Do they not teach math in public school anymore?

*What should have happened:

(Scene: Local Meijer grocery store customer service desk. For the uninitiated: Think Walmart but cleaner, and less hobo-ridden).

I bought item X for 169.99 on sale (original price was 209.99) two days ago.

It went on sale yesterday for 25% off the original price, making it about $157. Meijer does the whole "price match" thing so, if something gets cheaper within a week, you get the difference.

I should have gotten the difference between what I paid and what the new sale price is: about $13.

169.99 - 157.49 = 12.50

Still with me?



*What actually happened:

Customer Service Girl insists I should get 25% of 169.99.

Me: Are you sure?

CSG: Yes.

Me: Really? I don't think that's right.

CSG: Yes, have a good night!

169.99 x 25% = 42.50

Me: Oh, I will.

Hey you! Don't watch that! Watch this!

Monday! Monday! Monday!

Come one (or bring a date), come all (or stay home and continue to digest the 8,000 cookies you ate this week) to the most exclusive (well, everyone is welcome) party (more of a gathering) in town (Chicago, city proper).

It's the second annual Drysdale Awards for Blogging.

It's not to miss! Last year, Grant Miller got really drunk and kept snapping all the ladies' bra straps.* Some Guy taught us 400 different words for snow.** I took my top off and danced on the tables for tips.*** GetKristiLove charmed the bartender to give us free drinks all night.**** I found out Coaster Punchman is actually a covert spy in the Mormon church (dismantling the theocracy from the inside--clever!).***** Bubs shot a man just to watch him die.****** These are but a few highlights of that fateful night.

Shock and awe, people. Shock and awe.

So, don't be shy. No one bites (except Grant and only when prompted), and it's a nice way to cap off Jesus' birthday.

See you there!






*With his mind!
**And he's not even part Eskimo.
***This didn't actually happen at the party, but at our hotel room afterwards.
****It was more her sneaking behind the bar and stealing bottles, but who's counting?
*****Actually, this one is true.
******This one too.

An open letter

Dear Polly Pocket,

I hate you.

Why must you be so small? Why must your shoes be the size of half an adult's pinky nail? Why must you have so goddamned MANY?

Thanks a lot for landing your plane in my living room! What kind of plane has a fashion model runway on it anyway? I noticed quite a few drink cups in this set. Agent not calling back as much as he used to? How many "lounges" does this plane need? And a blender? Who are you trying to kid? Where ya' hiding the good stuff?

Maybe it's inside of one of the 4,000 impossible to open suitcases that also came with the set. What am I, your fucking baggage handler now?

The instructions were of no help whatsoever. There are these things called WORDS that people sometimes put next to complicated pictures to explain how the hell the sides of the plane are supposed to stay level when this monstrosity of a vehicle is open.

Next time some relative of mine is shopping in your aisle, you just tell them to move along if you know what's good for you. You are no longer welcome in my house, especially after you moved in not one but TWO fashion glitter design sets a couple of weeks ago. I found glitter in my eye this morning. My eye, Polly. I am too old to go to raves so this is not something I enjoy.

Your clothes are kind of ugly anyway. And pretty skanky if I do say so myself. Fire your stylist.

In conclusion, please cease to exist at your earliest convenience.

Yours in Christ,

Bacon Lady

Over the river and through the woods...

We are headed to my in laws' place in a couple of hours.

We're having dinner at Jim's Uncle's house and then we'll spend the night at his parents' place.

I'm really lucky in that I get along with Jim's parents better than most people I know get along with their in laws. Sure they do stuff that makes me wince sometimes (give the kids WAY too much junk food, for example), but they usually learn their lesson without me having to resort to being a hag about it (getting puked on, for example).

Jim's family is really different than mine in a lot of ways. My family gathers, eats, chats a bit, and gets the hell out of dodge. His family likes to come early and stay late. My family is kind of quiet for the most part. His family is loud and raucous. My family's gatherings are strictly "dry" affairs. The wine and beer (and when we're really celebrating, bourbon) flows with abandon on his side of the family.

