Special Bulletin

We interrupt your regularly scheduled rant about my trip to New Jersey to bring you this special report:

Mama Jo is SO busted.

I had managed, quite nicely, to avoid getting sucked into playing Sudoku. I know it's the latest "big thing," but I've never been the kind of person to follow trends, so resisting this one was not difficult for me. In fact, knowing that it's the latest thing made it that much easier to resist, because I am a stubborn pain in the ass that way. BUT. My other grandmother...the one I like...the one who is smart and sassy and sweet and feisty and all of the things I want to be when I am her age...bought Mama Jo a Sudoku book for Christmas. (I guess that technically makes her the one who's busted, but this is my blog, and I make the rules, so she gets a pass and I'm still putting this all on Mama Jo's shoulders.) I had seen Mama Jo working through her puzzles the last few times I was over at her house, but it didn't make much of an impression on me. Again...I deliberately resisted getting sucked in.

BUT THEN, Mama Jo brought her Sudoku book with her to New Jersey. And Mama Jo proceeded to work through her puzzles every morning at breakfast. And she slyly started talking to me about how SHE got sucked in and how she works the logic and how frustrating it was for her at first, but she's made it through the beginning levels and is now in the "Hard" section of the book. And I found myself craning my neck to see if I could follow how she was solving these things. And we talked about strategy and process, and I found myself getting interested.

But really, I don't need another hobby. As it is, I don't have time for the ones I already have. So again, I resisted, and while she did her puzzles, I struggled to get internet connection so I could check up on the news and see how my Blogger friends were doing. Sadly, it was too late. The seed had been planted. And it sat there, in my subconscious, just waiting to bear fruit.

And when I got home, and I was tired and bored, and not wanting to move off the couch, because I was so worn out, I got online and followed a link to some Sudoku puzzles. Just to see if I could do one by myself. Just curious. Nothing more.

Uh-huh.

Nothing more, my ass. Did you hear the great big slurping sound that was ME, getting SUCKED INTO PLAYING SUDOKU every DAY? I'm OBSESSED, people. It is disturbing. Crack whores in need of their daily fix have NOTHING on me, I tell you. NOTHING! Until I have worked my daily puzzle, nothing else exists. Turtle wants breakfast? Tough luck, kid...Mommy needs to figure out where this 9 goes. Oscar has his hands all over me, working his magic? Get back to me later, baby. I need to finish this column. Snark's Mistress comes over, bearing Stargate SG-1 dvds? Well, okay, I'll stop for that, but I'm going back to it the second she walks out the door, I SWEAR!

So, yeah, Mama Jo is on my list now. I was perfectly content to thumb my nose at the masses who got fooled into obsessing over these silly puzzles until she had to turn me into one of those puzzle-working sheep, too. GAH! Or should that be Baaaaaaa? (Yeah, okay, that was lame. I've been spending too much time with Oscar. I concede that point. But I'm still not firing on all thrusters right now, so cut me some slack, okay? Okay. Thank you. That is all.)

Home Sweet Home

Did you guys know that Continental now has flights out of Hell? I took one two days ago. It was pretty awesome. Of course, as you might expect from a flight out of Hell, it wasn't easy. We probably sat on the tarmac for 30-45 minutes while we waited for them to give us a place in line for take-off. I can just picture the conversation in the control tower.....

Satan: Heh...what do you guys say we mess with them a little before we let them take off? Make them think they're getting out of here, but then leave them sitting for so long that they start to wonder if they're ever going to get home?
Control Tower Crew: Hey, that's a good one, Big Guy!
Satan: Maybe we can even give the pilot periodic updates, so it seems like they're making progress, when they're actually still just sitting still.
Control Tower Crew: Wow, that's ingenious! You're on the cutting edge, O Evil One!
Satan: By the way, you guys DID tell Food Services to replace all of the real food on the plane with furry burgers and questionable-looking salads, right?
Control Tower Crew: Of course, Your Majesty, the Prince of Darkness and Despair.
Satan: Heh...they won't know whether to starve themselves for the 6+ butt-numbing hours they spend on that plane or risk salmonella and mad cow disease. I love my job.

In any event, we did finally manage to take off and 6+ hours after boarding our plane in Hell, we landed at Phoenix Sky Harbor. I can't tell you what a relief it was to deplane, walk down the breezeway and see Oscar and Papa Jo waiting for us. I also can't tell you how completely and utterly bone weary I was when we finally made it back to the house and put Turtle down to bed. Truth be told, I'm still fighting the exhaustion. Of course, that's only part of the reason I haven't posted yet.

I'm struggling with how much to say about this week-long journey to Hell and back. Part of me says that I should heed that old adage, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." (Which is what informed my response when Papa Jo asked me how the trip was and I shot back at him, "You don't really want me to answer that, do you?") The other part of me says that I should probably write about it, not only so I can process my emotions about the whole situation, but also because I am starting to forget who has heard the stories and who hasn't. It makes much more sense to get it all down and let you all, who have been so sweetly concerned about me, read about it in your own time. I'm sure in the end, I'll end up somewhere in the middle. I'll write about all of the big things and let some of the littler things slip by. But in the meantime, I just wanted to let you know that I am home, and you will be hearing from me again soon.

