Pity Party table for one... seriously. It's like a rant...

Beware this is a serious pity party.

I'm feeling invisible today, bloggers.  I have these days every now and them.  In the past the days might have stretched out to a string but today is one of those days that it hurts a little more than normal.

I am not a social bug by any stretch of imagination. I don't call anyone and sometimes if real life gets in the way of texting I will completely forget to text you until some random happening causes you to cross my mind again.

But one thing I never do, one thing I can never be accused of, is ignoring someone for over six months and only contacting them because I need something from them.

I have an app on my phone that holds all of my texts.  Like every single one unless I've taken the time to delete them.  I can go back to some people and see the very first text they ever sent me on this phone.  It ranks my conversations as well.  Most recent is at the top and least recent is at the bottom.  Every six months, I go through and delete the people at the bottom.  In my mind if they can't bother to contact me, I can't bother to keep their text streams.  If I do this twice (i.e. you texted me because you need something in June and I don't hear from you by December I delete you and you contact me in Jan only to disappear until July...) I not only delete you I stop personalizing your stream.

I love Handsent.  I can give you a background, different colors and even a specific text tone so that I know it's you when you text.  Most often if it's a personalized text tone, I will drop what I am doing to text you back.  For some people that even means if you text me while I'm sleeping, I will wake up and have a conversation with you.  Even if that means that at three a.m you wanted to talk.  I will wake up.  But those people that contact me so little are given the short default tone which at the moment is a temple bell.  might pull me to the top of my consciousness in the middle of the night but you definitely won't get me to roll over and have a conversation.  After all, I only appear on your radar when you need something so why should I let you ruin my sleep?

And that sounds harsh and a little bit petty but it's the truth.  And I didn't used to be that way.  I used to be a kind, open person that gave every one of my friends their own text tone and special background.  At the moment, twelve people have their own backgrounds, and only eight people have a specific text tone.  I will be up front and honest and say that for those nine people, the world can wait while I see what they have to say.

So where am I going with this?  What is my point?  My point today is that I feel invisible and this is one of the few days that it's rubbing me like a cactus on newborn flesh.  It hurts.  It feels like no one bloody person gives a shit that I haven't been able to say a word in almost 24 hours.  Not one bloody person that has my phone number and can text or ever has texted me gave enough of a shit about me today to ask if my fever was down or if I was feeling better.

What the hell?  Really?  I mean just that little that you couldn't take five seconds and text me?  Facebook me?  Shit like this shows me just how high I rank.  Thank you.

Do me a favor.  The next time that you need/ want something from me, why don't you wait another six months and then consider asking me.  Maybe by then, I'll feel like doing you a solid for old times sake.

Ah piss. I'm going before I start naming names...

It's raining! It's pouring!

So woke up at 2 am with a burning in my throat.  If this is the worst of what I get this winter, I'm okay with that.  I have a flu shot and a pneumonia shot as internal defense.  I hope they work.

Of course this cements my plans to stay here in the house for New Years.  I don't think I want to go out drinking and shouting if my throat is still sore.  This way I have an excuse to wrap up in the blankets of my bed and sleep in the new year.  Now if my throat decides it's not going to win the day then I will probably spend the new year writing.  I'm making decent headway on the latest story.  I also found another publisher that I'm going to submit Chasing the Duchess to.  They are looking for romance and Romance suspense.  If they break parts 2 and 3 into two different books and offer the prologue (part 1) as a teaser chapter for free, I feel like it will sell.  They'll get two books out of it and I'll get published.  Plus, Part 2 closes with Paige leaving the island with Milo unsure if he will ever find her.... In all actuality between that part and part 3 I did skip a few months... I could write a novella in the middle and be just fine.  But I need to change the ending and go back to what I originally wanted.  I changed it to something quick with a lead in to Juliet's book when I was pitching it to Crimson.  I don't like it and I personally feel that if the author doesn't like her own ending, no one else will... well except J.K Rowling when she killed Sirius... and Dumbledore...  She said she cried.  I threw the book at the wall while crying.

So back to today.  I am sitting here listening to the rain pour outside.  I know it is so very un Christian of me but I just want to crawl back in bed and forget church.  I really shouldn't be that way but I'm that way when it comes to rain.  Whatever the plan, if it's raining I want to chuck it.  I'm pretty sure this will apply to my wedding should I ever get the chance.  Who am I kidding.  Should I ever get the chance to get married again I'll probably spend the night at the top of the aisle.  They'll get there and I'll be there fully decked out with a cup of coffee talking about "come on, let's go!"

So tomorrow marks two years that I have been celibate.  I would love to be able to say that this was a choice.  Well it was.  It's a choice on the part of the men in Charlotte.  Nope, can't go there, can't blame them.  I am a little picky.  I want who I want and I don't like substitutes.  So mostly me.  But here's the thing.  I hate celibacy.  Like seriously hate it.

And I hate sex.  I'll give you a second to start breathing again.  Yes I said it.  Not quite out loud but I said it.  I really don't like the act of sex.  I'm good with foreplay, I'm good with oral but the actual act, I could really care less for.  I rarely achieve orgasm and in fact that is a totally new feeling for me as the last guy I slept with was the one to show me what I'd been faking for years.  If I were a shrink, I might attribute my dislike of the act to being raped in college but somehow I think it might go further than that. I don't know why.  Growing up, I had no interest in boys in that way.  All I wanted was to make out with them.  I would even go so far as to say the thought of sharing a bed with them crossed my mind but not in a sexual way.  In a holding me in his arms till morning kind of way...  So no, I don't think the guy in college that pinned me against the wall and forced himself on me is the reason I don't like sex.  It just seems messy and painful, and if the same ending can be achieved with hands and fingers why bother with the rest?

I am one screwed up duckling... a friend of mine once read a story I wrote where the sex scene took up like five pages and said that it made her hot, but I don't like sex.  I make my characters have sex at the drop of a hat, but I don't like sex.  Somehow, I think I might need to see a psych.   One of my friends (Another one) said that I don't like sex because I haven't done it with the right guy.  Well hell, can Mr. Right hurry the hell up and get here cause I would really love to see what people are raving about.

And in case anyone is wondering, I know I've managed to connect what? three of the letters in the alphabet blog to sex and love, but the S blog WILL NOT be sexual.  I have actually chosen a pretty cute topic.

Sigh... It's eight A.M.  I need to get up and start pretending that I want to leave my house. The kids run church today so my ex mother in law wants to go and see.  Totally not a problem.  Just means we need to be out of here by nine ish so that I can go pick her up and get to my moms so that we are on time.  Then I take everybody save my mother back over to Providence court and I come home and wrap up in a blanket and raid my DVR.

That sounds like an awesome plan.  Can we skip to that right now?

I would say stay frosty as per my usual closing but considering the rain outside right now, I'm gonna close with Don't float away!!

Ciao Bloggers.

Questions, Queries, Quotes....

It's time for the Q blog!!!  Throw your hands up in the air and wave 'em like just don't care!!!

So if you read me regularly (or as regularly as I post) then you know I have been saying that I was going to do the Q blog for some time now but I never seem to get it up. (Although I managed to have time to do a million and a half personal blogs.)  My only excuse for that is to hang my head and smile pretty and hope you forgive me.

I decided to do the Q blog on quotes that people say but most have no idea where they come from.

Let's start with a simple one.

"Don't let the cat out of the bag."

This is actually a market expression.  Many many years ago when live animals were sold at market to consumers (Think they sold you the pig, you had to make your own chops and all that no nice prepackaged stuff) Some marketers would put a piglet in a bag and sell it to you.  Well naturally, the piglet would not like being in the bag and he would thrash around and generally be in a panic.  Some retailers would substitute a cat for the piglet because let's face it, an angry cat thrashing around sounds the same as a piglet in distress.  At least that's the thought.  I don't hear it and quite honestly think the sharp claws trying to rip the bag to shreds would have given it away for me. But I digress.  The phrase was coined because naturally you wouldn't want to open the bag and a cat comes flying out instead of you seeing the piglet you bought at the bottom of the bag or rather  Give away the secret of the deception.  Hence "Don't let the cat out of the bag" means  Don't tell the secret.

"You'll catch your death."

This one goes back to the nineteenth century.  You will mostly hear older people say it.  Back then, death was such a constant presence in most households that doing something like stubbing your toe could eventually lead to death.  You could stub it, the nail could come off, most people went shoeless you got dirt under the nail which turns into an infection and boom, you're dead.  To catch it, means you were chasing it.  If you intentionally go out in cold weather with nothing warm on you were all but telling death that you were done on this earth and you were ready to die.  And a cold was the quickest way.  Nobody was exceptionally healthy so going out and getting a chill that would lead to the weakening of your already not so awesome immune system... you get the picture.

"Hell bent for leather" -Sarah Brown

Hell bent for leather does not actually seem to have an origin and many think that it is actually two phrases combined.  Hell bent means recklessly determined.  Your mom told you not to touch the pot on the stove, your gram told you the same thing, you even say someone get burned already but you still want to touch it.  You are recklessly determined to get hurt. Hell bent meaning you will go as far as hell to get your answer.  Hell for leather was actually coined by Rudyard Kipling in 1889 as a way of recklessly riding a horse.  No one knows if the leather in this case is the leather riding crop or the wear and tear on the leather saddle but most take the combined phrase to mean that you will continue on the path to destruction no matter what.

