This is for the Professor who is turning 35 tomorrow. What better than to sing and play an Oasis song?
Note to Professor: I love you.
8/27/2008
Let There Be Love
I Am More Machine Than Man Now
I got all manner of springs and tightening tools in my mouth. It feels GREAT. To those who have criticized me for my complaints about how bad it felt to have my mouth practically sawn in half with that screw thing, you can eat this for lunch: apparently I had a bad reaction to the numbing medication they gave me and it unnaturally tore up my mouth. In addition to that, the immense pain of the screw they "screwed" in there made it all worse. For days. So I wasn't insane. The orthodontist thought I was nuts for not tearing down the house for pain medication.
But now I am fine. It hurts a little because of tightening issues, but it is nothing like the last painful bout of orthodontic care.
I am happy to report I can play guitar now and my sliced up finger is painless too.
I sound like an old woman!!!
Tomorrow is the Professor's birthday. Any ideas on what to get him? Come on, I know you have some ideas!!!!
8/25/2008
ABBA Zabba
My sister in law brought ABBA into my house about a month ago after she saw Mama Mia at the theater. She made me suffer through it as I made dinner. She would totally laugh at this-- I guess it is not so bad. Well, I am trying to be nice, but I hate any type of disco-esque stuff---the Bee Gees are worse. I tend to think that if a guy sounds like a high-pitched alien when he sings, it is unnatural and should not be played. As for ABBA, I just have a slight aversion, although I can understand the attraction. Like rap. I really do not like rap at all, but I can understand how attractive it can be when I hear some decent artists mix a good beat with some fun loops.
Well, every time I get off the treadmill ABBA is blasting in the house. The Girl puts it on nearly every day and listens to particular songs over and over. "Chiquitita?" Don't make me blow chunks.
8/22/2008
8/21/2008
Post Traumatic Stress & Kissing Serious Butt
Yesterday the kids down the street decided to all pile in my house. I almost wept openly when I saw that they were in my bedroom jumping on my bed. Someone had picked up my guitar and carelessly placed it over my night stand. I completely became unglued.
So I went downstairs, made more sugar scrub and drank some wine. Well, first I banished all the children from my house and made my own kids read.
The Oldest is really milking it lately. The other day he discovered that I am the reason he is not getting his gameboy back just yet. His eyes widened upon the news.
"Are you serious? Usually it is the other way around!" He was shocked.
"Yeah, well Dad was just saying to me that he thinks you could get your gameboy back but I told him I was not so sure and so he said for me to make the final decision."
He turned to me (we were in the car and he was in the passenger's seat) and said, "Mom, do you know how much I love you?"
"Nice try," I said flatly.
"No, really. And if I didn't have to come with you to the post office like you ordered I would have done the dishes without your telling me! Really! It was on my mind to do!"
"Yep, I bet."
The rest of the day he decided to help me with everything. Oh here let me get this for you, and let me handle that, kind of stuff. As he was putting cut potatoes in a bowl for me he said, "You know, if you give me my gameboy now you know I will lose it in a matter of days and I will do your bidding for it again anyway."
"True," I said.
He doesn't realize that I take it away because he is obsessed with it, not because I want him to do things for me. He has to do that anyway whether he likes it or not.
The Professor and I should give it back to him soon though so that we can now quit rolling our eyes whenever he says, "I love you!!!!"
8/19/2008
Almost Severed Fingers and Some Linkage
have not been able to post lately because I severely cut my finger like a total nimrod. I was cutting up cilantro and don't ask me how, but I sliced my index fingernail. I mean, I CUT it. If my fingernail had not been there I would have cut off my finger. So typing has been a complete joke the past few days. Until today I could only type a few sentences at a time.
And contrary to popular belief, I know how to cut up stuff. I think I got distracted or something. It is all a blur.
I went over to my neighbor's house (who is a nurse) and she took care of me pronto. She gave me salt flushes, wrapping, tape, you name it, she had it and administered her care. And it hurts like crazy. Heaven forbid I become an old woman and have aches and pains. I get sort of mean when I am in pain.
I am not geared up for school this year at all either. I am teaching a couple classes and no matter what I do I just never feel prepared. Thankfully the Professor is going to take on teaching the Oldest logic this year so I don't have to wrap my brain around that. I've already done enough voco, vocas, vocamus, vocatis, vocant but I guess I will have to do that again this year although I foresee that Latin will be only a good vocabulary help.
I ran seven miles this morning and I feel really great. I even could still focus when the Girl kept coming to the window and making silly faces. Yesterday I almost lost it and fell off the treadmill she had me laughing so hard. She is such a freak. She was taking a stick and twisting it back and forth into the glass with an evil look on her face. She makes no sense.
I am sure Eraser Eater (9) would not mind if you all looked at this for him. He is very enthusiastic about it. His idea of fun is going on that site and pretty much taking notes.The Oldest also wants you all to listen to his song on my podcast (for a time) that he created. It sounds like Neo is going to bust through the wall and whip some agent butt.
And contrary to popular belief, I know how to cut up stuff. I think I got distracted or something. It is all a blur.
I went over to my neighbor's house (who is a nurse) and she took care of me pronto. She gave me salt flushes, wrapping, tape, you name it, she had it and administered her care. And it hurts like crazy. Heaven forbid I become an old woman and have aches and pains. I get sort of mean when I am in pain.
I am not geared up for school this year at all either. I am teaching a couple classes and no matter what I do I just never feel prepared. Thankfully the Professor is going to take on teaching the Oldest logic this year so I don't have to wrap my brain around that. I've already done enough voco, vocas, vocamus, vocatis, vocant but I guess I will have to do that again this year although I foresee that Latin will be only a good vocabulary help.
I ran seven miles this morning and I feel really great. I even could still focus when the Girl kept coming to the window and making silly faces. Yesterday I almost lost it and fell off the treadmill she had me laughing so hard. She is such a freak. She was taking a stick and twisting it back and forth into the glass with an evil look on her face. She makes no sense.
I am sure Eraser Eater (9) would not mind if you all looked at this for him. He is very enthusiastic about it. His idea of fun is going on that site and pretty much taking notes.The Oldest also wants you all to listen to his song on my podcast (for a time) that he created. It sounds like Neo is going to bust through the wall and whip some agent butt.
