I have a confession

I haven't washed my hair in a week. And it feels gross. Let me be clear. It. Feels. Gross. But I am so damn tired when I get home, that I don't have the energy to wash it. I'm going to wash it tonight. I really am. But at the moment I am sitting here dog tired, ready for bed. At the same time it has been weeks since I blogged, and it has really been bothering me. I think of things all of the time to write about, and then I'm too tired or too busy or I just freaking forget.

I was in NYC for a week with students on a journalism trip. I hate washing my hair in hotel showers for many reaons, but mostly because I never know if the water pressure will be enough to get the soap out of my hair. 

I got back and I have worked my ass off since. It is ridiculous to work 10 - 12 hours a day. In addition, my brother and his family came to town (a surprise visit if you ask me since my mom says she found out last week. whole nother story there.)  I went to the parentals last night.  

I need to get ahead of the long list of shit I have to do. I'm not sure of how I am going to do that, but I know I need to. That's the first step right? Ug. Not sure this weekend is going to do anything for helping me get ahead because I'm full up this weekend too, but maybe I can get something done. I don't know, say my taxes. dammit. 

Side note: the dogs are nuts. And they all want to touch me at night and to be honest they make it hard for me to sleep because they allow for NO movement. 

A funny thing happened on the way...

I went up to the parentals Sunday evening. Sabrina and Cat were cremated, but they were waiting to be buried under new rose bushes. It's just a thing we do. I'm pretty certain when it is finally time to sell my parents house we are going to have to include a "don't dig under the rose bushes" disclaimer.

Dad started the holes, I finished them, and mom lit the candles that we placed on their wee graves. Then we drank to lives well lived.

Monday morning, well, Monday morning I rolled out of bed, pretty sure I did not brush my hair and threw clothes on. Absolutely no make-up. It was chilly so I added my favorite blue fleece. Very old, very full of dog fur. SEXY.

On the way to the airport I had a vague memory that I had a first class ticket. I was traveling on miles, and there weren't any cheap seats available, so I figured how better to start my holiday than in first class. So, as all this came back to me, I thought to myself, I have anecdotal evidence that God has a sense of humor, I am totally going to end up next to someone cute. Yeah, you know what's coming.

As I walked towards my seat (row 5 seat A, thank you very much), and saw my seat companion, I once again kicked myself for looking like shit. I mean, really. Of course he was going to be totally hot. Dark hair, dark eyes, just HOT.

We spent the next two hours talking. It was really, really nice. By the end, it was obvious there was a connection, but how much of one and would we really do anything about it? He wanted me to go out that night, but it seemed wrong to immediately abandon my BFF, so I told him I couldn't. BUT he was only in town for the night and headed back to his home town of Orlando. What? This will never work. I am going to meet a guy on a plane and he isn't even going to be from Dallas? So, so wrong.

He gave me his info, I gave him mine, he walked me to the baggage carousel, (where I was picking up my new Europe luggage. HUGE. LEOPARD SKIN. HARD BACK. That should have scared him.) Then we stood on the curb and waited for the BFF.

She showed up. Waved, yelled, called. I was ...distracted. She finally got my attention, and I was off. A few more text messages, some talk with the BFF, next thing I knew, I had borrowed clothes and made plans to meet with Mr. Airplane. The good news is that I swear I looked so bad on the plane, it wasn't difficult to improve on that look. The better news is that he is very good for my ego. (On a side note, I still need to write about St. Patrick's Day fun on Greenville Ave. This very topic came up. I want someone who will be as crazy for me as I am for him. There is a lot to be said for someone being crazy for you.)

O.M.G. That's all I got. Fantastic conversation, very interesting, charming and a possible keeper? I know this is not the first time I have thought a guy had great potential. But Mr. Airplane is rocking it right now, and he is just fantastic looking AND he likes me. Hang on, I have to go fan myself off for a minute.

...

...

OK, I'm back. No details for now. We had a lovely date last night. BFF picked me up at the Metro and now I am back to my little vacation. All I shall say about my interlude, is perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...

Contemplations on baby showers

This past Saturday I got to go to the baby shower of my really good friend Anonymous. She's a shy thing, and she doesn't like the limelight, so I know to a certain extent she had to be uncomfortable with all of the attention being on her, but I loved getting to be a part of celebrating with her.

I wasn't sure of whom I would know at the shower, so first, let me say that when my eyes locked on to the wife of a friend of mine, I zoned in on her like a shark with a laser on its head. Bless her heart, she then became the recipient of all of my funny comments.

For instance, can someone explain to me why we say congratulations to women that are pregnant?

Cause, sex, (from what I've heard) not that tricky, and from the number of unplanned pregnancies in this world, not sure it's deserving of a standing ovation. I will acknowledge for the people that try for a really, really long time, maybe they DO deserve congratulations in a "wow, glad it final took" kind of way.

