I just realized that my apple tree is covered in nearly ripe golden delicious apples and that my plums are ripe, too. Mike smoked me chiles last night, too.

Color me stunned and psyched. I'm a canning machine, babies.

Jumping Jehosaphat on a pogostick! The teacher I subbed for is teaching 5th graders. For those of you just tuning in, fifth and sixth graders are about my least favorite age group to sub for. I swear it's just the introduction of those hormones to those little bodies that they just haven't adjusted to you and they're about the most hideous excuses for human beings on the planet at that age.

And yeah, all that stuff I was concerned about regarding Friday afternoon, first week of school, and the day before a 3 day weekend? It all came true! A nightmare come to life, I tell ya. However, I had the last laugh. I told their teacher everything. Muhahahaha! And I know he'll make them pay.

I'm considering offering to volunteer there occasionally, too. I love this teacher. I want to be this teacher. He's got classroom management down and he's very organized. I want to be in a position to work with his kids and to learn from this guy. He's really awesome and it would line me up for subbing for him, too.

I forget how much I love teaching until I do it. Then I start thinking about how fast I may be able to get my practicum done. Then, of course, I come home and take a pile of glucosamine and 2 vicodan and sleep for 12 hours straight.

There were no wheely carts at Costco when I went to buy stuff for Russell's birthday, so I spent an hour walking (added to teaching all afternoon), so I was feeling pretty cocky.

I was thinking today though, that I may just say screw it and start walking a block or two daily. Our blocks are country blocks, so I'm not talking a short block, but it's a relatively short walk and I could walk on sand, so it'd be less stressful on my joint. I'm thinking about 10-15 minutes top. As fat as I am, it'll give me plenty of exercise and I can augment that with swimming a few times a week. It'd also keep me in pain enough to remember to take my stupid glucosamine and my metformin with it. And it'd push me to take my byetta, too. My problem with some of these meds is that they tear up my stomach, especially byetta.

I have to winnow this big fat butt down to a smaller big butt, though. I don't plan on ever wearing much in the way of clothing under a size 20 any time soon, but to even have a size 18/20 within reach would really rock.

I have my first day of subbing tomorrow with this school year. I'll be working for a teacher for whom I've subbed before and he's crazy organized, so it'll be a breeze. The kids can be challenging at this school, but 4th graders aren't typically hideous ever and this guy often is the principal for the day, so it's possible he'll be around tomorrow to scare them into behaving. On the Friday afternoon before a 3-day weekend on the first week of school, I can dream, right? :D

I'm still fussing over what to wear, which is my way of obsessing over the what-ifs. I'm trying to remember where I put my substitute teacher emergency kit stuff. I have some things, but my cube has been wedged under a pile of crap in the livingroom, so restocking it would take some serious work. I'm going to get Genny out the door and then do that stuff tomorrow morning. If I do it while she's here, she'll be freaking out about all the cool stuff in my cube and I'll never see it again, as Sticky Fingers loves to "borrow" my teacher stuff.

I was delighted this morning to remember that I had my awesome widdle hand cleaner jar on my key ring. I was cleaning Genny's face off with a wet paper towel and went to shake hands with her gifted and talented teachers and realized I needed to clean my hands somehow, so I whipped some out and voila! I explained I'm a substitute teacher and they all laughed and said, yeah, hand cleaner was the first thing they'd bought for the classroom. Then we all laughed and I remembered that little snot nosed kindergarten boy who was sick as hell and always wanted to hug me about half a year ago. I'm not ever gonna turn away a hugging child, but man, I washed my hands right after.

Well, I took my lunesta, so I can sleep. I took my shower while there's water. I didn't get to water my garden, but it'll be there tomorrow to water. I tried to siphon the unchlorinated pool water to it, but it wasn't working particularly. Mike and I hypothesized various ways to facilitate making the system work and we mulched the bejeebers out of the beds, so the water will stay. Essentially, I think we have this one good watering for the rest of the season, with all that mulch, as next week it starts cooling down out of the 90s, thank God.

Any water left over is going to the plum and apple trees, both of which are loaded with fruit.

So on a whim, because I'm not thrilled with most of the presidential candidates, I decided I'd run.

Red Neck Ruby for President!!

I've had the bladder infection that won't die. It is a very resistant strain, so I'm on my second round of antibiotics.

After the first round of antibiotics, I started using old herbal remedies, so when I went in to get retested, it'd pretty much killed the bacteria sufficiently so it didn't show up on their stick test and only showed up a little on a culture 3 days later. Because it didn't show up on their stick test, I discontinued the herbs thinking I was now the proud owner of a yeast infection.

The day they call me to tell me the culture was positive, I was again positive I had a bladder infection and was in agony. I started my second round of antibiotics and supplemented that with d-mannose and cranberry to keep the pain down. Sleep's been danged near impossible and all I am is tired from not breathing and hurting.

I'm looking forward to kids going back to school. it'll be quiet.

So here's your math question of the day.