Our First Date

So. I ended up going out with the Boyfriend Saturday night. I have been meaning to blog about this little date of ours since it happened, but my internet connection has been tenuous at best, and I haven't had a lot of time. Also? I was kind of waiting to see if he would say anything about it first. But he didn't, so it falls to me to fill you in on all of the gory details. Which totally figures, because everyone talks about how men are all about the locker room conversations, but really it's the women who sit down and dissect every minute of every date they go on. I blame it on our gossip gene.

In any event, Boyfriend's wife had to cancel for personal reasons, so it ended up being just the two of us. I was kind of bummed that I wasn't going to have a chance to meet her. On the other hand, when I was in the shower, getting ready, I found that I was more nervous about the idea of meeting the wife than I was about meeting the Boyfriend. I figured I already had him in my pocket, but I wasn't sure how hard I was going to have to work to win her over. And I really wanted to win her over. So finding out that she wasn't going to be able to join us was a bummer, but it kind of took some of the pressure off.

I got lost twice on my way to the restaurant, mostly because of the limitations of Mapquest directions, so I was really worried about being late. But I managed to make it there before the Boyfriend. The place was packed and when I spoke to the hostess, I found out we had an hour wait ahead of us. I stood by the door and watched for him. Luckily, I knew what he looked like, so I recognized him immediately when he walked up. First impressions? So. Very. Cute. Cuter than I had been expecting, actually. Good genes, that guy. Also? Captivating eyes. And once we got to talking? Great sense of humor, excellent conversationalist, and overall fantastic company.

The conversation flowed easily. We talked about everything. Our spouses, our engagements/weddings/wedding rings, kids, vacations, our families, sex, drugs, my underwear, his underwear, food, our blogs, bad breath.....we never lacked for a subject. I expected it to be a little awkward, having established this relationship online but never having met in person. Thankfully, it really wasn't. In fact, things went so well, I was shocked when our date ended and I realized that over three hours had elapsed while we talked, laughed and got to know each other.

My only complaint? Boyfriend is VERY tough to read. Or maybe I was just feeling a little insecure after basically being told how worthless I am for four days. (Thanks Wicked Witch of the East!) I could not tell if he was having as much fun as I was. It was very unsettling. But I got a very nice text message from him on my way home, so I'm assuming the little mutual admiration society we had established is still living up to the "mutual" part of the equation.

Anyway, I'm REALLY glad we were able to meet, particularly since I had perma-grin on my face for hours afterwards. It was a fantastic break from the nightmare of dealing with Wicked Witch and her house full of random detritus. I just wish Oscar and Boyfriend's wife had been able to join us, as well. Maybe next time. Because I'm sure we'll be doing this again.

SQUEE!

Well, today was another shitty day in the ongoing drama I like to call "Packing up all of the crap the Wicked Witch owns, never uses, but refuses to get rid of." But I don't really want to get into that because it will just annoy me. So instead, I'd just like to squee a little bit about the fact that I get to meet my Boyfriend and his lovely wife for dinner tomorrow.

We're going to this Tex Mexish place, which prompted the Boyfriend to observe that I had to travel 3000 miles to meet him for dinner at a place that serves food I could probably find back at home and of a more authentic/better quality. But that doesn't bother me. Having exhausted two bottles of wine and half a bottle of vanilla vodka in three days here at the Wicked Witch's house, it's time for a new drink. And who doesn't love margaritas?

But margaritas are not the only reason I'm excited about meeting the Boyfriend. I'm also excited because...well....he's the Boyfriend. And I get to meet him. And his wife. And we get to have a meal together. And we get to flirt in person. And if I feel so inspired, I can flash them, because as we all know, Cymber + alcohol = need to remove clothing. Oh, wait....you didn't know that? Oh. Well, you do now.

And if I'm lucky, I won't be the only one removing clothing, because Boyfriend totally needs to model the hot Calvin Kleins Oscar and I bought him for his birthday. Then again, I'm hoping to spend some real, substantial time away from the house tomorrow night, so I need to make sure we don't do anything that's going to get us thrown out of this restaurant. It is SUCH a fine line we're walking, here.

Anyway, this will be the one truly bright spot in an otherwise miserable week of my life, and I intend to enjoy it to its fullest. It won't be the same as, say, curling into Oscar's arms and having him kiss the top of my head, as he sometimes does, and which always makes me melt. But it's a pretty damn fine substitute. And yes, you can expect to hear all about it sometime later this weekend. In the meantime, I think there is a drop of wine still left in the bottle, so I have some more alcohol to consume.

Is It Next Wednesday Yet?

