Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Brats! Brats for Sale! Enough for Everyone!

I think I've maybe mentioned this before, but I have a couple of kids for sale.
Still no takers?
Are you sure?

My oldest, genius that she is, missed the bus again this morning. Ok, it happens. But then she tried to tell me that she 'dozed off.' Who dozes off on a set of stairs? No, she was reading a damn Archie book. Ya see, she tries to lie and be sneaky. But she SUCKS at it. Which is good. Or at least it will be as soon as she realizes it. Because right now, she still tries to lie. And gets busted EVERY DAMN TIME. You'd think she would learn. Especially since she gets in more trouble for the lying than for the original offense. Were we all that stupid at twelve?

What scares me a bit more is the Little Brat's ability to lie really, really well. And she's not even four yet. A few days ago, I went into the living room to find it plastered with little yellow post-it notes, all of them colored on.

Don't get me wrong, I don't care about the post-its. I used to work for a large office supply chain, and 3M is VERY generous with it's distributors. I have so many post-its, I won't need a coffin when I die. Just cover me in post-its. They're biodegradable. It will make up for all the pop cans I threw in the garbage over my lifetime.

Ya, you heard me. I'm no tree-hugger.

Anyway. I said to her "Hey Brat, what are you doing?" And she says, "Coloring." Duh. So then I say "That's fine, but you're not supposed to use paper like that without asking anyone." And she replies," Oh, I DID ask someone." Thinking she must have asked my husband, I asked her, "Who said it was OK?" She just looked at me all straight-faced and said "Thistle Whistle." and then danced merrily on her way.

For those who don't have insane little 3 year old girls, THIS is Thistle Whistle:

The damn ponies are TALKING TO HER. It reminded me of Ralph Wiggum from the Simpsons. Remember the one with the leprechaun? The invisible one that only Ralphie can see? And he says to him "Burn them all, Ralphie. Burn the all."

So, it's a bit spooky.

In the meantime, I have worked on nothing. Ok, that's not true. I got some more painting done. And a teeeeensy bit more of the Beatrice pattern. But then I spent all day yesterday with a migraine. And a 3 year old for constant company. They go well together. And the funny part is, whenever someone called and I said I can't talk because I have a really big headache, they all replied, "Ya, and her name is Brat!" Ha ha ha haha ha. Ah ha ha. Funny, funny stuff.

So, since I have my can't-tell-a-lie-to-save-her-gameboy-missed-the-bus Brat home, she can watch Little Brat for me. And I get to catch up on a few things here and there. Sucka!

OH! I almost forgot. Hubby got going on the bathroom. It might actually get finished. Strange how he started it right when I complained about it on this blog. The blog he doesn't know about. Hmmmm. (Honey, are you there?)

Friday, February 24, 2006

Beatrice Progress

It's actually a bit further along than this, but the batteries in my camera died.


But these are the colors. I L.O.V.E. this pattern, by the way. So simple. At least it is so far. I probably shouldn't jinx myself. I'm just past halfway, thanks to 3 nights of American Idol.

What a horrible picture. I need a new camera. I paid a hundred bucks for this one a while ago, just because my other one broke. I probably should have spent a bit more. But then I would have less money for coffee. And that would suck.

Today's plan is to work on the shrug for a while. Then clean. Then sand some walls. Then make dinner. Then go out for coffee. Without kids.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Updates

Alrighty then. I'm free. He's gone back to work. I can blog safely again. In secret. Don't get me wrong. I love my husband to death. But this blog is like my diary. Read by a couple hundred people a day. But still. I'ts not like I'm being mean about him. Much. It's just, ya know, a quick escape. Geez. It's not like I'm cheating on him, or anything.

He's fine, by the way. Just fine. The IV was out last week, and he went back to work for a half a day. But, due to his new job with a new regiment, they are making him use up some time off that he has accumulated. Since it would also give him time to recover a bit more, he took the end of last week and start of this week off. Which is great. I love when he is home. I really do. (We go shopping. I have a husband that LIKES to shop. He even went wedding dress shopping with my sister. Seriously. It makes all the girls jelous. I have one friend that wants to borrow him, just to go shopping with. ) So, now the cellulitis is gone. Hopefully for good.