8/15/2008
Have Mercy
I have a new song on my site, so go take a listen. I worked on it for a long time so I expect that if you have the capability you will do me a favor! :) I got the Oldest to tweak with a few things for me (he refused to play the piano, but I have a song coming up that he is going to play on, so I am excited----he is actually an excellent player, believe it or not). Ok, enough begging.
Groundhog Day
The Professor kept me up last night watching Groundhog Day on "demand" (you guys know what that is, right, because I don't) and I suppose when you press any other button on the channel changer you can biff the whole thing up. Well, the man changed the channel instead of the volume at the very end, right when Bill Murray (Phil) finishes up his piano solo at that party, and we lost the whole movie. I was up well past midnight to watch most of a movie that I can't remember the ending to. "Oh well," smiled the man.
"Yeah, 'oh well.'"
Well, I had a little "oh well" this morning when I woke up at 9:16. Eraser Eater, I suppose, tired of waiting for me to get up, opened my bedroom door and it creaked really loud. That needs W-D40, I thought.
"I've been waiting all morning to tell you how excited I am!" He jumped on my bed, hugged me, and smiled directly in my face.
"Clone Wars?" I stretched.
"Yes! Last night when you left for the teacher meeting it was a few hours until Friday but now it IS Friday! And we were all really hungry so {the Oldest} made his own eggs, but they burned a little on the edges, and he made toast, and {the Girl}..."
Holy Crap.
Eraser Eater exited when I started to get up. I collapsed back onto my pillow. The Oldest soon boomed up the stairs and entered my room, paper in hand. He placed it on the Professors empty pillow. "Just though you would need that," he said. The smell of tart Sharpie entered my nose.
His note said, "Dear Mom, I would very much wish to have my game boy back and I made my own breakfast. Love, {the Oldest}"
It was a trick. He wanted to do the dishes without my telling him because he wants gameboy back! Gamecube has been kicked and banished to the closet (and still has not resurrected), then gameboy ended up in my drawer because the boy decided to hit his sister and play without following the rules (again). He is supposed to read five chapters of the Bible before he can play per day. That boy knows the Bible. He has read it four or five times cover to cover.
And what happened to me? Anesthesia? Groundhog Day?
"Yeah, 'oh well.'"
Well, I had a little "oh well" this morning when I woke up at 9:16. Eraser Eater, I suppose, tired of waiting for me to get up, opened my bedroom door and it creaked really loud. That needs W-D40, I thought.
"I've been waiting all morning to tell you how excited I am!" He jumped on my bed, hugged me, and smiled directly in my face.
"Clone Wars?" I stretched.
"Yes! Last night when you left for the teacher meeting it was a few hours until Friday but now it IS Friday! And we were all really hungry so {the Oldest} made his own eggs, but they burned a little on the edges, and he made toast, and {the Girl}..."
Holy Crap.
Eraser Eater exited when I started to get up. I collapsed back onto my pillow. The Oldest soon boomed up the stairs and entered my room, paper in hand. He placed it on the Professors empty pillow. "Just though you would need that," he said. The smell of tart Sharpie entered my nose.
His note said, "Dear Mom, I would very much wish to have my game boy back and I made my own breakfast. Love, {the Oldest}"
It was a trick. He wanted to do the dishes without my telling him because he wants gameboy back! Gamecube has been kicked and banished to the closet (and still has not resurrected), then gameboy ended up in my drawer because the boy decided to hit his sister and play without following the rules (again). He is supposed to read five chapters of the Bible before he can play per day. That boy knows the Bible. He has read it four or five times cover to cover.
And what happened to me? Anesthesia? Groundhog Day?
8/14/2008
Not Fair
I am sad no one really read my prior brilliance, but no matter.
The ONE day the Oldest marches downstairs and declares, "Mom, I am here to let you know," (we were in the kitchen)" that I will now do the dishes without you telling me!"
I thought it was a trick of some sort. I was waiting for a hammer to come down on my head, a bucket of slime to dump on me, a Nerf bullet to dart me in the eye----but no. I looked at him blankly.
He stood there with a smile on his face. You know, he smiles in a way that makes him look like he is holding his breath or forcing it a little.
I had just looked at the dishes in the dishwasher before he came down and what do you know, they were dirty.
"The day you decide to do something when you are not told and there is nothing for you to do."
"What?! Oh well." He jumped upstairs.
I found a jellied orange slice and called him downstairs. "Here is a reward for your nice gesture," I said.
"Wow! Thanks!" he yelped as he turned around, popped the entirety of the slice in his mouth and bounded up the stairs. I could hear him from the corner of the house yelling out demands to his imaginary army, orange on his breath.
The ONE day the Oldest marches downstairs and declares, "Mom, I am here to let you know," (we were in the kitchen)" that I will now do the dishes without you telling me!"
I thought it was a trick of some sort. I was waiting for a hammer to come down on my head, a bucket of slime to dump on me, a Nerf bullet to dart me in the eye----but no. I looked at him blankly.
He stood there with a smile on his face. You know, he smiles in a way that makes him look like he is holding his breath or forcing it a little.
I had just looked at the dishes in the dishwasher before he came down and what do you know, they were dirty.
"The day you decide to do something when you are not told and there is nothing for you to do."
"What?! Oh well." He jumped upstairs.
I found a jellied orange slice and called him downstairs. "Here is a reward for your nice gesture," I said.
"Wow! Thanks!" he yelped as he turned around, popped the entirety of the slice in his mouth and bounded up the stairs. I could hear him from the corner of the house yelling out demands to his imaginary army, orange on his breath.
8/13/2008
Anesthesia
Yesterday the Professor had to get a medical procedure done. He had to get put out, so he doesn't remember squat. All he knew was that he was being wheeled into a room and some nurses were talking---then he woke up. This is the first time he has ever had anesthesia.
"It's sort of nice, isn't it?" I said to him, having had anesthesia several times for a few minor procedures myself.
"Yeah, it's like a miracle. One minute you are awake and you want to partake in a conversation, the next you wake up."
"And it had been two hours or something like that."
"That's just nuts," he said, shaking his head, "besides enduring starvation the day before in order to get this done, I rather enjoyed myself. I think I am looking forward to the next time I have to get that done. It's incredible. It's great. The best sleep I ever had..."
He already gets good sleep, the scoundrel.
And he discovered this while he was lying around in bed all day because the doctor said he needed bed rest, his favorite prescription.
