Epilogue

Me: I'm sorry I've been such a bitch today.
Oscar: It's okay.
Me: God, I really hope this really IS PMS and not pregnancy hormones or something.
Oscar: It is NOT pregnancy hormones.
Me: How do you know?
Oscar: Because if it IS pregnancy hormones, ONE of us is going to DIE.

The scary thing is, he's right.

Irrational Ranting

Things that are pissing me off today:

1) Everything.

More specifically:

1) I am a light sleeper. Oscar sleeps the sleep of the dead. So when his alarm goes off in the morning, I am instantly awake and not always particularly pleased about it. Especially since Oscar has the unique ability to turn off his alarm mid-snore, leaving me staring at the ceiling and wondering if there's a chance I'll be able to get five more minutes of sleep before his alarm goes off again. (Answer: no.) Seriously. I could drop a nuclear bomb in our bedroom and Oscar and his two new heads, three new legs and extra nipple would just roll over and start snoring some more. The fact that I have no idea how to rectify this injustice without demanding separate bedrooms is pissing me off just a smidge.

2) Turtle is apparently in the midst of a growth spurt. This wouldn't normally be a reason for me to be pissed, except that Turtle's growth spurts mean that all of a sudden, he doesn't sleep much and he eats constantly. Which means that he's waking me up at least an hour earlier every morning (and considering that I've already been dealing with Oscar the Chain-Saw Snorer, my patience is short), not taking a long enough nap, bugging me for food the minute my tired (and lazy) ass settles into the couch (each and every time, like do you HAVE to wait until I'm sitting down to ask for something???), and being generally cranky. Oh. And the whining. DEAR GOD, with the WHINING. (I have this theory that we can achieve world peace if all nations' leaders were just locked in a room with an assload of three year olds. After a few days of the whining, they'll agree to anything.) This phase of the growth spurt can last up to two weeks. We're barely a half a week into this particular growth spurt and I already want to throw in the towel.

3) I am experiencing some wild and wicked mood swings as pertains to my body image. I spend a brief period of time thinking about how awesome I am and how well I've been doing on my diet and how cool it is that I'm finally losing weight. Then that moment passes and I spend another period of time feeling like a fat blob, wanting to sell advertising space on my ample ass (because if I have to put up with a billboard sized ass, I should at least make money off of it) and desiring nothing more than a vat of Ben and Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream and a spoon. I feel like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Or I would if Dr. Jekyll had run Weight Watchers instead of busying himself with the science of good and evil and Mr. Hyde had gorged himself on Reese's Peanut Butter Cups instead of, say, killing people.

4) The IRS. I won't even go into this one. Because those of you who know should know and those of you who don't, don't want to know. Really.

5) Turtle decided yesterday to put half a roll of toilet paper into the potty. I have no idea why he did this. I didn't even realize he was going potty in the first place. Naturally, the toilet clogged. So I unclogged it. But dealing with toilet issues is by no means my favorite thing. I do it because I'll be damned if I'm going to be some sissy-ass girly-girl who can't unplug a toilet without a big strapping man around. I'd rather use Oscar for the far more important cockroach-killing tasks. But yeesh! And to top it off, today Turtle wet the bed. It happens very rarely, and even more rarely when he's not sleeping more than 2 hours at a time. But of course it happened today. OF COURSE IT DID!

6) That the world can not just read my mind and figure out what I need and GIVE IT TO ME IN A TIMELY MANNER. This should not be difficult people. You just try different things until my bitch-face goes away. When it does? Jackpot! Just keep doing what you're doing until the bitch-face reappears. Then start the process over again. GAH! Do I have to explain EVERYTHING to you?

7) That sometimes, just sometimes, guys have a point when they blame our foul moods on PMS. Particularly when the guy is Oscar and the foul mood he's talking about is mine. I'm going to crawl into a hole now and hope the dark cloud passes. Or my hormones balance. Whichever comes first, really.

Brief Update

The Good: I appear to be losing weight and am quickly closing in on 5 pounds lost. Please be advised that this is one of the first signs of the Apocalypse and plan accordingly.

The Bad: I was just thinking about how I've been sadly neglecting my poor little blog lately and was going to recommit to a regular posting schedule when my nose decided that it was a good time to throw a head cold in my general direction. If not for Tylenol Cold, I would not be here today, even.

The Ugly: We met with the landscaper this morning to go over the design for the stuff we wanted to put IN to our yard, which is not to be confused with the stuff we wanted taken OUT of our yard, which was completed a week or so ago. Remember that figure I threw out earlier this year? Yeah. That figure had some issues with anorexia and has since gone to counseling and is now eating a healthy diet again. In short, the real number is much bigger than the prior imaginary number. So much for that trip to Tahiti Oscar and I wanted to take. Hell, so much for the plant life we had planned to adopt for our backyard. We're not getting much more than a patch of grass, some rocks and some pavers back there. At least the pool is clean now.

Anyway, I realize that doesn't really excuse my horribly long absence from my sadly neglected blog. But that's just a brief glimpse into the things that have kept me away. If my nose decides to stop swelling and sending foreign mucus-y substances down my throat, I will be back with a more detailed update. Until then, feel free to peruse the archives or, if you are so inclined, viciously delete me from your blogroll. I promise not to hold it against you.