In the meantime, I have another armpit zit. If you're new here, scroll down. I'm sure you will find mention of it. I swear, all I talk about now is my damn armpit zits. I should change the name of this blog. I wonder if that would bring less readers, or more? Mmmm. Whatever. So, it's not HUGE yet, but getting there. Since the last one went away by itself, I still have hope. But not much. And I don't want to go back to the walk-in clinic, where the doctor that doesn't say Goodbye before he leaves the room will look at everything except my pit and hand me a prescription. And I don't want to go back to the emercency room where the nurses and doctor all gave me Hell for wasting their time with a possible brain tumor. And I have an appointment with my actual doctor, but it's still a few weeks away and I have no idea what he would do, since I haven't even been to see him before. Sigh. I think for now I'm going to ignore it. Or at least as much as I can ignore a large red lump sticking out of my armpit and preventing me from putting my arm down by my side. I'm sure nobody will notice.

The headaches are gone, but my eye is still the wrong the color. I'm ignoring that, too. I think maybe my Dad was right all along. I guess I'm just so full of poop, my eyes are finally turning brown.

I've been painting. My hallways. There's still a ton of other things to do in this house, and I will probably have to repaint at some point. But I can't LOOK at this crappy paint anymore. It's not so much the color. It's the finish. The faux finish. Whoever lived here before us, could NOT leave the damn walls alone. Apparently, flat paint jobs are the DEVIL. Not to me. I like my walls to be all the same color. At least until the next room.
This is what the color in the hallway and stairway walls are now.

I don't mind the green. I kinda like it. Until she dragged it.

And not very well, either. It looks like crispy crap on a cracker. Now, it's going to be THIS color:

Number 115-2 Soft Cream by Pittsburgh Paints. I have one hall done. Now I am working on the stairways. If you hear a scream, that's me falling off a ladder. It's a VERY high stairwell.


But, as much as I am dying to see new colors in this house, it will still be a while for most rooms. The walls in the living room are awful. Whoever did the drywalling in there.....you need to use something slighty more abrasive that a cotton ball to sand the walls. Duh. I'll be re-mudding and sanding just about every wall in that room.

Also, I have no front closet in the living room. Well, ok, I do. But it looks like this.


I'm not sure that would bother me too much, since it's only been a few weeks. Except that I have precedent for being worried as to the possible finish date. My downstairs bathroom has looked like this for the last year:


I'm not kidding. I want my damn toilet back. We have pretty much all the supplies already. My darling husband just needs to GET THE WORK DONE.

Of course, if I get that new job I was mentioning before, I can probably do it without him. I still don't know about the job. They haven't called. I'm sure that's fine. It's only been a week. And they don't open till mid-april. So, I'm not worried. Much. It's a large chain of do-it-yourself stores with pretty aprons, if you catch my drift. And I was BORN to work there. I would rock that job so hard! But they have to call first. Oh GOD why haven't they called!? WHY?!

As for crochet, same as last post. Still working on a shrug. Why? I don't know. It's a shrug. Have you ever found an answer in a shrug?

Are ya'll still with me? Really? I was starting to put myself to sleep. But that's it. Sorry. I am really that boring. I would tell ya the weather update, but weather is for people who actually leave the house. Sorry. Not me. But I will be here more regular now. Yay. Right? Yay. Ok, I'm going visiting, now. Go visit my new tenant. Click on the thumbnail in the sidebar.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Quick Confession

I don't have much time, but I needed to get this off my chest.

I don't even know where to start.

I feel so dirty.

OK, here it is....

I have never finished a crochet pattern.

NEVER.

Sure, I've started them. Dozens of times. But they all end the same way. That is, I guess, they don't end the same way.

I know. You've seen me blog about patterns. You've seen pictures of works in progress. And I know, I write the damn things. But, I have yet to complete somebody else's pattern.

Do you hate me now? Am I a disgrace? I feel like such a fraud.

OK, I don't. I'm just going for the sympathy vote. Did it work?