If each washing machine takes $1.50 and each dryer runs 10 minutes per quarter and most loads require 40 minutes to dry. And my goofy son ran two washing machines empty, and I spent $70 at the laundromat yesterday, how many loads of laundry did I do?

Yes, you're correct. One butt-TON.

And yes, I'll be folding laundry til I'm dead.

And there's lots of scattered stuff going on...

• Mike and I are freaking out. Our well is trying to die again. I took a shower with the kids at the club a day. I think we'll spend the day at a community pool tomorrow because the temperatures are supposed to be triple digits tomorrow and it's air conditioned in the club. I might even pack a lunch and stay at the club for the afternoon and drag a couple of Russell's friends.



• I may be able to go to school on my retirement money from UC Davis.


• If I can finish my master's I can pick up all kinds of work through the state and it would be in keeping with my desire to help folks and I could get out of teaching and being on my feet all the time.


• If I do the master's in sociology, I'd probably need to retake the GRE.

There's something about meteors slowly streaking across the sky, skimming the edges of the moon and gently slipping across the apse of the heavens that makes a person realize how small they are in the universe.

I feel both humble and loved by God in the presence of such grandeur.

The teenagers were sort of excited initially and then quickly lost interest and consciousness. I shooed them inside to sleep, for which they seemed grateful.

Now, I'm off to discover the pleasure of my pillow and stellar dreams.

Genny's clonidine made a big difference in her sleep, but she's slowly creeping back to the midnight to noon schedule, so I've got to run her hard today, so she sleeps a little earlier and we can start dialing back that schedule to something normal for her.

She managed to get her room clean and had a friend over, which for her was a miracle. Her friend invited her for next weekend and our only request is that Genny has to keep her room clean to go.

We're likely to have a house full of teenaged boys this evening for the Perseids, but hopefully, we'll all survive it. My concern is that Genny gets very excited when the boys are here and she may not sleep well. I'm taking her to the club with her brother today to dip in the pool to wear her out some. I hope it works. I'm also thinking that I might just bike this evening. I've been wanting to, but it just seems like there's no time or it's too hot or something is always wrong. It's getting to be like fall weather though, so maybe it'll happen tonight. I figure she can tool around outside on her bike, while I sit on mine in the garage watching.

Beyond all this, I'm sad because the well is failing again. I'm scared we'll be out of water before the rain comes. Russell was washing dishes, but his idea of doing so usually involves pouring vast amounts of water down the sink, rather than a sink of hot soapy water and a sink of rinse water.

We shut off the pump. I'm going to take the kids out of the house today to run laundry at the laundromat and take a run to the club to swim and shower. Maybe that'll help.

Wish me luck.

Holy shit.

It's 315 am and Genny won't sleep. I took the freaking cat out of her room and then locked her door. Her door has a lock on the outside from when she was a baby and we were scared she'd get hurt sneaking around. We could childproof her room, but not the whole house while the family lay unconscious.

I tried having her in the bed with me and Mike, but I have a really bad bladder infection and this child kicks like a soccer star and I'm only one antibiotic pill into this, so I'm in agony and exhausted. Mike has to work, so dealing with the house insomniac is my job, sick or not. We gave her melatonin for sleeping and she decided to sneak out to the kitchen after she'd been put to bed and get a freaking mountain dew. Daddy found the half can on her bed post, so we gave her a quarter of my xanax to try to relax her and she's still up and about. I finally spanked her and locked her in. I can hear her thrashing about in her room now, too.

I'm scared about when school starts because I can't fucking deal with this crap when school starts. I am going to be working and we both need to be functional for school. I'm getting her clonidine tomorrow. I hope to God it works. I can't begin to fathom dealing with her if it doesn't. I can't begin to fathom her being so sleepless when school starts. I know she likes her 12 hours of sleep a night, but she's not going to even vaguely approach that if this stuff keeps up.

I'm upset because she's keeping the whole house up and because she's not getting any rest, which means she may go on a house wrecking spree tomorrow and I'm not physically capable of keeping up with Hurricane Genny at the moment and I cannot begin to contend with the constant bitching and bickering that comes from Russell regarding her. All I can have him do is keep her busy, which interferes with his computer time, which sends him into a king-size pissy fit, which normally I'd wreck his life over, but I'm so sick and exhausted, I'm not up to it.

I'm beat as a bongo drum at an all night voodoo dance. Oh, and add to this that my period has begun and the laundry list of why I feel like shit and am toast gets longer.

I hate my children in August, the bickering month of school-age children everywhere.

Sometimes being a grownup with ADHD is harder than hell.

Sometimes being a grownup with ADHD and two kids with ADHD is just hell.

We paid $13 for Genny to get her hair cut and she came home last night and cut a chunk of hair out of the side of her head to her scalp.

I feel so frustrated when I deal with her, on visceral level. I want to kill her and then I think it's my fault, so I want to bounce my head off a cement wall until I'm dead. I just can't get through to this child.

