I know. You're saying to yourself, "Oh, so you think you'll just come back here after ignoring us for months on end and stick in a blog." Yes, I think I will.

Grad school has been really hard on me, my family, and my marriage. I'm going to take what I absolutely have to take next semester, in order to keep my agreements and then, I'm going to work out, have fun with my children, and date my husband. Then, I am going to take off a couple years and spend it with my kids while they are still young enough to think I'm cool. Genny has mised me so much sometimes and she's just absolutely wiggly about seeing me whenever I have a long day.

Honestly, I just can't take it any more. I can't take the yearning I feel when I'm apart from the kids when I know I could be with them. There's also the fact that my husband does not seem to be able to help out a lot. In fact, the more stressed out I get, the more he seems to purposely step back and stop pitching in. I've screamed, ripped garments, torn my hair out, and nagged...A LOT...and it has made little impact. I'm going to have a friend come in next semester to help clean, so there will be less of that.

Mike's making enough money for me to become a stay-at-home mom and the guilt factor is killing me, not to mention the abject lack of self-care, exercise, etc., that grad school seems to imply. I'm at the point to where I am considering the gastric bypass surgery because I don't want to die from this stupid disease of diabetes and I'm not able to do what I need to do on a consistent basis over time to take care of myself. And to even think that surgery is the answer, is probably only demonstrative of my desperation. I just never seem to have time. I spend so much of my day engaged in someone else's needs -- whether it's the family budget, the kids' doctor's appointments, the medication pick up for the kids, the grocery shopping, cooking meals, cleaning house, or whatever -- that I do not find myself meeting my needs.

If I don't start meeting my needs, I'm going to have my legs cut off and be stuck in a wheelchair at my daughter's high school graduation. Maybe that's why this semester has been so horrible -- because I've been coming face-to-face with my needs and actually identifying them, and I've been feeling the pain of not having my needs met, too. I haven't worn a size this big for 6 years. I'm having to buy new clothes, so that I have SOMETHING to wear. All my pretty professional clothes are 2-3 sizes too small. That's just plain disheartening, you know?

Tomorrow, I'm going to come home early from work and relieve Mike from Sick Genny Duty. Genny had a fever of 102.8, so she can't really go to daycare and I've got to work, so Mike and I are splitting the duty.

So, there's a little teaser for ya.

Did you miss me? I sure missed you. Writing helps my sanity and I haven't been close to sane lately.

I've finally surrendered to my age, my diabetes, my family, and my husband. I am not taking 10 units next semester, but rather 6. I have chosen sanity over insanity. My advisor has said that it may screw a few things up and I said, "let them be screwed up."

I'm free.

Next I'll be healthy again.

I miss this place. I've been realizing lately that I've been taking a lot of the things out of my life that make my life happy. Thus, it's not a big surprise that I'm sad and surly.

I have been taking a sleeping pill at night to get enough sleep. It's working really well and I have felt good for 3 whole days...you know....in. a. row.

My husband and I have decided that we're going to put into the works a plan to send the kids to bed by 8, so that we have more time together. Russell will get to watch TV until 830 and read until 9, but we need some down time together without munchkins and we're not getting it, so we're going to make it. And we've both been making an effort to do stuff with each other.

My husband who often teases me with,"So? You wanna do it?" was put off the other night when I said the same thing to him. Color me stunned. It was not so long ago that he'd have ripped all his clothes off, shaved faster than spit, and said,"Hell, yes!" I just never thought he'd grow up.

I had a talk yesterday with Russell about being responsible for his education. I had no idea I felt so strongly about my own education. I feel like I am paying for this fucker with time away from my kids, time from my husband, money from my family's budget, and by God, I am going to make my professors make me understand everything I need to. I ask questions. I make them repeat. I am a hardass because this education I am getting is MINE and no one can take that away from me.

CS, I hope you figure out a way to get yours, too. This is the best and hardest thing I've ever done.

Hi, I'm writing from a hip-deep pile of work, but I missed you and I know you miss me, so here ya go. I sent this to my kids' group.

Dear Disney,

You guys used to be the cool moviemakers -- the ones I could take my kid to and TRUST that they would not be exposed to violence and weapons that most parents would not let their kids see, nor use. In a time, where there is a v-chip, snipers, killings in schools, and the like, I would hope that you would by virtue of the money you make and the quality that Disney used to be known for, that your movie writers could come up with really awesome movies that omitted the violence and scary stuff that is in our world.

I do NOT want to take my 3 year old, nor my 10 year old to something that has weapons, violence, and death. Heck, they can see that on the evening news. In fact, my daughter's preschool, which is filled with engineer's kids (their daddies make big bucks)has specifically said that they do not show Disney movies for the most part because they are too darned violent. I would rather take my kids to a really awesome movie with people figuring out how to solve problems with their words, how to express their anger in non-hurtful and non-hateful ways, and relying on their families and community to support them when they can not figure it out themselves. If you want me to buy tickets to your movies, merchandise from those movies, including shirts for my kids, DVD's for our family's collection, and dolls for playing, I expect to start seeing the values that I work to instill in them being acted out in your movies.

Otherwise, my kids are taking art classes, so maybe some day, they can draw an animated movie that shows the right thing to their kids.

Please work on it.

Thanks in advance.

Sincerely,


The Momminator
(I only purchase Pooh, now)

My parents visiting was a really wonderful thing in a lot of ways. I love them so much and it was really awesome to see them.

I just wish they'd come in summer when I actually had time and wasn't ready to fall off a cliff from stress. The more I do this grad school thing, the more aware I am that I am not 20 something any more. I can't stay up all night without a cost. I can't do sleepless nights for weeks on end. And I really miss sex and butt grabbing with my husband.

Somehow, though, after my parents, I'm feeling okay, even though I know I'm up to my butt in work. I just wish we'd all had more time. Russell said he wished they lived closer because he misses them. I agreed.

I tried very hard not to cry when they left. I was very sad that they did leave.

I'm sick of being sick. I've had a nonstop snot thing for 2 weeks solid and I'm doing prednisone and insulin and getting fatter by the millisecond.

I hate that.

I hate being at the whim of my body. All I want to do is breathe, so I can go right back to walking around the neighborhood. Tonight, I went out to help Russ put a light in the chicken house because we got the first snow last night, and I had a hard time with that. I think that whole breathing with half a lung thing is just kicking my ass.

I'm here at 2am writing this because I've been up working on a mid-term due by midnight (22 hours from now) and my parents are in town. I don't know what they plan to do tomorrow, but I'm hoping that I can work writing my mid-term around it.

*sigh*

Tired. Grumpy. Grad. Student.

Good news front? Mike got another kickass raise!

Happy Halloween!

(May the chocolate be copious, and the sugar be free!)

My husband is such a geek. He sands, stains, varathanes, and installs these bookshelves in our bedroom and then....

*snicker*

...he doesn't put BOOKS on them. So we have these really pretty bookshelves that are nekkid. I feel like I should toss them a robe. I came >< this close to putting some of my texts on them, so they wouldn't think we are running a nudie shelf wall.

It's too late. They think we're kinky. They're over blushing like hell as I write this. I'm cursing my husband's name and wishing he got the damned books out of the garage, but he didn't.

As I said, my husband is a geek!

__

In other news, my parents are coming out next week. Gack! They threatened to call me from the airport here to tell me. I told them if they pulled that, we'd be conveniently out of town for a few days until the house got clean. My mother snickered. I told her that we're trying but I've got mid-terms this week and I'm awfully damned busy until Thursday. Hopefully, she'll take pity on me and call me the night before. I can pull an all-nighter and clean the house, as long as the rest of the family leaves the house until my parents show up.

I live with pigs. My cleaning efforts are like gourmet food given to swine -- totally unappreciated as anything different than the usual slop.

I think I'd like to keep this martyr robe because it's pretty, purple, and velvety, and it compliments my "I'm_taken_for_granted_way_too_much" working-Mom complex perfectly.

Mike says that after going to a UC, that my expectations are just too damned high, but I think that if you are going to college to be a teacher that you ought to have a rudimentary grasp of how to write a fucking paper, or at least, how to use fucking grammar and spelling checkers. No, Virginia, "there" does not refer to whose thing it belongs to, but rather functions as a stand alone subject substitute or a stand alone place as in, "There is a lot of noise in the hall" or "I threw those horribly written papers from the licensure requirement course over there in the recycling bin." What interests them does not constitute there interest, but rather their interest, stupidhead.

Nor does that someone owns something constitute owner ship, but rather ownership. Nor is "alot" a spelling variance I have a lot of patience for. Sentences that span for four lines damned well better have some punctuation in them or a really good excuse, OK? Authors that use sentences that are all 2-5 lines in length with little or no punctuation deserve a slow and painful death. Students who turn in first drafts as final drafts to an instructor, who told them that they were expected to write a grammatically correct paper, should be beaten to death with a keyboard.

An introductory paragraph should tell me what you're going to write about. It should start with a general statement and get more specific from there. For example, if you are asked to write a personal perspective paper on your view of special education, then perhaps, you would start with a historical remark about people with disabilities of any kind were often abused, institutionalized and generally marginalized in some manner for centuries, but that now, those same people are being included in regular classrooms, workplaces, and the real world. That evolution has come about because of many changes, but the three or four I will focus on here are : 1, 2, 3, and 4. Then you have a paragraph or two each for items 1 -4, then end the essay with a paragraph that says how you covered these salient points 1-4 and that you're sure glad things have changed and that your duty as a teacher will be to perpetuate changes that continue to include folks that learn differently in your classroom, your life, and your world.

How fucking hard is that, people?!