Anywho...I'm trying a pattern....again. And I'm about half done THIS ONE. Only I'm using LB Woolease, in brown and off-white stripes. I know. It's ugly. Or possibly even fugly. But I kinda like it. And I have a LOT of this yarn. It seemed a perfect match.

So, place your bets now. Does she finish it? Or forget it? I'll let ya'll know soon.

And I'll update everything else tomorrow. When hubby is back at work. He's distracted with Futurama right now, but I'm still blogging behind his back.

Oh God. I AM dirty.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Psssst

Just so ya'll know.....I'm still alive. But my husband is still gonna be home for a few days (he's OK, no flesh eating virus. He just needs recovery time). Which makes it hard to post, since he's not in the loop about this blog and all. Ya know. So I can talk about him.
So, I'll probably be visiting other blogs more than posting on this one. Till next week. But I'm here. I'm alive. And, yes, crocheting. The Bright and Breezy tote for my first crochetville swap. It's cute. You'll see.
Go see my tenant. The thumbnail in the sidebar. Go visit. Go. It's fun. More fun than me, right now, that's for darn sure.
Ok, gotta go. His movie is over. Shhhhhh.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

@#$*!

This shall be a multiple rants. Because there are multiple things to rant about.

1. My computer is telling me, in the form of a popup window, about every five seconds, that my virus protection is out of date. I KNOW! I GOT THE MESSAGE! It won't let me turn off the messages. And it won't let me update the virus protection. SHUT UP COMPUTER SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!

2. Remember the armpit zit that was not in the armpit on my husband? You know, the one I bitched about in my last post. Ya, I should stop bitching abot little things. My husband has Cellulitis. Here's a bit about what the Mayo Clinic says about it:


So, he's been sitting at home with an IV in his arm for 2 days. AN IV!!! And the damn infection was still getting bigger! So, I've been awake for 2 full days thinking my husband is dying with the flesh eating virus. And, to make it worse, it's on his hip. His hip. You know. Spreading inward. Towards the goods. The good stuff. The only part of my husband that belongs to ME. Ya'll know what they do with that virus. You watch Grey's Anantomy. They SCOOP it all out. My God, take an arm, a leg, but not THAT.
He's back at the army doctor now. I have no idea what's happening. I think it's going away now, but really. He needs to stop scaring me.

3. Do you nkow what color your eyes are? Really? Are you sure? Because according to the emerceny doctor I saw last night, I don't know what color my eyes are. For instance, if you were to ask my mom, dad, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins, who ALL HAVE BLUE EYES, they would tell you that my eyes are blue, too. Makes sense, yes? And, if I remember basic high school biology class, a mother and father that both have blue eyes, have absolutely NO WAY of having a child with brown eyes. ALSO. I cannot find one single human case of a 30 year old's eyes spontaneously changing from blue to brown. Horses, yes. Bears, yes. Dogs, yes. Human babies, yes. But not ME.
I've had an eye twitch in my right eye for a little over a month. I have a dr's appointment, but that's not for 3 more weeks. But it's really annoying. Also, since that crazy CSI headache I had last week, my left eye has been hurting. Not stabbing pain, but there is pressure. It feels strained. So, yesterday, when my right eye was twitching badly, I looked in the mirror. That's when I noticed that my LEFT eye had some reddish brown spoltches on the bottom of the blue part. Here's a very bad and blurry photo, but it might give you an idea.

Again, I'm a hypochondriac. But I also don't like wasting anyone's time, including my own. So, before running around the house screaming TUMOR TUMOR TUMOR, I called the public health nurse hotline. I just wanted to see what my next move should be. I mean, it appears that my eye is bleeding. I think it's fair to ask a few questions about it. After asking me all of my info and symptoms, the nurse suggests I see somebody. RIGHT AWAY.
I'm in a small town. We can't even get a pharmacy open past 5:00. And this was at 4:45 that I was told this. Well, duh. I went to the emergency room. Alone, because hubby was tied up to an IV tube. First, the triage nurse gave me shit for going there instead of an eye doctor. Because apparently they all stay open 24 hours and nobody told me. Bitch. Then, after hours of sitting in the waiting room, watching Canada's Olympic medal hopes go crashing into the ground, listening to all the elderly tsk tsk everything around them, I got in to see the doctor. At least I think he was. I never saw his degree. Here's how it basically went:

Dr: So, what's the problem?
ME: Well, my eye hurts, and it's changing color.
Dr (looking in my eye): Looks healthy to me.
ME: Ok, but it hurts. And has hurt for a full week. And it's the wrong color.
Dr: It's just brown flecks. They appear to be a normal color pattern.
Me: Yes....but they were not there YESTERDAY.
Dr: Do you were contacts?
Me: No.
Dr: Did you injure your eye?
Me: No. I would have mentioned it if I stabbed myself in the eye.
Dr: Did you ever have glaucoma?
Me: Again, wouldv'e mentioned that.
Dr: Where's this bleeding you mentioned?
Me: The brown flecks. The reddish brown flecks that were not there yesterday. In the eye that hurts.
Dr: Well, you could go see an eye doctor. But it looks fine to me.

Ok. Stop me if I'm wrong. I never went to med school. Why didn't he ask me about head injuries? Or care that there is pressure and pain behind my eye? Or even remember high school biology and ask me what color my parents eyes are? Stumped? I'll TELL you why! Because his shift was over in 15 minutes! Jackass.

So, I'm disgruntled. The damn doctors around here won't do a damn thing. Next time I have a problem, I'm making up symptoms. "Oh the PAIN, the agonizing PAIN." They'll do something for me, or I won't stop the screaming.

But, bleeding eye, brain tumor, flesh eating virus or not, I have to clean my whole house for company. They should be here in about a half hour. And then I have to redo my resume for a job fair tomorrow. Which I won't tell ya'll about, because I WANT this job and don't want to jinx it. But I'll let you know afterwards.

Thanks for the rant. I needed that.



Upcoming Rant

I have a LOT to bitch about. But I'm rushed for time right now. Stay tuned. I'll update in a few hours.....

Monday, February 13, 2006

How NOT to Spend Your Weekend

Ok, so maybe this wasn't the worst weekend ever. Or week, I suppose, if want to include Wednesday and Thursday. Is Friday considered the weekend? Whatever. It all sucked. So, assuming our weekend started last Wednesday, here's how NOT to spend it:

~Don't stay in bed for 2 days with a migraine. Get up. Do things. Maybe bake some rather crunchy cookies.

~Don't spend 3 hours sanding drywall the instant your migraine goes away. Sure, it's fun. But you have dishes to wash. And laundry. Shouldn't you be doing those things? You know those migraines can come back.

~Don't get a strange headache while watching CSI, that is NOT a usual migraine, but it compeletly resistant to all drugs, including those that were brought back from the US because apparently Canadians are too wussy to use them, and lasts all the way through the night, ALL day friday and into Saturday. And still hurts a bit now. Possibly caused by Nick Stokes haircut? Hmmmm.

~Don't spend your time with a massive headache being the laziest hypochondriac EVER by alternately wondering what horrifying tumor is moving through your brain, and then saying "Nah, I don't really feel like going to the hospital. Trading Spaces is on." But what if it's something that's just days from rupturing and they can catch it in time and save me? "Ya, but those MRI machines are so small and clausterphobic. I'll just wait and see if it goes away."

~Don't have a husband with an armpit zit. That's not in his armpit. It's on his hip. And it's eeeewww. We had to go to the hospital yesterday. Because he's in the army, and they won't let you go to just any doctor. Because if you are in the army, they own you. And everything on you. Including armpit zits on your hip. But you can sit in the emergency room for hours and hours, if you really have to and if you dare to have a medical issue when it's not government working hours.

~Don't try to buy prescriptions on a Sunday evening in a small town in Ontario. Sure, Walmart's open. So is Zeller's. But the pharmacies all close early. What? Hello? It's more important for the toys and linens to be sold, but screw the sick people????