"Mind your P's and Q's"

Another phrase that people are of split minds on.  I actually explored this one years ago when it crossed my mind that I wanted to know where it came from and I found that it came from Old Ireland where there are public houses, or pubs aplenty.  They serve their beer in Pints and Quarts. Honestly I knew about then serving pints of beer but I never ever heard of a pub serving a quart of beer, so i highly doubt the validity of this origin explaination.  The second that I found was mind your pleases and thank you's  R being the Please and Q being the latter half of the phrase Thank you which sounds like Q.  The basic meaning of this phrase is mind your language.  Because using please and thank you is always the way to be on the right side of the harsh language wall.  So I guess if I tell someone to "please go eff themselves, thank you very much" I guess I'm minding my p's and q's and am therefore minding my language....

And Lastly...

"Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater!"

Let's take a trip back to the medieval times shall we?  no not the totally awesome fantastic, I might just be a little biased because I love it show, I mean the actual Medieval times.  When a lady was a lady and the silk and jewels were real and no body bathed regularly.  Yeah.  Fun fact.  June brides are and always have been so popular because June is when most people took their yearly, or bi annual bath.  If you got married in June, there was a good chance your mate was reasonably clean.  Back to the topic.  It was customary for the man in the house to take the first bath in the nice clean water.  Followed by any sons, then mom, then the daughters and finally, the baby.  Keep in mind that if this was an annual bath and most people had lice and other lovlies crawling on them the water was now cloudy and vermin infested and if you dropped the baby into the water and it went over his head you probably couldn't see the baby for the grime and cloudiness of the water.  And because everyone was such a good parent back then it was apparently common for people to toss out the bath water with the baby still in the water.  This is just my warped thinking but one if the baby slipped below the waters surface and i didn't notice, the bay is probably dead by the time I throw out the bathwater.  I'm just saying... baby didn't make a sound and I've now picked up the tub and tossed it.  Yep.  Baby is gone.

So that's the origin of some quotes that I have heard and used but had to go and look up.

Now remember guys, mind your p's and q', don't go out without a coat or you'll catch your death and don't be hell bent for leather and throw the baby out with the bathwater.

Hehe Stay Frosty y'all!!

Christmas... My thoughts

So first off, a very belated Merry Christmas, ridiculously belated Happy Hanukkah, and a maybe in progress, Happy Kwanzaa.

I spent my Christmas up in the mountains in Cherokee.  I am now foursquare mayor of the hotel and our favorite restaurant.  I find this sad but oddly gratifying.  Took the normal route most of the way up but then in the grand scheme of things I missed our exit and had to go through Maggie Valley.  If you have any fear of driving through the mountains on itty bitty roads that have lots and lots of twists with locals that know them so well they ride your ass like a proctologist in training, DO NOT drive to Cherokee via Maggie Valley.  Turn around and go back to the exit you missed.  Trust me, your passengers as well as your clenching gut and throbbing head will thank you for this bit of advice I am giving you.  On that note, I think I pissed off about five carfuls of locals in a span of 10 miles.  Go me.

Got to the hotel.  We got the same room as we had the last time.  This was not a coincidence.  Mommy requested it, because I requested it.  It's the room closest to the front door and the coffee bar.  I can drop Mommy off at the door and she can walk right in without her walker while I go park.  I like this room.  Despite the toilet paper holder that falls off of the wall at every opportunity, I like this room.  Don't know what time we headed to the casino but we started with Dinner at Selu Cafe.  We will call this Fried Chicken day number one.  We then went back into the casino.

Now I have this hang up where I hate to lose money.  Sure the bright lights and the incessant ding ding clang of the slot machines lure me in at first but generally after twenty, no more than forty dollars, I'm done giving my money to a brightly colored box.  To this end, I pull out a book and read quietly, like the bookworm I am.  Mommy works the slots, I read.  This is how it's been for years.  Even before I was too young to actually gamble but for some reason no one thought to card me when going onto the floor. (I guess I've always looked old... great just depressed myself...lol)  I managed to finish book 2 of the Wideacre series.  I still do not recommend this series.  If you can get through the first one without gagging and losing your lunch repeatedly, then you will most likely be able to get through the second one with a slight bit of gratification towards the end but the top of book three drags ass...  Anyway, I had been sitting there for about twenty minutes when my tummy decided that it decidedly DID NOT like the chocolate cake we had for dessert and since I have Lutropublicaphobia (Fear of using public restrooms unless in extreme EXTREME circumstances) so I hightailed it back to the hotel.  This was actually funny because between the Casino and the hotel lies Tomahawk Village. Yes, they went there.  They totally went there. Anyway, the speed limit for that torturous stretch of one mile is 20 MPH and there is ALWAYS a tribal Police car sitting somewhere on it.  To tell you that I gave a good goddamn if i was going 20 that night would be an outright lie.  To tell you that I was so relieved there was no police officer to see me taking the village like I had a rocket attached to the car is an understatement.

Christmas morning, or rather near afternoon, we went back fro dinner at Selu Cafe.  We will call this Fried Chicken day #2  There was no special food set out for Christmas because it's just another day for the Indian reservation.  Thanksgiving was the big day...  Ate and then went to the movie theatre between the hotel and the casino and saw Madea's Christmas.  OMG that movie is freaking hilarious!!  Madea always cracks me up but Tyler went and thre not only her and Larry the Cable guy in there together but at the end, he had the lady who "ain't got time for that"  and the young man who told all of youtube to "Hide yo wife!  Hide yo Kids!"  in it.  I about died laughing!! Decided not to give the slot machines any more of my money that night and I dropped Mommy off at the casino. Went back about eleven to get her.

The day after Christmas, now that was fun.  First off, the glorious people that decide what is to be served at the continental breakfast chose bacon.  Real actual bacon!  I dropped a piece into my hot chocolate (Which I always empty an envelope on top of and don't stir in because I like it that way) and decided I wasn't wasting my bacon just because it was now covered in hot chocolate and ate it anyway.  OMG!  unicorns farted rainbows and Martha Stewart said, "It's a good thing!"  What followed was probably the most bizarre display of me dipping my slices of bacon into my hot chocolate and chowing down.  No, I'm not pregnant, stop looking at me like that.  I will however be going over to Patty's to get my fondue set and further investigating this whole chocolate dipped bacon thing.  Then we hit the road to Bryson City ten miles away so that we could get on the Great Smokey Mountain Railroad.

Now the train itself was pretty cool.  It moved slow enough for me to get some really nice pictures of the river and surrounding mountains...(Smokey Mountain Railroad pics) but we were on the train with the Duck Dynasty-esque family of about a half a million from Louisiana and despite the fact that it was BELOW FREEZING that morning, they had every single freaking window raised on that train car.  When Mommy went to sleep, for a minute there I was worried that it was the first stages of freezing to death.  Then some train conductor God turned on the heat in ferocious blasts and it wasn't so horrible in the car.  We got to Dillsboro and did our exploring.  I got some more cool pictures and we wandered around for the hour and a half given to us.  Got back on the train and came back to the depot.  Whole trip took four hours.  It was fun.  Cold and loud but fun.  I would actually do it again in the summer or in the winter if I had about three more layers of clothes on.  Got back to Cherokee and needed something to eat so we hit up the KFC, So we'll now call this Fried Chicken day 3.  Went back to the hotel and had lunch and then I basically sacked for a bit because I could not get warm to save my life.  Even wrapped up in blankets I was still bone cold.  I attribute this to me thinking I was cute wearing my blue outfit that morning and the hillbilly family from hell making the train colder than it needed to be.  After turning the the heat in the room up to 80 and listening to mommy saw serious logs because the heat knocked her out, we went back to the Casino about nine.

Harrah's in their infinite wisdom gave us each a $20 food credit for restaurants in the hotel and let's just say that I was kinda hungry but I DID NOT want anymore fried Chicken (Small aside, fried Chicken is generally the only thing I trust when eating places because I don't do sauces and whatnot that everyone likes to cook their food in plus, I'm allergic to Garlic so it's generally a safe bet that it's there's fried chicken, I can eat.) Mommy chose slots over at the corner of the casino and when I looked up at the most delicious of smells I found myself staring at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse where they say that if you go in be prepared to spend a hundred bucks.  I have never been because I don't care if you dip the damn cow in gold and diamonds before putting it on my plate, no steak is worth that to me. HOWEVER, with a $20 food credit to take the brunt of the $38 dollar steak, I could see paying $18 +plus tax for it.

Mastication was slow because I wanted to savor it.  I didn't think to get a picture until it was all gone and there was nothing special about the plate so I didn't bother.  Left there and mommy said she wanted to stay, that she wasn't done but she didn't want me to go.  Now in all fairness, I was kidding when I said this, but I told her if she wanted me to stay past midnight when she could go to the ATM again, it would be a babysitting fee of $40.  Color me all kinds of surprised when she says "Okay!"  Insert happy dance because I walked into the casino with $100 and I walked out with $86 Go me!!!  Went to get her money and proceeded to sit at a slot machine drinking root beer until two AM.

Had to leave today because I have to take the kids to church practice tonight and dammit if at some point I jumped on the wrong highway and didn't notice until I saw a nice big sign saying "Welcome to South Carolina" coming at me.  I didn't panic.  Mommy panicked and called OnStar but in the middle of  the conversation I told her nevermind because I saw a sign saying highway 85 was 14 miles away.  I was good.  Once I got to 85 I was golden.  Caught me a couple of rabbits and made it home in no time.