And, congratulations on finding a way to totally lose ALL disposable income for the next 20 years or so.

Congratulations on entering a world of constant laundry, cooking, cleaning and poo? (I've entered that world as you well know and that isn't so much of a congratulations as a bless your heart, you poor dear.

Congratulations on bringing another being in the world that you are guaranteed to some how mess up but you don't get to know how, although eventually this being will let you know how you permanently scarred him?

Ok, sorry back on topic. It was a lovely baby shower. Someone gave her a wooden fish. It had sharp pointed edges. I'll admit, not the first thing I would imagine giving at a baby shower. Best part? She wasn't there, she dropped it off before going to another engagement, so the rest of us where left to wonder, whiskey tango foxtrot? We think there is a sweetly sentimental meaningful reason to this gift, but we don't know that for sure just yet. Might have wanted to leave a note. Just saying.

The mother-to-be I have to tell you looked stunning. She had on this great cream sweater. Her hair was adorable, and although she says she's as large as a house, I have seen the large pregnant women, and she is not on that list. I can't wait to see the pictures from the shower. Hint hint she writes hoping anonymous will forward the one with them together.

Gifts given? Diapers (designer jean diapers people, really?), blankets (lots of blankets), clothes (so cute, little boy clothes - even camo!), toys, car seat, that portable kid storage thing people love so much, stuffed animals, and chocolates. Pretty good haul. Almost makes me want one. haha. Kidding.

At any rate, I can't wait to babysit. Big fun. Play with the baby. Chill with the baby. Leave the baby when I'm done.

If you could just try to live a normal life...

WARNING: EXPLICIT SHOTS OF ONE DIVA DERRIERE.

Sure, sounds easy enough doesn’t it? But, no. That is not what the good Lord has in store for me! So, this is my last full day before leaving for Europe. I have to get busy. I haven’t packed, I haven’t cleaned. I haven’t gotten Euros. Nothing. I did manage to get Cat up to Mom and Dad’s. While on the way, I realized that Cat has no hair on his backside. The whole area near the tail,

hairless. And he is getting pretty skinny. I guess when you get to 15 or so things happen.

This morning I got up at the CRACK of dawn so that I could walk the dogs one final time before taking them up to Mom and Dad’s (Yes, I am totally grateful that my parents are willing to help me out. I know the dogs are going to get better care and be happier with them than anywhere

else, not to mention the amount of money that I’ll be saving.

So, as we are walking along I see a white lab approaching us. So, I tighten their leads and we keep going. But sure as shit, they get all excited, and Buddy puts on his bad ass mean dog face. He rears back, I jerk the lead, he falls into my ass and takes a big ole bite. Seriously. It hurts.

Exhibit A: The wound as it first appeared on my backside. OUCH

So, I had Mom check my derriere. She determined the fact that the wounds bubbled courtesy of the hydrogen peroxide to be good. She also said the wounds looked deep, so it needed to be checked while on the trip. I called Blondie to let her know of her extended Europe trip duties: checking the divas backside for infection. She was thrilled.

Exhibit B: Shot with bruising so that you can see the exact size of Buddy's jaw as it clamped onto my tender flesh. Also, teeth marks pre-infection. ha ha. I hope.

Yearbook delivery day 1

I woke up Thursday morning mildly panic and wide-eyed. Through the night I had woken myself up thinking about the things I had failed to do in a more timely manner to get ready for yearbook delivery day to seniors. My brain was a chuggin'. So, as I raced through laying lunch out, finding clothes, putting on make-up, I thought to myself that I needed to remember to take my antibiotic from the plague I had just recovered from last week. So, I saw the prescription bottle and popped a pill.

"Huh," I said. "I thought the pills were bigger and yellow." So, I peered in the container. Sure enough, they were all white. Then I looked in the mirrored cabinet and I thought, that prescription container looks more like the one I thought this was. So, I looked closer...I had just taken a Hydrocodone. (Don't judge, my throat hurt really badly last week and every time I did the stupid netty pot I wanted to cry. Hydrocodone can be a fine drug if taken properly. Not the case here though.)

So, I thought, well, my arms are going to be loosy goosy today, but it will be ok. Folks, let me tell you, it was NOT ok.

By 7:45am the Hydrocodone had hit. One of my editor-in-chiefs was in the room. I told her what I had done because I thought this will be a mildly amusing story and it just means I'll be a little goofy. Hours later as word spread through my classes and I fear the building that I'm an idiot who doesn't read her medicine bottles before chugging drugs, I regretted sharing that tidbit.

At any rate, I was having trouble standing. By 8:00 I had started throwing up, since I hadn't actually eaten anything yet, I was just throwing up the lining of my stomach which I would continue to throw up all day.