We give her choices and options and punishments and nothing ever fucking works. We consistently tell her the same things over and over and over and over. Nothing gets through. I'm scared she's going to be pregnant at 13 or something.

I made her pay for her 2nd haircut. I grounded her. I spanked her. Probably overkill. I'm so frustrated.

I'm crying, praying and crying some more.

We had a monopoly day.

A monopoly day is where you think you're living one of the community cards sayings. In our case, the saying was:"Bank Error in your favor, collect $150"

I disputed a small overcharge by Napster which amounted to $30 and the sweet bank gal gave us back $245 in bank charges.

Rcok on!

We went to Walmart and bought cheap floaties for the pool and storage boxes. And as a treat, we took the kids to In and Out Burger. Mike kept joking around about going to this really yummy steakhouse. I know he half meant it, but I was the one with restraint who said no.

Because in the process of cleaning our room and I'd found a lot of broken jewelry that needed repair, I bought a few cheap beading items such as: the ear hooks, a few beads for specific purposes and some of those straight wires that let you put a few beads on without them falling off. I already repaired a slew of stuff, but I still have a box to finish with. And I found some really awesome beads that I'd forgotten I had back from my college days.

And yesterday when it was 99 degrees, I was really really glad we had that silly little 3 foot high pool full of colde water.

Well, I begrudged him a day. I couldn't help how residually angry felt and I told him it didn't make sense, but it was how I felt. He was sad I was still angry, but yesterday, we started just playing with each other again and it was sweet.

Last night, we were watching tv and the kids were still up, but during commercials, he'd come over the the couch, make out with me and then go sit down. I felt like his new girlfriend again. It was kinda cool. Make up sex rocks.

We got the pool cleaned and have been out there floating about most evenings. Today is supposed to approach if not hit 100 degrees, so I used a pry bar and got Russell off his chair and the kids and I floated around for half an hour. The temperature of the water is um...bracing. It's been around 75-78 which is kind of nippy. Today it's almost 80, so yeah, summer's here.

I also had Mike check over the swamp cooler. It hadn't been working well and I went out and looked and some of the pads were half dry, which shouldn't be. He ran an algae cleaner through and cleaned out some of the spots and it's a heck of a lot cooler now.

We sealed the house up early this morning and put a towel over the cooler vent, which leads to the hot, uninsulated garage. That one little towel makes a LOT of difference. We often don't run the cooler but for an hour or two in the evening because the house is so well insulated that the cold air from night (it got into the 60s here at 5,000 feet once shut in, keeps us pretty comfortable all day.

I think there may be a way to increase the water flow to the cooler, but Mike said we could at the least run it on low cool, which should do the trick.

Lord, I hope so. I'm worried because this will be a week of hundreds. And with little money, we've got few places to hide from it. I have to say that pool was a great investment. :)

I lost it on Mike last night, but he's been working a lot of overtime. I don't mind overtime in and of itself, but he often chooses to stay up very late and then leaves a little late and then feels obligated to stay there late, so we don't see each other. Then he comes home and growls at everyone. The kids all hide in their rooms. He wants to get laid, but frankly, right now, I wouldn't fuck him if he were the last man on earth.

Wednesday night, I was trying to get him a sandwich set up for work because by the time he gets home he's ravening and a raving asshole and I wanted to avoid that. He took a fridge to work, so there's no reason for him not to take a sandwich or the fixings for it, but he didn't. Then he started snarling at me and then he cussed at me and I was about ready to fry his nads and give 'em to the dog. I set up all the stuff in the fridge for him, told him where to find it and left him a small pile of stuff on the table.

I miss my husband. See the guy I married was really sweet and kind. The guy I'm married to now has been a real crabcake lately and it really sucks. I was looking forward to the three day weekend with him. He calls me a half hour late from work to say he wants to either stay or go geohashing tomorrow and then work and then maybe try to find fireworks?

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? Well, we're broke, so there's not a really good way to work out dinner for the kids and while there are some video games at his work, it basically means, me sitting there getting yelled at by him while he works on whatever and weirdly enough, yeah...so not interested.

And isn't a three day weekend supposed to be about spending time with your family, doing stuff that everyone would enjoy? And there's something about me spending 2 months home alone doing nothing...nothing I want to do, would like to do, nothing -- no trip to pick blackberries, no trip to the lake, no trip to the cool pool in Minden, nothing. I did so well with shopping that I've not used any of my gas at all.

But I had to spend my gas on his stupid geohashing trip. And no it wasn't far, but it was on the 4th of July. It was my gas and it was NOT something I wanted to do. I would have liked a picnic by the lake, a clean pool at home, just about anything else.

I told him that his frat party with his brother is over. He's a husband and a father and he needs to start thinking about someone other than himself. I also said I was more than happy to make sure he was single again, if he missed being single.

He claims he doesn't.

We'll see.

Me and insomnia again.

Hate it.

I was lolling around on the bed in the wee hours with Mike drowsing in and out of sleep. I was telling him about my childhood on my grandparents farm and all the things I remembered about it between tears and grieving.

