Archive for November, 2009

Made it. Kinda sorta almost entirely barely. But look at that little calendar there! Full of oranged-out dates, full of posts. Good to see.

NaBloPoMo 2009 is done. And while I’ve mostly loved it, there were a few days where the last thing I wanted to do was post. Today was one of them, unfortunately, which is why this is going up so late and is so piss poor. I had every intention of doing a charming wrap-up of the month, and then, wouldn’t you know it?

Life.Happened.

Apparently when you go out of town for a week, even with a dying computer, things pile up and threaten to take over. Things like, oh, I don’t know…Christmas shopping, emails (so sorry if you’ve been waiting for a reply from me), paying bills. And let’s not forget the little matter of playing in a recital next week and not being AT ALL prepared. I’m afraid my neck may make that recital almost impossible. Still hurts to turn my head, so practicing flute doesn’t sound all that appealing. I’ll try again tomorrow and see what happens. I hate to bail, but I hate failing more.

But! NaBloPoMo 2009 is done. I enjoyed it, I’ll do it again. But now I need an ice pack and ibuprofin for this stiff neck from hell that a massage seems to have only angered.

I saw this over at Kat’s blog, Poetikat’s Invisible Keepsakes, and had to steal it. Something easy for me to put out and see how well y’all know me…and for me to learn just how bad my memory is as you tell me that I’ve written on that very subject! (Pssst…lurkers! You can play too!)
The list below contains one blatant lie. See if you can pick it out.

Good luck!

1. I was once totally fluent in Spanish.
2. When I was in high school, I went through the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago in the middle of the night.
3. I recently became an investor in a winery in Chile.
4. I can change clothes in public without showing enough skin to be arrested.
5. I have eaten chicken feet and snails.
6. I have had surgery five times, two of them before I hit my teens.
7. In college, I was often mistaken for Bridget Fonda.
8. Before I took up the flute in 4th grade, I was convinced I was going to be a writer.
9. I have had my name run through the FBI database because of an unfortunate Mace incident.

Oh, I am just dying to hear what all you have to say about this.

Dear sweet God, but is it good to be home. I crawled into my soft and electric-blanket heated bed and nearly broke into tears. There…there was support! And there was comfort! And there was padding! No feeling of sleeping on a rigid trampoline! Ahhh… The drive home felt faster than the drive out, and we all arrived still speaking to one another. That is really too far of a trip for such a short period of time. We’ll drive out again next summer, when Tom’s sister gets remarried. On that trip, the plan is to continue to Chicago and play tourist in my hometown. If I get to hit IKEA and drag furniture home, I’ll call it a success no matter what.

Have you caught this story about these idiots crashing the White House State Dinner the other night? Really? You thought this would be a good idea, that you wouldn’t get caught? That charges wouldn’t be filed? Really? Reminds me of another idiot couple, who thought it’d be a great story that their son was stuck up in a homemade balloon. Hmmm…what do these two stories have in common? Both were  of couples trying to get onto a reality TV show. Is this really what our country has come to? Of people doing really stupid things in the hopes of getting onto television? How sad and pathetic. True honesty here: I hate reality TV. I don’t watch it, I have other things I’d rather do, and I’m not into the whole “he said, she said” basis of it all. It’s mean. I catch exactly two episodes of Survivor a year, when I’m at my scrapbooking retreat. I watch because the other four women love the show and I love them. I watch the rare Extreme Home Makeover episode; usually we’re watching animation on Fox that night. HATE reality TV. People, a suggestion for you? If you want to be famous, do something for the good of humanity. And then shut up about it. Oh, and if you want a real reality TV show, send moms off for a couple of months and leave the dads alone, with no instructions left by the moms and no contact info. Now that I’d watch.

I wish I could say I spent today recovering from our trip, but alas, it was not to be. Instead, laundry was done, Cub Scout popcorn money was handed in, the dog was picked up, XMAS lights were hung, homework was overseen, dinner was prepped, errands were run, and wine was drunk. Tomorrow? Second verse, same as the first.

But, damn, it’s good to be home.

I’ll give you a hint.

It involves the MomVan.

14 hours.

3 states.

And a Boy Cave.

Catch you on the flip side!

It is Thanksgiving Day here in the States. I am deeply thankful for all I have in my life, such as my family/roof over my head/freedom/etc. But I’m going to give public thanks for some of the more unusual blessings in my life these days.