By 8:20 Blondie sent me down to the nurses and she watched over yearbook distribution. I came back upstairs right before 3rd since I had a class. Thank God, I had yearbook staffers sign up to pass out yearbooks because I love the photoj kids but would never trust them to not screw up the passing out of books.

I lasted about 10 minutes into third and then I went into the hallway where the yearbook couch resides during yearbook distribution and slept. That is where I stayed all day until about 3:00 when two of my girls volunteered to drive me home. Got sick again.

Make it to the car, as we are driving along, sweet child #1 looks in the rear view mirror to see sweet child #2 getting pulled over for talking on her phone. I think she might have gotten out of the ticket since she started crying immediately and I think the first words out of her mouth were I am taking my teacher home because she took a Hydrocodone by mistake. Sigh.

As we are pulling onto my street, I say to sweet child #1, "Hurry up, I'm about to be sick again." Yup.

We get in the front door, hmm, funny smell. Looks like the dogs got into the 100 calorie snacks I bought that I now believe are filled with all sorts of bad ingredients if the diarrhea all over my living room carpet is anything to go by. So, while waiting for sweet child #2 to talk her way out of the ticket, I began the cleaning up process. I don't know why I didn't take photos. I have to remember to start taking photos.

Once the girls left, I went to bed. And stayed there. All night. Didn't watch T.V. slept. Tried to watch it once or twice, woke up, turned TV on, and then realized I couldn't do it. Back to sleep.

On the upside, my yearbook staff is unbelievable. They passed out books all day. Took attendance, kept people quiet as they wandered by the semi-comatose body on the couch. I'm telling you these girls know how to rise to an occasion.

Now I have to pass our yearbooks to the rest of the school. TaTaForNow

Praying for Death

I've been dealing with sinus issues for a couple of weeks. But since my doctor (that I FINALLY made a commitment to after many years of Primacare) has become a "boutique" doctor charging $1,000 a year (but he'll even make house calls), I am back to no doctor.

I say this because yesterday literally in the middle of the day I starting feeling like total dog poop. And, from previous posts, you know I am much too familiar with the sights, sounds and smells of that one. I went to the nurses. They had me gargle with salt water and told me to get zyrtec. I followed their instructions.

Last night I felt wretched. My throat was killing me. In fact, I finally went to sleep and then woke up in the middle of the night because my throat hurt so badly. I popped a hydrocodone, advil, sprayed some of that sore throat spray and did a nose spray then went back to bed. (The BFF had suggested that I go lick the door handle on Mr. Poo Poo Heads vehicle in order to pass this particularly vile illness along to him...I have to admit I went to sleep dreaming of how I could make it work.)

I woke up feeling a little better but still pretty miserable.

Yesterday I was practically psychotically unhappy. I promised the children I would be more cheerful today. This is going to require serious pain meds. Sigh.

There are 22 days until the last day of school...if I live that long.

The world is filled with Crafty People

Seriously. In my bleary eyed boredom, I began clicking through blogger blogs. There are a lot, many, many, many of which are filled with crafty things that people are doing. Quilts, scarves, mittons, hook rugs, clothes, etc, etc etc. I'm overwhelmed by the craftiness of these people. Where do they find the time. Do they have followings? Are there rabid knitters following other knitters? Do people go out and search for other crafty people and ideas? There are people out there doing shit with toothpicks that you can't imagine. There are people out there stamping stuff. No idea of why, but they are.

I'd like to wrap this up with some profound thought or some such, but really, I got nothing...so that's all for now folks!

New information: it appears when I hit next blog on blogger it took me through all of the crafty blogs (hence the array that came before me), then it took me through all the beer blogs. Wow. Lots of beer brewers out there, brewing the crap out of their favorite drink!

Well, damn, how do I get to all the "funny as hell" blogs?

One of THOSE days

Ok, actually I've been having one of those weeks. Between the time change and the whole "I did absolutely nothing over spring break" thing, I am exhausted to be back at work. Getting up at the crack of dawn. Working all day long. Meeting after meeting. It's killing me. And I'm not alone. I'm telling you this building is full of zombie teachers.
We are all wandering around lifeless, cursing the 64 days until the end of the school year.

This week has been particularly onerous because I've had soooo many meetings. Literally, every time I turn around, another meeting. AND, I've had stuff after school almost every day. AND Mr. Potential had his boss in town, so I haven't seen him all week, and I'm CRANKY about it.

Really cranky. If I'm lucky, I'll see him tomorrow, but then not Saturday or Sunday. Aaannnddddd

he texted me that he has to be out of town most of next week. GRRRRRRRRR. I know that I don't actually get to be cranky about him having to do his job, but I don't care. I'm annoyed. And displeased.

Oh, and when I went googling for pictures, these are what I found AND they were all snagged from other places too, so I can't even give legit credit to the original takers of said photos. Sorry.