"Isn't this incredible!!!????" he yelped from the sheets, laptop on his immobile legs.
I looked over his shoulder, music blaring. John Coltrane. Oasis. They kept playing his stuff. Over and over. He shook his head in unbelief. "How is this legal?!" he said wondrously.
I rolled my eyes. "I told you about this MONTHS ago."
"What? You did?"
"Yep. I told you about it and you didn't care then!"
"Are you sure?!"
"Yeah, I'm real sure." I remembered how I entered Eisley in my account and they starting playing endless tunes similar to them. Pretty soon I got sick of it and turned it all off. I am not that impressed with it.
Then, he got the notion to look on Google Maps. Oh man, he started showing me real live road pictures of the school he went to as a kid, the church, the gym, the dorms people lived in. The list goes on and on. The dude remembered EVERYTHING. No anesthesia there. He decided to be "fair" I think in his mind, although I know he has absolutely no interest, and look at the house I grew up in in Chino Hills. Perfect roads emerged with palm trees on either side. The house I once knew looked nothing like the house I lived in. In fact, it looked like an impostor house. It even had a palm tree in the yard.
"This isn't the house," I said, slightly annoyed.
"You mean you don't remember any of this?!" the Professor said, shocked and disappointed by my failure of a memory.
"No, none of it. It doesn't even look like the same house."
"Are you sure you have the address right?"
"Yeah. That's it. Gotta make dinner. Why don't you come down with me?"
"Doctor's orders. He said I should get plenty of rest, remember?" he shot me a smile. He was LOVING this.
"You already got plenty of rest. You have been in bed all day. You even got a nap---"
"Yeah, and it was a great nap. I don't remember anything. I was lying there staring at the ceiling wondering if I would fall asleep and then the next thing I remember I woke up and was in the same exact position, two hours later. Was it two hours? How long exactly was it?"
I lovingly rolled my eyes again. In some ways he was like King Peter, fresh from Narnia and all his adventures, back in England again to tell me, his wife, about it. The scoundrel. I want some anesthesia.
"It's sort of nice, isn't it?" I said to him, having had anesthesia several times for a few minor procedures myself.
"Yeah, it's like a miracle. One minute you are awake and you want to partake in a conversation, the next you wake up."
"And it had been two hours or something like that."
"That's just nuts," he said, shaking his head, "besides enduring starvation the day before in order to get this done, I rather enjoyed myself. I think I am looking forward to the next time I have to get that done. It's incredible. It's great. The best sleep I ever had..."
He already gets good sleep, the scoundrel.
And he discovered this while he was lying around in bed all day because the doctor said he needed bed rest, his favorite prescription.
"Isn't this incredible!!!????" he yelped from the sheets, laptop on his immobile legs.
I looked over his shoulder, music blaring. John Coltrane. Oasis. They kept playing his stuff. Over and over. He shook his head in unbelief. "How is this legal?!" he said wondrously.
I rolled my eyes. "I told you about this MONTHS ago."
"What? You did?"
"Yep. I told you about it and you didn't care then!"
"Are you sure?!"
"Yeah, I'm real sure." I remembered how I entered Eisley in my account and they starting playing endless tunes similar to them. Pretty soon I got sick of it and turned it all off. I am not that impressed with it.
Then, he got the notion to look on Google Maps. Oh man, he started showing me real live road pictures of the school he went to as a kid, the church, the gym, the dorms people lived in. The list goes on and on. The dude remembered EVERYTHING. No anesthesia there. He decided to be "fair" I think in his mind, although I know he has absolutely no interest, and look at the house I grew up in in Chino Hills. Perfect roads emerged with palm trees on either side. The house I once knew looked nothing like the house I lived in. In fact, it looked like an impostor house. It even had a palm tree in the yard.
"This isn't the house," I said, slightly annoyed.
"You mean you don't remember any of this?!" the Professor said, shocked and disappointed by my failure of a memory.
"No, none of it. It doesn't even look like the same house."
"Are you sure you have the address right?"
"Yeah. That's it. Gotta make dinner. Why don't you come down with me?"
"Doctor's orders. He said I should get plenty of rest, remember?" he shot me a smile. He was LOVING this.
"You already got plenty of rest. You have been in bed all day. You even got a nap---"
"Yeah, and it was a great nap. I don't remember anything. I was lying there staring at the ceiling wondering if I would fall asleep and then the next thing I remember I woke up and was in the same exact position, two hours later. Was it two hours? How long exactly was it?"
I lovingly rolled my eyes again. In some ways he was like King Peter, fresh from Narnia and all his adventures, back in England again to tell me, his wife, about it. The scoundrel. I want some anesthesia.
8/11/2008
This Is Music
I can't believe it is the afternoon already! I have a lot to do---I need to clean my house. I find that as a mother who is home a lot of the time, I am cleaning every time I turn around.
For Bee, I will list all the bands on my ipod (currently) that I run to (in alphabetical order):
The Beatles
Blur
Caedmon's Call
Coldplay
Eisley
Fields
The Good, the Bad and the Queen (some stupid band the Blur guy threw together for the Herculean and who knows what else)
Gorillaz (I have the song Dare)
Grant Lee Phillips
Jars of Clay
Jeff Buckley
Led Zeppelin
Morrissey
Oasis
Paul McCartney
The Perishers
Phil Wickham
Radiohead (only the Body Snatchers)
Richard Ashcroft
Sarah Masen
Sarah McLachlan
Starsailor
Tears for Fears
Travis
The Verve
No, I don't only listen to Zep when running, I just tend not to skip any Zep song when it pops up on shuffle. I also feel the same way toward Oasis, except not as much lately.
And I am not really impressed with Coldplay's new album. I think it is what the Professor would say, "underwhelming". I really don't like the Viva La Vida song at all---I think it is sort of blah. I HATE the Death and All His Friends song.
Man, I hope the Verve's new album is good. I have my doubts because once people get older, they just don't have it anymore. Like, U2 should just quit. Most of the stuff they do now sucks. I don't even bother buying it. I think Beautiful Day is ordinary. That All That You Can't Leave Behind album and the Bomb one after it is so bland that I never play them and couldn't tell you the tune of hardly a song on either of them. The only reason why I own them is because the Professor bought them for me. Surprisingly enough I have enjoyed Oasis' recent stuff so I am hoping their upcoming album is a good one. I wouldn't mind seeing them again if only to see Noel Gallagher.