So, I got online briefly this evening in an attempt to get my e-mail and catch up on my millions of blogs. Which would have been just fine, except that Mama Jo had gone upstairs to escape from the Wicked Witch of the East. That left me and Turtle downstairs. He was on one couch and I was on the other. I was about five minutes away from closing up my computer and putting it away until he had gone to bed, when the Wicked Witch of the East looked over at Turtle and said, "Nobody wants to pay attention to you, huh? That's why you love Mama Jo better. She pays attention to you."

*cue my head whipping around so I can glare menacingly at the Wicked Witch*

Dude. Just call me a terrible mother and get it over with. Really. It's what you mean, anyway. Why mince words? Save us all some time, and just look me square in the eye and tell me that I'm a horrible mom and my kid is going to grow up hating me because I ignore him all the time. I'll actually respect you more.

So MOU called --

You know what? Before I go on, I think it's fair to tell you that I'm drunk again. I really am not a big drinker AT ALL. I'm certainly not at all prone to using alcohol as a means of coping. But I swear to God, if not for my friend the wine glass tonight, I'd be in the Wicked Witch's room, holding a pillow over her face. So bear with me. If I start rambling, it's the wine talking. It also explains why my segues are just not there tonight.

ANYWAY, MOU called to talk to the Wicked Witch tonight. I could hear her on my way back upstairs, giving him the laundry list of our offenses. I actually found that rather amusing, given that she wasn't in the room for ANYTHING we were doing today, so anything she was unhappy about was based on her ASSUMPTIONS of what we were doing with our time. When I came downstairs again, she passed the phone to me, so that he could set us straight about what we were and were not allowed to do. I talked to him about what we had done and why. We clarified a few things and then I told him I would pass him back to the Wicked Witch so she could continue to tell him how horrible we were. He tried to deflect and say that wasn't what she was doing at all, but I was having none of that. She was badmouthing us, so let's call a spade a spade, shall we? I'm almost 30 years old....a big girl, now. You can shoot straight with me. I can handle it.

So, we're....what?....two and a half days into this trip and I've already started wandering down the path to alcoholism (because I was sharing that damn bottle of wine with Mama Jo, but I've had two glasses and she's had one, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let the other glass of wine that's still sitting in the bottle go to waste...I'm sucking that down before bedtime) and considered smothering the Wicked Witch in her sleep. I'd say we're doing well. At least I haven't had another night of crying on the phone to Oscar, while he listens helplessly 3000 miles away and tries to figure out how he can reorganize his entire life and job schedule to come out and hold me. So...two and a half days down, five and a half days to go. Pray for me, will you?

Note To Self

Apparently, even the worst situations are made better with alcohol. Me + several fingers of vanilla vodka + coke = Happy floaty feeling and a numb head. Whee! Or something like that.

Also? Mama Jo just said "fuck." She usually yells at me when I say "the 'f' word." Hee! Through the haze of vanilla vodka goggles, that was actually pretty damn funny. Especially since she really wasn't upset about anything huge. Just a sodoku puzzle she messed up. So brilliant.

Also? The boyfriend got my birthday package today. It was only a few weeks late, right? Right. He seemed less than enthusiastic. But maybe that was because he was at work. And I sent him underwear. No, not mine, you dirty freaks! New, clean, sexy boxer briefs. Oh, don't panic. Oscar helped me pick them out. They had his full endorsement. I'm expecting pictures. Hopefully, they have the boyfriend somewhere in there, because I've already seen the underwear without the boyfriend in them. I don't need pictures of that again.

Also? I think there was a reason I wasn't supposed to blog while drunk. What was that, again? Oh....because I giggle at the littlest things and make no sense? Yeah, that was probably it. Hee...Mama Jo just said "fuck" again. She's still doing her puzzles. Heeee! HEEEEE! Okay, I'm done now. Okay, really, I'm not. HEEEEEEEE!

I think that's all. I'm off to read Stargate SG-1 fanfic because I'm a really lame loser and I'm drunk and kind of hoping if I read the fanfic, I'll have hot and sexy Sam and Jack dreams tonight. Sure beats waking up every 15 minutes to my grandmother's infernal grandfather clock. Heh. Grandmother's grandfather clock? That's kind of funny. No? You're probably right. Shutting up now.

Packing Checklist

Okay, let's see....

Clothes? Check.
Toiletries? Check.
Toys for Turtle? Check.
Directions to the restaurant where I'm meeting Boyfriend and his lovely wife? Check.
Sexy underwear to wear the night I meet Boyfriend? Heh....Double Check.
Directions to Grandma's house from the airport? Check.
Car rental reservations? Check.
Boarding passes (thank GOD for online check-in!!!)? Check.
Snacks for the plane ride? Check.
Drugs suitable for knocking out Turtle if he starts getting too feisty on the plane? Check.
Sanity? Hmmm....I think we'll leave that here where it's safe.

Looks like I'm all set to go. I'll check in if I can, but otherwise, I'll miss you guys. Don't have too much fun while I'm gone. And clean up in here a little, would you please? Yeesh...