Stalkers have game; and creepy can be helpful.

So, recently I have mocked and belittled my dear sister for her desire to search shit out on the internet. Now, as it turns out, I'm pretty sure she didn't know that I had mocked or belittled her regarding this issue until just now. I now reveal this information because, as always, God has chosen to smite me with my own words. I hate it when He does that.

Recently, I received a note in my mailbox from disgruntled neighbor DogHater regarding, of all things, my dogs and their love of a good bark.

I called DogHater and left a message that I was terribly sorry, but I am working long hours, it really won't be for much longer and there will be no more problems, so sorry, goodbye.

Then I received a second note from DogHater's Roommate. She didn't leave a lot of room for conversation. She said she worked odd hours (I'm going with stripper myself) and she required naps during the day which were being made difficult courtesy of my bad dogs. In fact, it wasn't so much my dogs as my dogs starting shit and going inside to let all the other dogs in the neighborhood bark. Yeah, that sounds like them.

I responded with a I am so sorry. As I said "Blah, blah, blah" I will keep them in until 3 in the afternoon at which point I'm letting 'em out cause we all gotta pee sometime lady.

Last night, DogHater left a message on the school phone (cause I sure as shit am not giving them my cell number). I called back - no answer, so I hung up.

But then, I thought, I'm gonna do a little Googling research on these girls. So, channeling my sister, I got busy. Actually spent a pretty good amount of time looking these girls up. Time, I might add, that really needed to be spent doing things like finishing yearbook pages, proofing the pages that arrived today and determining the freaking yearbook staff for next year. Anywho boy, oh, boy, is there a lot of info on the internet people. Try looking yourself up. I know when DogHater was born, where she went to school, her dad's name, what her jobs have been, where she lives exactly, etc. etc.

That, of course, got me thinking about my own info. Let me tell you, thank the dear Lord there is an actress with my name. Cause you can try to find the Diva, but you'll have to go through 40 or 50 pages of listing and still in the end find very little about me. HA.

So, sure, this is probably information that will do me almost no good. But can you imagine how badly I can freak her out if when we finally talk, I throw out where she went to school, or quote something she wrote in her blog 4 years ago???? Heeby. Jeebys.

Happy Bday to Me!!

I admit it. I love my birthday. As I've said before, as much as I hate turning 40, it beats the hell out of the alternative. And for being such a beating of a bday. It actually has been very delightful. It started with my BFF arriving in town on Friday.

Back up, actually it started with 3 doctors appointments on Friday all further bringing home that I am now old and old people have lots of doctors appointments and things falling apart. Sad, really.

But AFTER that then the BFF arrived. We went to dinner with our parents and then headed down to my house. We went to see Valentines Day on Saturday, and she met Mr. Potential. That made me very happy because I most definitely wanted them to meet. In the meantime, every time I turned around she had another little gift for me. It was a non-stop bonanza of cute stuff.

Saturday night we ordered out, watched a movie and did a whole lot of nothing. Pure. Greatness. She headed out Sunday to return to her familla, and I was taken to dinner. He gave me my present which was a very nice gift card to a local spa Exhale. I have heard many fabulous things about it so I am totally excited. I like that he knows what I like : )

Monday morning, I got up put on my"It's my birthday tiara" and headed to school. I actually have two tiaras because I think it is good to have choices, and I have to admit I usually get a headache by the end of the day because the thing is a little tight on my head, but I am telling you it is virtually impossible to have a bad day with a tiara on your head. You should try it.

By 6th period, I have to admit I was vibrating with excitement to see what the kids had gotten me. I knew they had something up their sleeve. I was dying to know what.
Yup. Shoes. Very tall. Very pink. Very glittery. Oh. My. Soooo Beautiful. 5 inch heels. I actually couldn't walk in them. Craziness.
Tttthhheeennn as if that wasn't enough, my sweet big sister sent me a flower bday cake. As she pointed out, it is the perfect cake for me since actual cake makes my stomach cramp up like a bad case of food poisoning (thank you very much don't I love not having a gall bladder) this cake is very pretty but it won't pain me!
In addition, she sent the CUTEST bear ever. He now sits in my office and makes me very, very happy. I thought about taking him home, but since we all know the damn dogs will gnaw on him if I take him home, he will keep me company at school. He is sooo soft and cuddly. That is good, since weirdness at school which will have to be another post is going to have me clutching my teddy bear a lot!

So, as much as I adored the shoes, I couldn't actually walk in them. My ankle actually had NO bend from my leg because the heel was so high. The editors very sweetly took me to the store to exchange for shoes I could actually wear. A little more toned down, but I will wear them A LOT. And I will think of how sweet my kids are to get them for me! I made it home in time to take care of the dogs and then go to dinner with Mr. Potential.