I want Grant Lee to put out another Virginia Creeper (when are you going to come to Alexandria, man?) and Travis just never puts anything out EVER that is bad. Every time I hear a new album I wonder when the terrible song is going to play.
And I am really, really impressed with that Fields album.
And we all know if we have a brain in our head, that when Phil Wickham comes out with his new album that it is going to be beyond stellar. He is just incredibly amazing.
You all have no idea who I am talking about do you?
For Bee, I will list all the bands on my ipod (currently) that I run to (in alphabetical order):
The Beatles
Blur
Caedmon's Call
Coldplay
Eisley
Fields
The Good, the Bad and the Queen (some stupid band the Blur guy threw together for the Herculean and who knows what else)
Gorillaz (I have the song Dare)
Grant Lee Phillips
Jars of Clay
Jeff Buckley
Led Zeppelin
Morrissey
Oasis
Paul McCartney
The Perishers
Phil Wickham
Radiohead (only the Body Snatchers)
Richard Ashcroft
Sarah Masen
Sarah McLachlan
Starsailor
Tears for Fears
Travis
The Verve
No, I don't only listen to Zep when running, I just tend not to skip any Zep song when it pops up on shuffle. I also feel the same way toward Oasis, except not as much lately.
And I am not really impressed with Coldplay's new album. I think it is what the Professor would say, "underwhelming". I really don't like the Viva La Vida song at all---I think it is sort of blah. I HATE the Death and All His Friends song.
Man, I hope the Verve's new album is good. I have my doubts because once people get older, they just don't have it anymore. Like, U2 should just quit. Most of the stuff they do now sucks. I don't even bother buying it. I think Beautiful Day is ordinary. That All That You Can't Leave Behind album and the Bomb one after it is so bland that I never play them and couldn't tell you the tune of hardly a song on either of them. The only reason why I own them is because the Professor bought them for me. Surprisingly enough I have enjoyed Oasis' recent stuff so I am hoping their upcoming album is a good one. I wouldn't mind seeing them again if only to see Noel Gallagher.
I want Grant Lee to put out another Virginia Creeper (when are you going to come to Alexandria, man?) and Travis just never puts anything out EVER that is bad. Every time I hear a new album I wonder when the terrible song is going to play.
And I am really, really impressed with that Fields album.
And we all know if we have a brain in our head, that when Phil Wickham comes out with his new album that it is going to be beyond stellar. He is just incredibly amazing.
You all have no idea who I am talking about do you?
8/07/2008
Home
I am home, yes, it is so nice. In a way vacations are so great but then I miss home so much I find that I wake up in the wee hours of the morning on some foreign pillow pining away for it. Home is that special place where you leave all your stuff, sleep, and feel at ease.
I ran only one time while there. I think once was enough. I ran my usual seven plus mile route, but it was hot and grueling when I decided to take it. Well, it was morning, so it wasn't incredibly hot. I think the main blunder of the trip was that in my haste I forgot my ipod. Even over forgetting the kids' toothbrushes. Those were easily replaced, but the ipod? No way. That was rough, running all those miles with no audible help. I forget how much I depend on it. So far this week I have only run seven miles when normally I would have already had, oh, maybe 27 or so. I feel like a failure and I feel unhealthy (especially because I had a steady diet of ice cream every stinking day), but that is no matter. My reward smack in the middle of the run was the view of the ocean, and then I turned directly around and went back to the hotel. During my run I saw: huge dragonflies, a deer, a turtle, a dead snake, and some ponies, the usual.
The Professor dug the world's hugest hole and recruited me into helping him for a spell so I have a really sore back, just like an old woman. The Girl and I took our beach chairs and chilled down there for awhile. People thought we were nuts. I will post pictures perhaps if I get less lazy.
During every visit to the beach the man and I could hear our child, the Oldest, yelping and yelling (in usual Mickey Mouse fashion) over the many crashing waves and the usual din of a well-crowded beach.
I tried to read a lot but got very little accomplished because I was convinced that at least one of my children would get sucked into the abyss and never come back. I suppose that if game cube were around while they were in the waves and perhaps if they were playing it at the same time and say, fighting, I would welcome the whole idea of abyss sinking. But I was petrified every two minutes, actually, and kept putting that bookmark back into the book. So I read during the two hour traffic jam (we were at a complete stop right before the Wilson Bridge) and read more then than I did the two solid days at the beach combined.
The Oldest was just recently reading a Garfield comic. "What's impressionable?" he asked.
The Professor replied, "a person who is easily influenced by something---a person who believes anything another person says to them, something like that."
"You!" I said.
He looked at me and folded his arms in fake anger. "I am not impressionable!"
"You believed the tooth fairy," chimed the Professor.
"I never believed it!"he roared.
"Oh, come on!" we practically said in unison.
I walked over to the cupboard to get a few things to set up for dinner. I could hear the Professor telling him about how he overheard a conversation with the Girl and him about proving the tooth fairy was real or not.
"You both have lied to me. You were the culprits. You and Mom. And I never believed it."
I rolled my eyes as I pulled the potatoes out of the oven.
"What about the note?" asked the Professor.
"I knew that wasn't real!" shrieked Mickey Mouse.
"Then why did you look up the Elvish characters in the Lord of the Rings book?"
"I was trying to prove it!"
"But you believed it for a second didn't you?"
"Maybe I believed it when I was three..." he muttered, sort of defeated.
I ran only one time while there. I think once was enough. I ran my usual seven plus mile route, but it was hot and grueling when I decided to take it. Well, it was morning, so it wasn't incredibly hot. I think the main blunder of the trip was that in my haste I forgot my ipod. Even over forgetting the kids' toothbrushes. Those were easily replaced, but the ipod? No way. That was rough, running all those miles with no audible help. I forget how much I depend on it. So far this week I have only run seven miles when normally I would have already had, oh, maybe 27 or so. I feel like a failure and I feel unhealthy (especially because I had a steady diet of ice cream every stinking day), but that is no matter. My reward smack in the middle of the run was the view of the ocean, and then I turned directly around and went back to the hotel. During my run I saw: huge dragonflies, a deer, a turtle, a dead snake, and some ponies, the usual.
