute: How to Meet and Woo a Nerdy Girl. I don't quite get ALL the references.
But I enjoyed it.

And five videos to wrap it up. Hope that you didn't want to do anything IMPORTANT today! (And what could be more important than letting me share these with you??)

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Just a few reasons ...

... why my husband TOTALLY ROCKS:

  1. Since I was at Camp, he's been working at getting the house clean. So I don't go batcrap crazy and start doing what I did last year for the Pampered Chef party (I mentioned the reorganizing of my bookshelf, which is REALLY, in all actuality, a CHINA CABINET.) ... I could blame of friend of mine for my total OCD tendencies when I know I'll have company over. Once, when we were in the apartment, she had come over and, during the visit, remarked about how we had one bathroom cabinet shelf COMPLETELY FILLED with toilet paper (Hey, we shop at Costco! Hey, I like NEVER being without tp!) ... and I've been worried about people looking in bathroom cupboards/shelves/etc since.
    (Yes, I do have issues. Not news to anyone, right? :P)
  2. Yesterday, I had a meeting about the time Michael was getting home. So we switched vehicles in the church parking lot. He dropped his coworker off and took the kids to Costco. I asked him to buy two things - OxiClean (hey, I love it! Gets my clothes clean! And if they sit in the washer for a day, they're still smelling clean!) and popsicles.
  3. This one requires a conversation:
    I've gotten home from my meeting. I've said 'hello,' gone in to kiss the kidlets goodnight, and he's putting last year's charm onto the bracelet I have from Camp (AND HE MANAGED TO DO IT -- Seriously, my hero!)
    Him: (after NCSI has ended) Hey, can you hand me the remote?
    Me: *gets up. Tries to figure out which remote he needs*
    Internal monologue:
    Okay, so the show just ended. Does he want the DVD remote, like to change the volume? Or maybe the DTV box remote? Probably, to change the channel. Hey, why am I thinking of the movie Coraline? I mean, yeah, Mom mentioned it a couple days ago ... and I really loved the book ... WHAT??? HUH???
    Me: *happy gasp!!*
    Michael: I wondered if the 'get-me-the-remote-trick' was going to work.
    Me: Hee!!
    Michael: It's nice to surprise you.
    Me: *as I pet the pretty, pretty cover of the DVD* ... because I act like a little girl?
  4. He gently snickered at me as I tried on, and consequently WORE the 3-D glasses around the house for the next 15 minutes. (Btw, what is it called when both your eyes try to be the dominant eye? Because, wearing the glasses, I could tell they were duking it out. Magenta, teal, magenta, teal ... it's a good thing I can handle strobe lights. ^_^)
  5. He gave me time to start a new book ... which enables him to re-read HP & the Deathly Hallows. ^_^ I love being married to a man who's rediscovered the love of books.
    (Did I mention that we're halfway through reading The Book Thief (Markus Zusak) aloud? If you haven't read it, you should. It's not all that happy, being about the Holocaust and all ... but it's REALLY good. It lost out to Looking for Alaska (John Green) for the Printz award a couple years ago. Zusak's I am the Messenger = ALSO GREAT, by the by.)
But yeah ... it's good to have Michael. He gets me. Which is really nice.
And even when he doesn't get me, he still loves me. Yay!

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Random Silly Things ...

#1 - I don't know why this is, exactly ... since I do get called "ma'am" at the grocery store more often than not (in fact, I'll call up Michael in glee to report when a cashier calls me "miss.") ... BUT, at Camp, when some of the leaders were counting girls, they'd try to count me, too.
These girls are, you know, twelve to eighteen. I'm considerably older than that. :P
AND, a couple of Sundays ago, Bishop had given our YW president CDs of Scripture Mastery scriptures out so the girls could listen to them ... to help them memorize them. K (our Prez) is passing them out to the girls, hands me one ... I hand mine to another girl ... and, for a sec, K's all confused. And then she realizes that, you know, I'M ONE OF HER COUNSELORS, not a sweet, little teenaged thing!

The girls all laughed when I chalked it up to my moisturizer.
(Seriously though? I love my moisturizer. Garnier smells nice AND works AND has suncreen. ... And it's fun to say, since it's got that French name and all. ^_^)

(I mean, really. I may still have slightly-dewey skin ... but usually my body tips people off. I've got some WOMANLY curves, iykwim. Aityd.)