I told my assessment class that writing is very mathematical. I guess what I mean is that it's very formulaic. I thought teachers would know the formula, so they could teach it. I am very upset to see that I'm wrong. I think that it fundamentally upsets me in ways I can't entirely articulate. It also makes me think twice about my place in the world. Maybe I should be teaching high school English. Maybe I am just too damned smart for my britches. Maybe I'm just full of righteous indignation and should be smacked with a gummibear.

Maybe the schools really are failing our children and my sole mission in life will be to save each child, one child at a time, so that they can all be literate and intelligent humans.

Okay, where are the gummibears?

I have the coolest little boy in the whole world living in my house.

I have been desperate to figure out some way to exercise. I finally asked the Bear if he'd like to get up with Mom at 630AM and go walk for a half hour. I know he's been desperate for Mom-time and I've been desperate for Bear-time, so it seemed like a good thing to do. I was just worried about him whining about going or complaining that it was too long, etc.

He didn't whine though. In fact, I can't remember when I've enjoyed being with him more. I think he really misses being the only kid in town, something with the advent of a sister, he no longer is.

We hiked up a hill first, where we can see the whole valley, and I asked him,"Do you know why we're hiking up the hill?" He said,"No, mom, why are we hiking up the hill?" I said,"So when we go home, we'll be walking DOWN the hill!" To which he laughed. There's just nothing more beautiful than an awkward prepubescent boy that you know actually getting your jokes, especially before the sun actually rises.

As we came down the hill, Russell said,"Hey, Mom, look!" I looked and the sun was putting this wierd shade of pink on the sierras. We stopped a second and talked about it. Then he looked up and said, "Hey, there's half a moon and half the mountains are pink. It's all about halves today." I laughed. Then he said,"Don't you wish Dad could see this?" I said,"Well, yes, but he can't because someone has to stay with Genevieve, and to be truthful, I'm enjoying just spending the time with you."

I heard him grin. He said,"Me, too, Mom."

Grad school has settled down for a while. Suddenly, the teachers that weren't showing us different stuff, started to show us more practical examples, pushed us to work hard on a couple of ideas, and everything got better.

One day this week, I opened my big mouth, but I do that from time to time and while I got scolded, I also got educated, so it was okay. I learned that this is a small and poor university and that just kind of made me sad, but also at home.

I don't know if that makes sense at all, but that's how I felt. I've been very spoiled at some of the places I've worked to have "infrastructure." This place doesn't have infrastructure, but it does have some really nice people and that made me feel better.

I still hate all the work, but I'm working more with kids and that makes everything worthwhile.


Also, my friendships in the department are strengthening. The PhD students all got together and in abstentia decided that I was going to get my PhD. I told them that my family would probably have something to say about that, well, and that I'd rather chew glass.

Truthfully, I wouldn't mind getting a PhD, but I think I'd like to have several years of teaching under my belt before that. I really like the kids. My reading practicum feels soooo good. I enjoy it so much and I'm thinking that if I like it that much that this is why I'm called to do this and the PhD matters to me a whole lot less, as a result.

There are a lot of kids out there who need good teachers and I want to be one of them.

I'm up to my butt in stuff to do, but it's a long weekend, I guess. I have a lot of work to do for the departmental web page and I've been studiously avoiding every ounce of it. I have a lot of schoolwork to do and I'm avoiding that, too. But dude, I've got clean laundry.

Lots and lots of clean laundry.

My son has started selling chicken eggs. We get $1.25/dozen at the local store for large ones and $1.00/dozen for smaller ones. Because I've got juvenile chickens, I get some smallish eggs about a third of the time. So last night, we sold 5 dozen eggs and got $6.00 because one dozen was smallish. Apparently, this store can't begin to keep on top of the demand for the eggs, which makes me four shades of happy because any thing we have we can sell.

I slept a lot, but I still want to sleep and I checked my sugars and fully expected that they would be high, but they weren't. I'm just tired, I guess.

Last night, I learned something.

When you take a muscle relaxant, do not try to get up in the middle of the night. I got up to pee and nearly fell asleep on the john. Then I came back to bed and nearly fell onto my knees and slept on the floor. It took every bit of will power I had to force myself into bed. Mike woke up and tried to talk to me and I was stumbling and fumbling around. It reminded me a lot of JarJar Binks in Episode I, where he gets his tongue numb because he sticks his face into some kind of power field.

I need to put up little post-its everywhere that say, "Exercise or die."

I have been trying to get exercising and with the rib and then subsequent tooth infection, I've not done squat. I feel HORRIBLE.

And the more I think about how to squeeze things in, the more upset and stressed out I get. When I suggested to Mike that I'd like to get up at the buttcrack of dawn and go work out he brought up that whole pesky lack of sleep thing.

I'm not getting sleep anyhow with worrying about not working out, so I might as well go swim. I can't walk because the freaking hillsides are bright yellow with blooming sagebrush and there's nothing worse than sucking in the desert air laden with sagebrush pollen for me.

Root canals hurt. They hurt a lot.

What's worse is that I am supposed to do a reading practicum tomorrow and establish rapport with a kid I've never met before and I feel like someone ran into my jaw with a steamshovel.

I was all happy I could drop the assessment class. I was wrong. My reading class is a licensure class and is considered undergraduate, so I have to keep all the classes for retaining my GA-ship. I got an extension on the assessment project due tomorrow, and lord knows, I've got more homework than I can shake big sticks at.

I don't know if I'm just hurting or what, but my husband has been a real butthole. He's been ill-tempered and cussing at me and I just wish he'd fuck off. No, I haven't told him that. He's been dealing for one stupid week with what I did for three freaking months -- single parenting while the other parent was unavailable. I was not a butthole while I took care of things. I didn't cuss him out. I simply did what had to be done and sometimes put some long hours in doing it. I thought for one week, he'd actually pitch in and be nice to me, but he hasn't. He's played computer games at every turn and been a total buttwipe about everything from doing laundry to cleaning floors. He promised that he'd help get the house in order when it was show week, but instead worked 3 of 5 days and managed to get in a whole bunch of computer game time, but the bathroom floor continues to have an odd texture. His answer, is that if I'd just tell him to do stuff, he'd do it. I feel like at 27 years old, I shouldn't have to treat him like one of the kids and ask him to do fucking everything. If you see filth on the floor, generally, that means, CLEAN THE FREAKIN' FLOOR, OK? Oh, and he can't understand why he's not getting laid. Yeah, the pain is a factor, but so is the overwhelm.

I'm too fucked up tired/sick/in pain with this stupid tooth and too buried in homework and work-work to deal with the usual "nag him til he pukes" scenario.

It would be miraculous if he'd actually just pitch in and do this shit on his own. I called and spoke to him at lunch today, but I don't know that it was worthwhile to have bothered. I had the distinct impression I'd been politely ignored.

All I want to do is cry right now, which I'm sure is because I'm frustrated and in agony. 1500mg of vicodan isn't helping the pain much, but the alternative is to send Mike to town for a prescription that may render me unconscious for my reading practicum.

Tomorrow, I get a root canal, but I did something more important.

I talked to my adviser about my classload vs. grad assistantship and said that with the infected tooth, I'd missed a lot of class and had a lot of catch up and that I was pretty sure that the assessment class was going to kick my butt. I explained that I had practicum in reading on Tuesday, as well as the turn-in for assessment and that both occurred after my root canal on Monday. What should I do?

I asked about the political implications of dumping a class on the GA-ship. She said there were more implications in getting B's or getting bad reviews on my GA-ship.

So I'm dumping assessment. The only uneasy thing about that is one of the professors I work for is the assessment prof. This prof is mean and condescending, so truthfully, I'm a bit scared of him. I'd rather be scared of him for 5 hours a week of work rather than a full 8 hours, plus homework per week.

I'll be working all day today to get his shit done and prep for my reading practicum. I am not too worked up about the practicum, but I want to have all my ducks in a row for it and I'd rather have the stuff done for the Meanie ahead, especially if I'm going to tell him I'm dumping his class.

I'm retaining the book for assessment and I'm going to read and reread the materials, so that when I take the class, I'm more comfortable. I know it sounds weird, but that's what I'm doing. The assessment prof isn't much of a people person, nor a good teacher, so the studying I do, should help me through this, when I take it later. I'm thinking of designing a curriculum for myself, so that I can manipulate the materials and understand it better. Because I work for him, I can take those materials and then ask him questions, so I've learned the material the way I need to.

---

Mike and I are working on the bedroom. It's kind of funny though, because I talked him out of using his big highboy dresser and using mine. His only caveat was that I move the clothes. I was positively gleeful last night.

However, when I told him, he was going to have to clear all his shit off the top of it and we were going to switch shit-storing on top places, he was not amused. I explained that having him slam and smash drawers as he usually does on his bureau, would not work on my bureau and that I was not having him slam and smash my pretties. He HARUMPHED. I snickered. I think we need knickknack shelves is all.

Then we got into a bicker about that I needed shelves and he whined a lot and said well, we agreed to "A." I explained that just because he wanted "A" very badly did NOT mean that we agreed it. He got the deer in the headlights look, knew he'd been caught, and cussed under his breath.

Dumbass.

I may have ADHD, but I am not stoooopid. Yeesh. So anyhow, after we get paid, there will be some investment in our bedroom taking place and some minor construction.

Wow them with reason and suffering I say. If all else fails, smack them with a pillow.

I finally saw the dentist and the dentist said I need a root canal and gave me a referral. I called the referree and they offered me an appointment on October 13. I explained that my antibiotics would be out next week and that I'm diabetic, so can't afford to wait very long. She offered to put me on a "call list" and assured me that I'd hear from the sooner than the 13th.

