Holy Bejebus............

Yesterday was crazy...like the wind on Sunday...but more relentless.  I got up early and immediately started working as I had several items come through over the holiday weekend that required my attention.  Unfortunately, they all turned out to be far more involved than I originally thought.  I think I sat down at my computer at 6 a.m. and continued at it until 5 p.m., at which time I took the blonde & the brunette into town so I could pick up some documents at the office, then zip over to Hobby Lobby to pick up a few items that were on sale.  It was probably 7 p.m. when I sat back down at the computer to finish up a project and then close to midnight when I got to bed.  And then.........

I could not sleep.  Too wound up.  Hungry.  Dog was snoring.  Husband was snoring.  Cold.  Night Sweats.  WHAT IS THAT NOISE?  Is it reindeer on the roof?  Ah sleep.... why must you escape me right now? 

December is always a busy month for me.  The actual number of days between Thanksgiving and Christmas seem to get fewer and fewer each year.  So much to do.  So many presents to buy.  So insane that we have made Christmas into this.  But I ordered a lot of gifts online and they started arriving yesterday - that UPS guy will be tired of making trips out here - I think he was here three different times yesterday.  But last night I purchased some gift wrap, so my plan of attack is to wrap the gift as soon as it arrives on the porch - thus avoiding my normal 12 hour gift wrapping marathon that typically ensues this time of year.  Ah yes - I have a plan!! 

I found out yesterday that I have a meeting IN the office NEXT WEEK  - that begins at 7:30 a.m.  What.the.fuck?  I will have to be there by 7 a.m. - which means I'll need to leave here at 6:45, which means I'll have to get my ass out of bed by - - - what?  5:00?  I'm ALREADY in a panic.  And that's likely why I couldn't sleep last night - fear of failing to wake up on time NEXT WEEK.  Why?  Why do people want to start meetings so damned early?  Don't they know I roll out of bed and work in my jammies for several hours?  That's the way I do it.  It's better that way.  Oh well.

Another shit ton of stuff on the agenda for today - projects, meetings, wrap a few gifts that arrived yesterday, run something to the post office for the blonde because her Girl Scout troop is doing secret Santa and I just found out about it yesterday, pick up some milk......and drop of that blasted Girl Scout cookie order.  ARGH! Girl Scouts.  I hesitated on letter her join - I have been putting her off for two years now and finally gave in.  And she hates it.  She thought they were going to do "stuff" - like boy scouts do.   And instead - we just have to peddle these fucking cookies.  And if peddling the cookies now isn't bad enough?  We have to deliver and collect on them in January.  We were supposed to sell 125 boxes.  I think we sold half that.  And frankly, I thought that was pretty damned good.  I loathe a fund raiser.  I really do.  Just have a pancake feed.  Or a car wash.  You know - something that you wrap up in a matter of hours - not something that drags on for months and requires me to play step and fetch to a fucking box of Thin Mints. 

Oh well....somewhere in there today, I need to revisit the boxes of Christmas decorations lying around.  I suppose I need to either get the decorations OUT of the box and on display, or haul them all back to the basement.  I'm leaning toward the latter, but I think the girls would prefer the former.  Maybe they'll help me!?!! 

A girl can have her dreams!

We survived............

Thanksgiving that is.  We made it!  It almost seemed non-eventful.  Which was what I was looking for actually!  Quiet.  Laid back.  Easy.   The brunette went to her dad's house.  So it was just me, the husband, his parents, the blonde and the Prodigal Son.  The Prodigal Son only joined us for the meal and stayed in his cave other than that, so he doesn't even really count.  He is having a rough go at college - like we all did - and I guess felt it safest to just stay hidden his entire break.  Although that really just angered me and hurt me more than anything else.  I had a chat with him, but it was cut short because his dad called and we never returned to our conversation, because he is evidently a vampire and sleeps all day and only wakes up after I've gone to bed.  His shitty spirit really kind of dampened my whole attitude, to be honest.  I kept trying NOT to let it affect me - but it was.  And that was pissing me off.

The father-in-law was funny.  He talks.  A LOT.  I love him dearly - but I don't know that he ever quits talking.  He narrates his life - as he's living it.  It's kind of funny in a way.  Anyway, he was a meat cutter all his life, so while I was in the kitchen, alone, making the gravy, he stopped by to quiz me on turkey facts. 