I got all sorts of Facebook love all day (SO MUCH FUN). And I would like to add festivities continue through the week! I'll post more later!

Valentine's Day, Marriage and Dogs

No, no, unwad your panties. They aren't as connected as you think.

So, with the recent passing of Valentine's Day, I have once again been faced with the gentle reminder that I'm really not a pro dater as it were. I actually have made it past 3 dates so few times that I don't even know what appropriate dating behavior is. Like what counts as normal behavior for a guy. (For instance, the first two weeks, the toilet seat was always down. It made me happy. I found a guy that always put the toilet seat down. Total crock. Now it's down to about 50% of the time.)

In addition, making it to almost two months was so very exciting that I went a wee overboard in the gift giving department for Valentine's Day. Well, first I got a good gift, then I thought of something better. Now, luckily I kept the first one (ok, it was a gift certificate, so it worked out I could use it ; ) because although he was very appreciative, let's just say the grocery store flowers, not quite equal to what I got him. Clearly, it is not as big of deal to hit 7 weeks as it was for me. I like the flowers, they were sweet, but still a casual, nice to know you but I'm not investing too much into this cause let's face it, this is still a new relationship kind of message.

On the other hand, we went out the night before, and he made etouffe for me Sunday, which I must add was totally delicious. So, that was very sweet, right?

This then leads to my friend, PR's, comment that dating for me is like age for dogs - you have to multiply by 7 to appreciate the true length of time so to speak. Cause really, this is probably like a year to most people. I am totally impressed with myself that this has lasted this long. And, I'll admit, fairly often I think, yeah, this isn't gonna last much longer.

Today, I finally opened my mail from Saturday. Included in the mail was an absolutely adorable "save the date" for a friend's daughter's wedding. She's 19. Adorable. Boy? Adorable. Wedding party? Adorable. And yet, the cynic in me thinks, good grief, everything is stacked against them these days. How in today's world of "you have to be happy" and "don't take that girl" and get a divorce when things don't go well, are they going to manage to get married and STAY married?

I will say that they were going to have a destination wedding, but I am so glad that they aren't. I hope that all of the people that show up for that wedding remember how important the part each person plays is. We will all have an obligation to help these two very young, very in love people to stay married. Ugh. The pressure.

At any rate, back to me. As things progress with Mr. Potential, I mostly think things are going well. We have fun, we enjoy each other's company. I'm still a little worried about a lack of excitement regarding Sabrina and Buddy, but I can't totally blame him for that. ( I came home yesterday to discover the towel I put on one of the chairs to protect it from their muddy little feet was ripped into shreds. Victim of the let's destroy shit game they so love to play.)

Sigh. This dating thing is tough. That's all I'm really saying.

My head is all wacked out

I'm certain there is a more professional way to say that, but nevertheless that is what I am feeling like. Wacked out.

I am stuck in a hotel for the 4th night (OK, technically things were ok until the storm hit Saturday, but I am still supposed to be AT HOME right now, but I am not.) I'm preparing to leave tomorrow via St. Louis where there is a snow storm coming. Fan-freaking-tastic.

I can't even go into detail about how bizarre this trip has been. Two migraines the first two days here. Strange and bizarre conflict with the other chaperon. Wishing I were home the whole time to be with someone who may or may not be all that damn interested in me.

Which brings me the next reason I am wacked out. I don't like "liking" someone, especially when you aren't all that certain of the other person. It makes my insides twist, and I have to say I don't like it.

I am a freak, and I know it. I am trying to control my freakiness. Not sure it's working all that well at the moment.

There is a scream welling up inside of me. It would be helped by a drink which I can't have because I'm on a stupid school trip with children.

Once upon a time. . .

There was a girl. She was ready for a change in her life, so she took a job for which she was totally unqualified. When she got to her new job, she met her #1 coworker: The Penguin. One cranky woman that Penguin. No love loss there. Within a year of the new job, the building was under construction.

The girl, knowing a little about what happens when there is no oversight on big projects, kept her eye on things as her part of the building was modified. Luckily when the contractors started to lower the ceilings from 14 feet to 8, she begged and pleaded and they left them tall.

BUT when she saw that a WINDOW, A FREAKING WINDOW was going to go in between her new office and the penguin, she no, please, please no. But she was told it was too late. The parts had been ordered. So, the window went in. It didn't open. It was just a window between two offices of people who really and truly did not get along.

So, the girl quickly got to work and had a cork board made to cover the window. It was a great cork board. For many years she added to the papers that hung on it. See the cork board below.


Eventually, the Penguin left. But she was replace by Scooby Doo. Yeah, he was fairly harmless, but he was also a total idiot. She could barely stand to look at him, let alone talk to him, so the board remained.

But theeeennnn, she met Blondie. It was love. Blondie was super cool. Fun, interesting, entertaining; basically everything you could want in a team mate.