Every year, Christmas at my in laws' is like walking into a Norman Rockwell painting. The tree is real, but has been manicured to such perfection that is looks fake. There is a toy train (from Jim's Dad's youth) riding around a tree that would make Martha Stewart blush with envy. Little puffs of smoke trail out of the train as it rounds the tiny vintage village nestled where the presents usually sit. We've been going over there for over a decade and every year I still find something new under there.

We always have the same breakfast on Christmas morning: sausage and homemade buttermilk pancakes. It is always delicious and I always eat too many pancakes. I can't help it. They are just that good.

The tree and gifties are in the basement. The lights are dimmed just so, giving off a warm cozy feeling. After the Christmas music is put on, we all claim a spot and start doling out the loot. The fire crackles, the kids run around too excited to sit still, and we all drink his Mom's ridiculously strong coffee.

Even the way the gifts are wrapped are a work of art. It's not just the beautiful paper she wraps everything in. She adds baubles and real ribbon and berries and wreaths to everything. Sometimes I feel bad ripping into them they are so pretty.

I let the girls pick a few toys to get out of the packing to play with. I try to stash some of it because I know we will end up forgetting a piece to something if I don't. Usually we'll watch a movie, but this year we are going to bring our new Wii. Should be fun.

I always enjoy the holidays at their house. It's just so different that how I grew up. Sure we did the usual Christmas stuff at my house, but Jim's parents take it to a whole new level. Tradition is tradition over there. Nothing else will do.

Normally I'm all for bucking the status quo, but there is something so comforting about the way everything is like a made for tv movie over there.

I know how much they enjoy doing all of this especially now that they have grandkids to share it with. I hope they know how much I appreciate it.

And then my brain exploded and my arm fell off

We're going to be at the in laws' for Christmas Eve and day, so Santa graciously stopped by our house a couple days early to accommodate our busy schedule. He appreciated our predicament and happily acquiesced.

Jim went apeshit this year. He assures me that he stuck to our no credit card rule and paid all cash.

First, we got a Wii and a Wii Fit. I was jonesin' something fierce for those two gems. He got a bunch of games too, so we're pretty much not leaving the house until we are dragged out. Whoever comes to extricate me will have to come at me from the left. My right arm could punch through a wall at this point. Who gets sore from playing a video game? Me, that's who.

Second, he got me a new laptop. This is genius for many reasons including the fact that my current laptop is pretty much a zombie at this point. Add to that Audrey used it as a footstool last week and it has lovely ink splatter-like streaks across the monitor.

The girls were giddy over their gifts. Santa did a really good job this year. Honestly though, how hard is it to buy for a 7 and 4 1/2 year old? Um...one of everything and throw in some sparkle markers. Done!

We don't ever go super crazy with the girls' gifts. The grandparents' have the whole spoil the grandkids thing down pat. We try to figure out what their "big" gift will be and throw in a smattering of stuff we know they will love.

Mina is really into designing clothes right now so I found this kit with stencils and sequins and pretty paper and shit and she loved it. It even comes with teeny tiny hangers.

Audrey thinks the Care Bears are tits and I found a movie at Target for 5 bucks.

They both got kits to write their own books. Mina's is one you send back to the company once it's done and they make an actual hardcover book out of it. Audrey's is a DIY pop-up book.

I love finding stuff like that.

We've been so busy playing with our new toys that I haven't even had the time to open the box my laptop came in. That might happen at some point, but right now it's my turn to get that much closer to my carpal tunnel surgery. Wiiiiiiii!

Correction

It was brought to my attention that my post yesterday contained an inaccuracy. Our band name wasn't the brainchild of Stacy, but rather Gina. Big ups to Stacy for correcting the error.

Stacy also reminded me of the name of one of our songs (that she DID come up with):

De Kappa Kappa Kappa Tate.

Tell me we weren't onto something there.

God, I miss being 21.

One time I was in a band

Back when I had time to spend hours laying around stoned and contemplative, some friends of mine and I decided that we needed to be in a band.

Most of the people we knew were in bands, so why not us? Did it matter than we didn't know how to play any instuments or carry a tune? Of course not.

First order of business was to find a name. What is a band without a name?