As I was talking, I realized I remembered a lot of details. Details make for good writing, so I think I'm going to write the stories down for my kids. I think they don't understand working from dawn to dusk every day. I have always worked like that, but I've lived on or near a farm my whole life and that's just how you do things. You get up early and feed and water the animals in the barn before you eat, so you don't forget to feed them. You do the same thing before dinner each night, too.

For example, I remember tromping everywhere around my grandparent's farm. On the right hand side of the house, there was a garage that the roof had long ago fallen down on. The roofs were made of slate a lot back then. I remember my brother and I sifting through the rubble of that garage looking for large slate tiles to use as chalkboards and taking them home to use chalk on and playing school with them.

I also loved to fish. Mind you, I hate eating fish. I can only stand tuna if you cover it in mayo, cheese and other stuff, so it's a relatively secondary ingredient. I just enjoyed the process of looking for earthworms under rocks and logs in the woods. I enjoyed the accoutrements of fishing, a kreel, a can of worms, and the quiet.

I used to go straight back from my grandparents' house to a dam on a small river there. The pool under the dam was about 10-15 feet deep with boulders around it -- a good place for fat brown trout to hide under in the heat of the afternoon. And there was just not a good, safe way to get to the top of those boulders and the trout could clearly see me, and just ignored my wiggly pink worms.

I once caught a small brown trout, but I had been told it'd better be as long as my forearm, if I were taking it home because otherwise it'd be too small. And this one was more like 6-7 inches long, so not worth keeping, but I remember being fascinated by the difference between that brown trout with its brown speckles and the shiny colorful rainbow trout that I'd occasionally caught other times, and throwing it back. I often went with my brother or my cousin, Harold, and we just played in the water, fished, and hung out.

If Harold hadn't had a motorcycle wreck in his 20s, he'd have been a year older than me. His grave is near my grandfather's and soon, my grandmother's.

So maybe stories are a good way to record a sense of family for my children. Also, I think Mike often doesn't know a lot of this stuff from my life. Even for me, it feels like I'm talking about a movie I saw.

--

Today, we have been working on cleaning our bedroom. Russell's room is spotless, Genny's grounded til hers is about the same. And Mike and I've been plowing through ours.

Mike found out something new about me today, as we dusted off an old wooden cigar box. It was full of my harmonicas in every key. I showed him my box and said I hadn't played in years, so didn't even know if I could any more. I sounded out a few keys from blues songs on the radio and picked up parts of it. I was embarrassed as hell, but my ear is still pretty good, even if my mouth is out of practice. He just watched me with this bemused stunned look. I haven't played since before Russell was born. I used to play with the radio and just play when I went camping.

Maybe if I can clean up my house, I keep thinking that maybe my life will get into order, too.

__

I discovered today that I do better if I take an extra dose of glucosamine. I was standing up and discovering that I was experiencing no pain. It's weird, but you get used to wincing and it was weird bracing for the pain to wince at it. And then, it didn't come.

The side effects of glucosamine is that it can raise your sugars and make you retain water, which might explain why my ankles have been comparable with elephant legs, recently. I took extra metformin to cover for it and am enjoying the absence of pain for a change of pace. It's weird to be pain free and not loaded up on painkillers. I still have swollen ankles, but it's 97 and I took extra glucosamine, so I'm willing to ride this one out.

Imagine that.

My mom and I had talked last weekend and she mentioned how sick my grandma had been and how she seemed to be improving. I immediately thought about how much I wish I could go there to see her and was thinking about creative financing that would get me there.

From January to April, she'd lost 30 lbs, but no one had really noticed. Her doctor felt she needed to go into a hospital for a bit. She had been improving some, but then got really ill with a cold that turned into bronchitis.

She was having trouble eating, but in a week, she went from weighing 92 lbs to 77 lbs! When my parents had been there, my dad got her to drink some ensure and he could here it gurgling into her empty stomach. She seemed to be eating better and recovering from bronchitis pretty well for a 97 year old woman. My Aunt Della, however, forbid anyone from discussing "going back home" with her. She had clearly lost her ability to continue to take care of herself.

This is the grandma that when my folks weren't speaking to me and were treating me like I was some piece of garbage, sent money, cards, pictures, etc. This is the grandma who showed me her poetry when I was writing my own around the age of 10 and encouraged me in mine. This is the grandma who when I said I'd rather be confirmed Episcopalian instead of Congregationalist, started talking about how our family name was on some very old Episcopalian church in Connecticut and that it ran in our family and that I had nothing to feel embarrassed about. My parents were deacons in the Congregationalist church(which my grandma attended), but when I looked at who attended each church, I really felt much more like I'd rather emulate the relationship with God that people at the Episcopal Church had than the folks at Congregationalist church. My mom was at first stunned, but when i started to tell her all the lousy unkind things I'd seen most of the Congregationalists do versus the Episcopalians in town, my mom came down squarely on my side, too. Of course, then I had to attend both church services on the weekend -- Saturday night at the Episcopal mass and Sunday morning at the Congregtionalist service.