Also in things that make me laugh/highly amuse me (since this is MY blog, yes, I CAN be all 'everything's about MEEEEEE'):

My kids tell hilarious stories.

Today, as we're driving to storytime ... well, here:

Bucket: Bruise! TALK to me!! Words!!
Bruise: One upon a time. There were cars. On da si-walk.
Me: There were cars on the sidewalk?
Bruise: Yes.
Me: If there were cars on the sidewalk, where did the people walk?
Bruise: On da si-walk.
Me: Was there room? I mean, with the cars there?
Bruise: Yes.

Or, last week, Bucket proves that she's taking after her mom in "Crazy Dream Chronicles":
Bucket: Mom? (I'm driving, so you know)
Me: Yes?
Bucket: I had a dream last night. In my dream you, me, [Bruise], Grandma, [girl cousins] were swimming in a big pool. And a SHARK CAME TO EAT US!
Me: Wow. That seems scary. What happened then?
Bucket: You cut him into pieces WITH A KNIFE!!
Me: *thinking, "Wow. I'm violent."* ... How about I cut the big shark into dolphins. How does that sound?
Bucket: Okay. You cut da BIG SHARK into lots of dolphins.


Also, WOW. There's a LOT of Crystal Light hatin'. I'm just sayin'. (Mostly through email, since most of you know me IRL well enough to have my email. ^_^)

So ... if I give up Crystal Light, do I get to be addicted to Ruby Red Squirt instead? *ducks and runs*
KIDDING!! It's too expensive.
But OH, so GOOD.

Hey, while I have you ... can I pick your (collective) brain?

How should I get myself motivated to exercise? Seriously ... I know that I NEED to. I KNOW it's important.
  • but it's sweaty.
  • but it's kinda nuts trying to get my kiddos to leave me be to do a workout video
    (Unless they just, idk, HAPPEN to be in the mood to watch their mom work out. Or to do the cute little kiddo-yoga DVD. Which isn't all that often, unfortunately.)
  • even though I KNOW that I'm out of shape, I don't like workouts that shove my flab and lack of stamina/muscle strength IN MAH FACE!! BOOYAH!! ... In fact I find those irritating. Almost more irritating than the idea of eschewing my Crystal Light. Just sayin'.
Yes, I know. I'm a whining whiner. Call the Waaaaaaaaah-mbulance. /self-pity party.

In other news, my mom had to buy a new computer. Hers got a virus enough so that once she's connected to the internet, she loses control of the computer and then it shuts down.

So, Michael and I looked for a new one for her while she's on the phone with us. With the sale and an online coupon, she saved $170 off what she would have spent. Also got a new printer (printer/scanner/copier) ... which is good because her old scanner was dying.

And, really, the old computer is nearly 10 years old. Crazy, huh?

Yeah, I don't really have a lot of fun, cool interesting things to share. I'll try and do that later. Maybe next week when I don't have a meeting and a party and a family reunion and a floor to mop (going to do that next).
BUT, hey! Watching some Jane Austen ... I got a good deal of laundry folded! Now to put it away. And to get the rest of the laundry washed. But I really am not freaking out about the state of my house.

With this Pampered Chef party, it's like "Hey! Come over and eat these cool brownies and ice cream! Maybe I'll be energetic and make some cookies or something to go with them! Maybe not! But my house is decently cleaned ... the kiddos may be here this time ... we're going to have fun and eat chocolate and if you order something, great! If you don't, great!"
(Unlike last time when I was all, "My house should be SPOTLESS! I must REORGANIZE the BOOKSHELVES!!!" .. C'mon, really?? I mean, sure, they STILL look good. But who is really going to judge me because I had messy bookshelves? Messy bookshelves just tell you that [1] they get used and [2] I need MORE SHELVES. ^_^)

Seriously, last time, I was washing the seats of the dining room chairs ... and bleached (or Oxi-Clean-ed?) spots in the kitchen floor. Oops!
The spots are still there!
Am I freaking out?
Not at all.

I figure that, hey, as long as the house is tolerably clean, it smells nice, and there's no pile of bodies that I had to kill to get it that way, I'm golden!