Yeah, whatever.

I called back the dentist and told her my plight, and they gave me other referrals. I have an appointment for Monday. Now, the problem is coming up with $700. Anyone need a liver? How about a kidney? I think Mike and I are going to take a lot of pictures of clothes I love but no longer fit in and I'll measure them up and they'll go for sale on ebay.

I'm still popping vicodan to slow the pain down. Geesh, it's awful! I think my favorite medication is the muscle relaxant. Of course, I wake up, talk to Mike and fall asleep mid-sentence, so the entertainment value alone makes that medication well worth the co-pay. Last night, I heard myself snore mid-sentence while I was trying to talk with Mike. He accused me of falling asleep, which I vigorously denied. He giggled at me and I harumphed and of course, fell back asleep.

I've managed to make one class this week. I'm a bad grad student. I have barely worked this week, which sucks, but I guess it leaves next week to be buried in work. On Monday, I'll be in pain, but nothing close to what I've experienced for the past 6 days. And the happy thing, I get laughing gas and novacaine, so for at least a few hours, I won't feel a damned thing and I'll be happy about it. I'll get about one more night of vicodan and then I can switch to the non-narcotic stuff, which would be lovely. I tried 800 mg of ibuprofen and it simply doesn't touch a raw exposed nerve in one's mouth.

Mostly, I'm bone-tired. All this pain wears a woman out. I'm stressed about how much work I don't have done, but what can I do?

Okay, nix that last post.

I have an absessed tooth, which my dentist blew off because my physician diagnosed it. It's one damned expensive tooth, too. So far, it's cost me a dental visit, an ER visit and a dr. visit. Crazy!

I'm going to bed now, until the antibiotics kick in, and I'm not leaving until the keflex stops the throbbing. And God Bless my Physician's Assistant for prescribing a muscle relaxant.

My damned crowns are not seated properly and my GOD they hurt. I am taking combinations of vioxx and codeine to keep pace with the pain. It's awful. I've been brushing my teeth with flouride like crazy, but to no avail. Some of it is that my stupid mouth guard doesn't fit right, so my teeth are getting shoved in odd ways, but some of it is that the teeth are hitting harder than they should.

All I know is that I'd give away organs to just have these crowns removed and replaced. They haven't been right for a year and now, they're worse than before.

I also fucked up something with work. I had all the information I needed given to me on a piece of paper. If you know me or ADHD people at all, a piece of paper is just one more damned thing to lose in the larger scope of things.

I've lost and found this thing 3 times. Right now, it's found. But who knows what tomorrow and a three year old will bring?

I turned 40 on Thursday.

It was the first time I've celebrated my birthday without a deep sense of mourning since the WTC thing. It was cool.

I think that 40 should mean something significant somehow, but I feel just the same. I still get acne and I'm dying my hair as I have for over a decade.

My boobs don't sag any more than they did last year or even 5 years ago.

The only thing I'm struck by at all is that at 40, I'm over my median age, which means I'm getting a lot closer to dying than I used to be. That's a bit nervewracking.

To adequately address the wracking of nerves, I'm getting a membership to the YMCA, so I can work out. Mike offered me a black birthday party and I told him to stuff it. Hell, I'll be 50 before he turns 40, the little shit. As long as he thinks I'm hot and sexy, I don't care how old I am. As he says,"You're only as old as the person you feel."

I guess I'll be 27 for a while, then, and buying him hair dye shortly.

We're trying to get Russell's meds changed because he's not doing well on the focus stuff. I had to pummel him through his homework last night -- repeating, repeating, repeating. Sometimes, when he's this bad, I think in the back of my head that it'd be easier to just smack him through the work because I feel so frustrated. Then I feel guilty because it's got to suck for him, too. He hangs in there like a total trooper, but this has to suck for him.

His teacher sent an assignment home that he'd already done twice, so I just typed the body on the computer and had him fill it in on the computer. The teacher's note was,"Where do we go from here?"

I thought tearfully, we throw up our hands in despair, whimper in our tea, and keep going. When I called the pediatrician and said that I think his meds need to be increased, I felt like I'd sold my soul to the pharmaceutical companies. I just don't want another joy ride on the medication rollercoaster we endured last year.

I hate to even think about putting him into Special Ed classes because he's too smart for that. It would be an enormous disservice to him. I don't think homeschooling is a good choice either, but I don't know if we can afford private schooling for him. I'm just starting to feel desperate for him and heartbroken. I'm just not sure how to help him.

We are not between a rock and a hard place. We are teetering on the edge of a windy precipice and the nightmare rarely alters. I just want to protect him from the elements, you know?

Harsh Betty sent me the means to design my own hell. As a fervent and very old Red Sox fan, because I used to listen to them on the radio when Yaz played along with Carlton Fiske back in the day, you'll understand the worst ring.

Rude DMV Employees, Chicago Bulls Fans
Circle I Limbo

Saddam Hussein, Tobacco company executives
Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind

Republicans, Osama bin Laden
Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow

General asshats, Out-of-State gray-haired drivers going 20 mph below the limit
Circle IV Rolling Weights

Grad School, Oakland Raider fans
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled

River Styx

NRA Members, PETA Members
Circle VI Buried for Eternity

River Phlegyas

Creationists, Bigots
Circle VII Burning Sands

George Bush and all other hypocritical stupidheads
Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement

The New York Yankees, Child Abusers
Circle IX Frozen in Ice

Design your own hell

If you ask me how I'm doing for the next 9 months (the length of this year of school-- don't get excited), just assume, "tired" is correct.

I've been losing weight. I often forget to eat or I'm running around so much that I don't have time to eat, so I just grab snacks here and there and already I've lost a size. I bought a dress a month ago before school and when I tried to wear it, it fit tightly, so I put it back in the closet and now, I'm able to wear it and it hangs properly. I have shorts I expanded out of that I'm back in. I have other shorts I'd like to wear before the season ends, but I'll take what I can get while I can get it. Mike and I actually managed to make a two-backed beasty today and he commented on the reduction in handholds he encountered. heh.

I'm swamped. I would love to volunteer in a classroom, but I'm having enough trouble keeping up with my paying job. I did settle things with Russell's teacher about how to do stuff for him in class, but we have to revisit the IEP and specify each thing, so that it's documented and the junior high transition won't be so hard later on.

I have to go clean and supervise cleaning or I'll be unhappy with the lack of cleaning. We've got the company picnic tomorrow, but the only reason Mike wants to go is that so that he can get in the drawing for the annual slot machine and try to win it for his grandmother. I told him he could take the kids because I was going to have to study and work. How luxurious it would be if I could also sleep without a perv monkey, or a little squeaky monky, or a bigger squeaky monkey disturbing my slumber.

Nyahhhhh. Sleep is for undergrads.

The making love ritual is so clumsy when you're tired. Your spouse resorts to saying stupid things like,"Wanna do it?" Which immediately makes you feel cheap and nasty when what you want to feel is pretty and princessy because what you already feel is like a semi ran over you and then backed up and went back and forth a few times. You try to smartass him out of saying such things, but he repeats it every time, despite the fact that in 7 years it really has never worked.

You get hopeful because he spoons with you in bed that you're going to get your neck kissed. That hope shines brightly and is suddenly dashed when he starts to breathe deeply and drool on the back of your neck. At which point, you roll over on your comfortable side, kiss his cheek and fall asleep yourself.

At 523AM, someone's goddamn fucking OHMYGODWHATTHEHELL *IS* THATNOISE bird creature wakes you out of a sound sleep. You think hard, I mean REALLY FUCKING HARD about hooting like a Spotted Owl because they are natural predators of geese or WHATEVERTHATFUCKINGTHINGWAS to shut them up but decide that it will probably bring the tired husband upright in bed, and then will potentially yank kids out of bed, so you shut the damned window, cursing under your breath because your husband never wakes up to hear you cussing.

At 630AM you finally drop off. At 632, your husband's alarm clock goes off, so you smack him to get him out of bed and fall back to sleep, content that everything is right in the world.

I'm in grad school, which means without reservation that I am back to being coffee's biatch. I am enjoying my coffee quotient, though. Coffee good. Coffee necessary. Um, could you move now, you're blocking my view of the coffee pot. I figure it's only going to get bad if I start thinking of using whole coffee beans as ben wa balls. If I get to there, just call the coffee cops because that's abuse and neglect of coffee beans. I don't need caffeine there.

My husband's job is kicking it up a notch. All the games are due by next Monday, which means all of next week, he'll be working on finishing up other people's games because I can guarantee you that he'd rather chew glass than not have his games done. That means he'll be a grumpy unbearable tired beasty for the next few weeks and we'll be falling asleep holding hands because we'll both be too damned tired to make the two-back beasty.

Heck, I'm already too tired for that.

Damn, I need some more coffee.

I just want to say, "Happy Birthday, Sue!" May your whapadang be longlasting and may your linguists be cunning. I bought you a present, but as usual I'm late, so I'll mail it tomorrow. I hereby give you a gift certificate for a tonsil hugging fellating, at your whim. For those of you who don't know our relationship, nor our long linguistic history (Eric degreed in French, me in English, Sue in German and we all have the gift of languages -- you know where you can pick one up pretty quick on the fly?) -- we decided a long time ago that it was hardly fair that men got to say something rude like "suck my dick" and that the equivalent "suck my clit" just didn't have the same gutteral sense to it, so we started saying "Suck my dick" to each other, which amounted to some level of social and linguistic freedom at the time. Of course, when Llisa from Hell tied one on and used to holler it loudly at attractive frat boys, Harsh Betty and Red Neck Ruby used to cringe at the loss of attractive potential sex partners. It's a different world now to be so damned grown up and monogamous in retrospect. I am not gay, nor is Betty, though if we were gay, she'd be the lesbian I'd pick. Whapadang, baby!