Stacy, in a moment of pure genius, was the one to come up with our moniker.

After School Snatch.

Let the sink in for a moment. Fuck yeah.

Google it and you get this:

On Thu, 11 Dec 1997, TJ O'Brien wrote:> In Normal, Illinois, there was a group of girls that were going to be backed by a group of guys (a la thee Headcoatees), and they were going to be called After School Snatch. I really wish they would've gotten (have no idea where this was going...wish this guy would have written more)

I really wish there'd be more of that old girl-group style stuff. I really enjoyed The Pussywillows back when they were around. And in Long Island just a couple years before that there was Bedrock A Go-Go, who'd get up and do a couple songs with LI garage group The Vindicators backingthem. (The Vindicators included Secret Service guitarist Rob Normandin as"Norman Roberts," along with then-Plastic Device organist / then-future King Missile bassist Chris Xefos. Oh yeah, they did one 7" that lists 4songs but has only three on it. And I seem to remember the first pressing having the hole slightly off-center. To think, I've even got a signed copy!)
Blair

See? I'm not making this shit up.

Apparently someone else liked the name enough to use it, and I think they actually went on to make actual music because there is another band out there with the name.

We had a few songs that we wrote ourselves. One was called "All Girls Love Satan" and another was about how stupid frat boys were. Can't remember the name of that one. I know they were all about how we would pretty much kick everyone's collective asses. Think The Donnas, but drunker and way sluttier.

We had some friends of ours on guitar, bass and drums and played one whole show. I don't remember a whole lot except that it was in a bowling alley on punk rock night, it was the birthday of our guitar player and I was really really drunk. I do remember it was super fun and I wanted to do it again and again. But it was not to be.

After that show our drummer had to have some kind of carpal tunnel surgery and, in the haze of being the dopey young people we were, the novelty wore off and we moved on to other things.

My singing voice hasn't gotten any better and I still don't know how to play an instrument, but if given the chance to be a rock star again, I would so be all over that.

Just Because You Can Doesn't Mean You Should

That flapping sound you hear? That's Michelle Duggar's labia clapping in the wind.

I am fascinated with this family. I DVR every TLC special they throw at me. I can't get enough of this uber wholesome, yet creepy beyond words Stepford family.

Their way of living is so far beyond what I would ever consider for my own family, but I kind of admire Mrs. Duggar for, if nothing else, her top notch time management skills. 18 kids and she still finds time to knock boots with Jim Bob? Go on and git girl.

I decided to we were done half way through my second pregnancy and practically flew onto that surgical table months after Audrey was born to have my shit snipped and burnt closed.

The thought of having any more kids in my house sends a distinct shiver down my spine.

Don't get me wrong. I love my little darlings more than I could possibly express in words, but two is enough for me thankyouverymuch.

Far be it from me to judge how other parents manage their brood. Well, "far" may be a stretch. When it comes to the Duggars, I'm a judgemental bitch.

They're the ones who put themselves on basic cable to fascinate us with tater tot casserole and horrible haircuts. Thankfully Michelle finally reconsidered those bangs because her hair was so bad it was starting to hurt my feelings.

Then there's the way each child has a "buddy". From what I've seen on the shows, that's pretty much code for the older kids taking care of the younger ones. Again, not a huge blip on my radar, but with SO many little Duggars running around, when does each kid get time to themselves?

That must be how Michelle and Jim Bob have time to make more Christian Soldiers.

The kids seem happy and obnoxiously well-mannered, so who am I to piss on their city block long parade?

The last episode I watched was about the family taking a trip (in their own personal tour bus!) to a family reunion. On the way they stopped at the Creation Museum where evolution is just a shaky (evil) scientific (blasphemous) theory. You know--like global warming.

Oh, and the earth is only 6,000 years old.

I wanted Jim to watch it with me, but decided against it since he practically has a coronary when we watch Bill O. or Hannity for more than a few minutes.

The episode ended with the Duggars enjoying some summer fun in "modest" bathing suits and Michelle fawning all over her "Daddy" (that baby voice skeeves me out).

I just need to stop now.