Him:  Let me ask, when you took the thawed turkey out of the packaging, did you wash it with cold water in the sink before you dressed it?

Me: (FUCK!  I did not!) - Yes!!  Of course I did!

Him:  WRONG!!!

Me:  (FUCK!!  This is where lying gets you!  But I was committed...)  Oh?  Well hell.  Oopsie!

Him:  And do you know why you shouldn't do that?

Me:  (DAMMIT I wish I hadn't lied)  No.  But please.  Do tell.

Him:  Well - it contaminates the sink area - and now you have bacteria all over your sink area and that will lead to cross-contamination to all the other food........

Me:  Well, I did use that bleach concoction...

Him:  Nope.  Should have never done it  - unless you sterilized the whole thing afterwards........

Me:  I did.....

Him:  It just isn't necessary and you shouldn't have done it.

Me:  Okay.  I'm sorry.

And this conversation carried on for about 15 minutes - Me.  Apologizing for fucking up the sink and really really wishing I had not lied to begin with.  I then got a quiz on fire safety in the kitchen.  Which I passed with glowing colors!  YAY for me!!!

Later in the evening, there was a card game - which I had no interest in playing - and I'm glad I skipped it because I believe it ended in a fight of some sort.  Not a fist fight - just a verbal fight.  This is why I don't play cards.  Although I do love to play cards.  But I hate the fighting.

Friday, I really wanted to just lounge around all day - but the husband thinks that is stupid.  I did it anyway.  I was tired and Aunt Flo had dropped by to further ruin my fucking holiday spirit, so I just lounged around chowing on Taco Hell and watching quality TV all day!

Saturday, we had family pics and then took the blonde to the local Christmas Parade.  Which was totally fucking lame  - AGAIN.  Although this time the husband really did get a t-shirt - it wasn't a roll of toilet paper!!!  YAY!  But the whole bag of candy we collected was nothing more than tootsie rolls and dum-dums.  Bleh.  BUT - - - the blonde LOVED it and it was all about her at that moment!!!  We hung out with some great friends we hadn't seen in a very long time (too long) and the night was pleasant.  Although I think I whined too much.  It happens.  Aunt Flo takes over my persona and spreads her shitty attitude around.  I hate her. 

Sunday, we decided to get out the Christmas decor and have a little fun!  The brunette got me up and moving and insisted I put on make up and do my hair and we cleaned up the house - because you can't decorate if the house isn't clean!  She donned her santa hat and was rearin' to go!!!  At 1:30, we drug the tree up from the basement.  We usually do two trees, but due to rearranging of the house, we will have room for only one this year.  The girls insisted we put up the big tree and that they put the ornaments the kids have collected over the last 18 years on that tree.  That tree is usually "MY" tree - all perfectly adorned with matching ornaments and ready for posting on Martha Stewart's holiday site.  But I really wanted the girls to enjoy the decorating so I let them decide how it would be done.  Me, being a control freak over the tree, really doesn't display much holiday spirit, so I'm letting go this year.  I don't care where the decorations are placed around the house.  It doesn't matter.  Anyway - so it was 1:30 when we drug that tree upstairs.  At 4:30 we put the first ornament on.  Because it took 3 fucking hours to get the damned lights working.  By then, everyone had pretty much had it.  The husband's patience were gone.  The blonde was in the way helping.  The brunette had lost interest, and I had fallen asleep on the couch. 

But, the brunette slapped her santa hat back on and the decorating began.  We tried to find some holiday music - but couldn't  - (but we did get the DVD collection all organized in the process!) - and I sat back on the couch, watching the memories be made.  And I wasn't feeling nostalgic.  It didn't feel "right" - something was amiss.  And then..... the fighting began - over the ornaments.  And it was at THAT moment that all the holidays past came rushing forward.  Now THAT felt more like it!  So I took some pics and relished in their arguing and at the end of it all - the tree was decorated and I didn't have to do anything but sit back and enjoy!!  The tree does look a bit like someone puked decorations all over it - and it does make me a tad crazy to look at it.  Maybe while they're all at school I'll just move a few things around - you know - just tweak it ...

just a tad!