This is also the grandma to whom my dad didn't speak for over 20 years. I finally convinced him that his parents were getting old and didn't have much time on this earth and that they missed him. He said in that past year that not a day had gone by where he didn't think about them. He asked me to get their permission to call. My grandmother was positively giddy when I talked to her at the prospect of speaking to her eldest son after all that time and begrudging. Germans are a stubborn bunch!

Recently, I've been missing her very much -- kind of a dull aching for family, where I belong, I think. To some degree, it's because we're struggling so hard financially and I feel so alone and desperate, and to some degree because I know it's hard for the kids to not have lots of family close on either side of the family.

Last night, sadly, she passed away in her sleep. She was a dear person and loved me in spite of my crazy 20s. I know when my grandfather died she kept commenting on how she hoped she'd go very soon because she missed him so much. I guess she finally is getting to be with him. I'm sure you're happier, Grams. I know how much you missed him. I remember your eyes filling up while at the Lakehouse. It made me cry, too.

She was so thrilled that I had dressed his grave with perennial flowers when I went back east after his death-- Sweet William, of course. I hope I can get back there some day and dress her grave with Sweet Alyssum for Alice.

Some of the reasons behind my visit then had been to have my kids meet her. My grandfather's death had driven home how little my children know of my family and I wanted them to meet my brother, see my folks' farm and meet my grandmother and see the family farm. I wanted them to have a sense of family that didn't result in Russell being treated as a second class citizen by my in-laws. I wanted the kids to meet their family and have a sense that there is in the world, a family that welcomes both my children equally. (I think my in-laws have lightened up on Russell since that time, but at the time, it's how I felt.)

When I can stop crying my eyes out, I'll get to a poem for her. Right now, I simply ask God to bless her and my grandfather and am thankful for them being reunited in death.

Amen.

Well, Saturday night, I took the kids outside and we worked in the yard, cleaning up, putting in a few last minute pepper plants and watering everything.

Mike sat down and talked with Mark and told him we can't swing him living here unless he's paying something towards it. We told him what we thought it ought to be and he seemed a little ticked off, but he also said it seemed fair.

Russell's room is a freaking pit. Mark's gonna leave for a couple days to apply to work for a police position in the SF Bay Area. He's going to finally visit his grandparents, who have been impatiently waiting for him to arrive. While Mark is gone, I'm going to basically go sit in the boy's room and help him clean everything from stem to stern. Russell claimed he had no space to put things in his dresser. I found 2 drawers completely empty and 2 with 1 to 3 things in them. I told him I thought he was full of crap. But then I promptly removed an entire trash bag's worth of clothes that he had definitely outgrown.

Then I'm going to make him do the same for me in my room. (yeah, so not gonna happen)

---

Today, Russell was kind of dramatic and whiny and tired from getting to go to Tahoe with his friend. I finally said that if he was going to be a whiny pain in the butt every time he went to a friend's house that I would limit his life a lot. He was not amused.

I was tired and cranky and I felt entirely insecure about how pleasant or unpleasant I was with Russell. I just felt like every time I asked him to do anything he tossed a giant fit and then didn't do half of what I asked anyhow. I felt really frustrated with his behavior. And Genny's been a complete spazz.

Tonight, we put her to bed. And all of the sudden she comes down the hall screeching her head off. Apparently, she'd taken a flying leap into her bed and she split her lip on the bed frame. The line that cut me to the quick was,"my teeth are bleeding!" uttered through heartfelt heaving sobs. I got crushed ice into a ziploc bag and a towel, handed it to Mark who took it to Mike who was comforting her because he get down the hall to her faster than I could. As Mark headed down the hall to her, I told him to have her rinse with flouride. I don't know if it would help if her teeth were knocked a little loose or not, but I figured at least it would give her a sense of having received medical treatment of some kind for it.

I got there as the two brothers tended the princess. Her lip was pretty puffy and split, but looks like it'll heal up in a few days ... definitely not worthy of stitches. I will see what I think when she gets up.

I had Mike sit on the couch with her icing her lip for 10 minutes and then, he tucked her back into bed. We reminded her that we'd told her that she shouldn't be goofing around like that with her bed. She tried to deny that she'd done anything wrong, and I just said, "Geez, Genny, we're not dumb! We were kids, too, once. We know about jumping into beds! Take it easy and knock it off, already. You're giving me a heart attack here!" She kind of giggled and went and sat with Daddy.

I'd been mid-muffin making in the kitchen, so I got the stuff doled into the tins and put into the oven.

Mom's muffins are a source of enormous delight to my family. I mean they're good and all, but I swear, you'd think it was Christmas. The big deal is eating them while they're still hot from the oven with butter. Russell wanted another one immediately and was bouncing around like a puppy on crack to have another.