~Don't have a husband in the army. If you are married to them, they tell you all kinds of things, like what they'll be doing, and who with, and where and when and it's all very exciting.....until they tell you NEVER to tell anyone esle. Nobody. Not even my mom. Well, I guess that makes sense. She blabs everything. But not even YOU GUYS. I mean, ya'll wouldn't spread it around, would you?

~Don't watch an utterly fascinating episode of Grey's Anantomy in which there is a bomb with a man who has taken the bomb disposal course, and spends all of his days handling ammunition. DON'T. In case the rest of ya'll didn't know, and I now do along with various other info regarding that particular bomb, the only person that bomb should have been killed would be the person holding it. Good to know. Also, what the hell was that at the end? I mean, I knew it was gonna blow. That didn't surprise me. But hello? The bomb techs? Did they just dissapear when it went off? Did they run really really fast and are now safe? No. They were being washed off of Dr.Grey, weren't they? And did anyone say anything about them? The REAL heros? NO. They just ended the damn show! How could they just ignore the death of the cute bomb tech that used to get his newspaper a day early and go out and save MORE people. He's a damn hero!
Also, wasn't George the cutest?

~Don't run out of coffee before Monday morning. Damn.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Cookie Calamity

Like my cookie? It's nice, yes? Chewy, crunchy, buttery, chocolatey. Mmmmmm. But maybe he looks a little like a broken heart, yes?

That's because, like all those who dissapoint us in this life, he's not all that he appears to be. And thus, my heart is broken.

I was baking a beautiful batch of chocolatey chip goodness in cookie form yesterday afternoon. It was going well. No problems. I had all the right ingredients. In some cases, such as the brown sugar, I had just the right amount. What more could I want?

But then, disaster struck.

My Kitchen-aid mixer was doing all of the hard work, creaming the sugar and butter. The flour, salt and baking soda were waiting patiently in another bowl, all mixed together. All I had to do was add the eggs.

That's all I had to do!

Did I stop the mixer and lift the arm to do this? No. Why? Because I wanted to be fancy. Like some TV cook. Maybe like Martha. You know what I mean. All quick and sure of themselves.

That's when it happened.

I dropped the egg.

The WHOLE egg.

Into the bowl.

With the mixer on medium speed.

Oh, the humanity! (or is that doughmanity?)

There was shell everywhere!

So, I had only two choices. Dump the whole batch, or pick out the shells. I had just run out of brown sugar and had no way of getting more. So it would all be garbage, and I would be unable to satsfy my chocolatey chip cravings. (unless I just ate the chocolate chips, but where's the fun in that?)

It was enough to make me cry. (Ok, no, it wasn't. But I'm going for DRAMA here, people)

I choose to pick out the shells. It took a while, but I got most of them. I think. At least my family hasn't said anything.

All I know, is that I've personally had two cookies that were slightly...crunchier....than they needed to be.

Sigh.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Freedom!


I've won the Mom lottery.

I've been paroled from Mom jail.

Take these shackles from around my wrists, I don't need them anymore!

The day I've been waiting 3 years, 9 months, and 6 days to arrive. It's here. HERE.

A Mom's fondest wish come true!

My oldest can now babysit my youngest.
Hang on....I need to savor that statement for a minute......

Last night, I went to the grocery store. Whooo. Big night out. But it was. Because I went with my husband! And that's the closest thing we've had to a date since.....um....oh, crap, I can't even remember the last time we had a date. So, fine. Browsing for weekly specials in the cereal aisle isn't exactly the same as dinner and a movie. But it's a start.

We even got a cell phone. So we can call every 2 minutes and check up on them. I'm not really worried. Well, maybe a little. Not that I know which one to be worried about. They're both space cadets. But a live-in babysitter is the best argument for having your kids eight years apart!

So, now that my cold is dying down (no thanks to the sleeping pills, they didn't do a thing), I need to catch up a bit. I've added more random things to my
Ebay Penny Sale. Some cool stuff there. Look. Now. Yes, I mean NOW! Go!

Ok, now that you're back, you're gonna want to go see my new tenant,
One Man Bandwidth. It's a fascinating blog written by an American proffesor in China. It has all kinds of commentary, cartoons and wonderful writing. Go. Chop chop.