• I am thankful for coffee and tasty yet inexpensive Shiraz.
• I am thankful for my comfy bed and electric blanket.
• I am thankful that the leading experts in twice-exceptionalities are down the road in Denver.
• I am thankful for all the friends I’ve met online. Can’t link them all here or that’s all that the post would be! Let’s leave it at: if you’ve read here more than a week and have left a comment, you’re included.
• I am thankful for the incredible life coach I happened to find and began working with last spring. Lisa has patiently worked with me, and I can see improvements in my life. She is a gifted coach (as in, gifted in what she does AND works with gifted adults) and a true blessing in my life. Not to mention one heck of a friend. I’m lucky to have found her (true kismet) and that she lives less than an hour away.
• I am thankful for the POS laptop that keeps me connected to the outside world, even though her days are numbered. She is thankful that I’m only replacing the hard drive right now, so that Santa can bring the boys gifts. I think she’ll be going on a loooong vacation in February…I’d rather be taking a long vacation in February, but she.really.has.it.coming.
• I am thankful that I have the means, however challenging, to provide A with the services and support he needs.
• I am thankful that A had a losehisshitapalooza in front of my in-laws last night, for now they have first hand knowledge of what we cope with every day.
• Did I mention I’m seriously thankful for wine? And that I’m thankful that my mother-in-law’s overstuffed fridge led me to discover that my favorite Shiraz kicks ass at room temperature?
• I am thankful for Facebook, for connecting me with friends far and near, old and new.
• I am thankful that gluten-free foods are easier to find, and very thankful to Amazon for carrying them inexpensively. Also thankful that Costco is carrying more and more gluten-free foods in their warehouses, which just makes me weep with joy…or is that despair, once I get the total?
• I am thankful for my iPhone, which has transformed my life in the last three months. No idea how I lived without it.
• I am thankful for Pandora, for bringing me a world of new music with just a click.
• I am thankful for Jamie Bamber (droooooool…). Hey, I said these were unusual!
• I am thankful for all the blessings I have in my life. The ones I recognize, the ones I don’t, and the ones I refuse to admit.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, everyone. May your turkey be moist, your gravy smooth, and your pecan pie  perfectly gooey.

Tom and I met when I was 19 and he was 26. Yes, a slight age difference that I have a good time teasing him with. Things like…he could have been my band director, I’m jail bait, I don’t remember the ’70s because I was a wee thing…you get the idea. With few exceptions, age really isn’t an issue anymore.

Aging, however, is a different story. It’s especially noticeable when we come to visit his parents and sleep in the basement bedroom. Now remember, I was a teenager when we met, married a few years later. Young, is my point. Before becoming official, we stayed in separate rooms upstairs, after the wedding we took over the basement. The bedroom down there was Tom’s in high school and has changed absolutely not at all very little.

This is about the bed.

The mother-effing, sized double on a good day, teenaged-Tom’s 35 year old bed.

When we first starting staying down there, some 13 years ago, we’d pop out of bed in the morning, no problem. Over the years, there has been less “pop” and more “snap” and “crackle.” This trip…a good deal of profanity to begin the day. Bad profanity. The kind that might cause a sailor to blush and kick at the floor. Rap stars would ask if I kissed my mother with that mouth. George Carlin would add an eighth word.

Double bed. With two people in it. I am just shy of 5’11″ and one hundred *coughingfit* pounds. Tom is 5’10″ and one hundred “quit your bitching I weigh more” pounds. This bed sees us coming and would run if it could. It was likely very comfortable at one point; at least, Tom didn’t have a noticeable hump when I met him. But now…the padding is paper-towel thin, the springs are getting more rigid with age (like Republicans! Ba-dum-dum!), and I envy the boys sleeping on the sofa bed.

We vaguely remembered bed discomfort last time we were here, and tossed our bed pillows into the MomVan at the last minute as a precaution.

HA!

Getting up this morning George Carlin gave thanks he was already dead, for the language would have killed him. Sailors ran off for months-long deployments. Rap stars took note, but couldn’t find a rhythmic rhyme for !@#!$#@$^&^& (^#%!$!$@@^#$@!

I cannot turn my head. I cannot nod my head. I cannot drop my head to my chest. Instead of moving my head to look at people, I’m looking over or under my glasses and speaking to colored blurriness. Breathing was optional there for awhile. Ah! I remember this from last time we were here; I spent the better part of a couple days with an ice pack on my upper back and neck.

In the spirit of giving thanks this week, I am extremely thankful for scheduling a massage for this Monday over five weeks ago. In fact, I am so thankful, I would love to hop a time machine to go back in time and kiss myself square on the lips for such scheduling foresight. My poor massage therapist is gonna need the big guns on this disaster.