***

So we celebrated Russell's 10th birthday on Saturday. We were going to do this take the kids swimming and then feed the parents and kids at our house, but we ended up moving it and staying at a local lake and hanging out with our redneck friends. All the women were speaking Spanish, so I struggled through with my lousy Spanish and they filled in the vocabulary I didn't know and it was an awful lot of fun.

Russell had a ball and we ended things on Sunday with a pinata bashing on the beach, complete with kids beating the snot out of each other for candy. Mike took both kids on a jet ski, which they loved. This means at some point, we'll be getting a trailer and a jetski and trying this out ourselves, because they loved it. I didn't dare do it because with my luck I figured I'd reinjure my rib, so despite pleading from Mike, I didn't go. I did fart around in the water, wrapped in styrofoam noodles and paddling around, which was all I really felt up to. I would have preferred to be smooching Mike in tent somewhere, but we're too noisy.

***

Finally, today I'm getting caught up on all my homework and web work and bills. I feel so efficient. I also took my concerta today, which was a terrific idea. Focus is good.

My husband is a quirky neat man.

It's 1 AM and he's gone to the 24 hour Walmart to buy a telescope so we can watch Mars because we don't figure we'll even be a memory in cosmic dust when it next comes this close to us again.

I worry vaguely about the astrological consequences of having the red planet -- the planet of confrontation and conflagration so close to us.

I'm dressing in sweats and blankets to watch the last of the Perseids, too. We have seen a half dozen tonight.

Russell's birthday bash is tomorrow, but once every 60000 years is important, too. *shrug*

Sleep is for undergrads.

I'm really tired.

Mike says I need to cut back on the workahol.

I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to go to work now.

Don't laugh. It's just not that damned funny right now.

The harvest has started. As late as I put it my garden, I probably don't deserve vegetables, but it's producing nonetheless. Right now, I've got yellow squash in droves and I'm starting to realize I've got hot peppers to beat the band, and the apple tree that I managed to water a few times is starting to show ripe apples. I need to go buy streamers to keep out the birds, so I can collect enough to freeze applesauce. I'm also thinking to make some apple pie filling and freeze it for the pies I want in November.

I love that I am a homeowner. I love that I have fruit trees and that I can dream of fruit orchards and a larger garden next year. I love that my husband dreams it right along with me and watches my face light up as I talk excitedly about the possibilities and he simply smiles.

***

I've been in a funk for the past month because I haven't been able to exercise due to my broken rib. Without exercise, I invariably gain weight, so I'm pretty bummed about that, but I found a faculty member at the chair's BBQ on Friday who wants to swim at the Y with me. Yeah! Next week makes 6 weeks of broken rib, so while I'm still not sleeping on that side, I am going to be exercising and losing weight, dammit.

I have the hardest time with breakfast. I always have. I was horrible before I diagnosed with diabetes because all I would have for breakfast was Mountain Dews. I figured the sugar was enough calories and that the caffeine would save me. Of course, I got drowsier and drowsier on sugar, as I drank more and more trying to get caffeinated. I also noticed that Diet Dew would make me feel better, but it's just not nearly as smooth as the sugared stuff.

Lately, with all the changes, I'm falling back into my bad patterns again. I'm not eating breakfast.

Um, *drool* I love bagels. They are essentially (1 g) fat-free, but they do constitute four carbohydrates, which means I mostly don't ever eat a whole one, or if I do, I plan on swimming or walking afterward, so my sugars don't do something awful. Of course, all that sugar can convert to fat, too, which really blows. Cuz, there is NOTHING on God's green earth as tasty fresh as a nice fresh garlic/onion bagel lightly toasted with cream cheese (light or fully loaded)!

My only other breakfast alternative is having a quesadilla smothered in homemade chipotle green salsa and sprouts. I use whole wheat (98% fat free - no lard) tortillas, enough grated sharp cheddar to barely cover half of it, a smidge of olive oil on teflon, and then I load it with salsa and sprouts. (Don't tell the rednecks I'm a transplanted, sprout eating, former Californian, or I'm way screwed.)

My quick breakfast is a V-8 and a balance bar (usually one of those fake chocolate ones), but I don't have any V-8 and the balance bar is never enough on its own and god forbid, I'd have to eat two. I can eat one, but two just makes me go 'ick' because I can talk my way through one with that odd protein aftertaste, but definitely not two.

And try as I might, I cannot convince myself that Kashi tastes good, nor do my sugars appreciate the milk. It's okay, but it's sooo high sugar and the milk just about kills me. I try to gag a bowl down once in a while, but truthfully, my perfect diabetic breakfast is about a half cup of low-fat cottage cheese with a cup of berries with a small cup of lite syrup peaches.

Okay, so while tomorrow is going to be hectic, I'm going to make a point to get out to the kitchen and eat some damned breakfast before I leave.

Tired and wet. Those are today's words.

It's been raining, which in the desert in mid-August is a welcome thing in many ways, it's also a big pain in the patooty.

I'm really worn out. I've been doing a lot of good stuff and on top of it all, shhhh, I'm going to start putting together that book. I talked with my old professor today and I asked her about it and she got me thinking about the where to start place, so I am going to start with a prospectus. I'm not clear what that is, exactly, but apparently, Prentice-Hall has a website to give you a good idea.

I know some of the books they published out of some of the dumbest professors at UC Davis, so I can't imagine that they wouldn't be interested in this.

I have to really consider that audience though. Who are you audience? Are you parents or teachers or student teachers or just exactly what?

I'm official slavegirl to the chair and to a couple other profs, so it's gonna be interesting. I am dying though because I got offered an independent study thing to help actual people, but I think I am going to refer to my friend, Silvia, and see if she'd like to do it.

Shhhhh, don't tell the politically correct police, but I really like working. It's nice to be with grownups. It's nice to miss my kids a little, too, instead of having them on my nerves, too.

Yesterday, between wearing a bra and moving around on campus a bunch, my rib was about killing me, but a night of vicodan helped that greatly. I didn't have to be to work today until 1. Also nice.

I also told friends about my enjoyment of the silence of the van. I drove home yesterday to pick up the kids and was really enjoying the silence of the van. I enjoyed not having to put music on for Genny. I enjoyed no bickering and I enjoyed the silence of all of it.

Something somewhere is on fire because I've been smelling the smoke. As much as I am a tree-hugging candyassed liberal hippie momma, (Redneck Ruby is a ...say it with me now...misnomer), with my asthma as bad as it is, I wish everything would burn and go away right now, especially the rabbit brush which has been blooming and kicking my wheezing coughing allergic buttochs.

However, I do have a nearly complete kitchen. Mike finished the painting last night, so I just have to put everything in place and show you all the pix. I now must scour the dishes. I also am going to have to run out hastily dressed and pull out the trash to the curb because I can guarantee that Mike has not.

My really cool thing is that Mike and I are talking about how to use gray water recycling in the desert. We are talking about a storage tank and hooking it up to drip irrigate my future fruit trees. While I'd prefer organic, it would be even neater to conserve water around here. I'd rather water the garden and flush the john with gray water, thanks, than use my fresh drinking water which is such a valuable commodity in the desert. I also prefer using the clothesline when I can, compact flourescent bulbs, and stuff like that. Of course, when it comes to black widows and scorpions, I say, whip out the chrysanthemums and gimme my pyrethrines.

Today is my last day of full-time childcare of both my kids until a school vacation time. I should be politically correct and be waxing poetic about how I'll miss doing this, but mostly, I am absolutely ecstatic about the prospect of going to work and being intellectually challenged and being around my peers. And yes, I will miss this. I will miss having my morning cuddles with Genny and having Russell report his misadventures in the chicken coop. I will miss the quiet half and hour that I lay in my bed watching the sunrise before I doze back to sleep for a couple more hours. I will miss sleeping in til 9, or the occasionally delish 10 with the kids.

Russell is having a classic transitional morning. He's sobbing and whining about stupid shit and all I feel like doing is committing random acts of child abuse. I'm not, but I feel like it. Of course, he's been up an hour and he didn't bother to take his meds, so we're also waiting for his meds to kick in. I wish they'd kick him already because I'm sooooo there. He's so horrible when he's like this and I just have a picture of what the coming week before he starts school is going to be like and it's simply NOT PRETTY. In this case, it would be really awesome to be wrong about this, so after his meds kick in, he and I are going to have a little talk about what he can expect -- to the best of my ability. I won't know my schedule until I meet with my faculty members next Monday.

It would be really nice to have the option of dropping off/picking up Mr. Boy at school, so that I only need childcare the couple nights I have class and only for an hour or so until Mike gets there.

Yeah, I sent him across the way to feed the neighbor's horse and when he came back he found the thing he was frustrated about not finding and he was a different child. I just need more time in my life.

My home town has been victim to some of the worst thunderstorms and flash flooding in the country. It just got called a disaster area by the State of NH.

When my brother and I were young, we used to climb this 200 year old maple tree out back. Last week, a third of that tree shook loose in the thunderstorm, took out a power pole -- chopping it off 20 feet above the ground and missing the nearby barn, house, and cars. Adjacent to the back part of my parents' property, a teenager was swept through a culvert and survived. The main roads to the town are all washed out. There is one remaining road and it's for local necessary traffic -- in other words if the fire guys don't know you, you can't get through.

This morning, my town was on Good Morning, America and it wasn't a good thing.