So, The Diva mentioned to Blondie that there was actually a window between the two offices. Blondie got a gleam in her eyes and agreed that a window would be a GREAT Thing. So, arrangements were made to take the bulletin board down. The glass remained, but they had high hopes that they would be able to sweet talk the building engineer into helping them get a sliding glass window for between their offices.

But then they decided that they really couldn't wait. They had fun calling each other and being on speakerphone, and it kind of made it seem like they were in the same room. However, it just wasn't enough. They wanted more. So they sweet talked some more. . . and the glass came down. . . SAY HI TO BLONDIE the rockinest office mate in the world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today was our first day without glass. We agree that it was a GOOD day, much better than before. Things are looking up I tell you : )

Indications of total mind melting

Last night coming in the house Buddy tried to escape, so as I was grabbing his leg to keep him from escaping. While I was doing that my purse fell. So, I finally get us all inside.

This morning I can't find my keys. Anywhere. Any guesses? Yeah, they were still in the front door.

Sabrina is still being difficult about the doggie door. I'm quite busy fretting about what is wrong with her. In the course of fretting this morning, I totally forgot to feed the dogs. As I type, they are probably eating a pillow in protest.

I have other examples but I can't remember them because I'm LOSING MY MIND.

I'm certain I'll miss all of you when the mind totally goes, but since I won't remember you I think it will be ok.

How you know you are busy

You know you are ass kicking busy, when a coworker walks in your room and says, "Hey, what are you still doing here? I thought you had to take the dogs to the vet."

"I do, but it is after school."

"It is after school."

"What?!?!" Quick look at clock, sure enough 4:50.

"SHIT," I yell dramatically before grabbing my purse and hauling out of the room.

Probably should have missed the appointment. Damn dogs cost me $500 for annual, and Buddies gonna cost another $500 for dental. Shoosh Cha Cha I know your bills are way higher, I'm still traumatized. ; )

Today was a traumatic day

*** Totally inappropriate for young children, the squeamish and men. There, consider yourself warned.

Today was traumatic not just because I started the day hurling, surely that alone is enough to qualify as traumatic, but more importantly because today was the day I went to my new lady doctor. . . I have had the same doctor as long as I have been going. One. Doctor. Only. I have tried to limit the people that have visited my girl bits. One doctor. 20 some odd years. Yes, it was a woman, and yes, this one is a woman, but still. The whole thing is awkward. Getting to know someone new and trying to act blase about some stranger being down in private town.

Now I tried to get sympathy from the BFF but as it turns out if your husband is in the military, there are a parade of people who have seen your girl bits through the years and therefore you are unable to be truly sympathetic to the trauma of a NEW Girl doctor.

She was a very nice lady. I think she might be Persian which did cause a little bit of confusion. She asked me if I smoked (in my defense I was distracted because she had begun the exam process). I told her yes, I did drink milk. I needed her to repeat things a couple of times which might have given her the idea that at the ripe old age of almost 40 I am clearly going deaf.

In fact she made a comment about almost being 40 and then said, "Oh, I know, I am almost 38." It would have been wrong to punch my new girl doctor right?

Some of you know that I have had migraines since I started teaching (that corollary is a whole nother post.) Early on I was given a drug called Fiortal for the migraines. Works great. I have taken it for years. So, I then began working on getting my lady doctor to prescribe. She was ALWAYS reticent. She used to give me 10 at a time. That alone usually gave me a migraine just thinking about how few I had. Apparently it is a controlled substance, so she was all nervous about it. So, almost 16 years later, I finally had gotten her to relax and prescribe 50 at a time. . . for a year. It was great. New doctor. . .that's right. . . I have to start all over convincing her I am not abusing them and I'm not a druggie.

She asked me if I gone to a neurologist. My response was why would I do that when I had found something that worked. She asked if I knew when I got them, and she appeared impressed that I told her I had 5 triggers and when I hit 3 of the 5 I would get a migraine. She then gave me the perscription, just for 20, better than nothing I say.

Then she asked me about birth control, if I was tied to pills (which are really nice because I know when NOT to wear the white clothing if you know what I mean.) Apparently as we get REALLY REALLY old we have to be careful of the amount of hormones we add to our bodies. She suggested the Nuvaring. Please feel free to peruse the website and contemplate the questions you might have. I know I am slightly taken aback by how this is going to work exactly. It apparently can be placed inside the body and removed every three months. No period for 3 months at a time. Small pause, then, "Unless you like getting your period."

"Uh, that would be a no ghost rider."

I asked if it was fairly idiot proof . . . she said yes. I have my doubts. She gave me a sample with instructions to keep it in the fridge until I use it. . . Umm, where would that go? With the eggs? Cheese drawer? Next to soft drinks? And good Lord, won't that thing be cold when it's time to be a using it? I'd be happy to let you know when it is time, but that may qualify as WAAAYYYYYY too TMI (while clearly this post is just slightly TMI).

