Brace yourselves ...

No, it's not that winter is coming.
(Not with the crazy humidity that's been going on)

No, it's because Shark Week, iykwim (aityd), is upon us.

And, well, I kind of had my mental well-being, well, crash on me.
About as much as I ever do ... I'm a pretty chipper person, overall.
So, when I feel down or frustrated, I turn into Chicken Little -- running about (no, not in real life) and freaking out that maybe I'm depressed and nothing's right and I'm a mess and I suck at friendships and people are going to hate me, etc., etc., etc.

I should paint my toenails. That usually helps me.
Except that I don't have the color that I'd like to use ... I want a multichromal rainbow-type polish on my toes. So that it's all silvery, but when the light hits it -- POW!! -- RAINBOW, y'all!

Yeah, my life is hard.

The new dishwasher is still amazing. I heart it. And it's easier for the kids to remember to help load/unload.
If I can just get Bubbles to stop trying to climb on the door, when it's open. Grr.

Bubbles had her 15-month appointment. She's still tiny, but staying on her own curve, growth-wise. So the doctor isn't worried.
She also has a viral ear infection, which explains the PLETHORA of snot ... But she wasn't ill enough to forego the immunizations. She didn't care for them. Oh well.
Heck, she wasn't wild about the whole check-up. Hates being put on her back and being touched/held in place if it's not HER idea (don't get me wrong, Girl LOVES herself a snuggle or a ticklefest ... but, apparently having her temperature taken --under the arm, mind you -- WORST THING EVER. ... Well, besides her shots).

Though, since that was last week, she might be over it. I hope she's over it. She's a lot less grumpy and snotty. I prefer it when she's not my snotter-daughter. And it's easier on all of us when she's not grumpy.

Michael, his dad, his brother (C), and the neighbor kid cut down the one tree in the backyard. We (and we "we," I mean Michael)'ll be taking the wood to a gal in the ward. And they ran a wood chipper so that there's a shload LESS of old branches in our yard. ... Now, do I try and make our yard look nice NOW? Or do we figure on getting a different manufactured home (with MORE than two bedrooms) to put on our lot? (I wish that this was a NEAR future thing ... except for the having to pack up everything bit.)

Bruise and Bucket had basketball this week (Three hours, total, that is). They enjoyed it.
Yesterday, playing Sharks and Minnows, Bucket really surprised their coaches by how fast she is.
Coach Riley: Wow!! (And this gal is a leggy gal in good shape ... and Bucket was able to catch up to her and tag her out.)
Coach Amy: Yeah! I was running and I noticed that there was someone running next to me. (To Riley) I thought it was you! Ha!

Bruise wishes that I'd gotten a video or picture of one of his first throws on Tuesday ... He had shot a basket. Then he looked about for his ball. BONK! It bounced off his head. BONK! ... I almost yelled (from the stand where I was sitting with Bubbles) to him that it's BASKETBALL, not soccer!!

I'm glad that today is Friday. I got to sleep in and I don't HAVE to get anywhere at a certain time (well, until this evening) ... which means that I don't have to sit in the stands and try not to cry (Thanks, Mother Nature. I hate you.) today.
It also means that Michael will come home so much earlier. I like that.
I especially like it during the school year, since then he and I (and Bubbles) go out for a date.

But, yeah, you're probably wondering what I'm upset about.

The gist is this: I've tried to help a friend. And I feel blown off. Repeatedly.
And, worse yet, this last time, there's more than just me burned.
And I hate that I put OTHERS into that position.
I can handle being out my own money and possessions ... but setting up something where others can get burned ... when I'm a hostess for this?

A real hostess protects her guests. I'm not freaking Lady Macbeth.
Which, really, is how I'm feeling ... and we all know how THAT ended up
(If not, go check the Wiki ... although, unlike Lady M, I am not consumed with ambition. I just wanted to help out a friend. And ... well, I just need to take a step back.)

I have another friend who's in the midst of medical issues. And she's doing a bit better. She's so sweet ... and independent -- that she hates the idea of putting anyone out. Which makes it a little hard to know how to help her. But she's a sweetie. And she makes me laugh. And I make her laugh (which makes me feel useful).

We have a dinner to attend Sunday. I'm bringing a dessert ... I figure that I'll try something new that sounds yummy. I'll let you know how it goes, eh?

And I've been getting a slew of scammers/telemarketers this week.

With one (scammer), when I called her out on it, she's all "Oh, really?!? You think you're SO SMART! But there are HACKERS out there because of PEOPLE LIKE YOU!!"
(Next time someone accuses me of thinking that I'm "SO SMART" when I know I'm right? I'm gonna be all, "Yeah, baby. I AM that smart. How's about you go think about your life, m'kay? All I know is that I'm able to sleep at night with a clear conscience. Because, face it, lamby cakes, I don't have to use etiquette when I'm dealing with a criminal.")

Another guy (different company) kept talking over me as I refused and refused his spiel.
Finally, I just stated -- in a voice as serious as a heart attack, "If you make me wake my baby, I will track. you. down. and. kill. you."
Yeah ... he didn't talk after that.
Smart man, don't you think?
Be even smarter if he chose a better career, no?

This last dude (from the first scammer company) was treated to my white-girl-gangsta-rappin' skillz when I rolled off the first half of Macklemore's "Thrift Shop," with copious amounts of editing (Hey, I work at not cursing. And I had munchkins in the house, to boot).

He did compliment my singing (and I really should have said, "DON'T patronize me.") ... but he hung up after about a minute of me (and Bruise and Bucket) doing randomly-spaced ambulance noises.
(If you have NO IDEA what I'm talking about, watch Night at the Roxbury. Or look up "Night at the Roxbury, ambulance" on YouTube. You'll TOTALLY understand it ... but, yeah, probably won't understand why. ... I'm mysterious like that. ... "Mysterious" in the sense of "batcrap crazy," that is.)

But, yeah ... until we break down and get Caller ID, I figure that I should brush up on "Ice, Ice Baby," "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air," some Beastie Boys, and -- the big guns -- "MacArthur Park," baby. Which is NOT rap. At all.

Maybe I should learn some LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG, hella long, Italian arias.
Because, hey, if I'm going to try and waste their time and see how long they'll stay on the line, I might as well get an impromptu karaoke party out of it on my side, right?

Maybe I should find where to get an accordion ... then I can serenade them with the complete works of Weird Al. Especially featuring "You're Pitiful." (Which never was released on a record since Blunt's recording company is STUPID ... but, hey, it led to the great success of "White and Nerdy." Which I should totes perfect for these scammers. If nothing else, they'll learn some good music, right?)