Thoughts For The Day

Today, I shall open the door to my brain once again, and show you around a little. The following is a play-by-play of the thoughts that ran through my head today. Be prepared. This could get ugly. Ready? Here we go:

Mmmmmm.....chocolate eggs..... Mmmmmm.....jelly beans..... Mmmmmm....jelly bean hunt!..... Mmmmmm.....HAM!!!!...... Mmmmmmm....deviled eggs.....(drool)...... Mmmmm....Cadbury Creme Eggs..... MMMMMMMMMMM!!!!......Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs!!!..... Mmmmmm.....robin eggs...... Harumpf....kid won't take nap..... Mmmmmm....thank God for grandparents.... Mmmmmmm.....more chocolate eggs.... Damn....why won't this kid nap???..... Mmmmmm....Mama Jo rules! You play with that kid until he passes out!..... Haha! Wedding Crashers is a funny movie.... Mmmmmmmm.....MORE chocolate eggs.... Mmmmmm...time to go home so I can actually EAT some of those chocolate eggs!.... MMMMMMMMMM!!!!....kid is napping! Praise all that is holy!..... Mmmmmm!....finally, stuffing my face full of chocolate!....Life is good!

And that was my day. How was yours?

Over The River And Through The Woods

I have this grandmother. She's my father's mother and quite frankly, a real pain in the ass. I guess I love her, but I honestly don't like her very much. I would feel bad about that, but since she really hasn't given much of a damn about me throughout my life, I'm not losing any sleep over it. She used to live with my uncle, another member of my family that I guess I loved, but didn't really like very much. I use the past tense because my uncle died in October. Since then, it's been a bit of a struggle to figure out how to handle things with my grandmother. She's not capable of living alone, and none of us have been in a position to live with her. And of course, things only got worse when she fell, not long after my uncle's funeral, and broke her pelvis.

I have made three trips to New Jersey since my uncle's death to help care for my grandmother. I have done this more for my other uncle's sake (I actually do like him) than for my grandmother's. My other uncle (MOU, for short) has borne the brunt of the responsibility for caring for Grandma since her injury. There are many reasons for that, but the easiest to explain is proximity. He lives in Massachusetts, whereas my parents and brother and I are all here in Arizona. This has not been easy on any of us, but it has been especially difficult for him, so when he called me to ask if I could come help out, I didn't hesitate to say yes because I knew how hard this was on him.

In retrospect, this was probably not the best idea.

See, Grandma is not a nice person. She is critical and self-absorbed. She is mean-spirited and unrelentingly negative. She is a master manipulator and only interested in you insofar as you are useful to her. And that only scratches the surface. From the moment my plane touched down in New Jersey until the moment my plane took off again, I was expected to wait on Grandma hand and foot. Every need was to be anticipated, and every desire attended to. I learned the routine quickly. It was easier that way. But for every second I spent in her company, I could feel a bit of my soul dying. Particularly since, in addition to all of those aforementioned nasty personality traits, the woman watches pro wrestling and believes every melodramatic moment of it is real. WRESTLING, people. She is truly the anti-Christ. And now? It's that time again.

I'm leaving for New Jersey on Tuesday. MOU and Grandma are purchasing a townhouse so that they can move in together, and MOU needs assistance packing up their belongings. I've agreed to help, again, more for my uncle's sake than anything else. But at least this time, I have a few more things working for me. Number one, I'm bringing Mama Jo along with me. I've traveled with Turtle by myself for the last couple of trips, but for this one, Mama Jo insisted that we travel together. She, thankfully, has recognized how much of a toll these little visits have been taking on me and decided that I needed an ally if I was to head out there again. Number two, having come home deeply depressed the last few times, and recognizing the marital issues that have arisen between Oscar and myself since I started doing this, I am heading up there this time around with a distinct lack of patience for Grandma's bullshit. It may have taken me a while, but I've finally realized that I don't even let Oscar treat me the way Grandma treats me, so why I have let her get away with it is completely beyond me. I'm not letting it happen again. And number three, this time around, I have a Boyfriend who lives in New York. We've bandied about the idea of getting together while I'm in the neighborhood. I don't really expect that it will happen. But just having the possibility lightens the load a little bit.

I still don't expect this will be easy. Particularly since....wait for it....I will not have internet access for the entire time I am gone. MOU somehow got the bright idea to save money by canceling the internet service to Grandma's house. At the time, he didn't realize he'd be spending as much time there as he did. Dumbass. So in addition to being in the presence of a woman whose sole goal in life is to make everyone around her as miserable as she is, I will be away from my precious internet community for 8+ days. No updating my blog. No reading everyone else's updates. Nothing. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry. I'm still packing my laptop, though. I figure if nothing else, I can write as things come up, and have a wealth of stories to tell you upon my return. It's a small consolation, but it's all I've got.

Yay!