My chickens finally laid their first eggs! I'm so proud of my girls! I had no idea how long they'd been festering in the henhouse, so I had to toss out my first three smallish brown-shelled eggs, but you can betcha, I'll be out there tomorrow, looking for my first edible eggs and I'll be planning quiches and omelets and all kinds of beautiful things.

Once we get back from a birthday party tomorrow, we're going to finish up painting the kitchen and then we're going to fence the garden off from the chickens and let them out in the yard during the day to peck and play. The second you leave that coop door open, they're all flowing out their henhouse -- a river of clucking and ruffling feathers pecking at every little thing they find, so I think it's time.

It was weird, I realized tonight, I probably haven't been out there in a month and a half, but I've been busy and broken. It was really cool to find that they've started to lay eggs. I had Mike lay out straw in each of their boxes and we cleaned out all the old lumber and made sure they had water and lots of grain and they were just so damned cute and bokbok. I tossed in some weeds for them to peck at, which they appreciated. I was struck by the fact that they've all gotten so large and matronly and Rupert is such a little rooster, I keep wondering if he's up to keeping the girls amused. He's so much smaller than they are and I keep thinking -- you know the way you do if it's a boy beagle and a female St Bernard,"Can he reach?"

Only time will tell, I s'pose.

My chickens finally laid their first eggs! I'm so proud of my girls! I had no idea how long they'd been festering in the henhouse, so I had to toss out my first three smallish brown-shelled eggs, but you can betcha, I'll be out there tomorrow, looking for my first edible eggs and I'll be planning quiches and omelets and all kinds of beautiful things.

Once we get back from a birthday party tomorrow, we're going to finish up painting the kitchen and then we're going to fence the garden off from the chickens and let them out in the yard during the day to peck and play. The second you leave that coop door open, they're all flowing out their henhouse -- a river of clucking and ruffling feathers pecking at every little thing they find, so I think it's time.

It was weird, I realized tonight, I probably haven't been out there in a month and a half, but I've been busy and broken. It was really cool to find that they've started to lay eggs. I had Mike lay out straw in each of their boxes and we cleaned out all the old lumber and made sure they had water and lots of grain and they were just so damned cute and bokbok. I tossed in some weeds for them to peck at, which they appreciated. I was struck by the fact that they've all gotten so large and matronly and Rupert is such a little rooster, I keep wondering if he's up to keeping the girls amused. He's so much smaller than they are and I keep thinking -- you know the way you do if it's a boy beagle and a female St Bernard,"Can he reach?"

Only time will tell, I s'pose.

Okay, so doing all that stuff, yesterday? Yeah, I'm paying the price today.

In my defense, it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it would have a week ago. I have to flip those stupid boards though and paint the bottoms. I just can't bring myself to put my beautifully cracklepainted shelving up if I haven't got some paint on the bottom. (Why not paint on the bottom? Heck, I've got paint everywhere else.)

It didn't help that my husband was in a snotty mood and said things like,"Why don't you get off your ass and do A?" I have been feeling guilty about not doing everything lickety-split with the busted rib, so I mopped the floor, I reorganized the pantry shelf, sewed curtains, and unpacked a box of dishes, when I should have said,"You're only working about 15 minutes of overtime nightly, why don't you give me a fucking break, butthead?" I let him know that this morning however, when he thought he'd snuggle up and get friendly about how I am watching his kids from the crack of dawn and entertaining them, making him dinner on a nightly basis around his schedule, making sure he's got clean clothes, and keeping track of our website contract, not to mention the budget, the shopping, and taking care of the neighbor's horses. This doesn't include all the sewing I'm obligated to do between now and when hell freezes over, either. Yeesh.

You know how much fun it is to watch a 6'7" man backpedal on a unicycle? It was kind of like that. I'm still ticked at him, so I think I'll get him to do the damned pots and put down a base coat tonight on the rest of the kitchen.

Yes, Dorothy, I am a Wicked Witch and I don't melt in water, honey, as one can see from my dishpan hands.

Okay, it's official. I love what I am doing with my kitchen. It's gorgeous. We only have one half of it done, but I redid the curtains in a super fantastic way. I didn't want to totally ditch the old curtains because they're heavy and heavy is good in a place with such extreme temperature changes, but I wanted to spruce them up, so I'm stitched my jalapeno pepper fabric over the old ones like an overlay until we rip out the slider and replace it with french doors w/vent windows. Then, I may or may not use my jalapeno fabric on those. The view here is nice enough to not want to spoil it, but I also like to hide my sex life from the coyotes. Our neighbors might be able to get a view, but they'd probably have to have binoculars and a real penchant for watching lily white butts.

I am now trying to figure out what colors to make shelves and cabinets and stuff, which is kind of the fluff painting but it all feels good. Last night, I stained the big curtain rod that goes over the kitchen slider and today I sprayed on a glossy overcoat. Today, I prepped and crackle painted the small corner shelving. I didn't have to, but it adds to the whole decor thing and this time, I used large gobs of crackle and the crackle looks incredible. The kitchen is starting to look like I could actually finish unpacking before I turn 40. Tonight, I found a box in the kitchen that was full of my dessert plates and the rest of my cereal bowls. I felt deliriously happy and in my delirium, I then chose to mop the floor, fill the dishwasher with my newly found dishes and scrub black chunks off the tall cooking pot I use for heating foods to be canned before I drop them into a 20 minute hot bath.

As soon as we get it done, I'll post pictures. In the interim, you'll have to be stuck with the unshakeable and nauseating mind image of my lily white butt in a pair of some poor (now blind) coyote's binoculars.

My rib is beginning to heal. I'm sure the fact that my husband painted half the kitchen for me has a great deal to do with how fast I am healing. It helps additionally, that the kitchen looks fantabulous.

We've had some really weird weather of late. Usually, this time of the year in the desert is dryer than diabetic skin in winter, but we've had a lot of rain and that is making everything bloom at an odd time and my allergies are kicking up. Unfortunately, my asthma is kicking in, which means I'm coughing and hugging a pillow a lot.

I've got a lot of sewing done, in the works, etc. I expect to be sewing straight through Christmas. I've made two baby blankets (one is just tied and the other is just a sewn receiving blanket, I've got another one I'm quilting, I've got another I've got to piece and quilt and it gets uglier and uglier. I realized that I could actually make a cuddling blanket for someone, so I have to make that, too. My friend is having a boy in a month and a half, so I've got to go find boy clothes for her.

I should talk about A and what happened, but I'm so hurt right now, that I can't. I just won't be talking to her mom any time soon. Her mom is irresponsible and I can't hardly stand to watch. I don't understand people who do things to hurt their kids and then stand around and justify it. Leave it at that.

Things I have learned about having a broken rib....

--there is such a thing as extra strength vicodan
--you can take two vicodan ES at night and sometimes it still hurts
--getting a cold when you have a broken rib is the most horrible thing imaginable
--vicodan makes you loopy
--vicodan is my friend
--three year olds take advantage of sick mommies and thrash the house
--no, wearing a constrictor band does not make it better
--breathing deeply may prevent pneumonia, but it hurts like a mofo
--wearing a bra is impossible unless it is all cotton, two sizes too large , and blue
--explaining that not wearing a bra is kind of uncomfortable to a P.A. who is a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee is a source of mirth
--laughing hurts
--I am a member of the Big Breasted Broad Club and I would prefer to wear a bra, thanks
--giving birth is preferable to a broken rib except for that whole the next 18 years thing
--driving for hours on end hurts
--having your husband forget to gas the car so that you run out of gas on the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere would be okay if you could just shoot yourself rather than remain in the car or sit on a log
--sighing hurts

My ribs are continuing to be very very sore and to limit my movement. While vioxx can make that better, I'm not sure it's better for me to be able to do more and thus, put myself at risk. Not that I'm a workaholic or anything, Nooooo, not me. Uh-unh. No sirreeee.

My mom and I were comparing notes about that too, because she's torn the cartilege between her ribs and dammit, if I'm not a whole lot like her on that whole workaholic thing. She says she keeps reinjuring the ribs and it's taking her that much longer to heal. I've actually been trying really hard to slow down and take it easy, but I've been finding phrases like "Gosh, I should really paint that bathroom" coming unbidden into my head and "Hey, only three more loads of laundry, if I hang dry them."

The biggest bitch is that I have to finish that baby quilt and there's just no way I can get there right now. Sitting up and leaning forward like you have to do for sewing for an extended period of time would have me nauseous with agony in short order. I've been thinking about what if I got it pinned and taught Angelina, but I've been also debating that whole patience with a teenager thing and with the whole nauseous pain thing happening, I'm not sure I can handle the other, especially when we are talking about my thigh squishing Bernette sewing machine. I mean, (insert high pitched voice),"It's a Bernina!" And it cost $400 several years ago when that actually counted for something.

I did go to the dermatologist on Monday and I have a full blown yeast gone to fungus skin infection under my boobs. I've got the meds for it, as well as medicated anti-itching stuff for my ever itchy back, and a fancy alpha hydroxy skin lotion. Diabetes blows chunks. It doesn't matter that I my last hba1c was a 5.7 to my skin, it still grows icky critters in inconvenient places. Although, someone found the yeast infection cream stuff in the remote flap on the couch and accused me of using it, however, my poor daughter has been the sufferer of late. Hey, there's little you can't do with a mini pad, active yogurt cultures and a tube of monostat. I think a commercial I just saw in that vein scared me some.

Basically, a commercial for yogurt and in the background has about 10 grown women smiling and clearly involved in a slumber party and all I could think is "What is this, a yeast infection party?"

What kind of women have those? Is that a bunch of single women who've hung out at the pool too long in their swim suits and all discovered somewhat offhandedly that they all have yeast infections and hey, what the heck, let's have a yogurt and monostat party?