So, yeah. I'll do the dishes, fold the laundry, mop the kitchen, and vacuum.
Then I'll burn a scented candle or something.
And do my nails.
But not too close to the candle.
That'd be dangerous. :P

Or, to destress, I could just read some online comics and snarky greeting cards. ^_^

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Without the intertubes, who would I whine to?

I mean, besides Michael and my mom, right?

But, yeah.

I have a Question. A Question with a (obviously) capital 'Q.' A Question that I am posing to the Universe at large:

Why the bloody H am I so frackin' HORMONAL right now?

  • I am not on my period.
  • I am not pregnant.
So, WHY, Universe at large, WHY do I have these angry bees in my head that drive me to be all snappy and sappy ... and, at times, (to be totally blunt) a heinous b****???

I'm just curious.

Can I blame it on Water Week?
(For those of you who are wondering what I'm talking about, a friend of mine challenged a bunch of us to drink nothing but water for a whole week. I accidentally started last Sunday, instead of Monday. And I gave it up yesterday. I had grape Kool-aid. And I totally tossed my cookies. Twice. Blech. ... Especially since I didn't have a whole lot of water in my stomach, since I was BORED UNTO DEATH of drinking just water. I still maintain that the Kool-Aid was totally worth it. ... In fact, I had fruit punch for breakfast. Since I'm such a rebel. If it hadn't been the Sabbath, I'd have hied me down to Safeway and bought me a two-liter bottle of Ruby Red Squirt. And I'd have probably had to lay in bed sick all day. Oh well.)

I'm tempted to blame my crazy-head-week on water. Because, as I mentioned, I was SICK UNTO DEATH OF THE BOREDOM OF waterwaterwaterwaterwaterwaterwatericewaterwaterwaterwaterwaterwatericewater.

Hopefully, since I'm back to my cheap version of Crystal Light (5 calories per serving, y'all!) the HFCS and various nefarious chemicals will get me back to my snarky, yet chipper self.

Instead of the self that yells at my husband while talking to my mom and glowering evil glowers at my children.
I don't like her.
She's scary.
And unbalanced.
And she doesn't look good in pleather.

But, on the other hand, (there are other fingers. *rimshot* Thank you! I'll be here all week! Try the chicken!) ... Okay, for real now, Bruise and Bucket were a LOT less distracting during church today! Yay! It was really nice.

Even though it was a big factor in me almost CRYING/SOBBING during helping teach the lesson in Sunday School (about the roles of mothers. Gah! Motherhood is important, okay? Just accept it! And it's HUGE. And really, really making me cry ... well, not right NOW. But when I'm teaching in a class of around 10 or so ADULTS. Ugh! Not that I don't like them. I do! BUT I'm teaching them!! Eeps! But it was pretty cool. Except for the getting all choked up because MOTHERING IS IMPORTANT AND NO ONE CAN TAKE YOUR PLACE AND ALL!!)

And also, Bruise can operate Michael's iPhone by himself.
Michael has a progam on it that has light sabers ... you can pick the color and stuff ... and then, when you move the phone, it plays SW music and makes light saber sounds.
Bruise asked, "Can I play with the sword in your phone?" And proceeded to get the iPhone, turn it on and get to the program. All by himself. And he's only 3 and a half!
(And he was SO dang cute! Standing there, beaming at the screen, still in his church clothes (featuring a BOW TIE!!) and bare feet. Gah ... if he were any cuter, I'd have to go vomit!

OH! Michael and I got to watch Harry Potter and the HBP. Very good. I did notice the "emo faces" (as Bri called them) made by Malfoy. But I did enjoy it. I VERY MUCH liked Jim Broadbent's portrayal of Slughorn. I remember that when I read the book, I really did NOT like Slughorn (I didn't detest him as much as I did Rita Skeeter or Umbridge). I thought of him as quite sleazy and slimy ... but Broadbent's portrayl made him so much more sympathetic.

And Alan Rickman's velvet tones make any movie completely worthwhile.
(Yes, I do believe that I've made mention that I'm an accent-whore. But have you LISTENED to him???? *fangirl hand flutter* His voice is AMAZING!! I MUST find out if he has read for any audiobooks. And if so, I know that I shall be investing in at least ONE audiobook!)