So, I thought it was a triumph when Snark's Mistress started blogging, but it didn't surprise me. I figured she was the most susceptible to the lure of having her own online journal. Being brilliant and all, I couldn't wait to see what she had to say. It never occurred to me that she wouldn't be the only one to be dragged into this blogging world with me. It seems that Hotass has been suckered into creating her own little corner of Blogger and is decorating it nicely. You can find her here. Don't expect updates for a little while, though. She's hopped up on some nice drugs that make her very sleepy since her knee surgery a couple days ago. But I'm sure she'll tell you all about that soon. So go visit Hotass, and tell her I sent you! (And post lots and lots of comments about how she needs to update more frequently. She'll love that!)

Judgment Day

I mentioned I read a lot of blogs, right? A LOT? Right. So I was reading my blogs this morning and lo and behold, I find that Em was talking about how she hates when people are judgmental and feel superior. And here I just mentioned the other day how I am a snobby, smug, superior, judgmental bitch. Huh. Then I find that Heather was talking about how she handles hate mail and other such lovelies from people who I can only assume are judgmental and have delusions of grandeur. Double huh. So now I'm thinking, "Wow. How do I live with myself, being the snobby, smug, superior, judgmental bitch that I am?" And the more I'm thinking about it, the more the answer appears to be, "Quite easily, actually."

First of all, I'm not the type of snobby, smug, superior, judgmental bitch who goes around leaving nasty messages on other people's blogs. That is ridiculous. I don't know what about the internet -- whether it is the anonymity or the lack of personal contact or what -- that makes people believe that the rules governing our interactions with other people no longer apply, but I think it's one of the uglier features of this kind of media, and I choose not to operate that way. If I find myself not enjoying a blog I'm reading, or a thread on a discussion board, or anything else, I take some deep breaths and point my browser in another direction. If I'm bothered enough by something to actually speak up, I do so in a polite and respectful manner, engaging other people in a dialogue, rather than haranguing them with my viewpoint. This is just common courtesy, in my opinion. To do otherwise speaks negatively of me, which is not something that helps me stay safe and warm in the comfort of my snobby, smug, judgmental, bitchy superiority. It brings me down to the level of Turtle, who so far hasn't figured out that throwing tantrums isn't the way to get what he wants. And I would like to think that I'm matured a bit beyond that, if for no other reason than it's the only advantage I have when dealing with him.

Secondly, everyone is judgmental in some way. I think it's a little disingenuous to claim otherwise. The instinct that tells you to avoid the guy on the corner because he seems kind of sketchy? That's your little judgmental gene coming out in full force. As well it should, because that guy was totally a serial killer. But seriously, we assess people based on our life experiences, our prejudices, and our instincts every single day and judge them based on that frame of reference. The sticking point is how we respond when that assessment or judgment is questioned. So, yeah, I'm a snobby, smug, superior, judgmental bitch, but let me get to know you and learn where I may have misjudged you and I'm open to changing my impression. Especially if it means that we can sit in the corner at the next Christmas party and be snobby, smug, superior, judgmental bitches together and openly mock other people. I'm always down for that.

Okay, so I'm joking about openly mocking other people. I may be a snobby, smug, superior, judgmental bitch, but I try to keep that aspect of my personality fairly low-key. When Snark's Mistress and I get together, you can bet your ass that the claws will come out at some point and we will be catty bitches, doling out our scathing wit with wild abandon. No one and nothing is sacred. But at the same time, we have a verbal shorthand. Our own language, if you will. So we can be catty bitches without anyone around us suspecting that is what we are doing. We don't need to broadcast the fact that we've decided that you are seriously on crack if you think that shirt goes with that skirt, and that you have the biggest chip on your shoulder known to man. We're happy to keep that just between us.

In addition, I know that when I am with Snark's Mistress and we're happily passing judgment on all the lesser mortals among us, she is fully aware that any hateful comment that comes out of my mouth, any snobby thought I have in my mind, any superior bone in my body is used more for comedic effect than anything else. Do I really think I'm God's gift to the universe and all others around me are pathetic wastes of space? Well, yes. Clearly. But really? No. I'm not a bad person. I am a catty bitch, but more to make my friends and family laugh than because I honestly believe that I'm better than anyone else. I have my flaws, too. Not as many as you do, obviously, but that's neither here nor there.

So really? While there are a number of things I would change about myself if I could, being a snobby, smug, superior, judgmental bitch is not one of them. And I bet, if you think about it, you secretly love that I'm a snobby, smug, superior, judgmental bitch. Because you're just like Olympia Dukakis in Steel Magnolias who tells Dolly Parton, "As somebody always said, 'If you can't say anything nice about anybody, come sit by me.'" After all, isn't that why you're here?