Please use the comments box to share you innermost thoughts on this sideshow-quality family. Feel free to pass this post onto your friends directing them to join the discussion.

Carry on.

One Christmas down

I spent this weekend with my family celebrating the first Christmas of the season.

I'm lucky because my side of the family picks a weekend well before the actual day to get together instead of expecting everyone to travel like maniacs trying to get all their visiting done at once.

I drove up to my parents' house early Saturday and we headed to NW Indiana to our annual pot luck eating extravaganza.

It was fun to see family I don't see but once (or twice, if I'm lucky) a year. Our family is so big that we have to rent a space to meet at. No one's house is big enough to hold us all. Even with some of our crew missing, it was still a tight fit.

The girls and I headed back to my parents' house afterwards and opened even more gifts. We spent the night and the next morning my Mom said that she had been sick in the night. At first she thought it might be food poisoning so we tried to compare and contrast what each of us had or didn't have because my Dad, the girls and I were all fine.

We left for home earlier than planned because I could see my poor Mom was exhausted.

We weren't 2 minutes from home when I heard Mina from the back seat, "Mom...I kind of feel like I have to puke."

Now, if you have children under the age of 12 you know that when your kid says they think they might throw up, you have about .005 seconds to get them somewhere acceptable to spew.

By the time they say they are going to be sick, it's already too late.

As soon as she blessed her lap and her booster seat with breakfast she said she felt "much much better".

I called Jim from the car to make sure he had supplies at the ready. I cracked the windows and told the girls to sit tight for the next few blocks. I have to say, Mina was a real trooper. She had to sit in her own barf for what probably felt like an eternity and didn't complain once. She'll make a fine college student, no?

I don't think it's the flu. She was hungry for lunch and dinner and has been playing sans whining or fever for a few hours now.

I'm just holding my breath for Audrey's inevitable puke-fest in the middle of the night.

I cannot have gotten off this easily, can I?

I wish I had a communicable, uncurable disease right now

I decided that since I was running late to the gym I would just get in a little treadmill action. It's not ever my first choice of activity because it involves me making an actual self-motivated effort to sweat.

In a class I am sort of guilted into pushing through because everyone around me is too. When I work out by myself I usually get bored and quit early.

Today though I actually pushed myself and...RAN. Not super fast or anything, and only for a few minute burst, but I did it. And I didn't die. It's a good start.

After about a half hour I decided I wanted to be done, but I knew Audrey would have a Britney-scale freak out if I told her it was time to leave the kid care room. She loves that place.

I decided I would go upstairs and, no matter what the 10:15 class was, I would take it.

Lucky me, it was that "dance" workout class, Zumba.

Not wanting to puss out, I stayed. The teacher was really sweet so I wanted to at least give it a chance.

The second I decided to stay, I saw this woman walking towards me who I recognized from Audrey's first preschool. I don't remember her name, so I'll just call her "Bitch that won't shut the hell up" or BTWSTHU for short.

BTWSTHU started in immediately. "HI! How've you been? Carson is in preschool today so I'm here taking this class, it's fun, I've only done it once, but it was really really fun, how's Audrey? I think about her all the time, I knew I would run into you sooner or later, do you do swim lessons? We do them at Happy Splashes, and my sons love it, it's two times a week so they really liked it, it's expensive but I think it's worth it, you will love this class, it's not that hard...."

No breaths taken. No pauses for responses.

And she's one of those who, instead of taking a breath or a break from yapping, she inserts a "well, like I said before" to segue back into something she already beat to death 10 minutes ago.

It's impossible to escape conversation with her short of being hit by a car.

Thankfully the class started and the music was so loud I couldn't hear her. Finally, she stopped talking.

I'll admit the class was kind of fun. I'll probably do it again but really, if I feel like dancing around like an idiot I'll do what I normally do and throw back a few drinks before heading downtown to the gay bar. Duh.

I stopped to take a water break at the same time as an old lady in the class. As soon as I had the water bottle to my lips I heard, "Excuse me. I think that's mine".

I felt really bad, but it wasn't really my fault. She put her water, which looked exactly like mine, right next to my stuff.