So I had fun.  Did have two down spots this holiday.  On christmas morning, I found out from my cousin that another cousin's grandmother had passed away.  The fact that the woman passed away was not the shocker though.  It was the fact that my cousin never said a word.  She and I have been close all of our life and she didn't bother to tell me that her grandmother had passed.  But on that very same note, while I am hurt, I'm still not as surprised as it sounds.  All of our life if she had a family member that wasn't connected to me by blood, it was her family member not mine.  Never mind that I come from a family where if you marry the guy from three towns over his whole family becomes your famliy's family (I.E. if my new mother in law had a cousin that passed away my mother would spread the word to my side of the family that we had a cousin pass away you get it.  Your family is immediately my family's family.)  Add as many banjos and hillbilly jokes as you want, that's the way it's always been with us, but not with her.  When her father, who was the blood link between us passed away both she and her mother pulled away from our family like their membership was up or something.  It hurts.  I would have liked to have been there for my cousin in her time of need but I wasn't given the chance.  It's whatever.

The morning after Christmas, my Aunt called to say that her very best friend in the world who was like another aunt to me passed away.  She'd been sick for a long time but still it was not expected right then.  I feel bad for my aunt and for my "aunt"'s family.  They are supremely nice people.

I can't help but wonder.  Death usually rounds up people in threes.  This is two of my family members making the trip to glory with him.  Will he be taking a third from us?  I hope not.  With every fibre of my being I hope not.

Secondly, above you may have heard me describe the large family on the train as the Duck Dynasty-esque family from hell.  Let me be clear.  I have no problem with country families nor do I have a problem with the Duck Dynasty family.  The problem I have is that while the men on that show have long beards and long hair and might be on the large side of the scale they are most certainly clean guys.  There are men out here that see that these guys live in the country and have this persona of being hillbilly and they think it's cool to emulate them and come out looking like they do and smelling like they THINK these guys smell.  No!  Those guys do not smell of beer and funk.  Being on television and with wives that look as good as those women do, I can assure you they more likely do not smell like they just crawled out of the beer and vomit smelling sewer that runs under the dirtiest trailer park in America.  If you want to come out of the house in Camos and have long hair and beards and be a bit on the husky male side, fine with me but dude, wash the clothes.  Wash the beards and the hair.  Lift the folds of skin and wash there too.  Just because the look is redneck dirty doesn't mean they are dirty and neither should you be.  I can't stand anyone that smells of funk and alcohol.  I used to couldn't stand the irony smell that some men get after working hard all day but it has actually kinda grown on me like a perverse cologne.  I can't smell it for long but certain guys that have that worked hard sweat smell do not repulse me.

Sigh.  The 30th of this month will mark two years celibate for me.  I think that might be the only thing that sucks about life right now.  Everything else is good.  Being celibate sucks.  Being celibate always sucks really.  At least to me.  I could never be a nun or a priest.  I would never get to do good in my life for saying hail mary's for the impure thoughts.

And on the hilarious thought of me being a nun, I will close out this blog.  Stay Frosty y'all!!!

Okay sleepy sleepers.

One last blog before I tuck in and hit the hay.

Stomach was a little better today.  Well no not right off but it got better.  I had to break down and take a tramadol in the middle of the day.  Something I never ever do because of the sleepy element in it.  Good news!  Tram doesn't put me to sleep apparently... Yeah I can so see the look of reproach on your faces right now.  I'm not shivering in my seat.  Well yes, I am actually but that's because the AC is on so that everyone can breathe at night and my covers are screaming my name.  If life were just a little bit crazier than it already is and furniture was alive and had rights, I'm pretty sure my bed would sue reality for custody of me because honestly, our relationship has gone very downhill.  Not enough quality time by far spent with each other.  The sad thing is it wouldn't even have to sue reality, it would really need to do a joint suit against my desk chair and my bookcase.  Maybe the car.

Mom had her car for two days.  I worried that she wouldn't be alrighty okay but at the same time I was so copacetic to sit back and not do a damn thing.  I totally forgot how relaxing that is.  Of course I was maroon on Isla De Dette for a real reason but still.  I got to lounge in my bed freaking two mornings in a row.  That was probably a druggies equivalent of smoking crack... for free.

Tomorrow is the Christmas performance at church then Christmas shopping with the kids and Church on Sunday then doing Christmas with Mommy and I on Monday and I think I am going to take them to their dads house right after dinner.

Is it sad that thing I am looking forward most to this Christmas is adult time?

I'm always an adult but for the moment I'm considering my Christmas Gift that I don't have to be Mom for a few days.  I know I say this way too often for it to be considered TMI now, but I could have nekkid time if I wanted to. (I talk about nekkid time way too much, don't I? Eh oh well...)

No shit, I just sat here for a full five minutes picturing what I'm going to do with my time.  I see myself sitting in this same spot or curled up with my books.  I started the second book in the Wideacre series.  The second book is vastly better than the first one.  Beatrice was killed by Ralph at the end of the first one by the way.  I know I stopped giving synopsis (Synopsi?? Synopsises??) of it but that honestly because you didn't want to know anymore.  She helped plan Ralph killing her dad, she slept with her brother had a baby girl by him and got his wife to take her as her own, then she had a baby boy by him and got married and tried to convince him that it was her husbands son but old boy was a doctor and new better.  He got piss drunk for maybe six chapters and he figured out where the baby came from and the night he came home her mother caught Bea and her bro on the parlor room floor so she overdosed the woman on Laudanum and there went Mom.  Husband started to put pieces together and she had him committed and then she tanked the family farm and Ralph came back to kill her.  Seriously.  If Someone says you should read Wideacre JUST SAY NO!  You don't want to walk that path.  Especially if you are the type of person that has an OCD complex that drives you batshit if you don't finish a book even if it is a spectacular work of crap.

The second one is better.  The girl is secretly betrothed to her cousin who her mom thinks is her half brother but is reality her full brother and they are trying to forbid it.

God I wished I lived in the times of arranged marriage.

No I don't.  No.  I don't.

Sometimes I think an arranged marriage would be better than this lonely single act.  Can I go ahead and get my grammy for best leading actress in a Non fiction non Romance Reality-esque drama so I can retire? I would like to retire.

Slightly embarrassing moment yesterday.  Livy found my pad of paper that has two pages in it.  Last summer It was put to me that I should have some expectations as far as men were concerned and in my unique style, I wrote them down.  Like I'd forget them. Anyway, I had it in a secret spot (Which is to say I lost it.) and she found it.  I think I got to her before she read them.  Crisis averted, I know where they are now.  They haven't really changed but I know where they are now...

Okay loves.  Melatonin is kicking in.  Eyes are droopy.  Sweet dreams await me in the recesses of my mind.

I would say stay frosty but I'm shivering enough for all of you combined and the freaking air just kicked over again.  Goodnight!

By the way, I have a houseful tonight.  It's a good thing.

Twas the Friday before Christmas

And all through the house, not a creature was stirring, especially not the mouse!

So I'd like to say that I am just now getting on the computer at nine thirty because I was busy around the house and just sat down but the truth is, I lounged in bed reading.  Not sleeping but wide awake and reading.

So the girls and I cleaned my room yesterday.  I did the big stuff at standing level and they did the floor seeing as how I couldn't bend.  And then I fixed the vacuum and Livy surprised me by vacuuming the floor in here.  Aside from under my bed, or rather No man's land as I call it, my room looks very nice.  It'll probably stay like this until I go to look for something and then muck it all up again.  I try to have a neat room but here's the thing:  When I was a kid, I kept it mildly tidy because my mom would get on my ass ergo I had someone who was looking at it.  When I was in college, I kept it clean for the first few days because I had a roommate but then, Corey moved out and I had the room to myself for a semester.  To say it was bad was only scraping the surface.  It wasn't dirty never that.  I don't hoard food in my room and occasionally come out with bones, bottles, and plates no but it was messy.  Then I got a roommate again and boom I kept it tidy.  When I got married, the bedroom had it's disaster moments, usually when I was looking for something, but if he was in port I cleaned it up pretty quickly.  When he was out to see... not so quickly.  Then I got divorced and let's just say I strived to clean the bedroom once every three months or whenever I couldn't see the floor anymore... Whichever came first...

So back to today... or rather yesterday.  The room got cleaned.  I'm not sure if I hit the three month mark or I just got tired of stubbing my toes and stepping over things but it needed to get cleaned.  I changed my fitted sheet on my bed and put the other one in the wash. (I really need a second queen sized fitted sheet because having the one and then use king sized sheets until it's washed is not very good.  The king sized sheets are understandably too big and on the nights when I have a crazy dream or restless sleep, I always get tangled up in the extra cloth... Personally I think just getting a king sized bed will fix this problem but que sera...)  So I now have a purple sheet on that doesn't match a damn thing but then my sheets haven't matched in a long time.  Then the girls and I put my gold comforter that Donna gave me last year inside the velveteen duvet I bought two years ago.  That was fun. Livy actually crawled up inside it to put the blanket in.  Then we smoothed it over my bed.

So yesterday was Livy's birthday!  She got spaghetti for the night.  That is her favorite meal of mine.  Her father said that she asked him for tacos.  I guess she has a different meal per household.  I for one never liked his tacos but them I never really liked a lot of his cooking and that's not a reflection on him or his cooking.  I'm a spoiled brat who was never made to eat or try anything she didn't want to and if what he cooked didn't look or smell appetizing to me, I didn't eat it.  He never complained and I never made a big deal out of it.  I always kept something in the house for me that only I ate so it was all good.