On My Own, Part 2

So....I started writing this yesterday. But then a bunch of stuff came up, and I never got back to it. And I would feel guilty about it, and sad for neglecting you all, because you are so good to me and you check in expecting me to be witty and clever and I appreciate it to no end.....but yesterday kind of sucked, and I did the best I could. I promise I will make it up to you today. In any event, here's (partly) what was going on yesterday:

I am going to be on my own tonight. Well, as on my own as I can be, with a two year old to keep me company. Oscar is going to the Diamondbacks' Home Opener. Because he does not love me. In fact, I think he openly despises me. I can't think of another reason he would want to go to the Diamondbacks' Home Opener without me, knowing how excited I get about the first home game of the season. But his friend had tickets and invited him to go, and he asked me with that oh-so-excited, please-don't-deny-me, I-really-really-want-this look in his eyes, and how do I say no? I don't, naturally. Instead, I save this up in my to-be-used-later file, so that when something comes up that I really MUST do, I can pull this out and say, "Well, I let you go to the Diamondbacks' Home Opener without me, so you owe me now." Yes, that's right...no matter WHAT anyone else says, scorecards are kept even in the best of marriages. (I'm winning so far, by the way.)

The last time I was left alone, I had all sorts of plans for what I might do. I was going to clean all sorts of things and get the in-laws' Christmas gifts together (They're boxed, now, in case you're curious. But no, they haven't made it to the post office yet.) and catch up on all of those little things that fall by the wayside when you have an active toddler keeping you busy. But then I tripped and landed on the kitchen floor, and all those plans I made flew out the window in the face of my wrenched back and throbbing knees. So this time around? I'm not making any firm plans or promises to get things done. At this point, the only thing I am sure will happen is that I will be putting Turtle down to bed at 8:30.

But what I'd like to do....what would give me no end of glee if I can make it happen....the thing that my heart most desires? Is to clean my bathroom. The mirror is a mess of water spots and little toddler-sized hand prints. The counter is covered in cat hair and the remains of the incense Oscar burns when he is having "digestive issues." And let's not even discuss the tub, because showering in there now requires us to work the sponge in and around the HazMat suits, and it's just not pretty. It's getting close to the point that "cleaning the bathroom" will involve a match and some lighter fluid, because there will be no hope left for it otherwise. But for now, there's still a chance I can recover it with some elbow grease and powerful cleaning solvents. So unless I jinx myself by getting too smug about being productive while Oscar is off enjoying the game without me, I have a date with a sponge this evening.

I realize that this makes me a loser of the highest magnitude, but I've never deluded myself into thinking I'm one of the cool kids, so that's fine. If I'm lucky, I'll be a loser of the highest magnitude with a sparkly clean bathroom. And I take my victories where I can.

Chugga-Chugga

I read a lot of blogs. A LOT. Some I read because I enjoy the writers' styles. Some I read because the subject matter is important to me. And some I read because they remind me that, by comparison, my life is actually pretty damn good, and I really do have my shit together. Well. For the most part.

Last night, I was at the dinner table, catching up on my blog reading while Oscar was playing a video game on his PDA. Turtle was busy eating his scrambled eggs and applesauce. I ran across an entry in one of the latter types of blogs and without realizing it, started snickering. (I know...I'm a snobby, smug, superior, judgmental bitch. I own it.) Oscar looked up at the sound and asked me what was so funny. "I was just reading a blog," I said, and in a sing-song voice continued, "Traaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiin Wreck!" There was a beat and then Turtle looked up. He grinned at me, pumped his arm in the air, and yelled out, "CHOO CHOO!" Oscar and I dissolved into fits of laughter. I mean really....was there anything else we could have done?

A Special Message

To my Boyfriend, who is celebrating his 29th birthday today: It's a shame I live so far away, because you clearly need a good birthday spanking. Oscar, Turtle and I wish you all the best for another fantastic year among great friends and family. We love you. (Not enough to get your birthday presents in the mail on time, but not even McMama gets her gifts on time, so you're in good company.)

Addendum

Okay, seriously? I had a dream last night that Katie Holmes came over and was giving birth in a bathroom attached to my house. A bathroom we don't even have. Tom Cruise was nowhere to be found, which was pretty awesome, because I totally had a chance to be all, "Girl...what the HELL are you thinking?" She did have some sort of Scientology advisor or something with her, which made things awkward. But I asked her if she kept in touch with the Dawson's Creek gang, and she said she still talked to everyone. So in between contractions, we called Michelle Williams, who completely backed me up on the "Girl...what the HELL are you thinking?" thing. So, I'm not sure, but I think I might have saved Katie Holmes last night. I sure hope so, anyway, because I used to love Katie Holmes. And she really deserves better than the Tooliest Tool who ever Tooled.

Dreams

So, I've been having some weird dreams lately. I've been asking Snark's Mistress to analyze them for me, being the resident psych student among us. She was game at first, but even she is thinking "Bitch, you crazy!" at this point. I don't know what my subconscious is trying to tell me, but whatever it is, I'm thinking it's not good.

In the first dream, I was apparently bisexual, and was finding myself tempted to cheat on Oscar with a younger, much, much fatter Emma Thompson. I definitely had feelings for her and we tossed around the idea of running away together. It was kind of sad, though, because she was apparently not very popular in her peers' dating circles, and she seemed so surprised and so grateful that I had feelings for her. So you can imagine how devastating it was when I finally realized I couldn't leave my husband and told her we couldn't see each other anymore. I felt like an ass. (Well, I mean, that's a common theme, so I don't need any help analyzing that part. But if anyone can explain to me why I'd be thinking of turning gay for a fatter version of Emma Thompson, I'd appreciate the help. I mean, Salma Hayek is a no brainer, but as much as I love Emma, she's not tempting me away from my husband, particularly with a lot of extra pounds and really bad skin. Did I not mention the bad skin? Oh, yeah...It was nasty.)