---

Beyond that, we did this. I was actually in charge of recording all the data. My first comment is that I think that the horse could be decomposing and infected for a truly disgusting splatter effect. I also think that testing water balloon should be next weekend's data collection effort. For one thing, you could do crazy Kool-aid and really go for that biological warfare thing and for another, if you were short of the castle, you'd still nail the front of the building.

The job hunt has come to a standstill. There's like nothing out there...at all. The economy seems to have just taken a really bad nosedive and there's nothing out there. Mike and I are discussing the possibility of struggling through the summer and then I'll just teach again. I've suggested that I could work a couple days a week at the 7-11 and he freaked. He said he didn't want me hurting myself. I don't really want to hurt myself either, but I don't want to lose the house. The thing is if they reduce how much we have to pay each month by even a few hundred dollars we could swing it.

Our ARM is kicking over in August. Basically, if we even got the reduction from that, we'd be better off than we are.

I've put in a beautiful garden. We should have tons of produce by summer's end. I'm really psyched about that. I may start taking laundry to the laundromat though because I'm worried about the well. The thing is when it floods in the midwest, we get droughts.

I love my brother-in-law, Mike's youngest brother. However, I'd anticipated he might stay here a week or two -- not a month or more. He doesn't do anything to job hunt. He just plays games all day and plays with the kids -- which the first week or so, would have been fine. However, it's been more than a month. He refuses to do the things he needs to do in order to apply for a job. He stalls constantly.

And yes, he has helped around the house. He does dishes and laundry periodically. He organized all my cupboards in my kitchen for me. He reorganized my linen closet. He helps with laundry and with stuff, but it's getting much. These are things that are hard for me to do, but that I could do myself. When he does stuff like that it's helpful, but we were getting by before without him around and I'm sure we can again.

Basically, Mike and I talked and as of July 1st, we're going to charge him room and board and he better get a fucking job. We figured our mortgage is about $2200 a month, which means that each bedroom is worth about $733 a month. We have the master bedroom and bath, so ours should be more which we figured at $900, which leaves about $600 per room for the kid's bedrooms. If we split the cost of one room, that's 300 just for the mortgage. We figured with food and utilities, another $250 is appropriate for $550 a month for room and board. It's probably even low-end, but it would also help us out.

If he's going to stay, I want him to move into Russell's room because I want my livingroom back. His blanket, clothes and assorted crud are always out there and I'm sick of it. He needs to stop sleeping on my couch and have his own space. I also need to have a place that people can walk into.

There are some other things...he has to apply for this one position that everyone has told him to apply for. He needs to apply with temp agencies at the very least and look for employment through them. The other thing is that he's up at all hours. Mike and I can't begin to have alone time because he's always around. I'd like to be able to make love with my husband without him out in the livingroom. At least, if he's in Russell's room, if we make noise, he's less likely to hear it.

I know Mike enjoys him being here. For him, it's like one big frat party all the time with his brother. He gets to play games and hang out. But we can't afford to be party animals any more. We just can't. Ideally, I'd prefer he just got on with his life -- job, apartment, girlfriend, the works!! However, if he wants to hang here, he's going to have to pitch in financially.

Wow, there's no work available for a person a step away from a freaking wheelchair, I swear.

I'm applying for everything. I applied for an adult education class instructor in computers. I figure that's a job I can do. As long as it's just the one class a week, I'd be fine. I'd take vicodan that night and swim the next day and be ok. I am applying with Mike for any contract web work we can get our hands on.

I've got several sewing projects for Genny to hit, so I'm about to go scrounge around in my plastic storage boxes and get those out. I also need to find my corduroy and faux wool fabrics in the garage for her and make her a few pant sets for fall.

I also severely need to find out when the blackberries come into season on the valley floor. I have this thing in my head and have had for years. I want to get a little canoe or row boat to take down the Mokelumne river to pick berries off the side of the river. Apparently, there's a lake at the end. So you have to do some driving, but it seems like something I've done in my dreams so many times, that I have to actually do it in real life.

Last night, I was dreaming about biking around the lake here, too. I could smell the pine needles and I had Genny on the back on the pony bike. I need to ask Mike to get my bike out of the shed and clean it up. We've got a stationary bike in the garage, so I figure I can start with yoga and warming up on the stationary bike, so I can get on a real bike and get my stupid leg all the way around.

The range of motion limitations surprise me, but my big old body is freaking me out. I can't hardly get into the pool in the back unless Mike's here to help me. A good ladder costs more than the stupid pool did, so it's hard to justify. And June, my ass. It's way too danged cool right now to swim much -- 70s means that the pool is in the 60's which is cold. 80-90s bring the pool temperatures to 70s which is far more tolerable. I never thought I'd be hoping for hot weather, just so I could swim.

And Mike's brother is still here. I mind and I don't mind, but he really needs to find a fucking job. We can't afford him and he's just kind of dicking around all day playing on the computer all day. I'd be ok, if he was talking about all the applications he'd put out, but that is not happening.

So, in August when it's hotter than Hades, remind me how I wished for it and tell me to stop kvetching.

I'm applying for work, actually rather avidly.