Thanksgiving Eve

So here it is. Thanksgiving Eve.  In the morning.  So is that actually still Eve?  I've always been confused by that.  This year, in my state of not being able to deal well with large crowds and chaos and having found some solace in my semi-reclusive state, I've opted out of the typical large Thanksgiving gathering.  And while I feel guilty about that decision, I'm also comfortable with it.  Is that even possible?   To feel guilt and comfort at the same time?  I suppose it is.  Instead, we are having a small (and ever-growing smaller) gathering at our house.  I bought a 28 pound turkey - to feed what appears to be 5 people.  I'm sure there will be plenty.  So I don't have that angst hovering over me - the angst of not having enough food.  And I'm determined to make the day special for the blonde - where she gets some good quality time as a part of the family and a part of the preparations in the kitchen and not one where I send her off to play and entertain herself because I'm too busy and involved with the chaos.  I don't feel stressed.  I don't feel like I even care if shit is clean.  It's a strange serenity - - - and part of me feels guilty that I don't care.  But I do care.  Just in a different way than I normally do.

The brunette has opted to spend the day with her dad.  Which is fine.  It's his turn.  Or something like that.  And then she's going Black Friday shopping with her step-mom - because this is something I do not do.  I can't imagine ever wanting anything badly enough that I would actually intentionally go out shopping on Black Friday.  I did it ONCE.  I did not enjoy it.  And I don't see the point of it.  Of course, I don't see the point in doing a lot of things. 

I'll be spending my day today - getting my hair done, likely going to the DMV, if the Prodigal Son gets his ass out of bed during daylight hours, and preparing to cook for tomorrow.  The husband?  He's decided the fish tank in the blonde's room needs cleaned.  I think next year, or maybe on Christmas, I'll put him in charge of the real preparations, cooking, cleaning, shopping, etc. And I'll sit back and focus my attention on things like, dusting all my shoes or straightening all my hangers in my closet.  It will do him some good to see first hand what the holidays are really about - from my perspective.  For now?  I'm just not going to worry about any of it.  If I forget to make the gravy?  Tough shit. 

Where Am I?

I'm on hiatus.  Check in periodically to see if I've found my way back please.  I may be lost. 

Semi-Annual Visit to the Torture Chamber

Not one damned thing since the last time I was there.

Except they didn't call me bleach blonde - they called me Yo!  Red!

Heinous experience.  As always.

ROWE - - - A List Revisited

A few months ago, my company made the decision to implement a new work culture - ROWE.  When we first decided to make this transition, I made a list of what this transition meant for ME, as a person, and how it would impact MY personal life.  You can see that list here.  But what I want to do now is revisit that list to see just how much of that held true.

I can wear those kick-ass tights that look like tattoos all over - and I won't give a crap what anyone thinks.  I have not worn those tights yet.  Although I have put them on twice - I've determined I do not like the dress that I had planned to wear with them.  And everytime I put them on the husband says, "I don't know why you would even want to wear those things."  I'm going to wear them one day just to piss him off.  As soon as I find a dress that I like. 

I can get me some groovy boots and cool clothes and be that creative soul I've always dreamed of being.  Okay - I got two new pair of boots.  But I don't know that I'd consider them "groovy" - but I have been expanding my creative soul as it pertains to my clothing - but bottom line is this:  I'm a conformist.  So I guess I'm not going to actually wear groovy clothes and put myself "out there" in the spotlight.  I'm not creative and as soon as I realize that the happier I will be.

I can take daytime exercise classes - like Zumba - and get back that 20 year old body I once had. HA!  I haven't explored even finding a Zumba class in town.  I have, however, been trying to walk frequently.  Both outdoors and on the new treadmill we got.  Exercise is not something I enjoy for some reason.  But I continue to try and push forward.

I can go eat lunch with my youngest.  I despise eating with youngsters - a whole group of them - and their heinous school lunches.  So I forgot I even put this on my list.  But now that I see it on there - I will make a point to do this AT LEAST ONCE this school year.  Because I know it will delight her. 

I can be home when she gets on the bus and home when she gets off the bus.  This I have done nearly every day.  Likely 98% of the time I am here for this.  I am grateful for this time with her and while it's not known if it provides an immediate joy to her - I know that one day she will have an appreciation for this time.