Then I had this dream that I worked with Ellen Degeneres. Apparently, she was one of those people who thinks that because you work together, you need to be best friends, and was calling me all the time. I had expressed some frustration about this to Oscar. He said the next time she called, he'd rip her a new one. Fast forward several weeks. Ellen and I had apparently been getting along much better, but I failed to convey this to Oscar. She called to see if I wanted to go out and Oscar answered the phone. To my horror, he yelled and cursed and called her all sorts of names and I could tell that he was making her cry. I tried to track her down to apologize. I managed to find her in the second bedroom in our house. Weird, huh? You'd think I'd have noticed if Ellen Degeneres had moved into my home. We talked, but I never did get around to apologizing. I kept wanting to, but the words never came out. Then she took off to go do something and after that, I couldn't find her again. Weird, huh? You'd think I could have just gone back to the second bedroom in my house.

On a positive note, I also had a dream that I was on a first date with Michael Shanks. (If you don't know who Michael Shanks is, you clearly have not taken seriously my love of all things Stargate SG-1 and started watching it yourselves. To which I can only say, you are DEAD to me!) We were shyly smiling at each other and had that cute, awkward, I-really-like-you-but-I-don't-want-to-be-too-obvious-even-though-it's-written-all-over-my-face thing with each other. I don't know where Oscar was. Or Turtle. Or my Boyfriend. Or Michael's wife, for that matter. But damn were we cute together. But here's the problem with THAT dream....we didn't even get to the part where he kisses me at the front door. This is my DREAM! Where is my KISS??? Is he a bad kisser? Did I have bad breath? Was there something in my teeth? I mean, come on! I'm on a great first date with a hot guy who really seems to dig me and I can't even get a kiss, much less start rounding some serious bases? Why does my subconscious hate me so much?

So.....yeah. There's some odd stuff going on in the sub-levels of my brain. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be learning from any of this, particularly since, in my humble opinion, if I was going to learn anything, it should have been that Michael Shanks is an excellent kisser. But at least I'm getting to know some celebrities in my down time. Heh...if this keeps up, I'll have enough stars on my speed dial to be able to start a talk show. If Tyra can do it, it can't be THAT hard.

It's A Mystery

It was girl's night out tonight. I always tell Oscar I will try to be home early on GNO, but I inevitably end up staying out late. Do you blame me? It's my one night to get out and remember that I am more than just a mom. In any event, by the time I get home Oscar is usually asleep, and tonight was no exception. However. Upon entering the house this evening, I discovered a little bit more than the simple fact that my boys were both asleep. I also discovered a large hole in the wall in my kitchen. There was no note accompanying this large hole in the wall in my kitchen. There was no explanation as to how this large hole in the wall in my kitchen came to be. I could speculate as to the origins of the large hole in the wall in my kitchen, and in fact, as I'm typing this, Snark's Mistress and I are IMing about the large hole in the wall in my kitchen. But quite frankly, I'm curious as to your thoughts on the large hole in the wall in my kitchen. Anybody care to take a guess as to how it got there or what it means? Personally, I'm thinking that Oscar was taking my interest in Stargate SG-1 a little too seriously and decided to build a mini-model of the gate, but when he tested it out, it created an actual wormhole, which, if you know anything about the Stargate, disintegrated a bit of my wall when the wormhole was established. And he wanted to tell me in person about the gate, because, well, he'd be geeking out about building an actual working Stargate, so leaving a note was out of the question. You think? Maybe?


No?


Okay, what's your idea, then?

Update

Well, Oscar is no longer vomiting, although he is still spending more time in the bathroom than he is in the rest of the house. That is, when he is home. His intestinal issue is certainly no excuse for being absent from work, particularly when there is a crisis of epic proportions brewing in his office. Turtle has decided that the vomiting yesterday was not sufficient to express his dismay about the fact that he is sick again. He has now decided to express himself in a performance art piece he likes to call "Explosive Diarrhea." I would honestly prefer that he find another outlet, but I have to concede that this one is definitely effective in conveying his message. Snark's Mistress has decided that she is definitely suffering from allergies, and with the right medication should be just fine. I will see her tonight (provided Turtle's performance does not dissuade her) for The Amazing Race.