After dinner, they got showered and whatnot and I got to go out to the movies!  Went to see Thor 2.  I'm not going to post spoilers but let me just say that the villain's minions in this movie looked like Teletubbies all grown up.  I half expected the baby in the sun to show up most of the time they were on screen.  But Thor 2 is very good.  Very freaking good.

Got home a little after midnight and immediately curled up in my bed.  OMG my sheets felt so good that I almost crawled in naked and just lay there but then I remembered my kids are in house and they come in every school day morning to wake me at 7:10 (I'm usually already awake because they are NOT the quietest children in the world but I make a good show of being sleep when they come in.  Every now and then they actually do catch me asleep though.) and it WOULD NOT be awesome if I was sprawled out in bed without a stitch of clothing on.  I only get to do that when they are at their father's house.  Needless to say, I plan to have more than a Couple clothesless days this winter break when they are over there.  I may even have a day where I pretend everything inside my house is a nudist colony... No, not really.  I'm way too self conscious for that but still it sounds fun.

I'm not eating again.  I don't know why.  I went all yesterday with not a bit of actual food crossing my lips. and i didn't feel any worse for it.  I tried to eat a pop tart this morning but it just wasn't what I wanted and I got maybe half of the first one down so yeah... waste of pop tarts.  Even at the movies yesterday all I had was a root beer and not even half of that. (That's why I never let anyone pay for my drinks at the movies.  They cost so damn much and I never finish them so I hate feeling like I'm wasting people's money.)  I'd like to lay blame on the slight tummy issues but I don't think I can.  Dr. said I have diverticulitis and some other stuff.  I have to look that up.  I will have to ask is this why I don't feel like eating.  It's to the point now where when I do feel like eating, a little bit fills me and then it hurt like nobody's business for hours after and I don't eat anymore for awhile because there is no way in hell I want to invite that pain back into my life.  At some point I'm going to have to work something out.  Although I have extra energy and my weight is dropping off me like I'm getting slow lipo I can't help but feel like all is not right in the world of Dette. I'll figure it out.  One day.

So I'm off.  I'm going to go check my weight on Wii Fit before getting sucked into a game of four.  I should get dressed as well... Mom will be here in a hour.  Ta Bloggers!  Stay frosty!

grrr....

So I decided to clean my room this morning.  Good idea, bad timing.  I should have listened when they said no bending for two maybe three days.  But no!  Headstrong me had to go and clean.  I should done like I planned and stayed my happy ass in bed.

Whatever, I will survive.  The room needs to be cleaned, the sheets need to be washed.  I shall prevail... just not the stuff on the floor.  The girls can do that when they get home.

Today is Olivia's birthday!!  Not only does this mean she officially hits Tween (12) it means that I managed to keep her alive for twelve years!

Seriously that's a HUGE accomplishment.  There are times when I sit and wonder if I am a eff up of a mom and there are times when I sit back and wonder how my kids are still alive let alone speaking to me because I know I effed up.  Like I forgot Kay's birthday this year.  Not sure I even said Happy Birthday to her but I forgot it.  I sent her a card the other day and she was all happy but dude, if i turned thirteen and my mom forgot my day... oh hell would have bowed down at my fury.  Kay handled it in stride.

Liv fairly attacked me for her cards this a.m.  I mean that literally.  I hid them because I knew one of them had money in it and she fairly attacked me this morning.  She walked in my room and began beating the bed.  I forgive the hitting of my middle because she was so excited but damn ow.

I have two more gifts to make so I can give them tonight.  I actually need to get up from here and get that done.  But I need to strip my bed.  Hmmm... Jewelry or housework...?  I know which one is going to win but I'm prepared to put up a hell of a fight for the other one.

Screw it.  Jewelry then bed.

I did manage to fix the dresser drawer that lost its front three years ago.  It took epoxy and hot glue but that sumbitch is officially back together and my dresser looks whole again.  Kinda like it.  It's time to redo my bedroom again.  That's always fun.  Well fun after its done anyway.  I think I'll put that off on a day when I don't have a sharp pain in the exact middle of my body.

Okay, I'm outtie.  Think I'll strip the bed first.  Yeah... I'll strip the bed first. yeah....

Okay, up and at 'em cowboy

Or rather, sorta up and pretending to be at 'em...

I'm back.  In reality I was back by a quarter to ten this morning, but as totally predicted in my last blog I hit the door, I hit the bed and am just now coming back from lala land.

So right off the bat we get there and get lost because the suite holding the torture chamber was hidden off to the side.  Get in, sign in, and listen to the news talk about the two winners of the mega millions.  The man across from us was someone's ride.  He snored softly in the chair and for the life of me, all I could think about was that he was kinda cute, I could sleep next to that snore.  Totally not what I should be thinking in a GI docs office.  Mommy's greeting this morning was "There is no reason that anyone in their right minds should be up this early." It was 6:15.

So I get in and they do the questions and my main question to the lady asking the question was did her piercing hurt?  She had the one in the actual ear that goes through that little tiny sticky out part... Anyway, she tells me to go behind a curtain and get undressed to put on the gown and lay down.  I had to ask for a plus sized gwon because the regular peoples gown... uhm no.  The plus sized peoples gown swallowed me.  Like almost literally.  The girl comes back in to put my IV line in and after warning her that I have small rolling veins made worse by the fact I haven't had anything to drink since eleven the night before and no food for 25 hours before that she says, "Oh I got this." and blows vein number one.  Bloggers it's 2:30 pm, six hours later and that sumbitch STILL hurts.  Then they brought Royce into the room.

Small aside, how mean is it to have cute guys working in a GI office??  You can't flirt with them because while you're drooling away, they see up your ass or down your throats.  What the hell kinda justice is that?!?

Back to it.  They brought in Royce and he held my hand while she tried, and blew, a vein in the other arm.  She then decided to wrap my first arm in a warm blanket to see if that would help bring them out and as soon as she sat down, Royce spotted a vein in the crook of my left arm and popped that bad boy in.  I like royce.  Other than the fact that he's probably ten years younger than me and probably got to see parts of me I hope my future husband never gets to see he would have been a fine flirt object.  They roll me out of the prep room and I meet Carolyn who says she's my anesthetist. (No I did not get that one right, spell check caught that before I finished typing) I told her she was my new best friend.  Sorry P and L.  This woman had hard drugs, you understand, right?

I'm in the room, they have me hooked up to enough machines to sufficiently scare me so that my blood pressure is way high so they turned them down and put them behind me, waited five minutes and tried again.  Viola!  Out of sight and hearing, out of mind.  BP Came down nicely.  Dr. comes in, no scrubs just a shirt and khakis looking very GQ honestly.  He leans against the counter and the ladies in the room verify my name and my birthdate and allergic to medicines, turn me on my side and literally that is all she wrote.

Im not kidding.  Next thing I know, I'm waking up and cold as hell.  I ask for a blanket and some chick is telling me no, because I need to get dressed so I can go like I was a cheap tumble in the sheets in a pay by the hour motel.  Stomach hurts.  She tells me to double over and fart.  To the small country that was probably blown away over the course of the next five minutes, I sincerely apologize.  Just how much air did they pump up there??  She gets me dressed and out to my mom.  My first words to her: I want a doughnut.  She tells me I can't have one but nurse that was putting me in the car says I can so yay!

Off to DD where I got my glazed Doughnuts.  One was gone before mommy finished paying.  It just magically disappeared.  Poof and all that.  Got home and I don't honestly remember getting out my sweats or eating the other two donuts but as I sit here in my happy elves nightgown with an empty DD bag next to me, I'm pretty sure I both ate and disrobed before faceplanting.

My ex mom in law called me to see how I was doing.  IDK what time that was.  My aunt texted me.  So did MB.  I didn't get to return MB's text till my feet hit the floor but she loves me, she will totally understand how hard it was to roll back the fog to answer the phone.

You wanna know the saddest part right now, bloggers?  I'm hungry, but I'm not.  Like I just sat here and ate about ten saltine crackers to make the tummy stop growling, which it hasn't, but I'm full.  I'm thirsty but I'm full.  I don't want anything else right now.  I wonder if I get on the Wii Fit right now will it tell me I set the two pound goal I set like three months ago?  I'm thinking I've done that two pounds and more.

The size 20 jeans can now be pulled down over the hips without unbuttoning and unzipping.  So any of you guys that were thinking a makeout session is very much needed with me there will be no hassle when it comes to the pants.  None.  They come right off.

See? I can still be funny.

I'm going to go play the Sims now that Chris has fixed my baby.

I'll try and be back tomorrow.  Stay Frosty!

Brief blog

Because I don't have long at all.

I'm about to hit the road to go get my mom.  I have the colonoscopy upper endoscopy this morning at a quarter to seven.  That's right, they're going to go down both ends in the same visit.  I drew the special torture card!  Yay me!

My stomach is so empty it hurts, my mouth is dry and I threw up a good bit of the prep last night so even though everything is all clear so to speak I have a feeling I'm going to get yelled at.  Goody.

I really hope that this doc finds nothing.  Then maybe I will feel better about him scaring the crap out of me when he said he thinks that I need this because he fears cancer.  Do you know how many of my dreams have me telling people what I think of them and then walking off only to die in some tropical setting???

I have been planning my last months in my dreams.  I never get what I want though.  Not even in my dreams.  What kind of mess is that?