Back? All right then. Nice trip? Good. Good.

What? You want more from me? What do you want, details on my new armpit zit? Ew. Sorry. Now way. Besides, it's still too small to go to the emergency room with, and I'm not going back to the same doctor as before.

But really, that's it. I'm busy. I have to clean the kitchen, and make muffins, and finish a new poncho set to sell on Ebay, and paint my hallways, and chase my brat around the house. But only till her big sister comes home from school.....woohooo!

They can take my sanity, but they will never take my FREEEEEDOOOOM!

Saturday, February 04, 2006

Just Can't Get Enough of This Crap

I'm still alive, but not entirely here. I have a ridiculous chest cold. I can barely breathe. And, the decongestants are messing me up, giving me a buzz. I slept ZERO hours last night. I bought sleeping pills for tonight. I've never taken them before. I hope, HOPE, they work. Also, just to make it that much more fun, Mr. Chest Cold has brought an old friend with him. Does everyone remember Mr. A.Z. (aka The Armpit Zit)? Ya. Back for round number 3. So, we'll see what happens with it this time.
So, since ya'll don't want to read another whiney, poor sick Tara and her stupid armpit post, I'll leave it at that for today. Hope the rest of you are having a great weekend!

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Full Circle

Remember when you were a kid (yes you do, think real hard). And remember when you started to realize that all the grown ups around you used to be kids, too. Which meant, of course, that they had a past. Before you. And suddenly history, especially parental history, was fascinating. So, you would quiz your parents about what clothes they wore and how much they could buy for a quarter. Then your parents would tell you all kinds of stories about when they got their first car or TV. And how all the girls HAD to wear skirts to school. Don't forget the stories about how they ALL walked to school, barefoot in a blizzard, uphill.....both ways.

My sisters and I did that, too. We grilled my mom for days. Until one day, when one of us asked how she dressed in the twenties. You know, like flapper dresses and stuff. To my mom, who is in her fifties now.

"Just how old do you kids think I AM?!?!"
Yup. That's about the time that she started turning twenty-nine on her birthdays. All of them.
My oldest, who just turned twelve, has now become fascinated with the past. When she sees an old show on TV, she HAS to know what decade it was from. Which is fine. I don't mind that. Until it gets personal.
I don't mind telling her some stuff. Like how cell phones were bigger than her arm and our computer was a Commador 64. And how TVs had knobs on them to change the channel. "But how do they fit all the numbers on a little knob, Mom?" "Well, we only had 13 channels." "What?!?!" Oh, the horror of it all. I tell her how there was no such thing as Gameboys, and cordless phones, and CD players, and digital cameras.
Jeez. What the hell did we do for fun in the 80's? No wonder we dressed so stupid.
But then, last night, she asked me what I wore in the 60's.
"Just how the hell old do you think I AM?!?!"
So, that's full circle then, isn't it? I'm officially my mother. Is it too late to say I'm 29?
I can't wait till my grandkids start this crap with her.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Tramping it Up!


It's been a while since I've done this, so go easy on me.

I'm having an Ebay Sale. A Penny sale! That means that all of the auctions in the sale have a starting bid of one cent! Isn't that exciting?! It's mostly my kids' used clothes, some of them practically new, but I'll probably throw a few random other things in there, as well. Making money is great, but this is really more about the purge. We have too much crap in this house.

Uh. Did I say crap? I meant quality previously loved items!

So, in order to actually make sales on all of these wonderful items, I'm whoring myself here to ya'll. I'm strapping on my stilettos, painting up my face with ruby red lipstick and blue eyeshadow, squeezing into my black leather miniskirt and hot pink tube top, and standing on the corner for ya'll.

Please. Come purchase my wares. Or at least go look at them. You like, don't you? Go ahead. Buy them. You know you want to.

I'll be adding more throughout the rest of the week and the weekend. And probably into next week. Depending on how much....uh....items destined for new homes...ya, that sounds good....how many of that that I find.


And, when you are done bidding, go visit my tenant, Mystickal Inscensem by clicking on the thumbnail in my sidebar. You know you want to.