The Professor dug the world's hugest hole and recruited me into helping him for a spell so I have a really sore back, just like an old woman. The Girl and I took our beach chairs and chilled down there for awhile. People thought we were nuts. I will post pictures perhaps if I get less lazy.
During every visit to the beach the man and I could hear our child, the Oldest, yelping and yelling (in usual Mickey Mouse fashion) over the many crashing waves and the usual din of a well-crowded beach.
I tried to read a lot but got very little accomplished because I was convinced that at least one of my children would get sucked into the abyss and never come back. I suppose that if game cube were around while they were in the waves and perhaps if they were playing it at the same time and say, fighting, I would welcome the whole idea of abyss sinking. But I was petrified every two minutes, actually, and kept putting that bookmark back into the book. So I read during the two hour traffic jam (we were at a complete stop right before the Wilson Bridge) and read more then than I did the two solid days at the beach combined.
The Oldest was just recently reading a Garfield comic. "What's impressionable?" he asked.
The Professor replied, "a person who is easily influenced by something---a person who believes anything another person says to them, something like that."
"You!" I said.
He looked at me and folded his arms in fake anger. "I am not impressionable!"
"You believed the tooth fairy," chimed the Professor.
"I never believed it!"he roared.
"Oh, come on!" we practically said in unison.
I walked over to the cupboard to get a few things to set up for dinner. I could hear the Professor telling him about how he overheard a conversation with the Girl and him about proving the tooth fairy was real or not.
"You both have lied to me. You were the culprits. You and Mom. And I never believed it."
I rolled my eyes as I pulled the potatoes out of the oven.
"What about the note?" asked the Professor.
"I knew that wasn't real!" shrieked Mickey Mouse.
"Then why did you look up the Elvish characters in the Lord of the Rings book?"
"I was trying to prove it!"
"But you believed it for a second didn't you?"
"Maybe I believed it when I was three..." he muttered, sort of defeated.
8/06/2008
Still Here, Just Putting Up Some Pics
My neck is presently burned, I have eaten too much beach food, and the kids are all semi-whiny. I can not WAIT to get home tomorrow. I don't know how people do week long vacations. I don't think I could ever do it, seriously. I am a homebody.
See you all perhaps tomorrow!
8/03/2008
Leaving, Will Be Back in a Few
We are leaving for the beach in the morning and I am not sure if the Professor will bring his macbook or not. We will see. Sometimes he surprises me. He will, however, bring a New Yorker and I will bring Return of the King. Blogger is sort of wigging out so I better get off here. Maybe I will have some photos to post from the trip.
Be back on Thursday.
The Girl and I were listening to "Ramble On" by Led Zep on the way home from grocery shopping and since the lyric said "Mordor" and "Gollum" she said, "You need to play this song for your literature class, Mom!"
I had a huge laugh. I told her that I didn't think the Moms would appreciate that very much. Jimmy Paige was a Satanist, you know. He may be sort of ugly but he sure can play guitar.
And I have Robert Plant hair, don't you think?
Be back on Thursday.
The Girl and I were listening to "Ramble On" by Led Zep on the way home from grocery shopping and since the lyric said "Mordor" and "Gollum" she said, "You need to play this song for your literature class, Mom!"
I had a huge laugh. I told her that I didn't think the Moms would appreciate that very much. Jimmy Paige was a Satanist, you know. He may be sort of ugly but he sure can play guitar.
And I have Robert Plant hair, don't you think?
8/01/2008
This and That (2)
The Professor told me that I was the model wife yesterday because I ironed (gasp!) and vacuumed in the same day. Those are the two chores I hate the most. I would rather clean toilets, wipe up excrement, you name it. I would even rather go down in the crawl space where there are spiders aplenty.
Which reminds me. Remember this post? On Wednesday morning when waiting for the exterminator (we have had issues with carpenter ants---I guess that is normal for living in the forest) I realized that I would have to ask the guy to go into the crawl space to see if they are emerging from there. He was a little afraid! He said crawl spaces were not his thing and asked me how it looked down there. I told him that I have gone down there several times to get things out and to turn water on and off during the season changes and it is pretty clean. Some spider eggs and whatnot, but clean. He told me spiders are what he fears. And exterminator? What?!
When entering my crawl space, you have to open up a little latched door on the side of my house by the patio. Once the wooden door is swung open it kicks on a light switch above. In order to turn off the light you have to reach over and switch the light off once out of the crawl space and you have to manually shut the door and lock it in place again. It is a nice little operation, but not so nice if you are deathly afraid of the crawl space, I would imagine.
What did I find once I was outside again cooking dinner later that evening? The crawl space door swung wide open (still) and the light on. I suppose the guy was so afraid that he just ran out of there and did not dare to reach his arm in again to flip the switch and grab at the door to lock it. What a wimp.
I am heading to the pool. I am losing my tan, so I have to get out there again. I have so much to read and so little time.
Which reminds me. Remember this post? On Wednesday morning when waiting for the exterminator (we have had issues with carpenter ants---I guess that is normal for living in the forest) I realized that I would have to ask the guy to go into the crawl space to see if they are emerging from there. He was a little afraid! He said crawl spaces were not his thing and asked me how it looked down there. I told him that I have gone down there several times to get things out and to turn water on and off during the season changes and it is pretty clean. Some spider eggs and whatnot, but clean. He told me spiders are what he fears. And exterminator? What?!
When entering my crawl space, you have to open up a little latched door on the side of my house by the patio. Once the wooden door is swung open it kicks on a light switch above. In order to turn off the light you have to reach over and switch the light off once out of the crawl space and you have to manually shut the door and lock it in place again. It is a nice little operation, but not so nice if you are deathly afraid of the crawl space, I would imagine.
What did I find once I was outside again cooking dinner later that evening? The crawl space door swung wide open (still) and the light on. I suppose the guy was so afraid that he just ran out of there and did not dare to reach his arm in again to flip the switch and grab at the door to lock it. What a wimp.
I am heading to the pool. I am losing my tan, so I have to get out there again. I have so much to read and so little time.
7/30/2008
Wait
Here is a recording of a song I wrote called "Wait". Check it out and tell me what you think if you have the capability. I sort of did the vocals in one take so I got a little lazy. I guess they could be better, but when you have kids coming in and out when you are recording and making noise, you take what you can get and think, "maybe I will re-do that later, just not now."