"I'm so sorry, " I said. What was I supposed to do? So I added, "Um...I don't have cooties if that makes you feel any better." and kind of lightly put my hand on her shoulder to really bring the point home.

What do you think that bitch did? Bristled! BRISTLED at my friendly gesture. And then took the other water bottle and went out of her way to throw it in the trash.

Oh, for the love.

I ended up leaving the class early because I had had enough of both BTWSTHU and Crotch-face old lady. Plus I was getting hungry.

As I was leaving I made sure to make eye contact with Crotchy and mouth the word "Herpes" and blow her a kiss.

That'll show her.

Out of the mouths of babes

"Your hair smells like the library." (Mina)


"What if this was Crazy Town?" (Audrey)

I'm Done

Christmas shopping that is.

I got the last of the booty today and even got some of it wrapped.

This Saturday I am headed up north for holiday festivities with my maternal extended family. It's just me and the kids this year. Jim could not get the shop covered so he'll have to while away the weekend watching soccer and eating a bunch of disgusting food I can't even look at without wanting to barf (potted meat product for example).

I went to Target this morning instead of working out. Given the choice between exercise class and going to my most favorite store ever BY MYSELF even...well, it wasn't even a contest.

My parents don't need anything, so they are really hard to shop for. They won't tell me what they want ("Oh honey. Don't you spend any money on us!"). So they are getting one of those digital photo frame things.

I was half-way through wrapping it before I remembered that I was going to upload a bunch of pictures of the girls on it. I guess my laptop will be joining us on our journey to the wilds of Suburban Chicago.

It's mostly for my Mom to take to work with her so I got my Dad a few things that seemed perfect for him.

Speakers for the iPod he still doesn't know how to use, tiny tap lights because he's old and old people love that shit, and these weird shoe attachments to prevent slipping on the ice. Again, perfect old person gift.

I already got my Mother-in-law a set of vintagey-looking ornaments and Jim will fill in the blanks on the rest of his parents' gifts.

I got most of the girls' gifts on BLACK FRIDAY. I always feel like I have to say that real menacing-like. MUWAHAHAHAHAHA BLLLAAAACCKKK FRIIIIDDAAAYYY.

Yes, I went out for the first time ever on a crazy day after Thanksgiving adventure. It was SO much fun. Yes, I said fun.

My friend Meghan and I got going at 5am and we were done and home before 10. Everything went really smoothly save for the assface in front of Target.

We got there at 5, thinking they opened at 5. When we got in line, we were told they didn't open until 6. As much as I loves me some Target, I wasn't about to wait for an hour in the 20 degree weather.

As Meghan and I walked back to our car, some fucktard yelled at us that we weren't going to find a shorter line somewhere else. Dick.

We promptly ran up to him, poured our hot lattes down his Dockers and punched him in his smart mouth. Or we didn't. You weren't there, so that's the story I'm sticking with.

So, I'm all done with what usually takes me into the day before the day before Jesus' birthday.

And very best, most delicious part?

I didn't put one red cent on a credit card.

Son of the son of the...It's a fun story thing.

Hello kind readers! I have been tagged. Here's the rules:

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours.


Here is the beginning of this adventure (compliments of the mad scientist who started this, Splotchy):

The bus was more crowded than usual. It was bitterly cold outside, and I hadn't prepared for it. I noticed that a fair number of the riders were dressed curiously. As I glanced around, I stretched my feet and kicked up against a large, heavy cardboard box laying under the seat in front of me.

And the continuation by Bubs:

Its owner, a fat shifty-looking hillbilly, slouched uncomfortably under the weight of his Bulgarian army surplus wool coat and cap. I could tell he wasn't cut out for this weather. He jerked around, almost spastic, when he felt the box tap against his feet. He gulped and stared at me bug-eyed, one obscene rivulet of sweat running down his temple, down along his jaw, finally disappearing somewhere between his second chin and the fake fur collar of his coat.

Right away, and for no good reason, he pissed me off.

(and my contribution):

I wasn't exactly in the mood for any bullshit today. Yesterday, sure. I went looking for it. But today, not so much.