I would promise to write after I get home but I'm pretty sure my immediate plan will be to face plant on my bed for a few hours.

Stay frosty I'll be back!

Seriously...

Kids today!

And yes I KNOW I sound like an old person raising my cane and yelling from my easy chair, but honestly, kids today...

So I stopped into McDonald's this afternoon to get the kids something for lunch.  It was lunchtime around when all churches in the area let out so they were swamped.  It took about twenty minutes to get my food and in that time I saw two adolescents that quite honestly could have done with a swift kick in the ass.

First was the kid that was a freaking angel compared to the other kid...  This was a teenage girl.  Her mom was white and sorry to my caucasian readers but for this girls attitude, I didn't expect her to do what she did.  They came in and the mom ordered food.  The girl at the register asked if she wanted it medium or large.  Now the girl behind the counter in this line (They had three open) was a big girl.  Not damn! big big.  Like slightly more than me big. The teenager looks her up and down and says, "I want it medium, I don't wanna get fat like you!"

See my problem is I pay attention to a whole bunch of shit I probably shouldn't.  If i had been playing on my phone, I would have missed the whole exchange as it happened so quick.  The mom looked at the girl that was horrified by the teen and looked near tears and said. "You know what?  How about I buy you lunch while my daughter has to work your job and deal with ungrateful, disrespectful little shits like her while being nice for no reason?" and walked away.

I'm standing there thinking that I could not have been the only person to see this when Satan walked in.  I swear it was Satan.  Based on what happened next, I'm convinced the kid was Satan.

This short lady came in with a little girl wearing the most adorable hello kitty hat I've ever seen and a almost as tall as her boy wearing bright neon orange beats audio headphones.  She did the ordering and she stood at the back like the rest of us her daughter held her hand.  The boy, however, stood at the counter standing in the way, like literally in the way of other people trying to order.  One man couldn't get him to move so he simply ordered over him him.  I know the boy saw and heard the man because at one point he rolled his eyes at him.  Then the mom looked up.  I guess she had been either dealing with the little girl or on her phone.  There were so many people I can't be sure.  When she looked up, she realized he was blocking the ordering line and she told him to move.  His response was to shift his considerable (i don't need to be talking) weight to the other foot and rolled his eyes again.  To her credit or maybe not, she didn't jack him up, she sighed and rolled her eyes.  The next woman in line tried to get him to move and he started signing.   Keep in mind that I have stomach cramps and other cramps and I'm hungry plus tired of waiting in line so I'm controlling the urge to jack this kid up myself as well as the mom.

The woman trying to order walked out.  She didn't even bother.  She just walked out so now McDonald's has lost a customer over this kid.  The guy behind the counter decided if the mom wasn't going to do anything, he was and he pulled the headphones off the kids head and told him to move his lazy ass.  At this point, everyone waiting for food started to clap.  The kid started screaming and cussing and then looked at his mother and said, and I quote:" Are you going to let this nigger talk to me like that?"  She said "I told you to move." and he rolled those eyes that I wanted to scoop out with a spoon and said "You stupid good for nothin bitch."

I swear you could hear a cricket fart in McDonalds at that moment.  This was the woman's opportunity to shove this boy into a deep fryer and not one single one of us would have seen a damn thing when the cops came around asking.  As far as we would have been concerned, he fell.  From the front of the store he just fell... And she fucking sighed and rolled her eyes!!!  The manager came around and went to the register pulled out what I think was a twenty and handed it to the mom telling her to please go.  Go to KFC or Burger King just leave.

I felt bad because as the mother was leaving, the little girl realized she wasn't getting McDonalds and because to scream bloody freaking murder.  The woman didn't leave towards the parking lot where I was parked, she left towards the K-mart side so either she bussed it there or was parked over there.  Don't know, don't care.

What has happened to children over the course of the years?  If I had acted that way not just my mother but everyone in McDonalds would have gang jumped me and taken turns beating me.  In her time as a kid, my gram would have knocked the teeth out of her head for the mere thought of saying that shit.  Before that, I'm not sure.  The point is, the more time marches on, the more kids think they can say whatever the hell they want.

I hope my kids never think they have the right to speak to me like I'm worth less than them.  I brought them in this world and if I have to, I'll take them out of it.  No child should treat any adult like garbage.  No adult should treat a child like garbage.  no one should treat anyone like garbage.  We all need each other whether we like it or not.  And that's not my oh so preachy Christmas message.  We all need each other.  Period.  Stop treating each other like crap.  Kids, remember your parents will always be bigger than you.  Even if you are six feet and they are four, they are bigger than you and know way more than you.  Like how to kill you and make it look like a real accident.  Like how to cut you off at the knees and bring you down to their eye level and how to frame you for heinous acts against humanity and let the cops lock you up for the rest of your life and no one will believe you because mom and dad can prove that you've been a habitual liar all your life. Remember that kids. Just keep that in the back of your heads.  And if by some chance my kids are reading this... I win.  And I'm always right.  Even when I'm wrong... I'm right.  I'm always right.

Always.

Goodnight folks!!

Okay so maybe I do suck at this blogging thing...

I'm kidding of course.  I've just been battling PMS this last few days.  For many women that means being irritable or weepy but for me, this means being extraordinarily tired.  Almost like it physically hurts to leave my burrow of blankets.  Normally I give into it and just sleep because honestly when I don't get sleep anyway, I am one sideways look away from three mile island.

But Monday, I don't remember what I did, Tuesday was the avenue and rehab for Mommy, Wednesday, she had bible study and to get her hair done and today I had the dentist at the ass crack of dawn.  Well not really ass crack, it was ten AM and then Mom had her nerve test at three.

The dentist wasn't bad.  It wasn't fun, but it wasn't bad.  I have a total of eleven cavities.  It might be 12 if she was counting the chip on the front tooth that I told her today I wanted to keep.  I don't know.  She did the top right three or four.  I lost count.  They let me listen to my music and quite honestly the only thing that really hurt was the numbing medicine needle.  I don't do well with needles so that in itself was a trial for me but even though she said all the shot in my mouth was benzocaine, I felt weirdly loose and very relaxed within like five minutes.  She sat there and laughed because i was in a groove that one usually gets when they're in a room full of mary jane even if they aren't smoking.  You would have sworn I was high as a kite.  Even when she pulled out the drill that sounded like a jackhammer going off in my mouth, I didn't flinch.  So the dentist wasn't bad.

I came home and basically faceplanted on my bed for like a half an hour wishing I could feel the left side of my face to absolutely no avail.  About one-ish I started to be able to move and feel it so I went to go get lunch then go to moms house to take her to the nerve test.  Let me tell you.  If you insist on eating before your mouth has unnumbed, be aware that that shit also numbs your swallowing muscles as well.  Now picture me driving while eating and discovering I can't actually eat.  Yeah... no.  It wasn't awesome.  It was further not awesome when I got to Mom's house and almost choked to death trying to eat the sandwich.  I discovered the ancient art of cutting that sumbish into tiny pieces with a sharp knife.  I was getting my sandwich, dammit.

So we get to the doctors office with literally two minutes to spare only to sit there for the next 50 minutes because she was running almost an hour behind.  Not for nothing but a friendly notice would have been awesome.  We signed in and they said nothing.  We waited five minutes then ten and they said nothing.  It wasn't until I asked at the 30 minute mark that the one I asked hemmed and hawed until the receptionist on her other side turned to me and said forty five minutes behind.  When the woman doing the test came out, she smiled at my mom and thanked her for her paitence. She didn't say anything, but I could imagine the look on my moms face based on the blanching of the other womans face.

I don't even remember half of the time in the office cause the rest of the benzocaine finally wore off and I leaned my head back and slept.  Probably like a very tired and loud bear considering I had worried myself awake at five with dreams of a bug eyed monster coming at my mouth with a black and decker drill...  So I'm pretty sure in my dozing I was snoring although no one said anything or gave me looks when I woke up.

Took mom home and came home.  I worked on Tammey's necklace a little before my shows started.  Now I'm sitting here until they are over.  Tonight is scandal's winter finale.  They have to take time for Kerry Washington to have her baby.  That is if the news reports that she got married and then announced she was pregnant are to be believed.

OKay, back.  Ten minutes in and it's good.  Confusing but good.  So I'm going to end this and go watch.  Take care bloggies!  Love you!!

Doing the happy happy joy joy dance!!!

Oh my god!  I am so doing the happy dance right now!!  I am so freaking happy I could climb a tall building and scream until I am hoarse.

So today was the Bi-annual trip to The Avenue. Which means that I got new clothes!!!  I get this treat twice a year so needless to say I get to act like a pretty girl twice a year.  I preen in front of mirrors and prance around the store like the belle of the ball.  I always get jeans.  ALWAYS.  I wear a lot of jeans. and it usually takes about six months for the pairs of jeans that I got on the last trip to just wear out.  Seriously this is how much I wear jeans.  I mean I wear slacks and skirts occasionally but mostly I wear jeans and every six months they just look fugly. (Side note: Fugly was in my Windows dictionary... who programs this thing?)

So anyway, I'm trying on pants and I always get my normal size 22's  They didn't have a huge selection today so I was prepared to be kinda disappointed but then the lady that always has way too much energy for tastes most days started getting personally involved and she looked at me and said that I didn't need to be wearing a size 22.  I was so prepared for her to say that maybe I'd look better in the 24.  I mean I am not one of those blind women that ignores the fact that I'm a big girl, I know I am.  So I was floored when she bought me a pair of size 20 jeans.