When It Rains, It Pours
Before I get on that treadmill, I have to write about my day yesterday.
The doc gave me meds to help me sleep----actually, to help me not feel so stiff that I sleep so little at night. Believe me, it does help. Maybe a little too much. I suppose I must be a little person (it is funny to even think of myself that way because I don't feel small) because the lowest dose about runs me over. Heaven forbid if I take the normal dose. I won't be able to get out of bed. That said, yesterday, I woke up drowsy and then throughout the day I remained drowsy until about five o'clock.
My sister in law called me at eleven thirty to remind me that we were supposed to meet at a waterpark later in the afternoon. I had completely forgotten. I felt like a nimrod. I thought all morning I would take the kids to the pool and read The Two Towers. Instead I got them all ready, looked for towels, and drove back home three times once out of my subdivision to get things I had forgotten or things others in my troop forgot. We must make sure we have everything because my sister in law is at least an hour away. We live in the boonies.
"Where are your swim shorts?!" I barked at the Oldest, who went into the bathroom at home to put them on once I told him to. We were presently in the car.
"They are on," he said, face stuffed in a Superman comic.
"No, they are not," I said firmly, trying to keep my eyes on the road. I turned around.
"I went into the bathroom and everything! You are telling me I didn't put them on!!!!????"
Not only am I drowsy, I am irritiable at this point. Not only do I have to remember my own swim suit, I have to remind my Oldest child, who is as big as me, of his. It was pretty much sheer luck that I saw he did not have it on.
Once at my SIL's house, I was too drowsy to even push the departure to the waterpark, just miles down the street. I mooched chocolate off of her hoping that I would wake up a bit. I didn't. The kids played for a spell. Finally we did leave.
The waterpark was fine up until the end. I woke up eventually, as I said, so things got better. The Professor was going to meet us there after work, so I wanted to make sure I knew where the kids were every second so he wouldn't have a heart attack once he arrived. Eventually he did arrive. We went in the lazy river together for about fifteen minutes (the park was almost closing). Once we left the river, we decided to walk on a bridge to get to the lockers to gather our things before herding the kids. Suddenly I heard a yell behind me.
The Oldest was holding an ice pack on the back of his head and a lifeguard was following him with a clip-board. Apparently my boy slipped and fell on the back of his head "just like a cartoon" (as he put it). He literally had an egg popping out. It looked brutal. The lifeguard looked so concerned and apologetic that I shook my head and waved her off.
"Trust me," I said to relieve her, "if he is still mouthing off and talking incessantly like this, he is fine."
All he cared about on the drive home was how to position the ice pack in such a way so as to finish reading his Hardy Boys novel.
Like that wasn't enough, Eraser Eater started to moan in the car. I get on the highway home (thankfully I took back roads) and pretty soon my son says, "My head hurts!" We all know what this means: the boy is going to toss his cookies. The Professor was directly ahead of me in his car so I blinked my lights at him and pulled over. He just kept driving and went home, I guess. I thought, Oh, he'll come back when he sees that I am not behind him. Whatever.
I got out of the car and pulled Eraser Eater out from his side and took him to the grass on the side of the road. He wretched in a little huddle, clean and undramatic.
"I think I am done now," he said faintly.
We drove further.
"Gotta puke again!" he said from the back. At this point in my driving there was nowhere to pull over for about a mile or so. "Hold it in!" I said, worried about the leather seats.
He moaned back there for a spell---just long enough to get to the place where I could get him out of the car again. Instead of immediately tossing his cookies, he just sat there and stewed for a little bit. The Oldest slammed all the car doors shut so he would not have to hear the sound of barfing. The Girl peeped out the windows to see the sight. I was getting a little impatient as I was in my bathing suit holding a Hello Kitty towel the Girl said we could use to wipe his puke mouth.
"It's coming in just a second," he said flatly.
"Are you sure?" I said, looking around.
"Yeah, just another second----now..."
And I think he let loose all the food from yesterday and the day before.
"Man, there's even carrots in there!" he said, surprised, "and it looks like the slop you would get from a cafeteria. Straight from a cafeteria. How do people eat that stuff?!"
"Ok, man, let's go home." I had to pull him away.
He talked about it in the car. The Oldest had had enough. "Please!!!!" he shouted.
Then Eraser Eater continued to talk about what happens when you take in food, and the whole chemical process of digestion. "Now what is that stuff called that is all sticky and sour that helps break the food down?"
"Uh, bile?"
"Yes, bile. It tastes gross."
"Ok! OK!!!!" yelled the Oldest, "I have a pounding head here!"
"Oh Mom, gotta stop again!!!" Eraser Eater yelled from the back. I took him to the battlefield exhibit a mile from our house. I hate being that close yet not being there.
He sat and stewed once again. Finally I informed him that we were a minute from home. An ant crawled on him and he jumped up, wagging his arm. "Something just crawled on me!!!!!" He danced around. He gave an irritated look. "Let's go home then, Mom, I would rather puke in the toilet anyway."
The doc gave me meds to help me sleep----actually, to help me not feel so stiff that I sleep so little at night. Believe me, it does help. Maybe a little too much. I suppose I must be a little person (it is funny to even think of myself that way because I don't feel small) because the lowest dose about runs me over. Heaven forbid if I take the normal dose. I won't be able to get out of bed. That said, yesterday, I woke up drowsy and then throughout the day I remained drowsy until about five o'clock.
My sister in law called me at eleven thirty to remind me that we were supposed to meet at a waterpark later in the afternoon. I had completely forgotten. I felt like a nimrod. I thought all morning I would take the kids to the pool and read The Two Towers. Instead I got them all ready, looked for towels, and drove back home three times once out of my subdivision to get things I had forgotten or things others in my troop forgot. We must make sure we have everything because my sister in law is at least an hour away. We live in the boonies.
"Where are your swim shorts?!" I barked at the Oldest, who went into the bathroom at home to put them on once I told him to. We were presently in the car.
"They are on," he said, face stuffed in a Superman comic.
"No, they are not," I said firmly, trying to keep my eyes on the road. I turned around.
"I went into the bathroom and everything! You are telling me I didn't put them on!!!!????"
Not only am I drowsy, I am irritiable at this point. Not only do I have to remember my own swim suit, I have to remind my Oldest child, who is as big as me, of his. It was pretty much sheer luck that I saw he did not have it on.