I had already missed my regular bus because sometime in the middle of the night the power had gone out and my alarm clock doesn't run on good intentions.

Normally, I would catch the 6:52 into work, but here I was on the 7:42, affectionately called "The Geek Train" by locals.

Going for a world record bad day I kindly asked Mr. Bulgaria if he would mind directing his stank breath in the other direction.



I tag:
Spare Change
Jimmy City
Tanya Espanya
Earth Muffin
Tankboy


**Edited to add Wonder Twins Power...Inebriate! to the story writing fun.

Pyromaniac

I love having a fireplace.

I would have a fire going all day every day if I could.

We got our Christmas tree today and had to trim a few hang-y branches around the bottom. We had a fire going, so Jim started throwing them in there.

He was "directing" the girls while they put the ornaments on, so I started throwing more branches in the fire.

The smell was a wonderful wintery aroma of pine and seasoned wood. The sap in the branches made the most magnificent sound and the fire burned so hot I think I got a sunburn from sitting in front of it.

It kind of freaked me out, how intense the fire got. All I could think about is how fast our tree would go up if our house caught on fire.

Because that's what I do. Enjoy something beautiful until I can come up with some tragic scenario and ruin the whole experience.

Ah...Christmas.

Apparently my whole family wants to go the hospital this weekend

I did my part and Audrey decided to do hers.

I got a call last night at about 5 that my in laws were bringing the girls back home. Audrey was screaming bloody murder about her ears hurting. She was inconsolable.

I figured she'd fall asleep on the ride here from Peoria but I guess she just whimpered the whole way.

When she got here and I saw her I wanted to cry right along with her. She looked so pathetic.

I gave her some Motrin and waited, but she didn't seem to feel any better.

Being 7pm on a Sunday night, I figured I'd take her to the ER and hope they could help us out.

Audrey fell asleep in the car on the way there. I had to make a "Mom Call".

Do I turn around and hope she stays asleep until tomorrow when the Prompt Care opens?

All it took to stay was picturing a 3am scream fest that would send us right back out into the 5 degree weather.

I woke her up and asked her how she felt. Her ears still hurt and the tears started again, so we checked in for our two hour wait.

For a kid who is miserable with a double ear infection, the little Bean was in pretty good spirits.

"Mama, that lady's head isn't round. People's heads are supposed to be ROOOUUUUNNNDD."

"Mama, that girl is wearing boy shoes."

"Whas yo name? Girl! WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

"Lady, why is your coat green?"

"Why you need that wheelchair? Can I ride too?"

I made sure she didn't get too near anyone who looked contagious (read: holding a puke pan) by letting her hold court from my lap.

Naturally she charmed the nurses, and we had fun getting her to try to say sphignometer (ooh, I spelled that right on my first try!).

Two hours later we were sent back to a room. I found an old coloring book and a handful of crayons to keep her busy. She tired of that but told me that "the next time we come here, I'll color more." The next time. Sure.

The nurse told Audrey that our doctor looked like Santa Claus and she got pretty excited. When he arrived, and he was fairly slim with a close-cropped beard, Audrey let him know in no uncertain terms that he most certainly did NOT look like Santa.

We got our prescription called in and I told Audrey it was time to go.

She clung to the side rails on the bed and refused to leave. I think she liked being there.

Maybe it was the fact that everyone was paying attention to her (as opposed to having to share attention with her sister). Maybe it was the novelty of all the buttons and gadgets she wanted to play with the second my back was turned. I don't know.

But what kind of kid wants to hang out at the ER?

This morning she is in good spirits and ate a little bit. Then she puked.

It's going to be a long Sunday.

She lives!

Well, I made it home safe and sound. Maybe not so much sound as completely hooped up on smack.

Then the good stuff wore off.

Slept most of the day away, then like a rock all night. This morning I woke up and my mouth felt like a squirrel had burrowed in it all night.

I don't feel too bad today. A little tired, a little achey.

I got to the surgicenter place at 6am and they took me back to the prep area by 6:15 or so. The nurse made me pee in a cup. I tried to tell her that there was no way I was pregnant--well, there was that .0001% my tubes decided to unravel and let something through, but it was highly unlikely.