And that was my visit to my new lady doctor.

A stolen post

ChaCha has been reading Vanity Fair's Proust Questionnaire. It's a collection of all the questionnaires that appear on the last page of the magazine. She snagged it cause she thought was interesting. "The questionnaire is a late-19th century parlor game, and the book is all sorts of famous folks' answers. Some of them are hilarious, some overwrought, others just the right amount of thoughtful."

So, I'm doing it too and suggesting you steal from me . . .

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Slurpee in one hand, holding the hand of Mr. Potential with the other, by water. . . yup. Sounds good to me.

What is your greatest fear?
Someone I love dying without me having said I love you first.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Quick,quick temper.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Ingratitude. - Cha Cha said this, but I second it, so I'm leaving it.

What is your favorite journey?
I love going on the senior class trip each year to Europe. The kids are always fun, happy and so excited to be embarking on the next part of their journey through life that their happiness is contagious.

On what occasion do you lie?
I work very hard to not lie ever. I will sit silently or divert the conversation if humanly possible. I won't lie to protect myself, but I will evade the truth to protect someone's feelings.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Oh, my, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (you figure out what that stands for . . .) Chitlins,

Which living person do you most despise?
No one, although I have quite a list of people that annoy the ever loving shit out of me.

What is your greatest regret?
The times I didn't say the really hard stuff that needed to be said but no one ever wants to say because people don't always want to hear the truth even when it needs to be said and heard.

Which talent would you most like to have?
The ability to make people feel at peace just being around me. You know people like that right? You just feel better after being with that person. I wish I had that talent.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Worrier. I worry about everything. I'm pretty certain its an inherited thing, and I don't think most people even know, but nevertheless, I worry. A lot.

What is it that you most dislike?
roaches. eeeekkkkk, pumping gas,

What is your most treasured possession?
I can tell the story behind almost every thing in my house. From whom it came, when I got it etc. So, stuff has meaning for me, I'm not sure I could choose.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Grief. What about Hate? Such misery to be filled with hate. . .

What is your most marked characteristic?
I have no idea. Right now the kids might say high standards with a side of demanding, but that is because we are working like dogs to finish the yearbook. . . never quitting? Honesty.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
Integrity ... and a sense of humor. Cha Cha nailed it again. Honesty, loyalty, intelligence

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
same as above.

What do you most value in your friends?
Honesty. My friends keep me on track and focused on what's important in life.

How would you like to die?
Quickly, unaware if possible

What is your motto?
Live your life in such a way so that when your feet hit the floor in the morning Satan says, "Oh, Shit, she's awake."

Pooh Bear and such

A few years ago someone gave me a Winnie-the-Pooh calendar. It came with stickers, such as "a Busy Day" and "a Lazy Day", "a Cleaning Day" and "a Hummy Day." Then there are the times when you need a smackeral of something, and times when you are feeling like a bear of very little brain. I'm thinking of making my twitter updates a la Pooh Bear.

He likes to keep things under 140 characters. For instance,"It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long difficult words but rather short, easy words like "What about lunch?"

I've also contemplated having a sign at the front of the classroom. A warning, of sorts, to the children. "A Cranky Day" or "Pls don't ask stupid questions" day (Oh, please, yes, there are stupid questions.) I'm not sure if my precious darlings would choose to pay attention to the sign though. They have a tendency to just push onward ignoring all signs of warning.

I thought today would be a So-So day, but I looked at my calendar and realized, no, it will be a Busy Day. Sigh. Busy days are tricky. Because not only do I have a lot on MY list to do, but they usually come with the children asking many, many questions and having many needs to be met. By the end of Busy Days I am usually quite exhausted and ready for a Sleepy Night. I already looked around the room and realized today is also going to be a Cleaning Day. The place is a mess, and I usually have to stand over them all day barking commands to get them to clean properly. This is where I add the snide remark about children raised with maids comes in 'cause I'm telling you, some of these kids do NOT know how to clean.

In addition, I am trying to get things done around the room that require others. So my friend, Daisy is going to come by to help with the computers (I hope) and my Building Engineer friend is going to send some one to help me rearrange stuff on the walls so that the big window between Blondie and I is visible. (This is a very long story in and of itself, and it is worth of its own post which it shall get, just not today.)

Tomorrow Mr. Potential comes back, so I feel confident it will be a Hummy Day with Excitement on the side. I will try to not let it become a so busy that the Diva is very Cranky Day. Of course, if I am feeling out of sorts it might just be that I am feeling a little Eleven O'Clockish and it is time for a some honey . . . and afterwards I will feel much better and happy Diva like.