Once at my SIL's house, I was too drowsy to even push the departure to the waterpark, just miles down the street. I mooched chocolate off of her hoping that I would wake up a bit. I didn't. The kids played for a spell. Finally we did leave.
The waterpark was fine up until the end. I woke up eventually, as I said, so things got better. The Professor was going to meet us there after work, so I wanted to make sure I knew where the kids were every second so he wouldn't have a heart attack once he arrived. Eventually he did arrive. We went in the lazy river together for about fifteen minutes (the park was almost closing). Once we left the river, we decided to walk on a bridge to get to the lockers to gather our things before herding the kids. Suddenly I heard a yell behind me.
The Oldest was holding an ice pack on the back of his head and a lifeguard was following him with a clip-board. Apparently my boy slipped and fell on the back of his head "just like a cartoon" (as he put it). He literally had an egg popping out. It looked brutal. The lifeguard looked so concerned and apologetic that I shook my head and waved her off.
"Trust me," I said to relieve her, "if he is still mouthing off and talking incessantly like this, he is fine."
All he cared about on the drive home was how to position the ice pack in such a way so as to finish reading his Hardy Boys novel.
Like that wasn't enough, Eraser Eater started to moan in the car. I get on the highway home (thankfully I took back roads) and pretty soon my son says, "My head hurts!" We all know what this means: the boy is going to toss his cookies. The Professor was directly ahead of me in his car so I blinked my lights at him and pulled over. He just kept driving and went home, I guess. I thought, Oh, he'll come back when he sees that I am not behind him. Whatever.
I got out of the car and pulled Eraser Eater out from his side and took him to the grass on the side of the road. He wretched in a little huddle, clean and undramatic.
"I think I am done now," he said faintly.
We drove further.
"Gotta puke again!" he said from the back. At this point in my driving there was nowhere to pull over for about a mile or so. "Hold it in!" I said, worried about the leather seats.
He moaned back there for a spell---just long enough to get to the place where I could get him out of the car again. Instead of immediately tossing his cookies, he just sat there and stewed for a little bit. The Oldest slammed all the car doors shut so he would not have to hear the sound of barfing. The Girl peeped out the windows to see the sight. I was getting a little impatient as I was in my bathing suit holding a Hello Kitty towel the Girl said we could use to wipe his puke mouth.
"It's coming in just a second," he said flatly.
"Are you sure?" I said, looking around.
"Yeah, just another second----now..."
And I think he let loose all the food from yesterday and the day before.
"Man, there's even carrots in there!" he said, surprised, "and it looks like the slop you would get from a cafeteria. Straight from a cafeteria. How do people eat that stuff?!"
"Ok, man, let's go home." I had to pull him away.
He talked about it in the car. The Oldest had had enough. "Please!!!!" he shouted.
Then Eraser Eater continued to talk about what happens when you take in food, and the whole chemical process of digestion. "Now what is that stuff called that is all sticky and sour that helps break the food down?"
"Uh, bile?"
"Yes, bile. It tastes gross."
"Ok! OK!!!!" yelled the Oldest, "I have a pounding head here!"
"Oh Mom, gotta stop again!!!" Eraser Eater yelled from the back. I took him to the battlefield exhibit a mile from our house. I hate being that close yet not being there.
He sat and stewed once again. Finally I informed him that we were a minute from home. An ant crawled on him and he jumped up, wagging his arm. "Something just crawled on me!!!!!" He danced around. He gave an irritated look. "Let's go home then, Mom, I would rather puke in the toilet anyway."
7/28/2008
I May Have Killed the Game System
I went to a friend's house today mainly for my sake, but the kids did get a little play time with her kids. The Oldest hung out with her two oldest and played legos while my friend, Eraser Eater, the Girl and I played croquet outside. Everything goes back to Alice with me. At one point I did really say, "off with your head!" so that was worth the trouble of standing out in the sun and getting mosquito bites.
After croquet was over we went to the common area to pick wild blackberries. My friend got caught in the brambles so I ran over to rescue her. She was sort of twisted up, her shirt about to rip. While I did this a piercing scream rang in my ear. I turned around sharply and saw my daughter freaking out. Apparently something stung her. I had to carry her to the house and nurse her back to health. After she calmed down she said, "thankfully that bee will die now for revenge."
To my shame, this morning I actually kicked the Game Cube. I wasn't throwing a fit really, but I was pretty miffed. Apparently I allowed the kids to play the thing for a few hours and when I told them to turn it off Eraser Eater yelped, "but I didn't get a turn yet!"
That, brothers and sisters, means war. I practically spontaneously combusted at that point. #1 thing to NOT say when I allow you to play for THREE hours. I told them of my utter hatred for the game system. I told them that I think games rot your brain and this is waste. And waste is like poop.
"Do you remember if you beat level 127 of Zelda or some Luigi/Mario thing?" I may as well have said intendo. They almost opened up their mouths to correct me but I shushed them and pointed my finger in the air.
"No," someone said.
"Exactly! And you cry about this! You moan about turns and who whipped you or who beat all your guys. You cry about not having as much time as anyone else and you cry out that it is not fair. Life is not fair! And this is not worth it! I hate game cube! No one cries and whines about books! No one cries that they can't read the fifth Lemony Snickett book because someone else has it!" And this was my cue to kick it, which is what I did.
They all stared.
I put the game cube in the coat closet and walked back to them. "Next time it's a hammer and a smile on my face. Don't think I won't do it either because you know I will."
I think we need to start school tomorrow. It was easier then. The grass is always greener, eh?
After croquet was over we went to the common area to pick wild blackberries. My friend got caught in the brambles so I ran over to rescue her. She was sort of twisted up, her shirt about to rip. While I did this a piercing scream rang in my ear. I turned around sharply and saw my daughter freaking out. Apparently something stung her. I had to carry her to the house and nurse her back to health. After she calmed down she said, "thankfully that bee will die now for revenge."
To my shame, this morning I actually kicked the Game Cube. I wasn't throwing a fit really, but I was pretty miffed. Apparently I allowed the kids to play the thing for a few hours and when I told them to turn it off Eraser Eater yelped, "but I didn't get a turn yet!"
That, brothers and sisters, means war. I practically spontaneously combusted at that point. #1 thing to NOT say when I allow you to play for THREE hours. I told them of my utter hatred for the game system. I told them that I think games rot your brain and this is waste. And waste is like poop.