As for me, I am menstrual, my house is a mess, I am not 100% convinced I managed to get Turtle's poop off my hands, despite several washings, my head hurts, I am still in my pajamas at 2:15 in the afternoon, I need to shave, I itch all over from these stupid bug bites, I'm still convinced I have West Nile Virus, I'm stressed because we have no insurance so how can we afford the trip to the hospital when I inevitably collapse from my West Nile Virus, I need to eat, there's nothing I'm interested in eating except brownies, which would be bad, because of the diet and all, but OH DEAR GOD, THE BROWNIES!!!, I am worried I'm not going to get the Boyfriend's birthday presents in the mail in time, I need to do laundry, I've spent too much time on the computer today, I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that I will never be SuperMom, and I have to figure out what to do for dinner so I can get something out of the freezer so it has enough time to thaw before I need to do something with it.

And here I told Flip this morning that I thought we were over the worst of it.... I need to learn how to keep my damn mouth shut.

Sick

I'm warning you now, content may be spotty this week. Oscar was up all last night puking his guts out and suffering a concurrent case of diarrhea. And yet, he still had to go to work today. He will not be happy when he gets home, I am sure. Turtle, meanwhile, suffered his diarrhea two days ago, but managed to hold off the puking until sometime last night. And Snark's Mistress is either suffering the worst case of allergies EVER or a really bad cold. (And somewhere north of us, Hotass is praising the gods that she is no longer living here and praying like hell that she got out in time to avoid being exposed to any of this.) As for me, well, I'm busy taking care of my boys and hoping that the mosquitos that bit me last night were not carrying West Nile Virus. Any warm fuzzy thoughts you feel like sending our way will be greatly appreciated.

Daylight What Now?

I've lived in Arizona for 27 of my 29 years. I'm usually not given to bragging about this fact, because, as I've mentioned, I hate it here. But there is one thing that Arizona has gotten right...we don't observe any kind of Daylight Savings Time.We never set our clocks back. We never set our clocks forward. We just kind of mosey on through the year, keeping time consistently and never losing or gaining anything. It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.

This would be perfect if not for one thing. The only thing thing standing in the way of me and time nirvana is the fact that I have quite a few family and friends living on the east coast. Half the year, there is a two-hour difference between us. But now it is three hours, and I resent the impact this has on my daily life.

Calling McMama now requires some complex scheduling, as I have to fit our calls into the very narrow window between my gym time and my sister-in-law getting home from school. She is a teenager, after all, and she has no problem annexing McMama's phone for hours on end. I also can no longer rely on my evening chats with the Boyfriend. He likes to go to bed with his wife, of all things, and their bedtime is now coinciding with my dinner time. The only thing saving me at the moment is that my big Brother is dealing with long hours at work right now, so there's a chance that we might be able to chat, despite the time difference separating us. Still, that's only going to be the case for a few more weeks and then I'm stuck in the same boat with him, too.

It's enough to make me want to stomp my foot and pout. Which I have done, when the situation has warranted it, I'm not ashamed to say. You know how they say you're only as old as you feel? Well, I'm five. Don't judge me.

In any event, I would like to make a case for doing away with this pesky Daylight Savings thing, altogether. However, I have the sneaking suspicion that this new three hour time difference is going to have an intriguing side effect. I suspect that for as long as McMama and I are forced to talk early in the day, and Boyfriend and I are only able to IM while he's at work, and the big Brother and I are only able to trade e-mails when there's light outside...don't quote me, but I think I might actually have to go out and get one of those LIVES everybody's been talking about. You know the ones....where you actually DO things and you're not attached to a computer all day? I mean, not let's get hasty or anything.....But it could happen.....

And Then There Were Three....

Hotass moved out today. She is now living in a cute little townhouse with her boyfriend a few miles north of us. I think all of us were ready for the move. Not that she was a bad roommate. It's just that she was ready for her own space, and we were ready to have our space back. Still, I was surprised how sad I was when she said goodbye and walked out with the last of her stuff.

It's not like we're never going to see each other again. We're good friends and like I said, she is only a few miles north of us. But now, we'll have to coordinate schedules and make plans instead of relying on the fact that we'll be able to catch up while she's getting ready for work in the morning. We won't know the ins and outs of each other's lives as intimately as we've known them over the last year. It will be a good thing for both of us, I'm sure. But it will be different.

The only thing I'm not a little sad about is the fact that she took her cat with her. I love cats. I have two of my own. But Hotass's cat? To call him a vocal bastard would be a grievous understatement. He would have been a great cat for a deaf person, but for us, he was a bit of a nightmare. Every once in a while, Hotass would talk about getting his vocal cords snipped, and I'm not entirely sure how serious she was about it. If I'd been sure, I would have made a donation to help cover the costs. Not to mention the fact that while I assumed our oldest cat would have asserted his authoritah early and bitch-slapped Hotass's cat into submission, he instead cowered in fear upon their introduction. He deeply resented the intrusion and made us know it in no uncertain terms. It's bad enough when your cat looks down on you for no reason other than he is the CAT, and you are but the lowly human. When you give your cat a good reason to be pissy at you? Game over.

So, our household is down by two members tonight, both for the better and for the worse. It will, hopefully, not take too long for the natural pecking order to be reestablished and for us to get back to life as usual. But for now, I'm looking at the empty space on the loveseat and missing my Girl just a little.