Olive Oyl and Pirate
Olive Oyl with Sweet Pea
I want candy. Is it time for candy? CANDY CANDY CANDY
The (Great) Grandparents
Just the other day I said to myself that "I could stop anytime" when Dan gave me a hard time about ordering things online so, uh yeah...
This weekend kicked my ass, and not in a good way. Austin was testing the limits of my patience at every turn, and by Sunday morning I was so angry I was getting white flashes in my peripheral vision. He had let the dogs out of the dog run while I was hollering at him, “no, don’t do it Austin, don’t let them out!” The problem with letting them out right then was that the big driveway gate was open and the dogs immediately exploited that fact and took off to torment the all the other neighborhood dogs and their owners by way of the raucous barking they inspired. I sent Maya to my mom’s (she was headed there soon anyway) and I told Austin to get some shoes and get in the car so we could go chase down the dogs. Of course one of the dogs, Callie, has a wild streak a mile wide and didn’t want to come home thankyouverymuch. By the time everyone was home and tucked away safely I had to go lie down in a quiet room for a few minutes to avoid beating some ass. Then Austin apologized and let me kiss his little face.
Friday night we went out to dinner with my parents, grandparents and one of my cousins. Near the end of dinner, Grandpa had to excuse himself and go sit in the car; he was in so much pain. Grandma walked him out and I followed a few paces behind to make sure everything was okay. But when I got to their car I felt I had invaded his space because his eyes were full of tears and I know he doesn’t like to be seen that way. I saw them again on Saturday and he seemed a bit better, but he looked tired. He will be 92 in January. I hate for him to feel badly all the time. He’s been more of a father to me than my “real” dad my whole life.
Man tells cops he has body in trunk
A man pulled up to the sheriff's Lake Elsinore station this morning, flagged down a sergeant in the parking lot and told him there was a dead body in the trunk of his car, authorities said.
When I was in elementary school, there was a series of prostitutes killed and dumped in the hills on the west side of town, overlooking my neighborhood. It's a helluva town.
Honestly though, I would live there again in spite of it all (maybe not with kids). But it's a generaly accepted fact that I am completely nuts. And I don't take shit from nobody.
First, I have to admit that I saw the first Jackass movie in the theater. I paid good money to watch a handful of adolescent 20 and 30-somethings hurt themselves on purpose. I laughed so hard my sides hurt like I'd spent that 90 minutes in an aerobics class.
Anyway, I won't be seeing Jackass 3D in theaters because that 3D crap makes me want to puke (literally, it's a motion sickness thing), but this interview with Johnny Knoxville makes me smile...
I have enjoyed savasana for as long as I’ve practiced yoga. The name corpse pose had my attention right off, because of both my twisted sense of humor and my inherent laziness.
Today something new happened for me in savasana. I had the sensation that being inside my body was like being inside my house. Like my spirit was distinct from my physical body, but very much inside it… and comfortable there. And even better – my breath felt just like the breeze blowing through the open windows of my house on a nice day. I love to open all the windows when the temperature is good and the breeze is blowing. I listen to the leaves rustling and just feel it, in that moment.
I turned 33 yesterday. We had big plans for my birthday weekend. Big Plans! But I plan and the RA gods laugh. My husband has Rheumatoid Arthritis and takes A LOT of medication for it. Not the least of which is an immunosuppressor, which is Latin for: now he ain’t got no immune system and when he gets sick he really gets sick, flu shot or no.
We had concert tickets, hotel reservations and zoo tickets. Dan also had bronchitis. So I sold the concert tickets, took a loss on the hotel and will hang onto the zoo tickets for another time. We spent Saturday and Monday in Urgent Care and now a man who is normally on somewhere around a million prescriptions is on about a billion prescriptions. If our house is ever burglarized, it will be the meds that get stolen in lieu of our (lack of) valuables.
My parents brought dinner over on Sunday and my mother-in-law made cupcakes for my birthday. Poor Dan ate his dinner in bed.
In spite of being sick, on Friday that sweet man put new tires on my new (to me) adult-sized tricycle!!! I found it on craigslist (that’s sort of my catchphrase these days). Yeahoo!!!
I was in Austin’s room, which shares a wall with the kids’ bathroom, when I heard the distinct sound of a lot of vomit hitting a lot of surfaces that didn’t sound like the inside of the toilet.
I didn’t really want to, but I went to see what was going on. Poor Maya. She had made it to the bathroom, but hadn’t got the toilet lid up in time. It was all over the floor, her pants, the outside of the toilet and the bathtub, and somehow, the wall behind her. It was the goddamn magic bullet of puke.
And she wasn’t done yet.
I told her to take off her pants and stand in the tub to rinse off her legs, feet and hair. I hollered at Dan to get me a roll of paper towels and the gallon jug of Fabuloso! out of our bathroom – the bottoms of my feet were already slimy and I didn’t want to track it through the house.
I cleaned the floor just well enough for Maya to walk trough and let her out to go get clean pants. Then she went out to the living room and apologized to her dad (for throwing up – he told her she didn't have to apologize for being sick). I thought, but didn’t say out loud, that if she was going to apologize to anyone it should be me. I was the one cleaning it up!
Floor first, then toilet, then tub, then walls and vanity. Thankfully only a tiny bit hit the heat/ac vent in the floor. (I really like having the vents in the floor, until something nasty gets spilled in them.) After everything was wiped up and sanitized, all the paper towels went into a plastic grocery bag which made a substantial thud when I dropped it into the tub to be taken out to the trash later. Her clothes and the bathroom rug went into the laundry and I went outside to clean off the bottom of my feet by walking barefoot on the damp grass – I find that works quickly and well.
I found her a plastic bucket and told her if she needed to throw up again, please use the bucket. My personal preference is the garbage disposal side of the kitchen sink – less bending over and you don’t have to face the toilet bowl. If knowing that I have thrown up in my kitchen sink means you never want to come to my house for dinner, I will understand.
The high temperature today is lower than the low temperature just a few nights ago. The wind is coming from the south and the sky is alternately gloomy gray and brilliant blue, changing several times a day.
This song came on the radio and made me cry. Me, hormonal? Never.
I'm a collector. Are you?
I'm not necessarily talking about comic books, or anything geeky like that. (Not necessarily.) I just mean it's part of my nature. I get hooked on something I like and buy more of the same. Thankfully, these items are often practical. I have somewhere around 10 of these nalgene bottles in all different colors. And I use them! I take a clean one to work everyday -- they don't just sit in the cupboard.
I literally have no idea how many Indian cotton thingies (bedspreads/tapestries) I have. I hang them on the walls. Use them as tablecloths. Make curtains out of them. They are great for picnics!
Sometimes I get carried away. One of my more recent kicks was cotton shopping bags. No more of those plastic bags! I have totes coming out my damn ears now, but again, I use them. I use the smaller ones to carry my lunch/snacks to work, the bigger ones for changes of clothes for the gym or for the boychild. And of course, when I remember, I use them as grocery bags. I'm done buying them now though. I have enough. Really.
And just when I thought I was between obsessions, I discovered peshtemals (or peshtamals or pestemals). They are hand-woven Turkish bath towels. Heaven help me.
Not to mention the vintage Blue Willow plates, old wine bottles (I just like the glass), crocs, sarongs, buddhas... you get the idea.
(This post needs pictures. I hope to add some later.)
Steph(anie) - the mama
Dan - the man (met 1995)
Maya - girlchild (born 1996)
Austin - boychild (born 2006)