"Do you remember if you beat level 127 of Zelda or some Luigi/Mario thing?" I may as well have said intendo. They almost opened up their mouths to correct me but I shushed them and pointed my finger in the air.
"No," someone said.
"Exactly! And you cry about this! You moan about turns and who whipped you or who beat all your guys. You cry about not having as much time as anyone else and you cry out that it is not fair. Life is not fair! And this is not worth it! I hate game cube! No one cries and whines about books! No one cries that they can't read the fifth Lemony Snickett book because someone else has it!" And this was my cue to kick it, which is what I did.
They all stared.
I put the game cube in the coat closet and walked back to them. "Next time it's a hammer and a smile on my face. Don't think I won't do it either because you know I will."
I think we need to start school tomorrow. It was easier then. The grass is always greener, eh?
7/27/2008
Mass Chaos
I have not died or anything rash like that, so be still. My mouth has made it---it is slowly getting better. Granted, you can not notice a thing on the outside. My mouth is also so small that even when I talk you can not see my "appliances". So it is all not so bad and the pain is minimizing tremendously.
I almost had a hemorrhage the other day when getting rid of our old couch to welcome the new. My brand new wood floors got a gigantic scrape (thanks to my Oldest who pulled instead of "lifted") when I said the word. I took my dining room rug and covered it so I wouldn't throw up at the loss of perfection. We live in houses, don't we? I am still trying to figure out a way to fix a deep scratch about the size of my foot (size seven, mind you). Oh, the sound when it did its thing (the couch). I woke up in the night with blaring sirens in my head. And only in my head. I have gone crazy. I put a pillow over my ear to stifle the high-pitched squeal but it did not help. It was in my head. The floor is making me lose my mind. Any suggestions on what to do with the floor? Any hard wood experts out there? The agony.
I have since done other things to further prove that I have lost my mind, but I won't mention it here because I am too prideful. I am, however, not too prideful to admit that I have burned pancakes a plenty and completely charred chicken wings to where they are ashen. I shed a few tears when the Professor came home (directly after my blunder), completely at a loss since I have lost my brain, and he put his junk down immediately and started the wings over again after throwing the old ones away. The only thing I had to do in return was get him a beer. When this was done I nursed my singed arm hairs. Yes, I did singe them. Seriously. I hate the smell of burning hair.
And that's all for now. How are you guys doing?
I almost had a hemorrhage the other day when getting rid of our old couch to welcome the new. My brand new wood floors got a gigantic scrape (thanks to my Oldest who pulled instead of "lifted") when I said the word. I took my dining room rug and covered it so I wouldn't throw up at the loss of perfection. We live in houses, don't we? I am still trying to figure out a way to fix a deep scratch about the size of my foot (size seven, mind you). Oh, the sound when it did its thing (the couch). I woke up in the night with blaring sirens in my head. And only in my head. I have gone crazy. I put a pillow over my ear to stifle the high-pitched squeal but it did not help. It was in my head. The floor is making me lose my mind. Any suggestions on what to do with the floor? Any hard wood experts out there? The agony.
I have since done other things to further prove that I have lost my mind, but I won't mention it here because I am too prideful. I am, however, not too prideful to admit that I have burned pancakes a plenty and completely charred chicken wings to where they are ashen. I shed a few tears when the Professor came home (directly after my blunder), completely at a loss since I have lost my brain, and he put his junk down immediately and started the wings over again after throwing the old ones away. The only thing I had to do in return was get him a beer. When this was done I nursed my singed arm hairs. Yes, I did singe them. Seriously. I hate the smell of burning hair.
And that's all for now. How are you guys doing?
7/24/2008
The Orthodontist Killed my Jaw
I am in much pain. No, not much, ALL pain. I feel like a saw went to my gum. I just had an implant in---yes, I am complaining (eat my shorts whoever it is that thinks I complain too much)---a screw that is going in my gum beneath my teeth so some special thing can get done for alignment and braces. Not only do I have a metal screw in my gum, I have heavier wiring, and I feel like death. DEATH I tell you. I am no wimp either. I can fight pain. I am about to puke.
No, I am alive. And this living human feels lots of PAIN.
The Girl was in the room when the doctor screwed the screw in with her tool. I felt it the whole time. Not a pleasant experience, but with my daughter there I decided I would do my best to keep my face and body still.
"Are you using a screwdriver?" she asked the doc.
"Sort of," she said.
"Are you just screwing it in?"
"You could say that," the doc answered.
"Looks like you are about done," the Girl said as I laughed at the oddness of the whole situation. The doctor was trying to make it less traumatic for the Girl while I was trying to keep a good face for the Girl and the doctor. Uh, yeah, it hurts, but uh, lets just get this thing over with, k?
"Can I see the screw?" the Girl asked.
Right then the doc was finished with the job and she allowed the Girl to see my gum.
"That's vile!" Her face went sour and she backed up.
"That's a big word for a little girl," the doc said, "you get that from your brothers?"
"No," I said, "from her mother."
Is the pain supposed to hit my ear? I am so not good. I will so not sleep tonight and I will so not eat food for a long long time.
Excuse me now (seriously) while I go upstairs to die. Heaven help me if I ever get a bullet wound.
No, I am alive. And this living human feels lots of PAIN.
The Girl was in the room when the doctor screwed the screw in with her tool. I felt it the whole time. Not a pleasant experience, but with my daughter there I decided I would do my best to keep my face and body still.
"Are you using a screwdriver?" she asked the doc.
"Sort of," she said.
"Are you just screwing it in?"
"You could say that," the doc answered.
"Looks like you are about done," the Girl said as I laughed at the oddness of the whole situation. The doctor was trying to make it less traumatic for the Girl while I was trying to keep a good face for the Girl and the doctor. Uh, yeah, it hurts, but uh, lets just get this thing over with, k?
"Can I see the screw?" the Girl asked.
Right then the doc was finished with the job and she allowed the Girl to see my gum.
"That's vile!" Her face went sour and she backed up.
"That's a big word for a little girl," the doc said, "you get that from your brothers?"
"No," I said, "from her mother."
Is the pain supposed to hit my ear? I am so not good. I will so not sleep tonight and I will so not eat food for a long long time.
Excuse me now (seriously) while I go upstairs to die. Heaven help me if I ever get a bullet wound.
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