I can make certain my family is eating healthy every single day - not just a few times a week.  This is pretty much working out well.  Except for the last week - when I did not put a single vegetable or fruit on the table at any meal.  I fell into a slump.  I went on an all-carb vacation and it's time to return to healthy eating.

I can go watch my son play his first college baseball game.  I did go watch him play a game!!!  So that's good.  And I look forward to more of these opportunities in the spring. 

I can be here for my 15 year old daughter as she travels through the next few years of her life.  I'm here.  But it's become obvious to me (painfully so) that I don't have a clue how to be a mother to a 15 year old daughter.  My mom had me when she was 16, my mom moved out when I was 16.  I have no good personal experience on how to mother a daughter.  I have found myself expecting her to know what to do and to be independent and strong.  So now I have to figure out what I SHOULD be doing at this age and what kind of support I SHOULD and NEED to be providing to her. 

I can go for those walks with my cousin at lunch that we enjoy so much. While I HAVE walked, I haven't been on a single walk with my cousin. 

I can get the invoicing done for my husband's business and help him build that to an even higher level if that's his dream.  He's been on the same job since I transitioned my work schedule to a ROWE - so there has been no invoicing that needs done.

So you see - those things that I THOUGHT I wanted to achieve when I went into a ROWE - I haven't really done any of them.  BUT - I will tell you this:  I FEEL more in control of my life.  I don't feel like it's reeling out of control any longer.  Except over the last two weeks, when I HAD to be places at specific times of the day for work related functions - it hit me again - OUT OF CONTROL.  I reverted back to my place of discontent of monumental proportions.  I stopped cleaning.  Cooking.  Laundry.  All things halted because I was trying to get places at certain times.  And I couldn't cope in any other manner but to hide in my bed.  So this week, I'm looking forward to getting back on track - where life and work are one and the transition from one to the other is void.  

More Hair Talk

I shouldn't even talk about this.  I shouldn't even show it.  Or discuss it.  Or admit it.  But since this blog is all about inane truths - I'm doing it anyway.

Last night I found a stray hair.  It's not the first.   And I'm sure it won't be the last.  I find them in the damndest places at the damndest times.  Driving down the road, on my way to an important meeting, glance in the visor mirror and BAM!  Fucking goat hair 2" long on my chin.  Or on my cheek.  Or maybe on my neck.

But this time it was different.  I was at home.  And I spotted it on my SHOULDER.  I first saw it like 2 weeks ago and couldn't locate the tweezers so ignored it.  But tonight  - it was out of control.  Almost to the point that I hesitated to pluck it - because a small part of me really wanted to wait and see just how long it might actually grow if I were to leave it alone.  But then the OCD set in and it HAD.TO.GO.

The toothbrush is there to give you perspective on its amazing length.  Don't worry - the toothbrush belongs to the husband and Aunt Flo made me do it - I didn't want to set the hair next to his toothbrush - but her will is stronger than mine and so it came to be that his toothbrush was used as the comparison measuring device.  Don't worry - I put it back before he ever knew.  I don't think he really likes Aunt Flo.  But I can assure you - she despises him even more.  She has some type of fucked up vendetta against him that I don't quite comprehend.

I, personally, would have used a ruler.  Or an earring.  Or a stick of gum as the measuring device.  But she kept screaming out "Grab the husband's toothbrush - it's right there and so handy - just use it to measure your shoulder goat hair against!!"  She won that battle.  I am no rightful opponent against this evil bitch.  I used to be - but lately she overpowers me with her sickening control and desire to rule the universe.  I'm just too tired to battle her so I let her have her way thru the duration of her visit.

But back to this hair  - SERIOUSLY?  Who the fuck grows a single goat hair of that magnitude on their SHOULDER?  What the hell did I do to Mother Nature to deserve this abuse?  Why?  Why does this happen to women?  I don't get it.  And chances are, I never will.  What I do know and understand is that searching for random bullshit hair is soon going to become an all-consuming task.  And it just seems so.... unfair.  I mean, I've been a regular shaver, groomer of the hairs.  A fanatic some might say.  But this new crazy assed display of hair will likely be the death of me.