I swore up and down that she was wrong.  I might have lost weight recently but if anything I was still a 22 for the simple reason of I haven't lost any where I could see it.  I tried them on just for shits and giggles anyway though.  And OH MY GOD!!!  They fit!!  They fit! They fit! They fit!!  and not only fit, they looked good. I actually spent extra time in front of the mirror.

Holy schmoly! (Second side note, Schmoly is programed into my windows dictionary.  Seriously, who programs this thing??) I wanted to sing, I wanted to dance!!

I did actually but that's not the point.

I did get one pair of 22's but only because I liked the slouch.  I like slouchy (Seriously?  That was programed too??) pants sometimes.  Especially around my period time.  Speaking of that, it must be coming soon, I have an irresistible urge for chocolate cupcakes lately.  The kind that I couldn't ignore if I tried.

I called to get my appointment to have my teeth pulled.  I put it off because I was dreading having to do Christmas with no teeth.  I like steak.  Steak is an awesome thing and I like it.  The thought of having to cut it into itsy bitsy pieces because I have no teeth to chew it... not high on my list of awesome things.  No worries though because they didn't have an opening until February. So I'm good.  She said to keep calling back to see if there was a cancellation.  I told her that I am so good with February that we could set that date in stone.  She laughed.  I have to go get the first set of teeth drilled on Thursday.  This is going to be fun...

I'm catching up on my DVR.  So far I've brought 98% down to 61% so I'm in no danger right now of something not recording because there's no room.  On the flip side, I remember why I wasn't too concerned with missing Hostages the first week.  I'm on hour 3 of my four hour block and I'm about to plotz my brains out.  Have Toni Collette's boobs always been that small?  I distinctly remember her having a big chest in Muriel's Wedding and in In Her Shoes... hmm... I guess they're right when they say For all that God's forgotten, that's why he gave us cotton!

Hehe, And just like that, I got the topic for the Q blog... I'm going to do Quotes.  Stay tuned.  Same channel probably an asinine time when you're probably already in bed and will just have to read it in the morning when you get up in which case you will forget and your cat will be run over by a boy on a pink scooter and your job will spontaneously shut down and on your way home with your cardboard box it will start raining and the box will break and all of your stuff will wash down the street into the river where it will find it's way into the hands of an arms dealer who will use your house as the fake point of sale house and the FBI will come and raid you because they think that you are Alez Al kalif the arms master and all because you didn't get up and read when I posted the blog.

Shame shame shame...

Lol. I gotta go.  Ciao Bloggers!!  Stay frosty!

Rain, rain, go away! Go ruin someone else's day!

We did this, this summer... This rain thing...  We did it for like 21 days in a row.  Everyday rain, rain, rain.  A lot of people hated it.  Mostly the farmers who lost massive crops and people who couldn't sunbathe.

I didn't really care because it was rain.  Sure it kept my kids housebound and eventually drove us all crazy, but truthfully, we didn't have far to drive to get there.  The only adverse effect it had on me was that I wanted to stay in bed all day.  For me, rainy days means cuddling up in bed and just chillaxing. (Note here that Chillaning was in my windows dictionary.  How is it that I'm not surprised but very surprised at the same time?)

So now it's been raining for round about four days now and the pull to just hide in my bed is sounding again.  I just want to chill out and pretend that that the world begins and ends with my pillows and comforters.

Eventually I will have to get and participate in the real world.  I should really hire someone for that.  I need money to hire someone for that.

At the moment, I'm trying to clear out my DVR.  I only have two episodes of Once upon A Time in Wonderland to watch which is good because I keep trying to give this show a chance, but it's just not clicking with me.  I just keep giving it chances so I think something somewhere is clicking I just don't know what and where.

The one that's going to be hard to clear out is Hostages.  I liked it going in I really did, the first episode clicked with me but then I skipped one Sunday and I never managed to gain it back.  Now, I have four weeks worth of the show on my DVR and I just cannot sit and watch four hours of Toni Collette like that.  Most of the time, when she smiles, I just want to climb in her mouth with a yard or six of wire and wrangle those teeth into line.  I had a thing for people with bad teeth.

Which is oddly ironic because I think my teeth are the worst of all.  I just found out I can go to a dentist so I did and OMG  I have four teeth that need to be pulled and 12 cavities to be drilled.  Eleven if you don't count the chip in the front and I think I may ask her to keep my chip.  It gives me character.  I'm getting a partial.  I'm not over the moon about it but at the least I can smile and feel like I'm pretty again.

I need to shower and get dressed.  I have to be to my mother in an hour.  I get to go the The Avenue and get my jeans!!  Yay!!

So off I go!  Ta!

I think the holidays might actually kill me...

But I will die with one huge honking smile on my face!  Just made gingerbread cookies (From mix; the one time I tried to make it from scratch it didn't work out too well.  But then I didn't realize that you had to mold the cold hard dough and sometimes gingerbread is crumbly.  I might try from scratch again.) and OMG! my mouth is singing like Julie Andrews (Or Carrie Underwood depending on how old you are.) in the Sound of Music!  I wish it weren't raining and I lived in the Swiss countryside so I could go singing into the mountains.

I seriously love the holidays if only for the holiday baking. One year I made Sugar cookies and butter pecan bread for the teachers at my kids schools and I got like five emails from teachers thanking me for both the slices of bread and the cookies.  Then I made then for the children at church and I didn't even get one of my own cookies! (Which was totally fine considering I ate maybe half my weight in ones that I purposefully broke so that I could say oops broken! Can't send!)

I'm a butter user.  Margarine is a dirty nasty word in my house.  We don't say it and we don't use it.  If I were a dairy maid I would spent half of my time churning butter and the other half of it using said butter.  Everything just tastes so much better with it.  That's why I say the holidays just might kill me.

The church asked for Christmas cookies for the fellowship with the apartments right behind us this year so seeing as how this week is uber busy for me, I made the dough this afternoon.  I may have to make more.  My mother has been asking me for about two days when she's going to get some sugar cookies.  I may break down and roll out half of one of the bags tonight., and make her some cookies.  She'll be surprised.

I'm one of those people that love gingerbread cookies but while most people eat the head first and end the poor man's suffering, I like to start at the bottom and eat his feet then his arms, then his body then his head.  I pretend it's Gingy from the Shrek movies, and he's screaming that funny scream of his.  I am one messed up individual.

I need to catch up on my DVR. I have to date probably about five hours to clear but I don't sit on Facebook anymore so I'm not in my room as much and I just haven't caught up.  I think I am going to sit and do that over the next few days.  That is provided I get no invitations to go anywhere other than the places I have to go anyway.  Honestly, I rather go see a movie or hang out but if that doesn't happen, we'll sit and watch at least five hours of tv.

Made bread today as well as the dough.  The girls are pretty much salivating over it.  Hell I am too.

Okay, see yall later.

Christmas Cards and Beatdowns.

I decided this year that I'm going to send Christmas cards and OMG! I didn't realize how many friends I have!  I mean I really honestly didn't realize how many people I have.  I bought 48 cards and I think I'm going to need more.  When I was online on Facebook, I never realized how many people I hold close to me.  When in a social setting like that, the numbers don't add up

But when you are handwriting these sumbishes, the numbers really freaking add up.  The last two days, however, I've figured out how to get the envelopes to print in my printer.  They look really cute now.

Still no enlightenment on the stomach issue.  After the coffee and the two sausages I managed to keep down this morning, I felt pretty okay.  We were going to go to the Popeye's on Wilkinson Blvd., but the line was around the parking lot and out into the street.  We drove the 20 miles to Concord Mills.  Just for some chicken.  Yeah, we do that.  Don't judge us.  I felt okay after eating a breast and part of a thigh.  I haven't eaten anything else but then I'm not hungry.  I never really hungry anymore.  Dinner is fun. Did you feel the the exorcist head twist?

I'm having problems on the Ex front.  NOT with the Ex.  It's the girlfriend.  Back in July, I posted on Facebook because I was upset that when my girls were over their father's house, she didn't care one whit for their appearance.  Twice I asked her to help them with their hair and she refused.  She left the house looking runway fly but my girls looked like didn't nobody love them.  And yes I know that the grammar in that last sentence was all off but I don't care.  If you are with a man and he has girl children, as the woman in the house, it makes sense to make sure that when they are leaving with you, and people will look you as a group, that they look at least decent.  But she didn't and I resented that someone who was trying to be a self claimed role model was acting like that.  His godmother came on my Facebook and tried to reprimand me.  I let it go but I'm sure by the tone of the comment I left and the fact that I very soon after deleted her entire family from both of my daughter's Facebooks as well as my own may have clued her into the fact that it kinda pissed me off.  Whatever...  The girlfriend took the post sixteen ways from wrong which is you know whatever I didn't really care, but here's the thing, it's been six months and she's still holding onto it.  She actually snubbed me in front of my children.  I was a good girl though, I only called her a bitch and not even loud enough for her to hear it.

But here's the thing.  My mother called the ex the other day because she baked him a pie he asked for.  She called a cousin in Texas to get this recipe for him and she baked it just for him.  But when she called him, he was in the car with her and it took my mom a minute to realize he wasn't blowing her off, he was trying to get her off the phone because the little bitch in the passengers seat was probably making that weird pouty face that looks extra ugly because she is not a pretty woman.  Apparently, she bitched at him all freaking day about why he had to go to my mothers house and you know what?  He did end up blowing her off that night because he couldn't get away long enough to call her and explain and my mother felt bad.  She felt worse when she found out what her simple phone call had cost him.