I thought I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, but my knee has other ideas. I think God has other ideas for me and I just wish I was in on the plans.

I'm applying for social work kinds of things. The vocational rehab person thinks I'd do well to get a mster's in social work. I actually kind of agree. It fits my "save the world now" mentality probably better than teaching, where there are so many more political toes and I'm a regular sasquatch.

My weight is hideous right now and my diabetes is kicking my ass. I've got elephankles...it's like being pregnant in August. My sugars and food are tight, my water retention is not. I was exercising, but my brother-in-law is visiting and I feel awkward dragging him to the gym with me.

Mike said he felt embarrassed sometimes to exercise in front of other people. I guess I feel the same way. He's a nice guy and incredibly fit and I just can't even face up to the idea of comparing my hideous out-of-shapeness against his holy cow kick-assness. I like exercising with Mike. It's fun. I push him. He teases me. We help each other stretch. My shoulders are so tight and it feels delicious to stretch with him. We perv on each other a little in the pool afterwards giggling if I give him tentage. I feel like a teenager in love with him all the time.

I feel singularly unmotivated to be in a swimsuit in front of his brother though.

I know. I need to get over it, but I also know his family is completely grossed out by the fact that Mike is a a fatty chase and thus, also grossed out by me. This feeds into all of my insecurities that made me a crazy bulimic in high school with my mother.

So my response has been to eat carefully instead. I'm munching on blackberries and blueberries today. He keeps says he's going to leave, but he enjoys playing with the kids and Mike. I bought a scoop catch game in the bargain bins at Target and sent him and the kids out of the house to play it, while Mike and I worked on dinner. Genny came in smelling like a sweaty kid. There's nothing that smells sweeter to me.

Russell said he had to write a two voice poem for English. I thought I'd write one about him and me and how we view poetry. It'd be funny. It involved him plugging his ears and yelling, "What?! I can't hear you!" at the top of his lungs.

Freaking teenager!

Well, I felt pretty disappointed with the appointment with vocational rehabilitation. Basically, yeah, it sucks that I'm not able to get up and around, but there's not a lot available to me.

I'm kind of bummed about that.

I think I just need to be unemployed and go on a crazy diet and exercise program until my hands and feet turn into prunes.

Phlegmatic Humor

Well, I've got bronchitis and the antibiotics are helping, but I'm coughing up yucky stuff from my chest. It just burns and hurts slightly less.

Got the Buzz blankie and doll dropped off on the way back from the doctor's yesterday. Last night, I was falling asleep at the computer because every time I laid down, my chest got bad and I could barely breathe, so I sat up until 2am coughing and playing Runescape because chopping wood on there is easy and requires little attention and I could hold my head up while I did it.

I slept til 11am, got up and made burgers for me and the boy. The boy goes back to school tomorrow unless he wakes up ickier. I think that's darned near impossible, but the pediatrician and I are talking, so we'll see.

My husband is a lazy hog. I went out to the kitchen and thought I would burst into tears. It looked like the Clean House fairy called her sister, the Filthy House fairy,and paid her a whole butt-ton of money to fuck up my kitchen. I put away the clean dishes from the dishwasher and loaded it with dirty ones. I tossed away some trash. Then I felt bone tired.

So I went back to bed where I couldn't get warm. I can't find my thryoid, which I think would help, but I'm feeling too braindead tired to give a darn.

I'm going to bed.

Things I know about Poland...

• I know how to say a few things in Polish from dating a Pole way back when. Among these key phrases are "male milk," "oh my goodness," and "cat."



• Communism sucked for them.



• Most Poles are bi or tri-lingual.



• And now, apparently, Poland has snails. I guess they should. It just hadn't occurred to me. And apparently, someone has a lot of time on their hands in Poland. (The customary adolescent jokes about snail trails may apply).

The boy is pretty sick -- some bug that thinks his chest might be good to move to. I made him homemade soup in the crock pot. I had been planning potato leek soup, but I cut a leek into the chicken and called it good. In an hour or so, I'll toss a cup of rice in it. For now, chicken, leeks, potatoes, carrots, and celery grace my soup.

I'll get to potato leek soup in a few days.

I'm fighting the infection, too. I can't find my byetta which just pisses me off. It's the one thing that will keep my sugars in check, while I'm sick. I know it's in the fridge, but

On the plus side, I will want to sit up with the chest stuff, so I can get pretty far with Genny's dress projects on my machine. :) I'm mid-blanky for a friend's grandkid. Her daughter's family had the most awful November I can imagine.

They'd been living with my friend and husband and finally got their own place and they'd moved in in one day and were in boxes. They had had a baby in July, and brought her to sleep with them. They set up a port-a-crib near a window with the 1.5 year old girl and the 2.5 year old boy -- best buds and sibs. At 6am, they were awakened by the boy screaming his head off and found the girl hanging slumped forward in the crib with the venetian blind cord wrapped around her neck with hardly a heart beat.