I back-comb my hair daily - because.... I LIKE big hair.  I was recently informed that this act will cause your hair to FALL OUT and you'll go bald.  Are you shitting me?  Oh well - at least I'm now growing hair on my back and instead of the comb-over - I can do the comb-UP - from my back to my forehead.  It's going to be a GREAT look.  ALL.THE.RAGE.  I can already see it.

Flo brings more surprises with her each time she visits.  Maybe next visit she'll plant hair on my increasingly shrinking (is that an oxymoron) breasts!  And then I can just do the hair shawl type of thing.

My adventures in life are abundant.  Don't be a hater.

Out of CONTROL

So, you know I work primarily from home.  But not for the last week I don't.  Oh hell no.  I had to actually leave the damned house last week - THREE DAYS IN A ROW.  And drive 75 miles each way to attend a conference my company was hosting.  Which was all well and good and the conference was nice and I enjoyed seeing my colleagues and interacting with our clients.  But the DRIVE and the ACT of leaving the house damned near did me in.

And then this week I had to leave the house 3 times to attend work related events and this whole getting up and dressed and shit ON A SCHEDULE has me totally pissed off.  I had NO idea how accustomed to doing my own thing on my own schedule I had become.

And Aunt Flo fucking stopped by for the week - you know - to spread joy and cheer throughout the universe.  So my ability to cope with the slightest upset in plans has been completely lost.  Today I looked up and it was 4:30 - and no dinner was prepared.  Shit.  Damn this dinner thing anyway.  But I scrambled and threw together some homemade mac-n-cheese with hamburger in it. The blonde asked why I didn't just buy Hamburger Helper.  I don't know blonde.  I don't know.  Because I'm an over-achiever and like to make my life as difficult as possible?  Or maybe I think I'm doing you all a favor by not feeding you boxed food?  But I haven't put a fruit or vegetable on the table for a week.  Mother Of The Year is once again lost.

And I haven't been on the treadmill in that long either.  And evidently I have self-image issues because when I look in the mirror I see FAT ASS TUB O' LARD because I haven't been on the treadmill.  And the brunette told me I was just 1 pound away from anorexia.  Which is a total exaggeration.  I don't know where she gets that trait.  I really don't.

Tomorrow night I'm going to a concert with my mom.  I've NEVER been to a concert with my mom.  I don't know that I've been anywhere but to the mall or to a craft show with my mom.  A ROCK CONCERT.  HEART!!!  I am totally stressed.  What to wear?  I bought a million outfits.  Tonight I made the family watch as I tried them each on.  And FINALLY we all agreed on one.  We'll see if that's the one I actually wear tomorrow night or not.

Mom doesn't smoke.  I do.  Mom hates cigarette smoke.  I respect her so I respect her desire to not be around it.  I'll be taking some Nicorette gum with me to the outing.

Mom likes to maybe have a drink.  Maybe two.  I like to drink the bar dry.  I'll be trying to pace myself before the concert so as to be able to actually WALK and maneuver the seating in my 4" heels without totally embarrassing my mom.

Mom wants to hear Barracuda.  I want to hear Crazy on You.

We're like peas and carrots - me and mom.

I'm a nervous wreck.  And yet - there's something inherently wrong with that picture. 

I'm sure we'll have a blast!  The husband has agreed to be our driver for the night!  He's a good sport. I love him.  Even if Aunt Flo hates his fucking guts, I adore him.  She's threatened to kick his ass more than once in the last 5 days. Good thing I'm around to save him.  I hope he appreciates that.  I'm not sure he completely understands how many times I have saved him from her hands that are desperate to just fucking strangle his neck.  How many times I've instructed her to just keep her mouth shut when she's begging to tell him to just SHUT.THE.FUCK.UP.  How many times I've sent her ass to bed when she's yearning to give him a piece of her mind.

I'm totally under-appreciated.

P.S. - Forgot I was supposed to be on a "positive" kick - go figure.  So here's my positive thought of the day:  I'm so glad we had food in the house so that I could throw together that dinner spur of the moment.

I only wish someone else had prepared it so I didn't have to.  - - - Jesus.  This still isn't coming naturally to me.

I guess I'm on vacation?

..... or something.  I haven't cleaned.  I haven't cooked.  I haven't done laundry.  I haven't done a damned thing around this house since Sunday morning.  And I don't care.  My give a shit has got up and gone.  I hope it finds its way back home soon because I'm getting sick of tripping over shit and eating handfuls of cereal. 