(Seriously, in Sense and Sensibility ... that version with Emma Thompson? EXCELLENT. Hugh Laurie's in it!! Yay for Mr. Palmer and his sarcasm! And, oh, my dears?? When Cnl. Brandon says to Miss Margaret, "The air is full of spices"? I just adore that moment ... He's got a lovely voice, more-than-pleasant visage, and he's kind to a young girl?? ...*le sigh* Is nice.)

My one complaint about Snape? He just doesn't seem as greasy as he does in the books. If they had gotten ANYONE else to play him, there would be, like, HALF the fandom for Snape.

I'm just saying.
(Not complaining, mind you. I very much love to watch me some Snape in the films. ^_^)

Okay ... time for bed. So my husband decrees. And I live to not annoy him terribly.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Just the regular ... kinda ...

What IS it with me, especially yesterday?

Really, I just have no patience with my children ... which is REALLY RICH since I get to help teach about the nurturing role of mothers at church tomorrow.

(Why is it whenever I am asked to help teach or to give a talk, I am suddenly bombarded with the exact OPPOSITE of what I'm talking/teaching about ... making me feel like a complete and total hypocrite???)

Add that to a hearty serving of complete self-loathing ... yup, that was a good deal of yesterday.

(Really, is it too much to ask that I suddenly wake up the same size I was in high school? Or, at least, the same size I was when I got married?? ... Or that I just not have my muffin top and DO suddenly have slimmer thighs? Or that I just have SOME MUSCLE definition under all the flab I'm sporting?)

I think I'm skipping my 10-year reunion. I don't want to spend $15 on a BBQ where we're ALSO required to bring a side dish to share. And our own drinks.
... And ditch my mom, stepdad, and aunt at the coast for around 4+ hours when THEY were the smart ones who scheduled the date first.

(Seriously, the people in charge of the HS reunion? They've planned a $50/person dinner and dancing. And/or a BBQ, which if you haven't paid the $50/person costs you $15/family ... AND they only get the invites out in late June. ... Seriously, I was expecting the invitations to arrive around January. Not everyone lives close by anymore. Not everyone can AFFORD $50/person for a date ... PLUS a good deal of us would have to get a babysitter. ... Yes, I'm not thrilled at ALL how this was done. Oh well. I wasn't put in charge of this. Which is probably a good thing.)

Maybe one reason (besides the cost and general inconvenience, of course) is that I'm not as skinny as I was ... I mean, I always kind of hoped that I'd have the awesome "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion"-type experience (yes, it is an R-rated movie. And I haven't watched it in years ... but I do love it so!) ... even though I'm really not like either of the title characters -- I'm married, have kids, don't sew or design clothes ... but ... I mean, wouldn't it be cool to dance with Alan Cumming or something?
(Or, frankly, look as good as Lisa Kudrow or Mira Sorvino in those cute dresses??)

And I'm still having crazy dreams. Crazy dreams that involve a movie that I haven't seen (because I can't find an edited version *SAD!!*)

Okay, so here's the trailer for a movie that sounds like it was totally MADE for me!

So, Repo is a musical horror film. AND it has Anthony Stewart Head (GILES!!! From Buffy the Vampire Slayer! GILES!! RUPERT GILES!!! Who was only my HUGE crush in that show!! ... Yes, most girls liked Angel [David Boreanz], or Spike, or Xander, or Oz [Seth Green, who I also adore] ... but I'm the odd duck whose little teenager heart beat for GILES, the stuffy librarian with arcane knowledge, a mysterious backstory, and that accent!!!!), and Giles alone. And Sarah Brightman sings in it ... I mean, really. It's like they wrote this dedicated soly to me! And it HAD to be rated-R. :(

Yes, I am aware that I have issues.

Like being a total accent-whore. And being totally tempted to watch movies with profanity and gore. And Paris Hilton.

BUT!! In my dream, I was supposed to be the female lead of Repo. And the reason that I do (in real life) know so much about this movie is that I read the synopsis on the wiki. (Have I mentioned that I love Wikipedia? I totally do.)

But, since I haven't seen the movie, I know that my dream was way off.

BUT, I'm in a motel room ... and I'm walking around. And I hear some strange noises coming from the bathroom. So, of course, I go investigate, since I'm not supposed to leave the motel room. What else is there for me to do?

Behind the clear shower curtain, I can make out two people in black clothes. I pull the curtain and it's Paris Hilton (who may be topless. And, of course, in my dream state, I say to myself, "Well, that could explain the rating. You can't just have topless people everywhere.") and Anthony Steward Head.