Because they didn't have a phone yet, they ran outside trying to hysterically ask the construction guys for help. Husband was sputtering, while wife administered CPR. Wife stopped CPR to scream, "Dial 911!"

After being careflighted to the hospital, the little one passed. Dad had lost his job the day they moved to compound matters. Because my friend is beloved in the community and this was such a horrible tragedy, a fund was started to help this family, so they've been able to pay rent and bury their child.

Remember the little boy? I asked my friend about him. It's not that I don't care, but rather that I already know the parents are in hell. He's taken to some weird comfort behaviors in the absence of his sis, like chewing through the arms of his clothes and gnawing on himself. He likes Buzz Lightyear, so I found a very inexpensive Buzz doll and made him a Toy Story blanket. I'm giving it to my friend tomorrow. I'm hoping that it gives him comfort that gnawing probably isn't.

I am also making a pooh blanket for the baby.

And yeah, I keep smooching on my kids.

It's hard to catch things up sometimes. I got a job, I lost it. I have determined that teaching is too physically taxing on my knee as long as I am this heavy.

I'm looking into vocational rehab. I don't know what I will end up doing with my life, but I'm looking forward to whatever that is.

The house is cleaner which means I feel better. That's a good thing. My sugars are better. I'm taking an hba1c soon, but I already know it'll be better.

I'm hopeful for a change.

I love my parents, but it's definitely a relationship wrought with things I did as a child that my mother has not forgiven me for.

However, this trip, I was extremely fortunate. My folks replaced the tires on my car, gave us a check for $300 and bought dinner a lot.

As soon as they left though, the water tank blew water all over the garage.

ugh.

yay! The kids are gone and I'm done with school.

Yes, we're broke! Yes, we are doing housework, but we're also having a great time hanging out with each other.

Yup. Graduate school is still hard. I was surprised at how hard it was. Summer sessions are for linebackers, I swear it. I haven't taken summer session in 18 years and I forgot how flipping hard it is to contend with the summer heat. I also forgot about having to walk anywhere to get to a class. I had to walk to a building in the center of campus, which if I weighed what I did 18 years wouldn't have been a big deal, but with my big ass and my yucky knee I would hit a the final steps into the building and feel my knee just shift enough to hurt like holy hell and then I'd gimp down the halls to get there. I found I had to leave an hour in advance to get to campus, to give myself time to get to class, which sucked eggs, rotten yucky eggs.

I've been nothing but frustrated trying to get my sorry butt through classes. One professor thinks I shouldn't be in her class because I'm already in special ed and she doesn't think it's a requirement (though the chair told me I should take it) and the other I simply am buried up to my eyeballs in. Every single day is homework. Every. Single. Day. And a lot of it is good for me, but a lot of it makes me want to rip out all my hair in frustration. I'm writing 1-2 page single spaced chapter synopses. What the hell ever happened to letting me catch up on my reading on the weekend? I'm actually supposed to read it on the due date and it just freaking blows.

I just had to write a position paper on inclusion of special education children in regular education classes. Um, yeah, my position was that there isn't enough strategy teaching for teachers that shows them how to work with multicultural factors in regular education settings, nor with special education kids. Being that so-called minorities make up a bigger than they should portion of special education classrooms and that these same minorities and special ed kids are often on referral or suspension at a higher rate than their regular ed and white peers. And that the majority of teachers in the US are white middle class women. Yeah, there's a bit of an issue, in my opinion. It's flipping called bigotry.

erf.

Ok...I'm not even coherent. I just wanted to check in.

All I know is that graduate school is hard. It's only the first week and I'm already clear that there are not enough hours in the day to do all this stuff. It scares me to think about what it will be like the rest of the year, trying to do this stuff around working nearly full-time.

I'm wildly tired. I slept for an hour when I got home yesterday, to recover some missing hours. I slept 7.5 hours last night, but I feel like old jeans -- worn, faded, and with a few tears in the knees.

And lord, I'm so behind. I've done reading as skimming, which isn't bad, but definitely isn't good. *sigh*

Mike commented on the fact that he has to take over everything while I do this. All I could think is, "Welcome to my world!" I put him through engineering school, and I remember it well.

I like my classes, but the things I'm learning overlap so much, it's hard to pull them apart and separate them in my head. I'm hoping that a few days away, i.e., the weekend, will give me some perspective.

I have two classes so far. I have been sure to email a teacher who griped that she was feeling forced into having me in the class by the chair, so I told her she could back out if she wanted.

The afternoon class is a class that could bury a gal. I had 2 chapters, a writing assignment, a form, and notes to take for a quiz tomorrow. I haven't finished, but I'm so damned tired, I'm going to bed and will get up early to try again.

Russell couldn't imagine why I would be so tired from "just school." I explained that I had gone to one class, discovered that the room had been changed to a different building and that I'd had to walk there on my cruddy knee and back again and that my knee wasn't amused. I also explained that on the first day, it's a lot of material to cover, so, I was overwhelmed and that my brain simply shuts down in response to that.

And besides, old people need their naps.

Just shut up, dammit.