So, today will be a Busy Day, not a Doing Nothing day. And tomorrow is sure to be a Hummy Day and so is Friday now that I think about it. How is your day looking?

I'll take that with a side of bitchy

Last night, I went over to Mr. Potentials to watch the BCS football game with him and his friends. I started out ok, but I could feel myself getting a wee bit, well, catty. Sure, I had a grapefruit juice and some thing or another, but I still kept the catty thoughts inside (hooray for me, using the inside voice.)

I did at one point note to Mr. Potential that I was feeling catty but keeping it in. For instance, the girlfriend of one friend really likes to show her girls, if you know what I mean. Another girl was very proud of her boyfriend (10yrs older) covered in tattoos managing a bar/pizza joint but still getting recommended by the people at The Mansion. Really? The whole conversation just made me tired. . .

I could feel myself getting cattier as the evening progressed.

This morning? I was crampy and realized that it was Dia de Mensa. Seriously, I was like "Oh, thank God, I'm not a total bitch, I'm hormonal." Well, let's be honest, I got de bitch in me but I try not to let her out with people I've just met.

Ramblings on Christmas Eve

Merry Christmas everyone!

What can I say? Left to my own devices, I ramble. I'm sitting in my red velvet chair looking out the back window at the yard as it fills with snow. A fairly unusual sight in my part of the world, and I've gotten to watch it snow twice this December. This one is more of an icy snow with high winds, so not quite as enchanting as the first.

I've been working diligently this week emptying my storage units and trying to fit all of my crapola in the house. It's not really working. I look at each item and contemplate its value as well as the chances of selling it on Craig's list or in a garage sale . . . all I can say is a lot of my prized possessions are going to find themselves on the auction block. This is about to be the season of reducing inventory.

I have to say I am pleased with the way the year ended. Well, mostly. I am renting (not as magical as I thought it would b) but I ask you where were all of my damn friends when I was waxing poetically about what I was certain were the joys of renting vs. owning??? In the land of keeping their mouths shut, that's where.

I like the house, it is small, but it is a great location. Walking distance to lots of places to eat (important since I STILL don't have a working stove), 7-eleven and the magical slurpees, my new work-out place and a dry-cleaners.

I also like that it is new and warm. Even when the heat isn't on it is a good 20degrees warmer than my former abode. And the bathtub? Well, the bathtub is to die for. FABULOUS!!

I think it will do me good to settle in, work on reducing debt, not spend money on a house or stuff for a while and simplify in general.

Remember my friend, Jim? As I reflect on the year, I find myself thinking about how my social life has improved 10-fold from knowing him. Beyond the fact that he is an excellent movie companion, he has these great dinners that I get invited to regularly. They are mostly dinners for his neighborhood pals, but he is kind enough to let me come anyway. I might add, he has great neighborhood pals.

I went to a Christmas party a couple of weeks ago at his neighbors across the street. If I could find a way to take photos of the W's house without being a total stalker, I would do it. They are minimalists, with money, and a great 1950's circa art deco style house. Lots of windows and cool furniture. Of course their party was fabulous, cause people that cool have to have fabulous parties, don't cha' know.

Fun side note, while there I chatted up with other neighbors (equally as cool, no wonder I couldn't find a house there when I was looking, clearly my cool quotient isn't high enough yet!) At any rate, Big D asks me if it is weird that people I don't realize are reading my blog are reading my blog. . . hmm I think, no because I'm pretty certain there are only 5 people reading the damn thing and I'm related to 4 of them.

(Quick side note, as I write this Fergie's Glamorous Life has just come on . . .as it begins Sabrina begins to howl. I love that song and the damn dog is adding her own soundtrack. Geez)

Back on topic, Big D tells me he actually reads the blog ?what? turns out last time I saw him I threw out what the blog was, and son-of-a-bitch he remembered the address and went to it. Cracks me up. Now I have to think about the fact that before he might have suspected I'm a total nut job but now he KNOWS I am. At any rate, I say hats off to you Big D for sticking with it. Once I start dating again, I'm sure things will improve. . .which brings me to what I shall fondly refer to as Suicide watch 2010. (Only slightly tongue in cheek cause let me assure you I am TOTALLY traumatized by the fact I turn FORTY in February.)

It hurts me to even type it. Yes, I realize there are many people older than that who might or might not have been traumatized by their own turning of 40. Trust me when I tell you I am beside myself. Many reasons for that which I'm certain I will reguritate about at some point, just not now.

Oh, yeah, back to Jim. So, last night he had one of his dinners. He had to set up two big long tables for everyone. It was so much fun. Everyone is interesting and fun, and it is like a great big family. Without a doubt, I am very grateful for Jim.

I have more rambling to do, but I'm about to have my very special mac and cheese Christmas dinner. Yummy. So, maybe more tomorrow. . .