Honestly, the only women I see at the public pools are not young pretty singles, they're frumpy pretty wives watching their kids and they don't have enough time to lay on their towels by the pool soaking up so much sun that they change their body chemistry. They are running their asses off chasing munchkins in and out of the water, walking someone to pee in the bathroom (instead of the pool), toweling off a child, suggesting that their blue-lipped child take 5 in the sun, playing "find the penny", and disciplining one of their other children with the phrase,"Please don't try tossing pennies down other people's butt cracks." And a few minutes later,"Please don't drop pennies down my swimsuit."

I hear doors thundering in the hall. I am getting in that shower before I hear the phrase,"What's for breakfast?" and feel obligated to cook.

Okay, Mike and I took the kids to a local water park on Friday. I was then encouraged and dared to ride a ride called,"The Black Widow." As I hit the second tier, I caught a lot of air and started to flip on my big giant floaty tube thingy, so rather than go down on my face on the ride the rest of the way, I let the tube go up behind me and I landed in back in the track and went down. I knew I got banged up and I took it easy for the rest of the day. I took 800 mg of ibuprofen, and I got worse. I got to where I was whimpering when Mike drove over road seams, at which point, I called my doctor's line to see just how much painkiller could I get hepped up on. I was referred to the nurse's line, who referred me to the emergency room.

Several hours later from the emergency room, I was sent home with the prognosis: A broken rib.

Deep breathing hurts. Sneezing hurts. Belching hurts. Drinking a lot of cold water hurts. Sleeping hurts. And vicodan is a drug you can only use at night because it isn't good for driving. I know, I know -- details, details.

And clothes you can button up are just about the best damned thing you can have in your wardrobe. At least now that the muscles have mostly healed, I can get on my own underwear. Getting in and out of bed is a complete and total bitch. And hiccups are the work of the devil.

The worst part is that I can't hug the kids very well. Genny's been dying to cuddle and all I can do is hold hands, which just plain blows.

Dear God,

I know you're testing me lately. I am studying hard and I hope I'm doing well. Someday, I'd like to make honor roll.

Today, my 15 year old friend and niece started to just leave. She made it so I could find her easily, so she wasn't really leaving, but I'd been suspecting she was sad and depressed, because she'd been hitting me so much. She made it seem like play, but when someone is always hitting you, it's like they're trying to get your attention. I kept wondering what she didn't think I was attending and today we found out.

I touched her toe and made a smooching noise and that's the straw that broke the camel's back, apparently, because she left me at the restaurant with my two kids and the unpaid bill. I watched where she walked, paid the bill, strapped the kids in the car and drove down the road 4 blocks. I called 911 and as I was transferred to the police, I saw her up ahead walking on the same street, so I picked her up and talked with her. We discussed that we love each other and that people who love each other don't just up and leave. I asked her what was going on and she said she's worrying. I said,"OK, when we get home, Genny goes down for a nap, Russell goes into the bathroom with the fan on to clean it, and you and I are going to talk."

I cried all the way home as I drove, just tears streaming down my face, quietly. Remember, God, I prayed? Thanks for hearing my prayers because when she did talk, I sat quietly and listened and I asked questions to get more answers. We reiterated the same conversation over again -- pete and repeat -- how if things go to shit, she can stay here and she'll be safe and have her needs met. How her mom seems to be making the strides necessary to provide for her. She looked desperately sad and I asked why the toe thing set her over the edge and she shrugged. I said,"After I had endured a lot of abuse, there were some things that triggered me, sometimes for no reason." I told her about my weirdnesses about hair and hairbrushes. She looked relieved and said that yeah, sometimes she has the same thing. I said that she'd been hitting, kicking and punching me for days and that I had been worried, but waiting.

She apologized.

I told her I loved her. She told me she loved me back.

And for the first time all week, she went to her room and slept.

I may not be able to save the world, and maybe even not her, but I feel I am doing the right thing by making the effort. God, you tell me to love and I hope I love enough.

God, please hold A in the light and take all my wishes and hopes for her happiness and help her make them real in her life.

Love and adoration,
Wendy

I am feeling like a rabid angry elephant and I'm thinking there has to be a china shop somewhere that I can demolish.

We took A for Pauline because she needed to be able to pay bills. So Pauline is now letting the girlfriend of A's older brother stay there, which means she's also letting the older brother who abused her so much that she kicked him out mid-school year when he turned 18. The girlfriend is 17 and told her parents she wanted to leave so she could be with her abusive boyfriend. Her parents said go ahead (don't let the door hit your butt on your way out the door, dear), however the girlfriend had no plan for where to live, Pauline said she could stay for a couple days, which is now stretching to a couple weeks.

I know very freakin' well that Pauline's son won't give her a penny towards anything and that Pauline will be paying for everything. I also know that despite the fact that Pauline said she was putting A first, that this is a big fat lie.

Mike and I have already discussed that A may come stay here, if the brother and girlfriend aren't out when I take her home for her birthday and that we'll simply come take her back and that Pauline will fill out custody papers granting us guardianship over A, so that we can put her on our insurance and claim her on taxes. She'll stay for the entire school year, so that she doesn't lose school time and we've also discussed that we will work out letting her get involved in school activities, so that she can have more of a social life because we know that will be the hardest thing on her about doing this.

I'm pissed because I'm paying for Pauline's son's sex life. I'm ripshit that her daughter, who has worked her ass off and been a terrific help and kept up her end of the contract with us is getting the short end of the stick. I don't give a shit if her son is a bully, Pauline needs to call the cops and have him removed from her home and provide for the one kid which she is still legally obligated to support.

Man, I'm just tired.

Pauline came up to visit with us and we went to a local water park today. We're so sunburned and tired.

I miss my house with just my kids and just my husband. I am glad to help out, but it's just so much all the time and sometimes, I just feel tired.

I miss Mike mostly. To the good, we can lock the door and go into our room and just spend time talking and hanging out. Today, with the car full of kids and Pauline, I stopped to get my water shoes out of the back of Mike's car and I called him on the cell and asked him to come downstairs. He came out, I smooched him and we drove off.

Pauline said I was cute. I just am in love. I miss him a lot, too. With all of these kids, it's hard to have a spare moment alone with him hanging out in the livingroom. We saw T3 (dumb dumb dumb movie) and we saw it late at night, which was nice, but I miss our quiet hour or so in the evening cuddling on the couch without a 15 year old thinking we're big horny lechers. (We are, but yeesh!)

I also feel like when I have someone here, I am supposed to entertain them, so I haven't painted nor have I hardly unpacked, which sucks big wang. I want to finish my painting and I want to be able to just take a nap with the kids, if the mood strikes me and things are just too crazy right now to do that. Add to things that I am now sewing blankets and quilts for A's pregnant 15 year old friend, and there aren't enough hours in the day to sew my curtains for my kitchen or for my bathroom or a dress for Genny or a throwover for me for the pool.

The icing on the cake is that Russell's meds are just not working and he's been pretty bad. Today wasn't too awful because we just kept him running and I kept him on his usual old meds for most of the day, which wasn't great, but it made his behavior tolerable. He's trying so hard and it just about kills me. I want him to be happy. I'd give anything for him to just be happy and have a great day.

Heck, I'd like that for me, too. I'm not unhappy, just stressed. Small surprise, I guess.

This morning I went to the spa pool and it was okay, but I think I need to work harder. It hurt a little, but I think I was taking it too easy because I'm not hurting much tonight and because my sugars are running high, which is way not usual after a good workout. I put in a half hour of solid water work -- jogging in the water, x-c skiing, kicking, etc., but I think it was just not quite hard enough, so tomorrow, I think I'll go a little early to avoid the nosy gabbing old people and try again, working for more aerobic-ness and more time. I may even try out in the pool first and then go to the spa to warm up and get the cold out of my joints.

Today, Genny just kind of lost it. I don't know what crawled up her patooty, but man, she was just the crowned Princess of Piss and Vinegar and that's even next to the teenager with advanced PMS. It all kind of culminated with an hour of meltdown from 5-6. Word, I've never seen this kid lose it like she lost it tonight. I don't know if having to share all her stuff and her room with the teenager just hit her and turned her little world upside down today or if she's getting sick. I almost hope it's the latter because I can fix that better than the space invasion of a teenager.

The teenager is going to a drawing class tomorrow and much like Rudolph, I could even say she glows. She's very psyched about it, but she had a hard time accepting it. I think to some degree, no one has ever done something this nice for her before and she was stunned about the money. I'm really glad to be able to show her that we think she's way worth it.

While we're not rolling in money, I put in extra time on the contract and got a little extra cash and after I find out what the dental damage is tomorrow at the dentist's, we'll know how much I need to pay my dental bills to get my teeth somewhere near cleaned up, capped, and done from the stock options. I'm hoping we can avoid the whole damned thing and work out a reasonable payment plan, but I suspect it won't be that tremendously reasonable for our restricted budget in the face of my not-really-working status.

I'm getting psyched about school. I was hoping to work on a book idea with a professor, but she blew me off for the summer, so I'll approach it in the fall.

We're still figuring out the 4th celebration plans, but I think it'll be BBQ here and then we'll drive to the city and see the fireworks. We might be able to drive up a dirt road and watch two cities worth from a mountain crest, but I need to scope out the roads during the day.

My husband is naked in my bed and giving me that come hither nod. Must. go. hither.

Teenagers are a lot of work, specifically female ones. I am so glad that my next interaction with a teenager in a parental capacity will be with a boy, not a girl and that I'm looking at at least a good 10 years before I have to deal with a female teenager again.