You don't hurt my mother.  You can snub me.  You can talk about me.  You can call across the country and tell your friends about me, but You. Don't. Hurt. My. Mother. EVER.  You don't mess with my kids and you don't mess with my mother.

X always says he doesn't want drama.  And I have been moderately good about not causing drama.  I have caused my share, I own up to that but I'm not the one causing this drama.  It's been six months.  Let it go.  No one cares and if she cares so much, she needs to pull up her big girl grandma undies and come talk to me about it.  If she ever had any plans on marrying into X's family, she needs to learn to speak up for herself or she will be run over like fresh track under an Amtrak Turbo train.

Funny story... now... the night that X and I got to consummate our marriage, he paused above me... in me and apologized to me.  I asked him why and he told me that he was going to cheat on me when they went to port (he was in the navy) because he had always wanted a white girl.  To my knowledge, he never managed to get an Anglo Saxon white girl, he got another black woman and a Mexican; the other white meat.

And I realize that someone out there reading this may be mexican, let me be clear I am not slamming you or your race.  Honestly all the slurs are directed at her and her only.  This blog is my way or venting my frustrations on her.  If I don't vent then somehow, I may end up venting them literally on her.  And I'm not a nice person when I am venting.  I usually fight with my words, but I have been known to stop talking and start swinging.  I have also been known to carry my knife to a fight.  I'm not saying I would ever use it, but there comes a point in every cat fight where the brain reaches it's shut off point and anything can happen.

Okay, I'm already yawning and ready for bed.  I have to make the sugar cookie dough for cookies tomorrow and if I make it in the morning, I may can make a batch or two for personal taste testing tomorrow. Heh.

Goodnight, Bloggers.

As I sit here with my Sunday Morning Coffee...

I wonder why I still try to eat anymore...

I got up at ten to seven this morning so that we could all have a hot breakfast.  I made sausages, oatmeal, and grits.  Everyone got some sausage and coffee.  I served the kids (Which sounds like I was doing the subservient mom thing when they're teens and fully capable of doing for themselves, but really it helps keep the sanity if I do it myself.) and I sat down with my coffee and my few sausages.

The main reason I made sausages was so that I had something to eat because drinking coffee without eating makes my abdomen hurt worse.  I'm trying to do right with whatever this is going on.  Three sausages in and I found myself trying to keep it down.  Why do I bother anymore?  The things I can I eat without nausea make me fill me up before I get enough.  and everything else well... I have to struggle to keep it down.

A lady at church gave me a pair of size 20 pants because she had them sitting in her closet and I needed a pair of black pants.  Three weeks ago maybe four, they were so tight I could barely breathe in them and sitting down was so not happening... the last time I tried them on last week, I had to keep pulling them up.  Either they stretched or I'm shrinking.  And not shrinking at a healthy rate either.

I normally fluctuate between size 24 and size 22 jeans.  24 close to my period when I bloaty and 22 on a normal day.  The 24's?  Forget it.  I can't even begin to try and put on anymore and I need a belt to keep the 22's up.

I need the doctor to figure out what's going on.  I'm not used to losing weight like this.  Any, you know what?  I don't know where I'm losing it from because it damn sure isn't my Stomach...

Okay, time to go do hair.  Happy Sunday.

I'm in the nursery so it's an easy Sunday for me.

I don't actually suck at this daily blogging thing

There just aren't enough hours in the day.  In my case last night, enough pain pills on the face of this earth. Early Christmas present from my mommy, I got my hair braided. It took two women six hours to twist up just about every strand of hair on my head and last night I could barely turn the damn thing.

But I look good.

I looked in the mirror and saw myself first the first real time after the tylenol kicked in and I saw her the girl I love seeing.  The one that looks her age instead of years older. I missed her.  She's awesome.  She's cute, she has confidence, and she holds her head up high all the time and not just because twenty pounds of hair is pulling it back so she has to.

Back story time!!  Gather round all yee readers!  Everyone comfortable?  Good.

When I was in the fifth grade, I was finally able to go to the Intermediate school in my district.  We had moved to Twinbrook a year or so before hand, but my mother had continued to take me every morning to Red Bank schools.  At middle school she decided it was time to send me to Ocean schools because she worked at the middle school in Red Bank and she knew two things.  I would get special treatment because my mother was a big wig in the school (She was an English teacher but depending on the circumstance she wielded almost as much power as the principal.  A lot of people were afraid of her.) and two, eventually I would end up in her class.  She wanted neither.  So she put me in OTIS; Ocean Township intermediate School.

Now the summer before fifth grade, my mom thought I should try the newest style among black women at the time: The Jehri curl.  Mothers, don't ever do this to your daughters.  If, God forbid, this hairstyle ever comes back, don't do this to your kid.  You might remember this style.  Think Michael Jackson early 90's or if you've ever seen the movie Coming to America, just remember Soul Glo and you know exactly what I'm talking about. Anyway, whatever.  The problem was not long before that I had gotten a relaxer in my hair and you can't have any chemicals in your hair when you get a curl so my hair went from down my back to maybe an inch long in the space of a day.  I cried.  Hard.

I had a deep voice, I had a chest so small the bra size was actually measured in negative numbers as in a training bra (What exactly are they training?) was totally pointless.  I insisted on wearing one but it was still totally pointless.  And now I had boy hair.  And I hated wearing frilly, girly anything.  I wore jeans and sneakers.

First day at the bus stop and the bus driver, her name was Doris decided what better way to keep her bus in order than by separating the boys from the girls.  She put me with the boys.  I stood there looking at her like she was stupid.  Couldn't she see that I was a girl?  I mean wasn't it obvious in my polo shirt, jeans and blue sneakers?  Didn't my black and hunter green bookbag give it away?  Really?  She thought I was a boy?  I didn't see it.  When she yelled at me I told her I was a girl.  She then accused me of trying to sit with the girls in hopes of getting a girlfriend and then read me her own version of the riot act on why kids shouldn't think about boyfriends and girlfriends in fifth grade when we were all about nine and ten.  I calmly repeated that I was a girl and I wanted to sit with the girls.  She told me that she didn't have time for this and to take my seat.  I took a seat.  With the girls.  To which she physically grabbed my shoulder and tried to force me to the back with the boys.  I stood up, dropped my back and listed my shirt to show my very useless training bra and asked her would a boy wear this. (My mom had insisted I get the trainers with the pretty pink and white checks and the pink boy smack in the middle.  I had the trainers that actually looked like bras not sport bras.)

Well, that shut her up.  Set the bus laughing so hard we literally rocked it and poor Doris never ever regained the upper hand over anyone on that bus again.  She did report me.  They tried to suspend me.  My mother marched into the school and asked them if they rather I should have dropped my pants and showed them the girly underwear instead of raising my shirt and showing my bra.  Would that have been acceptable?  They didn't actually have an answer that I heard for this but they let me back on the bus and back in school.  My mother made me wearing earrings at all times and she started getting me braids with extensions in my hair then.  I looked like a girl.

Doris retired from Ocean after that.  I really wish she hadn't've because then we ended up with a leacherous old man that liked to touch the girls on the bus.  Mainly me.  To this day when I have the really bad nightmares, the two most prominent faces are of that old guy and the guy that raped me in college.  In the bus drivers case I was saved in my eighth grade year (two years of this abuse in) by a bus lot monitor that finally looked up and noticed that I was trying to get away from this guy.  He had noticed that of the two busses that went to my complex I always tried to get on the other one that didn't drop off near my house and that I would look very upset when they made me get on my assigned bus.  He noticed that on the days I wasn't on my bus, my name appeared on the late bus list (which meant that I had chosen to walk an extra mile home versus the less than eighth of a mile my bus would have dropped me at.) and then he saw what he needed to see which was the old man trying to actually touch me.  I missed the bus that day.  A random teacher with a CDL license drove the bus that day.  I was taken to the office and my mom was made to come in and listen while I described the last two hellish years of having to be with that driver.  They were all made to listen to the stuff I had been trying to tell them for two years.  The stuff they had been ignoring.  Six more girls came out in the next few weeks.  Of the seven of us, one other girl and I were on the worst end of it.  He had actually touched her.  The last I heard from him was he was arrested.  I honestly didn't care if he burned in hell.  We got a female driver for the remainder of the year.  The boys drove that poor woman to shaking but we got a female.

Ninth grade I joined the band and most days I stayed after for marching band practice so that my mom came to get me at five ish.  I took the bus occasionally but not very often.

So anyway.  Back to the matter at hand.  My head.  I may post a pic when it stops really hurting but for now, I am on my way to my buddy's house so I can watch Reign with her.  Trying to make this a Thursday tradition.

Ta Bloggies!  Love you!

Finally working on me...

For years I have been all about my kids.  Only about my kids and never about me and while I felt somewhat rewarded (not really but sorta.) The me that I was before I was We, slowly slipped into a me that I don't recognize.  Give me a minute that was a little more me's and I's than I'm used to I have to think about that...

Anyway, my health declined.  If I had a pain, I let it go because paying for my kids to see a doctor or dentist was more important than paying the copay for myself to see the same.  My eyesight declined not only because I didn't wear the glasses I was given many eons ago but I got Shingles and it spread to my eye.  It weakened my eyesight so much that the least amount of sunlight nearly blinds me.