But then she calls him "Daddy." And I know from the wiki that he's not her dad. Her dad is the big corporate head. And then I figure that maybe it's because she's on a drug high (since her character IS strung out on drugs).

And I obviously am slightly delusional in my dream, since I got them confused with some other movie, obviously, as I ask them, "Why are you in the shower? I thought that zombies were afraid of water." ... And they correct me that no, it's people with RABIES that are scared of water. And, that makes sense, since it's it called, like, hydrophobia? (No, I just checked the wiki. People/animals with rabies lose the ability to SWALLOW water. But, hey, I knew that it had SOMETHING to do with water! That counts for ... something... right?)

But, at the end of my dream, the three of us are sitting in the bathtub, all fully clothed, with arms around each other, Giles in the middle.

If there's some hidden message, here's what I think it may be:

1) I really want to watch Repo! The Genetic Opera.
2) I really want a hug from Anthony Stewart Head.
3) I have innate knowledge that Paris Hilton without a shirt has absolutely no sexuality.
4) I should write a novel about zombies that are scared of water. ... Have people already written about zombie-ism as a form of rabies? If not, don't steal my idea, okay?

Now, I need to finish working on that Sunday School lesson. And not yelling at my children.
Not even when I ask them something nicely and they DON'T LISTEN AT ALL. *sigh*

Who knows? Maybe Anthony Stewart Head will come to class and give me a hug. Since, you know, he is my dream dad and all. *quirked eyebrow*

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Due to popular request ...

Now you can't say that I don't listen to my dear and devoted readers. ^_^

THIS is the dress.

You'll realize that, of course, since this is posted for the world to see that I tried to get the most flattering pictures of myself in the dress.

And, to me, it's not a very flattering dress. Unless I suddenly wake up having lost (at least) ten pounds, all the untoned/stretched out belly skin, and about three cup sizes.

I'm just sayin'.

BUT it IS a very lovely color.

Even if, when I slouch, the jacket makes me look like I'm trying to (and succeeding in) a blatant attempt to mimic Quasimodo in all his hunch-backed glory.
(But, I'll quickly remind you, I'm a hunchback with GREAT hair and make-up.)

Also ... Michael and I both noticed that this is the first wedding in a couple years where I DIDN'T do the flowers. Mer's mom did them. And they were SO pretty.

And, thankfully, I did bring a back-up dress (as did Roxy and the other bridesmaid) to change into.
I must say that BREATHING is totally underrated. I REALLY like being able to breathe. And take normal-sized steps. And BEND OVER to, say, adjust a bridal train ... or PICK UP my children or something.

But it was a very lovely ceremony.

And I'm never buying from David's Bridal again. I'll be hitting up one of my wonderfully talented and crafty friends (of which I have MANY) to do it. And even after I PAY them, I'll have spent less than half what I spent up there.

(Of course, I should have, you know, actually worked out while I was sick with the plague [now, if I had had the flu and was tossing my cookies, that would have covered it all!] or something. Like have gotten breast reduction surgery and lipo or something. Oh well.)

The important thing is that Mer is MARRIED! Yay!
(And I FIT [BARELY] into my dress. ... And there were no wardrobe malfunctions. That would have SUCKED.)
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Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Crazy Dream Chronicles, Part ... um ... Eleventeen

Some of my dreams are memorible due JUST to how random and odd they are.

[E.g., the dream where I was making out with the older jerk of a brother on Weird Science (the TV series, not the movie. Same character, though. (circa 1996))]
[Or the one where I was ana assassin named Violet. But I had amnesia. And I was working at a kitchen goods store in Florida, hanging pans on a shelf/wall. And making out with a very nice boy ... as another assassin is approaching to kill me, not knowing that I haven't defected ... it's just that I don't REMEMBER who I am or my mission ... (circa 1994)]
[Or the one where my mom and I are driving to Sally's, my blog-friend, yet, remarkably the South is located just down the street from our house. And there are werewolves. Yes, WEREWOLVES, chasing us and trying to tear apart the car to eat us. And I'm trying to make sure that they're not going to hurt Sally's daughter, who's with us. (circa 2004)]

So, as you can see from the aformentioned dreams, my psyche is a rather ... unusual/singular/peculiar/scary place to be.