I love this girl. I love her like my own. She's suffered pretty awful things and I think about the time she flinched when I reached up by her head into a cabinet that I realized just how much.

According to her mom, I've been spoiling her rotten. I've bought her underwear, socks, a pair of jeans, some shirts, and a bra. She had nothing but 3 halter tops and a single t-shirt when she arrived, which was all she owned in the world, aside from a couple of jeans, and a smattering of underwear. (Okay, we also hit the Mexican bread shop and Krispy Kremes, but whatEver) Her halter tops left little to the imagination and I finally pulled her aside and said that this was a really conservative area (Little Mormonville situated just south of Baptismal Fount) and that that kind of clothing was inappropriate. Pauline said she had not bought her any of the clothes she brought, so I'm assuming that her charming daddy did. She hasn't been living with Pauline but for a few weeks, so that's the most likely.

Overall, I thought that I chose a pretty tactful way to say, "Hey, you're my 15 year old niece and you look like a tramp!"

Mike and I are cashing out stock options that have gone from being worth 15 to 40 bucks per share (in 3 months) to have extra cash. We both feel that she's had so little for so long that we are happy to find a way to give her something. We just keep telling ourselves that he can use the employee stock purchase plan to recover some of this and because the stock just split, it won't kill us nearly as much. *sigh* I'm putting her in an art class because one of the kids at the Christian youth group made aspersions about her heritage, claiming that he was just making a joke. I didn't find it funny and she was hurt by it, so I'm taking her to the library at will and she'll be taking this drawing class once a week while she's here because drawing is something she loves to do. Her mom is coming up next week to visit, so we'll all go to the local water park with the kids and hang. I might look into something else, but I'll see how happy she is and go from there.

She's been heavy on the guilt trip with her mom, but Pauline is hanging in there and not giving in because she told her "Too bad, you're going to have to stay." I've assured her that we're spoiling A rotten and while A whines about missing her friends, she's enjoying herself anyhow. She's tried pushing on the phone privileges, which I cut up short when she and I both knew she'd exceeded her limits. Mike was very clear with me about what was okay with him and what wasn't, so I've held the line fiercely. We were going to drive her home for an eye appointment and then I realized she was doing stuff that made it clear that she planned on making a run for it when we got back. I talked to her mom and we agreed that perhaps she just needed to wait on that eye appointment, but I also scratched my cornea with a drop of bacon grease, so I think it was all God's will. Everything for a reason.

The only real bummer is that a strange girl called on her boyfriend's cell and hung up on us one morning a half dozen times and finally demanded to know who I was and I identified myself and she hung up. Suffice it to say that we don't think the BF is keeping his nose clean despite the fact that he declared that "I think I love you." to her before they left. However, give this girl credit, she said that,"Hey, I've only known you 6 months, so I don't know if I love you or not." He was nonetheless unamused, apparently such that he can't keep it in his pants. Teenagers!

To follow up on the bacon grease, I saw the doctor yesterday and he said it was healed, so I'm good. No worries. I've gained weight, but I found out that there's a spa pool I could go work out in mornings. My biggest complaint with working out in water in winter is that it's cold, so now, I've got no excuses. I am going to start bolting for an hour or so mornings so I can get some working out time in there. It feels wonderful on my arthritis, and the weight loss would be lovely for my self esteem and diabetes. I got on a scale at the doctor and while it wasn't pretty, it wasn't as bad as I thought either.

Tomorrow morning, I'll be the big fat broad hauling my butt to the spa pool at the buttcrack of dawn. I figure a significant reduction of my buttcrack is a small price to pay for the lack of sleep.

I guess I have always been one of those people who would sooner kill someone than have someone I love suffer.

I have a lot of suffering loved ones around me right now and that makes me sad. And no, I'm not really going to go out and kill someone, but lately that thought has crossed my mind.

I can't believe I bought that SOB a nice dinner once.

I got the girl on Friday.

God, I'm old.

I feel appalled by a 15 year old who knows what kind of beer she likes and mentions that between her pregnant friend and her, she was sure she'd be the first to get pregnant.

Winnie the FlippinPooh, what?

She's kind of on limitations...no phone calls except to her mom, and no one else for a week.

We changed the phone bill to be a standard charge for all calls and I'm keeping her busy doing stuff. It's just hard. I feel like things should be much more exciting. And they're not.

Today we did get thunderstorms for most of the day and a fair amount of rain with snow on the mountains. First week of summer, my big white buttochs.

I'm feeling overwhelmed by teenagerhood. I'm glad Bear's just in puberty. It's not as tenuous.

Well, after much back and forth with Pauline and her daugher, I'm going to go pick up her daughter (A) on Friday because Pauline has the day off and it works out best for me to do that. She's going to stay until August, but after talking with her daughter, I'm feeling better about it.

She's apparently having friend trouble and Pauline is worried about her getting into some kind of cat fight thing and going back to Juvenile Hall. A's been getting a lot of shit that resembles Mexican girl gang material and Pauline thinks that just removing her daughter from the situation will defuse it. I think it will help and it would be nice to have help this summer with the kids and getting the house together. One thing I'd like to do is finish the painting and I could do that if someone kept an eye on Genny for me. The drag is that A needs glasses because her dad never bothered to get the ones they left at a doctor's office for reference and never bothered to get her new ones even though she has insurance. I'm going to have to fill out paperwork for Medicaid for her while she's here. I wish we could just cover her under Mike's insurance, but his company probably won't cover that.

After posting despondently on my kids's list, I got a lot of great suggestions, so the boy and I sat down and made a schedule. We have a schedule for most of the summer, including swim lessons, visit to museums, water parks, see movies, go to the big local lake, take small hikes, etc. We have stuff planned for the summer, such that when I got to the week of August 19th, when I start my grad assistantship, Russell groaned in disappointment at the prospect of me going back to work -- totally cool that my 9 year old thinks it's cool to hang out with Mom.

The library has cool stuff going on on Thursday evenings, so I library day will be then, which will work nicely around their swimming lesson schedules.

---

Lately, I've been wondering about Pauline. I wondered why I hadn't heard from her, assumed she must be getting laid, and thought about calling her, but then got busy.

This weekend I got a message from her, so I called her back and left a message. Then she phone-tagged me back today, and I called her and caught her. Her sons have grown up and moved out and her daughter had been living with her father, Pauline's ex-something. The middle boy had had an altercation, where he defended himself against getting hit by his father and then his father called the cops, had the kid dumped into Juvenile Hall for assaulting him. The kid got a slap on the wrist and went and lived with Pauline afterwards. Her daughter, however, has stayed with Daddy because he turns a blind eye to her doing whatever her teenage head dreamed up. Well, finally, dad decided to hit his daughter and when the girl stood up to him and fought back, he tried the same routine and had her in Juvenile Hall for three weeks. When it came to court, however, he had the same judge, who looked at him and said,"One kid maybe, but two kids can't be bad. You're the one common denominator" and the judge tossed the case out. However, apparently, despite the fact that she's living with her mom and social services has designated her with some kind of numbering that means they understand that her custody is in limbo, her custody is still with the father.

Enter Pauline's phone call. Pauline works nights and she can't keep on top of a willful horny 15 year old with problems. Apparently, she ran up Pauline's phone bill several hundred $ calling much older males in the Bay Area. Pauline is struggling as it is, so an extravagant phone bill is a ball breaker. so she's asked Mike and I to take her for a month until she can get a week's vacation and spend time setting up a schedule and the like with the girl. She said she needs a break. At first, she'd said a couple weeks, but when I questioned her further, she really meant 5 weeks. *sigh*

I love this kid, but I haven't spent any time around her for nearly 3 years. I know she's been a spoiled little brat for a long time and that Pauline is hoping I'll blow money we don't have on this kid, but I can't. We're on a different budget without me working. What we said is that we'd take it a day at a time with her. I said if things were going well, she could stay, but that if things starting going funky, we'd ship her back to Pauline.

I'm very concerned about the custody issues, so I'm placing calls to the county social services department where they are from and seeing what I can find out as to what I need to do to protect myself and still let this kid come to "summer camp" on the farm. The biggest fear I have in the back of my mind is that Pauline is planning on ditching her daughter with us. I am not averse to caring for any child, but my feeling is that Pauline needs to face the music and the needs of her child because I won't be party to her breaking her kid's heart.

I've never been a stay-at-home (SAH) mom before. I've always worked. While I've worked at home in the past year or two, it's not the same because I still have someone there watching and playing with the kids while I do my work.

I've been feeling really stressed out because I simply don't know what to do with the kids. It's kind of like one big weekend all the time. I get to sleep in with them and we snuggle and giggle in bed, make and eat breakfast together and then what? On the weekends, Mike and I are cleaning, washing, and doing house stuff one day, typically, and then the other, we screw around, watch TV, go out to a movie, or play miniature golf or something. I am having a hard time figuring out how I am supposed to get house stuff done, and still keep track of kids, without them being bored senseless in the process somewhere.

I had all of these dreams of doing a load of laundry every day, but as usual, I've got a basket of folded, but not put away stuff sitting in my room and barrels upon barrels out in the garage to get done.

I feel inept at this whole SAH thing. Russell is delighted and he loves to have the time with me, even if he has been fighting me over every little stinking damned thing -- med transitions suck. Today, after I'd come >< close to strangling him, I made him go into his room, lay on his bed and close his eyes for "at least one hour." 1.5 hours later, he came out and was as nice as pie to me. I guess I called it.

Part of the problem today is that I had to get Russell up to town for a haircut and a dentist appointment, so I got out of the house without my meds and that just made for a lot more foggybrainedness than perhaps was necessary.