Ibuprofin coursed through my system, found the problem, and headed off for easier problems, like cold fusion. I did get a nap this afternoon, on the deliciously padded couch. In retrospect I should have slept on an ice pack. I vaguely remember dreams of pain with the background sounds of A kicking Tom’s butt in his first game of Risk.

I have no idea what I’m going to do tonight. The mere thought of sleeping on that bed makes my neck seize up. I may have a few glasses of wine, follow with a big glass of water chaser, and hope that I can see tomorrow morning. Maybe I’ll make up a bed on the pool table.

Tom? He’s a little sore but relatively unscathed. Lucky bastard.

Which leads me to the conclusion that his bed is increasingly jealous of me after so many years of sleeping with Tom solo.

Bitch.

You know the 14 hour/3 state trip is going to be a long one when, not 20 minutes into the trip, you realize that the darling children happily chattering behind you have no shoes. Then 20 minutes after that deep fear strikes your heart when you can’t remember exactly where you packed the brand new, can’t-find-anywhere, will bork up A’s blood pressure if he misses a week, ADHD medication (in the back, stuffed into a bag, thank you sweet Baby Jesus). Then after a stop at Super Walmart (motto: check your soul at the door, you won’t be needing it anymore….mwahahahahahaha) for shoes that will now have the MomVan as their primary address, you swing by Sonic for a not-so-fast fast food breakfast and the world’s worst coffee with a side of “sorry, we’re out of creamer.”

Add multiple inquiries into whether or not we were in Nebraska yet/in Iowa yet/at Grandma and Grandpa’s house yet. Include additional announcements of hunger, thirst, and sudden onset urination urgency as the MomVan zips past yet another Rest Area. Also add vocal declarations of annoyance, anger, boredom, and frustration.

Don’t forget the eternal construction on I-80, as reliable as death and taxes. Throw in multiple downpours, and one solid snow squall. More construction on I-29. Heavier rain. Ooh, a detour! A 30 minute “Sweet Mother of All That is Holy, take the effing pill so we can get back on the road!” rest stop.

A 14 hour marathon turned into a 16+ hour “please, make it stop, I promise I’ll be good from now on” mobile torture chamber of doom.

And we get to do it all again on Friday.

Pass the wine.

Depends on when you’re reading here. Early morning, I’m still in Colorado. Flat, surface of the moon, northeast Colorado. Mid-day I’m in Nebraska, land of corn…cow…corn…cow…red truck…another red truck…do they sell anything other than red trucks?…corn…cow… Evening I’m in Iowa, home of my loving husband.

Vroom vroom…

I had several topics in mind for today. And then Princess half-croaked on me. She’s back home, grumpy about the overnight stay with the Guru, but resting comfortably. Tom and I need to talk about what to do next, either replace her or fix the hard drive and replace her this spring. As much as I hate to pour more money into this miserable piece of work, I also hate to buy a computer right before Christmas.

In the meantime, my brain fried. Two weeks of single parenting, delivering Cub Scout popcorn, book reports and homework, being out nearly every night last week…they all conspired to drive me batty.

The time for a deep, well-thought out post passed at about 2:00 today, three hours before Princess was ready to be picked up. Now I’m slightly crazed, packing for tomorrow and catching up with all the work that didn’t get accomplished while Princess was hooked up to life support.

A better post tomorrow? Don’t count on it, I’ll be in the middle of Nebraska. I’ll be lucky to get a worse filler post than this one up.

Well, it didn’t take long. Just an extra ten days or so. Princess the PMSing Laptop is thisclose to being sold for parts, I just need to talk to my PC Guru again tomorrow afternoon to get the whole story. I finally got it and my EHD to my Guru yesterday, because they still weren’t talking. The EHD is fine, the OS hard drive is fine, the hard drive with all the files on it is toast. Not expecting that. I am so pissed I could spit nails and breathe fire. The computer is three years old and this will be the SECOND time I would need to replace that hard drive. I’ve already done both hard drives once, the DVD/CD tray, and the motherboard because the POS got so hot things melted. Yes, melted. Guru smelled smoke when he opened the case. Everything was still under warrantee then, so a PITA, but no prob.

Remember? Warrantee expired a week and a half ago. I did not renew.

We leave in 36 hours for several days in Iowa. I will be computerless, which means I will be frantically writing posts for NaBloPoMo in advance. I will not fail at that because of my POS laptop. Tom is on a business trip until tomorrow afternoon, I should be packing and prepping for the trip. Instead I’m writing, pricing out new Macs, and checking out the black market going rate for kidneys.

So! A poll!

Ahh…technology. Designed to make our lives easier and failing miserably.