Last night?

I dreamt that I was student-teaching. But I wasn't anywhere that I recognized. I had a male teacher in the classroom. And ... um ... he tried to, well, overpower me. (Thankfully, not in front of the students. That'd be SO much more wrong-er-er on SO many different levels.) And, to protect myself and my virtue, I was grappling with this knife-weilding teacher ... with a metal can opener ... like the "church key"-type can openers. Like for opening bottles. Or cans of evaporated or condensed milk ... so it has that little triangular hole in the lid? You know the type, yes?


And I escaped, rather unscathed ... but breathless and running away ... right into ANOTHER dude who's main objective is to get himself a (unwilling) piece of this. What. The . H????

And, yes'm, I fought him off, too. Must have been with that dang can opener.

So, if any of you out there are up for a challenge, what the bedevilment does this cah-ray-zee dream signify????

Perhaps I am feeling vunerable? Perhaps I need to buy more can openers? Perhaps I need to stay the H away from Education? (Not too hard ... since I'm not really headed back immediately. Especially if I'm having dreams like these.)

Little-known fact regarding myself: Yes, I'm squicked out by spiders and their inherent creep-factor. But, for as long as I've been aware what it was, I've been worried/scared that I'd be raped. I do not know why. Just one of those things.

Back onto a happier-ish note, I shall regale you with yet ANOTHER of my Crazy Dream Chronicles®:

Now, this dream occured around, oh, 2002? Somewhere around there.

In my dream, I was just chillaxin' with Jackie Chan (awesome!) and Jean Claude VanDamme (okay ... odd). And as we were hangin', what approaches us but an INVISIBLE NINJA LORD!

*cue dramatic music: Duh-duh-DUM!!!!!*

Now, VanDamme goes and starts fighting him. I'm watching through my fingers, huddled into a ball, as he loses against the INVISIBLE NINJA LORD!!!!

And Jackie Chan goes and fights ... he's whirling and kicking and doing all the amazing things that Jackie Chan can do ... and still, he fails against the INVISIBLE NINJA LORD!!!!

So, there I am ... I know that I can't just let the INVISIBLE NINJA LORD triumph. And I also know that, as I fight ... trying to anticipate where the heck he's at and what he's doing, since I can't SEE him, since he's an INVISIBLE NINJA LORD ... if JACKIE CHAN, who's only completely made of AWESOME, can't beat him, then I have NO chance of winning ...

And I am left bruised and bloody, panting for breath on the hard, cold surface on which we had fought ... and the *dum-dum-DUM!!* INVISIBLE NINJA LORD triumphs over us all.

*Holds up sign: Fin*

Yeah, that's pretty much my life motto. If Jackie Chan can't fight So-and-so and win, I have no business whatsoever trying to fight that person.

But, really, I never try and fight ANYBODY.

Mostly because I'm kind of a wimp. I don't like to get dirty. I don't like pain much, either.

(Also, about that strange, unexplained fear mentioned above, I like to consider that with the one song, "Everbody's Free (to Wear Suncreen)" ... the line "The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm
on some idle Tuesday." ... And since I HAVE worried about this odd fear, well, then it should never happen. ... And thinking of it that way puts me a little more at ease. ... But maybe I should buy a few more can openers and secrete them in various places where I might have need of them. I'm just sayin'.)

However, there's one dream that I've had over and over that I wish I could find the place. In my dream, I'm with a bunch of children (like a class), but I'm a leader ... but, like, a teenager? ... And I've had this dream off and on since I was ... um ... maybe nine?
... BUT, in the dream, we're walking up (okay, DOWNSTREAM) Canyon Creek. And we come to this place where the current lessens a little and there's a bit of an island(?) in the middle. And it's covered in trees (Poplar, maybe?) and it's just SO nice.

Since I've had this dream over and over, I would (just about every summer) wade/walk/whatever down Canyon Creek and look for it. Never found it.
But I was able to catch and watch lots of newts on my way.
I like newts. They're just so cute.

So, yeah ... just another look into my brain.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Back ... and Random

I survived. And the wedding went well. As did Camp. Phew!!

First things first, Michael replaced the broken toilet seat in our bathroom. The old toilet seat was sitting on the floor. ... And we had a little litmus test, per se, for whenever Bruise had used the toilet.