Tomorrow, I start walking with the kids every day. It'll be good for all of us.

My darling boy was getting too much medication, apparently, so we are backing off his ritalin a bit and adding in some strattera, which was a prozac knockoff that didn't work for most folks. Then they discovered that it worked in ADHD people. Unfortunately, it does little for focus, but does help behavioral issues wonderfully. My doctor says that a combo of the two is believed to be the future of ADHD meds. Oh, yay. More drugs.

I really wish I could just take him off the meds and have him be something other than a raging psycho. Because when he doesn't take the meds, that's what he is. And mind you, I love him and think he's an adorable little boy with gorgeous big brown eyes, and about the smartest kid on the planet, but I know what he's like when he doesn't take his meds, and honestly, you wouldn't know him when he's without meds.

I keep trying to tell myself that I could weather it through...just take him off the meds and use alternative means, but it would mean a lot of suffering for all of us. I finally came to the conclusion that medication sometimes is to reduce suffering. I remember back when he was grounded all the time in the days before meds. And I wasn't mean and I didn't spank him, but I had to do something, so he lost privileges. Now, he gets grounded only for a day at a time once in a great while -- not the months and months that it used to be. In order to take him off meds, I'd have to take away things he likes: the TV, the Gameboy, the computer, and movies. I don't want to take away things he likes and cares about. He likes how he is in control when he takes the meds. Sometimes he thinks the meds are what make him. I keep explaining that they are just a tool for him to use to figure out the person he would like to become.

He likes that idea. Honestly, so do I.

Okay, so I've had a week off from painting and now, I'm all feeling ready to hump a paint can again. What's up with that? I told Mike that and while he promised not to laugh, I don't think I've seen a look of that large dose of disdain in some time. It bordered on the "just how fucking crazy are you, woman?" look.

I have all but the kids' bathroom and the kitchen done. I have this idea in my head to paint the kids' bathroom white and sponge bright yellow over it, which would actually be kind of neat. It'll bright and cheery in a room with no window.

We bought a pool this week and I kept telling Mike that it needed to be on a flat surface and it's slopping heavily to one side, and we found what appears to be a nail trying to poke through the bottom of it. So we're watering the garden with it and then we'll relevel things. Mike wants desperately to put everything on cement. Cement is expensive, I've tried to explain, but then we're both in do-it-yourself mode and have delusions of gradeur about figuring it out and having this wonderful cement surface which would surround the pool and allow for sunning and make the sand elsewhere. But of course, he thought if we didn't use chlorine that the filter would take care of things. Today he saw all the clouding and realized the error of his ways and so we're watering.

Often, lately, in the course of watering, I've been finding lizards. And usually I think lizards are pretty cute and stuff, but these are pretty good sized and they give me the willies a little. I try not to let on about that to Russell because if I gave him the faintest reason to suspect that they freak me out, he'd be more freaky-deaky about things that crawl and bite and squirm than usual. I swear -- today we were floundering about in the pool and Russell said something about a snake. I playfully slid a styrofoam noodle by his shoulder and told him to watch out for the snake and he jumped three feet into the air.

I don't like snakes, but I just back away and that's that. He actively worries about coming across his next snake. *sigh*

Harsh Betty sent me five questions for an early Friday five familiar.

1. Name something which you spent a lot of time doing / dealing with /
   experiencing a year ago, but it's no longer a big part of your life today.
   
   
   Having, maintaining, dealing with a JOB, in particular a job I totally hated with every fiber, molecule, atom, and subatomic structure of my being. I get up for myself, for my kids, for my husband, for my house, for my own selfish and nefarious purposes. I water my plants, feed my chickens, feed my kids, take a shower, have sex with my husband, and I LOVE it! No, and I don't just mean the sex, though that's definitely fun.
   
   
2. Name one thing you regret doing, and another that you regret *not*
   doing.
   
   I dunno. I guess I feel like regret is a guilt trip I choose not to take most of the time. I regret leaving New England sometimes. I miss my family -- my parents, brother, and grandparents and assorted family live there and I miss them a lot. I regret not sticking to my exercise plan. It has really sucked to do the yo-yo weight thing. A lot. I'm changing that, but it's an ongoing battle and I hate that.
   
   
3. Was there anybody other than a member of your immediate family who had a
   big influence on you when you were a kid? Who was it, and how did they
   influence you?
   
   
   Mrs. Barbara Cohen, my 12th grade English teacher. She encouraged me in my writing and was the sole reason I majored in English. Ever. Or even showed another soul on the entire planet my poetry and writing. She is the reason I consider myself a writer now. I loved her, her class, and while she was considered a battleaxe by some, I adored her because she empowered me.
   
   
4. What, for you, didn't live up to all the hype?
   
   Star Wars, Episode 2. Could it have been any more schmarmy? Yeesh!
   
   
5. What's the best thing, within reason, that could happen with the rest of
   the day? (obviously it would be great to find out you'd won a $100 million
   lottery, had accidentally cured cancer and perfected cold fusion, and Kevin
   Costner is on his way over with a bottle of champagne and another of massage
   oil ... but be a little more realistic, ok?)
   
   That the house would become spotless, the shelving installed appropriately, the fridge cleaned so that the smell went away, the kitchen cleaned with decorations hung, the pool filled without depleting the well, and my room and bathroom cleared of boxes --unpacked or not, and that despite their chaotic, destructive tendencies, the children would not fight like cats and dogs nor thrash my clean house.. Oh, and that my husband would use the massager to rub my shoulders and back at days's end as foreplay to foreplay.
   
   I'm betting I'll get everything except the kids fighting and thrashing.

My darling son is so smart and wonderful and such a hard worker. I don't say this because I'm biased, though I am. I say this because he just made honor roll with a 3.42. He is so thrilled and I am thrilled blind for him.

It's amazing when you finally see them winning. He's happy and I am delirious to watch him.

I painted the bathroom over the weekend. I'd started it last week with kind of a light olive green thinking it would be okay, but it was too dark and icky. So I sponged light blue over it from the Oops! paint from Home Depot and now it looks amazing. We also bought a two bulb light instead of retaining the 8 bulb vanity energy wasting bar of death and now I have the most amazing looking bathroom. Mike's started taping the kitchen, which means that I should paint it. I realize that sounds insane, but think Field of Dreams,"If you build it they will come" but more like "If you tape it, she will paint" and you've got it.

I have a fortune in garden plants sitting in the driveway. I started planting my garden by laying out the marigolds and the fucking wild bunnies have been eating them. I'm going to get me a big ass bunny trap and catch me some bunnies and then drop them off in nearby state park land, where I hope they get eaten by coyotes. Bastards. I never thought bunnies would touch marigolds...I mean, nothing will. I even buried them in blood meal and I saw the buck-toothed varmit eating them yesterday. To be fair, he looked very skinny, but I think I'm going to trap him and release him on state park land a mile or two away. I just hope bunnies aren't like cats and that this little SOB doesn't find his way home.

The housewarming party is this weekend. I think I finally have a handle on Genny's room. The problem is that there is this big box of crap in her room that she would mostly never miss if it were to say...um...mysteriously disappear into the big garbage can in the sky. Stuff like Happy Meal toys, baby plastic beads, etc. In fact, most of it would be better to be given to goodwill than returned to her room, so I'm going to work something out with Mike, so that this box of crap just disappears back into the garage or something. We'll sort through it when she's in bed and retain the good stuff and put the rest in a box for goodwill.

Russell's room needs shelves. Well, Russell just needs something. We increased his meds a little, but he's been truly awful lately -- forgetful, can't follow directions, needing things repeated 20 times, etc. I do not want to call the doctor and say that he needs a meds increase, but lord, he needs something because he's just not himself. The truly telltale sign is that his room isn't just messy, it's completely and totally thrashed. I told him he couldn't play gameboy or watch TV until his room was clean. Ugh.

I'm still tired...way tired, but Mike's been really supportive (and horny) about letting me sleep (after sex). He's done dishes (after being nagged to death) and has been really super (grumpy and curmudgeonly) about going to Home Depot to get materials and make repairs.

I am way tired, after painting three bedrooms, the hallway, and the large livingroom (with 10' walls)and we never really had spring, but have gone straight to summer with temps in the 80's and 90's with a week of transition in the 70's.

My ankles balloon ankles -- usually indicative of my diabetes going straight to hell are deflated. While my sugars were bad, my doctor told me to take some time off and loaf a little. So I laid off the painting and am working on my gardens. I've got the front flower bed nearly half weeded and got the garden tilled and weeded. I've put in my perimeter of marigolds, as well as have already purchased peppers and tomatoes. I'm going to have to start corn separately to keep the birds out of the seedlings and wait a bit to transplant. The really good news is that my sugars have come down and I'm feeling better, and the swelling is down, too. The only bitch about gardening instead of painting is that my pale white freckly Irish skin is now red and heavily freckled and there's just not enough aloe vera with lidocaine for me.

I think Rupert the hen is actually possibly a rooster because the animal looks a lot more red and jowly and bigger-combed than the other birds. That may be a function of her species, but it may also be gender. Only time will tell. She looks lots better these days and is getting feathers. The other birds are getting huge and the little puffballs are now about the size that their older counterparts were when I got them with the feathers coming in. Last night, I smelled our neighborhood skunk go down and check out the henhouse, but thankfully, nothing startled it into spraying again last night.

For his birthday, I got Mike these little grown up walkie talkies and he just loves them. Last night, because my husband is insane, he was crawling around under the house trying to install cable in our bedroom and we were flirting over the walkie talkies. He finally got it all installed and now, I'm here writing because my computer is on the net again.