The impending holidays have me in a foul mood already.  Why must we start planning them in October?  Well, I guess it is now November.  But still.  All this hooplah and who's going where, when and blah blah blah - it kills the spirit and fun for me.  I have nothing nice to say (like I ever do).  Maybe from here until January 1st I will just post something nice each day - just one nice thought.  Maybe that will help encourage my attitude into a positive state? 

Let's give it a whirl:

The warm sun felt wonderful on my face today!!!

(but the cool breeze up my skirt pissed me off)

This is not going to be easy, I can see that already.

Why is 2nd Grade such a PAIN IN THE ASS?

We had parent teacher conferences this week for the blonde - she's in 2nd grade.  And her teacher is an old grouch.  I'd already determined this before I met her and meeting her only confirmed my initial instinct.  First off, the blonde is smart.  And one of the oldest in her class because thanks to the laws in our state - she wasn't 5 by September 1st and instead turned 5 on September 20th so basically was 6 by the time she started kindergarten. It's a stupid law.  It really is.  Especially so, given the fact that kindergarten isn't even fucking required in this state.  So explain to me how a non-required grade has laws that dictate when you can start?  But wait - you can't just skip it either.  Or we couldn't figure out how to skip it.  Maybe we are the stupid ones.

I digress.  When she was in kindergarten, she read at over a first grade level.  The teacher had her reading to kids in the class that could not yet read on their own and daily she went to a first grade class (after going to the Board on our behalf and getting approval to do this) for reading.  In first grade, the 2nd grade class was too full, so she couldn't go there to read, but her teacher got her hands on the 2nd grade material and was teaching her and some others from that material.

Throughout both grades, her behavior was exemplary and she was commended on her focus and dedication to school work - beyond her years.

Then she gets to second grade - with the old hag.  And all of a sudden - she's reading at a level BELOW where she left off last year.  She can no longer add AND her behavior is shitty.  So I SUGGESTED to the teacher that the child is bored and explained to her why I thought that.  She looks at me and says, "I find that hard to believe.  I don't see that she's any more intelligent than the others in my class."  SERIOUSLY?  You just fucking showed me that on the standardized tests taken early in the year that she tests higher than you expect her to by the end of the year.  So, if at the beginning of the year she tests higher than she should at the end of the year after she's been under your tutelage, one would THINK that she is bored and finds the work non-challenging, wouldn't you say?

Well.  No.  I mean - she sees her as a goof off, not paying attention, scoring horribly on her comprehension tests for reading.  I suggested that she's not really reading the books at all and that instead perhaps she's scanning them and guessing BECAUSE SHE IS BORED.  But this bitch wouldn't budge.  Her granddaughter is in the gifted program - and she's BRILLIANT - she's in the 3rd grade and reads at a 7th grade level.  I'm sure she does and I'm duly impressed, but I'm not really here to hear about your granddaughter and would like to get back to the blonde, if you don't mind please, kthanks.

After I make some other clear and pointed observations about how the blonde likes to be treated and how she shows me that she's bored to tears at school, she finally makes a note on a piece of paper and agrees to keep an eye out for it.  THEN, the bitch admits that Grace is one of those students that's just easy to lose track of - because she just plods along, status quo so she doesn't get much attention.  THANK YOU GEORGE FUCKING BUSH FOR NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND.  EXCEPT for regular, smarter than usual, but not quite "gifted" children.  Who are left behind to be bored and ignored in the public school system.  Thank you.  It's a great fucking program and it's working out quite well I'd say.

And again, why is it that the most wretched teachers are those that teach 2nd grade?  I had a horrible 2nd grade teacher - you may remember I wrote about her here. 

I'm still haunted by that bitch.  Is it all part of the master plan of the universe?  Is that the weeding out year?  Ignore them and treat them like they're idiots - those that survive will become successful and those that don't - well that's just too damned bad?  Fuck her.  And yes.  I'm pissed.  Granted, the blonde could be more organized.  And watch less TV.  And we could probably get her engaged with social activities that include people her age instead of having her play beer pong with us on the weekends - and I'll commit to being a better parent to her in that regard.  But I want this wretch of a woman to get off her high horse and be the educator she's getting paid to be.

She's crossed the wrong mama here.