... Because he'd MOVE the old toilet seat and put it on the toilet, even though we have a new, lovely, PUFFY seat on there.

Yes, my son IS rather OCD. It's as if he's saying, "NO, I have to use THIS seat! THIS one is the seat that I'm used to!" (Whereas I'm all, "The NEW seat is WONDEROUS! I LOVE it's cushiness and the fact that it doesn't pinch my butthigh in the crack in it! I will sing its praises until ... well, until its novelty wears off!" [Hey, just keeping it real, okay?])

The one unforseen hitch in the wedding was that Bucket REFUSED to do her flower girl duties. She walked well enough until Michael had to leave her to her duty. And, as Bruise did a most excellent job as ring bearer, she stalled and proclaimed, "I don't WANT to" ... leaving Mer's mom to throw another handful of petals as her daughter was escorted to her groom.


Oh well. At least my kiddos looked darling.

And the funniest thing about my dress ... besides making the photographer CRACK UP (since, to walk or bend down, I'd have to slide my skirt up from floor length to about tea length), was that most people didn't know why I had on a jacket (and the other two bridesmaids didn't. One of Mer's uncles wondered if I had some profanity tattooed on my back or something. Ha!

The pins that Roxy had brought weren't quite strong enough for what we needed them to do (i.e., pin my top so that my shapewear didn't show) ... so ... well, some people might have gotten glimpses [or a little more] of that. Oh well. It's not like we didn't try. Because we DID.

But, dang, my makeup looked good. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the bathroom ... and, truly, it could have something to do wtih the fact that for the last week I hadn't worn a lick of makeup ... but I looked at myself and thought, "DANG! I look GOOD!" (And that was nice. Even if I couldn't run. Or take large steps. Or bend at the waist. :P)

So ... I'm closing up. But I didn't want to neglect you (anymore than I could, anyways. I should have blogged yesterday ... but I was SO tired. And SO relieved to have all my BIG, BIG responsibilities over. Phew!).

Do any of you have issues with getting REALLY burnt out on Facebook games? I used to really like FarmTown ... but I'm thinking of quitting it. Along with about a dozen other games. Any reason you can come up with that I shouldn't??

Sunday, July 05, 2009

The calm before the Camping ...

In case you're really wondering how the bridal shower went ... it went really well. Except for attendence.

I had sent out 25 invitations. Some of them were for mother-daughter pairs.
About five people told me they couldn't come. So, still .... We were expecting between 6 and 23 people.

We got the six: Mer, her mom, Roxy, me, the other bridesmaid, and her mom.

We did have fun. Didn't play any games ... but we had plenty of food, Mer got to open her gifts ... we cleaned up, and Mer, Rox and I headed to the casino to give her a little girls' night out.

First time I've ever been in a bar. I had water. Drank those two under the table, I tell you! I had TWO glasses of my drink as opposed to THEM only drinking one bottle of theirs! (One had a hard limeade, the other a green-apple vodka. In case you were DYING to know.)

Then I went home, leaving them to watch the doo-wop cabaret show. And I took a shower, since I reeked of smoke (since there's smoking happening EVERYWHERE). But it was a really nice time. We three haven't had time together for about a year or so!

The next morning (July 4th), we played at my mom's until around 10, drive down to Michael's folks, and the kids played there. We ate, talked with family (all siblings except C&A were there ... so Bucket was sad that her cousins weren't there to play with her. She got over it REALLY FAST. She loves her Grandma something fierce.) and watched big fireworks ... and the kids were zonked!!

Can't blame them. This was out schedule:
July 3
  • left the house at just before 7 A.M.
  • drove south to my dad's and stepmom's
  • drove a bit north to Nana's
  • drove south to my mom's and stepdad's
  • The kids and Michael stayed there while I left to set up and throw the shower. Then I went to the casino and came home ... and the kids were in bed. And Bruise was peacefully sleeping ... while Bucket STOLE ALL THE PILLOWS!! She was curled up ON my pillow with the others all around her like a little castle or something. I stole most of them (but not mine!!) back so we'd have pillows to sleep with.
  • Woke up around 6-ish.
  • Ate breakfast and the kids played some more ... squirt guns. Bruise shot me in the eye and kept shooting Mutti (my mom) ... and then he asked her to fill up the gun for him again. And she shot him. RIGHT IN THE EYES!! Ha! ... Between giggles (and Mom was laughing so hard she couldn't talk), I sputtered, "You don't mess with Mutti! She plays dirty!!" ... It's true. Ask her!
  • And, like I said, we drove down to Michael's folks and the kids IMMEDIATELY went to play in their pool in the backyard. And ate popsicles. ^_^
And, when we left this morning, YES, I did cry a bit. (Okay, maybe more than a "bit.") But I am going to/do miss MAH BAYBEES!!
As much as I gripe about having to get up early, I do like it when Bruise will climb into bed with me to give me morning kisses and cuddles. Bucket will join in, too. And that's AWESOME.