She gave me some spiel about how if I had all my "parts", they had to do the test. Then told me a funny story about how "you haven't lived until you've asked a nurse for a pregnancy test". I got confused and asked her if she went to a Catholic high school. Laughs all around.

She gave me my sexy gown, robe and non-slip socks. Got my IV. Talked to the anesthesiologist. No loose teeth to worry about, no allergies, no problem.

My doc came in and we chatted about what was about to go down. Can med students watch the procedure? Sure, why not? Who doesn't want their vadge on display for a bunch of strangers?

Then the nurse gave me something to "take the edge off".

HOLY SHIT. I don't remember anything past that.

Last thing I do remember is watching that "Clean Sweep" show with that woman from Reno 911 and then BOOM, I was waking up from the gas.

Nurse gives me some ice chips. Do I need anything for the pain? Um...yes, please.

More dope.

There's my husband. Change back into my street clothes. Get my prescription filled. Kind of remember calling my Mom.

And home.

I've watched bits and pieces of all kinds of shitty movies. The kids are at their grandparent's house until tomorrow.

All in all, this has been a pretty sweet vacation from life.

Giving my Health Insurance a Work Out

Tomorrow I'm going in for a little minor outpatient surgery. Sadly I will be walking out with the same size boobs I walked in with, but happily minus a uterine lining.

I have to say, that sounds even more appealing in print than it does out loud. Try it..."UTERINE LINING". Mmmm. Has a nice ring to it.

This is supposed to be the last resort short of the big H which I'd rather not get if I can help it. I like my uterus. It just doesn't like me. We're working on it.

I'm driving myself over to the hospital at 6am to check in, and Jim will be over there after dropping the kids off at their respective schools. They won't let me take myself home after being under general anesthesia and on what will hopefully be pocketfulls of pain killers.

Mmmm. Pain killers.

I told Jim the other day that I was kind of looking forward to having a couple days during which I am supposed to do absolutely nothing--and not feel guilty about it.

And of course, there's the pain killers.

To clarify, I have plenty of days where I do absolutely nothing, but it's all that guilt about it that really pisses on my parade.

I was thinking about making myself a nice little play list on my iPod. Do they let you listen to music while your under the knife or, in this case, some sort of laser-beam coat hanger contraption?

Not that it matters. I'll be completely out.

But what if I have some kind of out of body experience? Mama needs a soundtrack.

Dichotomy

Yesterday I got the best email from Mina's teacher:

Hi!
I just have to email you and tell you how much I like working with Mina. She brightens every day!! Her smile is one of the most beautiful smiles!! My son was really impressed with her the day he came and saw the program. She was helping us move desks and Ryan asked what her name was. She really makes an impression on people because of her personality. I just want you to know that I think she is such a wonderful little girl. I want to keep her for another year!!!!
Mrs. J

I emailed her back and thanked her for completely making my day. I also thanked her for being such a great teacher. Mina adores her and I can tell that she is really retaining what she is learning. She actually applies what she's learned, and that to me is the sign of a great teaching style (well, and a smart kid).

The teacher then sent this:

I just adore her and listen to every word she says because everything she says has meaning. I don’t say this about many students. I just know as a parent I would want to know that my child’s teacher feels this way. You have done a beautiful job with her. She is so much a polite, young lady already. Have a great day!

Who doesn't like to hear how kick ass their kid is? Yeah, I'm pretty damn proud of my big girl.


That's not to say that I'm not madly in love with little Miss Audrey. She's just a whole different animal from Mina. Audrey is my clone. Perfect strangers even comment on how much she looks like me. It's cool, but also kind of weird at the same time.

Her personality is a little more "aggressive" than Mina's. She's not physically aggressive, but she isn't afraid to use verbal force to state her case--even when it's a bigger kid on the other end of the dis.

Today we had this exchange:

Audrey: Mama, could you please help me take off my shoes?
Me: Sure, since you asked so nicely.
Audrey: I was nice to Carter (a boy in her preschool class) today.
Mama: Well, that's good. Are you usually NOT nice to him?
Audrey: Um...how much nice?

Poor Carter.