I knew that I was going downhill, but apparently my teeth were on a skateboard to hell.  With each of my pregnancies, I basically lost a tooth.  Cavities that got bigger and bigger until they became holes all because in most places, you cannot see a dentist when you are pregnant. A rule that I really feel should be changed. Then we were military and if you are an adult and not the service member, getting your teeth knocked out by a crosstown bus is easier than getting the approval to see a dentist.  Take it from me, if you are a military spouse, have a job that has dental coverage or your teeth will take the express train to hell.  I was approved to get a root canal three times on the same tooth (Which honestly I didn't know was possible since I thought the point of a Root Canal was to take out the roots.  What's left to hurt when you take out the roots?) but they don't pay for any of the crown so after the root canal if you don't get a crown all the pain you just suffered through goes to crap.

I just actually got back from the dentist.  I knew going in that I was going to lose anywhere between one to four teeth as they were so bad.  I DID NOT expect her to say that all four had to come out AND that I had TWELVE cavities.  Honestly, I think it would probably would have been better for me to let these sumbishes rot out, get them pulled and get dentures.  As it is, in a few weeks to a few months, I will be wearing a partial... but hey!  I'm going to be able to smile wide again!

Fixing me is starting to hurt.  But I can't complain.  At least when I drop dead for whatever reason, I will have good teeth and a moderately healthy inside.

Always looking up!

Going to try and do a little writing before I go out to pick up Mommy.  Blog ya later!

Short Blog Today

Mainly because nothing happened.  Really.  Nothing.

I took my mom to her Dr.  Then to run a few errands and then I came home.  I tried to do a little writing and I did get some done but then I turned on the music and well... Random Dance party time...

I guess I could talk about how music makes you feel certain ways.

When I was about thirteen years old I was browsing channels trying to find something to watch and of all the channels to stop on, I stopped on PBS.  I know right?!?  Anyway, this long hair Greek God was playing the piano with one hand and as I sat there and watched, he spun around, the lights went up and BOOM! I was caught hook line and sinker.  That man was Yanni and for the next five years I loved him.

It didn't matter that he was probably forty years older than me, I was caught.  This was my celebrity crush.  I spent more years than I would like to admit writing my name a Claudette Hryssomallis and it didn't matter that I couldn't pronounce the last name I hoped to have one day.  In my mind everyone would call me C.H.  I actually wrote an entire story series around him and a guy that looked like him.  They had some pretty steamy sex scenes.  Looking back now... ewww.

Over the years my love for his music ebbed and flowed and eventually became what I listened to when I was sad or depressed.  I don't know when I stopped listening to him only then but in the past few years, I don't use him to lift my mood.  I think it might have something to do with him cutting his hair and trying to go mainstream.  To each his own.  I still listen to him, just not for any specific reason now.

Now when I need a pick me up, I turn to upbeat songs like I'm a gummy bear or the Hampster Dance or my favorite... Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves.

Songs like that cue up random dancing.  Sometimes naked dancing.  My kids are generally afraid of me during Random Dancing.  I like that.  Random Dancing happens a lot more than it really needs to happen for just that reason.

I'm a stinker, aren't I?

Nothing really to discuss blog wise tonight though.  My tum tum still hurts from yesterday and I am trying not to take another Tramadol.  I need to go wash my hair.  Dentist in the morning.  My first in over four years.  Wish me luck.

Bright shiny day dimmed a bit...

Just got back from the Gastro doc... Yippie, I get to have the total irrigation done.  Both ends in one day.  I'm going to be hungry as a mug when I wake up.

The nurse was exceptionally unhelpful when totally not answering my questions.  I'm scheduled at a quarter to seven in the morning for this thing and I have to start taking the stuff the night before and six hours before which means that I will be up past midnight.  I'm not at my best past midnight.  I can do it.  I don't want to, but I can do it.

Based on the pains that I have and the other factors that are too yucky to mention here he feels that yes, we should go down both ends in one day just to see.  The fact that I had a close relative pass away from stomach cancer did not add any sunshine to this visit.  In fact my doctor thought it would be a great idea to tell me everything he tells patients who he thinks need double irrigation. (I am not calling the procedures by their names. I even put it in my calendar as Garden hose.) He wants me to do some looking into stomach and colon cancer.

The fact that the pain that drove me to the er that night was on my left side and the inflammation was on my left side means that the Motrin was what caused the pain I was feeling not the colon problem.  He's not even sure that the colon inflammation would have been noticed until it was a really big issue.  And in his opinion, when things like an inflamed colon can go unnoticed, they tend to point towards the cancer side of the scale.

So operation scare the shit out of Claudette was a rousing success!

And I'm going to worry.  I inherited that ability from my mom.  Jump to the worst possible conclusion almost immediately because there is no one there to say, "Calm down."

Why is that doctors always know exactly which spots to press on your body to make you radiate with pain?? Seriously??  I was doing very well.  Hadn't had a bad Tummy day since Sunday afternoon and before that possibly Thanksgiving because I seriously over ate. But now, he hit that one shit spot just under my ribcage and my entire abdomen feels like I've been doing crunches are drinking a gallon of milk.  Not nice dude.

Grilled/ fried/ baked BBQ chicken for dinner (The kids defrosted a BJ's pack of drumsticks and they all need cooking.  I may be back with the Q blog tonight but I'm gonna say no right now because the need for a tramodal is pressing very hard right now.  You know what?  Let's just assume that I won't be back until tomorrow.

Love peace and Hair grease!

Ow! Hiccups hurt.

night!

Oh Money, money! Wherefore art thou money!!!

For deny thou creditors and return to my bank or if thou wilt not, be but sworn to Duke, Tr. Lawing, and the City of Charlotte and I will no longer be in debt!

I'm in a funny mood at the moment.  I just paid my rent and my electric bill so money here, money gone.  It seems that my bank account is only a brief layover for George, Abe, and Ben... I don't really mind.  Then not staying here means that I can can have water, heat, lights, and a roof over my head so begone you past presidents!  Do not tarry in mine presence much longer!

I remember reading Shakespeare in high school ... see I went to what people now refer to as the white school.  I lived in an upper class, mostly white, predominantly Jewish school district.  Compared to the education handed out in some other school, I would guess that labeling my school as a white school means I got a good one... huh... Anyway, ninth grade year I had this AWESOME English teacher (My second actually because I was first placed in remedial English and my teacher Mrs. Gilmore took all of two weeks to decide that this was just wrong and had me transferred to AP English.) named Mr. Looney.  Yeah that was his name Paul Looney, one of the best English teachers of all time.  We read the Lord of the Flies (Didn't much like the book, HATED the movie) a few others and quite a bit of Shakespeare. I remember sitting in class during Romeo and Juliet wondering why I never ever got called to read Juliet and then to my total surprise, the day we read the balcony scene out loud in class, I got to read it!  Oh Frabdous day!  I loved Romeo and Juliet.  Never quite understood why they had to die and subsequently take down 80% of the cast with them nor how they could have perpetrated this whole thing being what? 14? 15?  I guess times were different then...

I meet with the internal doctor today.  He's going to make the final decision on whether or not I get the garden hose up the bum or not.  For freak out purposes, we're going to go with yes I'm getting it and he's just the fluff and executor. 

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, one of my smoke detectors decided to beep.  It beeped twice and never beeped again but it was enough to wake me out of a sound sleep and wonder which one of the effers is dying.  I have this thing with smoke detectors.  They are on ceilings.  I am short.  I don't like heights so a ladder, even my little four foot one is a huge point of anxiety for me.  To help with this, TR Lawing put the smoke detector in the girls room where I reach them on my tippy toes but there's still the one that hangs just past the half wall on the second floor of my house.  I can get it but it requires holding onto a door frame and perching on the half wall while trying to reach this and hanging a grand probably a million feet over my living room floor.  No.  Just No.

Have a great friend, D who came over and re attached them and put new batteries in and made then all stop their infernal beeping and work again.  But that was almost six months ago so now we have reached the season of them dying and I am working up the courage to prostrate myself at his feet and beg him to return to make the beeping stop because me on ladders or perched on half walls while hovering over my living room.  No.  Just No. Let the fuckers beep.  It was once pointed out to me that if I call the local fire department, some of them have it where they will send a fireperson out to check and maintain your detectors.  Mine laughed at me when I asked about this.  Brings us back to me dangling off a wall. No. I may have to prostrate myself.  Le Sigh...

In other news, I am working on banishing thoughts of romance from my head by concentrating on my newest story... a romance.  Or maybe with my other story... a romance...  See, I have this theory that if I concentrate on the romantic lives of totally made up people who fall into situations that are sorta absurd, I won't have time to concentrate on my life.  Thus I will be happy...er... happier... and hence I will not feel the need to walk into traffic.  Plus I can totally go live in my fantasy world where I am loved to the moon and back by Jude Law.

Did I mention that I have a thing for Jude Law? I do.  He's my celeb hottie.  My real life hottie is very comparable to him but DAMN IT! I wasn't going to go into that today!

Ugh... time to go get dressed. Or rather finish getting dressed.  I've been sitting here half dressed for like an hour.  It's part of the beauty of being home by myself while the kids are at school.  I get to have naked time and half naked time.  It's actually fun.  I love to put on music and dance during naked time.  That was probably TMI but it's a thought and action that makes me grin like a schoolgirl and I take my happy when I can get it.  So one more romp around the house for half naked time and then I have to get dressed and go do the doctor thing.

Ta!  See ya later!!