And I know that every so often, I wish that someone would watch the kids for a couple hours or so so I could, you know, GET THINGS DONE/run to the store ALONE/take a NAP ... but that's totally different from spending the better part of a week away from them!

They'll be with Grandma and Grandpa today until Wednesday. Then my mom's going to pick them up and take them to her house ... where we'll drive down to see them Friday.
I'm leaving camp Thursday afternoon ... going home, taking a shower ... unpacking/repacking, giving myself a manicure/pedicure for the wedding, and then (once he gets home) having a little staycation with Michael. It'll be good.

But I have to be on the road earlier than I'd like tomorrow. Oh well. And once I get to camp, they'll keep me busy. And, if they don't, I have my books. It'll be fine. And I'll be a little sad to leave ... but I'll be VERY GLAD to see Michael ... and VERY glad to see MAH BAYBEES ... and also quite glad to see Mer get married ... and then I can figure out how to alter the skirt and etc ... so maybe I can wear it again somehow. (I'm thinking I might sweet-talk Roxy into changing the skirt into some kind of A-line dress ... and raid the strapless top and the jacket for material for the sleeves or something. Maybe.)

*sigh* I'm feeling ... okay. Not resigned. Not totally excited ... but okay. It's going to be busy. It's going to be a little CRAZY ... but it's upon us and I'm going to get through it. I'll have fun at camp. I'll get home and get to spend a little solo time with Michael (always a good thing). And then we'll get to see the kiddos, who will maybe have missed us a little. ^_^ Then there'll be the wedding and the reception ... and things will be good. And much quieter. For a little. I hope. ^_^

Thursday, July 02, 2009

Entering that strange ennui ...

So, I'm (mostly) over my OCD-induced freak-out.

At this point, I'm just ready to get it all over with. I'm trying to wrap up loose ends ... ends which really keep on unraveling once I've gotten most everything else taken care of. *sigh*

Example: I was finishing the dishes. I noticed that (1) the garbage disposal sounds different. Not wrong/different. Just different.... and (2) suddenly I have a puddle of water dripping out of the sink's cabinet. CRAP! ... Turns out that the garbage disposal and the sink's drain have split up. I don't know exactly what is in order for their reconciliation to take place. Michael will be doing that.
(I still had to finish the dishes. Good thing the other side of the sink is unaffected.)

But, hey. I'm mostly, totally packed. The dishes are 99.6% done.
... I still haven't folded all the laundry. (Honey, you love me, right? Look! I'm giving you something to do to stop from missing me so badly! *ducks and runs*)

I've turned in all the library books that would be coming due. Regardless of whether I've read them or not. I'm just tired of not finishing books. (And, Jenny, no, I did NOT finish "Tea Time for the Traditionally-Built. *sad face* I'll put it on hold again and read it .... sometime.) But this way, Michael will have one less thing to bother about while I'm gone. ^_^

I have most everything together for the shower and for the wedding. ... It's been postulated that I might ALSO be doing the bride's hair. ... Bri, I went into the wrong field. I may join you as a cosmonaut cosmotologist. (Hey, my mom was VERY thrilled with the foot massage and pedicure I gave her the last time she was up. ... Yes, indeed, sometimes being my friend has its benefits. -- Jenny, wouldn't you agree? You never had so many Wii jokes until I [and my twelve-year-old-boy sense of humor] came along. :P)

But, yeah ... things are ... how they are.

But this experience has taught me how important actually RSVP-ing is. We could have six people (all in the wedding party, really) or we could have around 20. Hard to tell. But I'm not making that pasta salad. I'm done.

Well, got to run and do some things!!!

Counting ...

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