God, I Miss Doughnuts

So, I have this goal to lose some weight. Not some, actually. Quite a bit. I met Oscar 11 years ago when I was the thinnest I have ever been in my life. I had some crappy eating habits, but I was going to the gym every day. And I was in my early 20s at that point so my metabolism was cranking at maximum efficiency. Which meant that it didn't much matter what I ate. It burned off, regardless. So I could fit my very cute little ass into some very small little jeans.

It didn't take long for my very healthy gym habits to be replaced by less-healthy hanging-out-with-Oscar-24/7 habits, however. Which was fine for a while, because we had a very strong mutual attraction going on and the calories I HAD been burning in the gym, I instead started burning while doing mattress aerobics. But then we got married, and we both got comfortable, and before I knew it, I was the heaviest I had ever been in my life.

Which brings us to the present and back to my original point, which is I have this goal to lose weight. I've had this goal off and on, but I've only been really serious about it for a month. To that end, I have completely changed my diet (Alas, poor Ben and Jerry. I knew you well...) I am in the gym at least 5 days a week for an hour each day. I am focused. I am driven. I am questioning my sanity.

See, my gym membership comes complete with free personal training sessions once a month. And yesterday I took advantage of that. I let this geeky-cute trainer take me through an entirely new workout routine so that my body would not get too accustomed to the routine I had been doing and plateau. Snark's Mistress came along to keep me company, cheer me on, and occasionally mock me.

It went pretty well, I think. At the end of this new routine, I turned to her and said, "Was it just me, or did he really not work our legs very much?" Snark's Mistress reflected on everything we had just done and reminded me of a few exercises that I had already put out of my mind and then mentioned that she was already feeling a touch sore in some spots. I was surprised.
I didn't think the workout was that bad. Maybe it was just that I've been going to the gym regularly. Whatever. I was excited about doing this new program and seeing how it helped me achieve my goals in the next month.

Which brings me back to why I'm questioning my sanity. Today? I could barely walk. That workout that wasn't so bad? So totally was. I am sore in places I didn't know could be sore. And at the moment? I'm thinking that face planting in a vat of Ben and Jerry's seems infinitely preferable to experiencing the agony that my legs are radiating in pulsing waves. Why am I doing this again? Do I really need to lose the weight? Surely I can consider myself "in shape" since "round" is a shape, right? Am I just crazy to think that this pain is better than the pain of being overweight?

But the part that really makes me wonder about my mental stability? I'm going back to the gym tomorrow.

Pray for me.

Who's Got Command Of This Op?

We were in the middle of a spirited game of go-gos. I was packing this little number, per Turtle's request:



He was packing a random piece of wood we used to put in his window to prevent someone from opening it from the outside. We both huddled in the shadow of an interior doorway we never use.

"Shoot the balls, Mommy! Now! Now! Now! NOW!" he screamed at me.

I turned to look at him and levelled a furry eyeball in his direction.

He rolled his eyes back at me and said "Please" in a very "If I have to stop and say 'please' every time I give you an order, you're going to get us both killed!" way.

I think he'll make an excellent general some day.

Thar Be Landscapers Here!

So, I think I failed to mention that we actually did refinance our house and have hired a landscaper. I believe I failed to mention it because I was worried that something would fall through at the last minute (like, the landscaper would realize exactly how LARGE a job he had on his hands and would run screaming) and we would be stuck with a lot of money and a still-ugly yard. But the landscapers started working today and I think the experience can best be summed up with this one, simple, declarative sentence:

We broke their wood chipper.

Okay, okay, maybe we can't claim full responsibility, but it did happen on our watch and it does mean that all of the trees and other foliage they removed from our yard today are now occupying 75% of the square footage of the cul-de-sac on which we live. If our neighbors didn't love us before, they're really feeling the love now. Thankfully, the landscapers will be back tomorrow with a NEW! IMPROVED! wood chipper and the dead branches will go towards whatever dead branches go towards once they have been torn into little bitty pieces. It's sad, though, because if we had a better relationship with our neighbors, I wouldn't mind just tossing a match in and having a huge bonfire in the middle of the street. It would be like a block party. With s'mores. Lots and lots of s'mores. And hot dogs cooked on sticks. But given the relationship we DO have with our neighbors, I would be worried that once I tossed the match in, they would toss us in. And I'd hate to leave my Turtle motherless.

Hopefully, though, once the landscaping is completely finished, our neighbors will no longer have reason to assume we are running some sort of meth lab out of our home and we can resume diplomatic relations. Of course, looking at our house now that the overgrown, half-dead trees are out of the way, it has become glaringly obvious that it is in desperate need of a new coat of paint. Or four. So even when the landscaping is done, we will have some work to do before our house is not the "most likely to be home to a serial killer." And one wonders why it took us so long to hire a landscaper in the first place. You do one thing to improve the place and 15 more projects pop up, demanding attention.

Still, we are very excited that we might actually be able to use our yard in the manner in which it was intended. Turtle can't wait to run around and explore the "outside." Oscar can't wait to throw a party (you're all invited, by the way.) And I can't wait to look out over the perfectly manicured bushes from the comfort of my air-conditioned living room. What? It's almost summer here. You didn't think I would actually spend it outside, did you?

If You Can Sort Of Muscle Your Way Past The Gag Reflex, All Kinds Of Food Possibilities Open Up

Those Girl Scout bitches are out to get me! (Oh, hey, please don't crucify me for calling young ladies of the Girl Scout persuasion "bitches." Please? I implore you. I merely used the word as a device to hook you and now I will go on with my story and try not to use profanity to discuss little girls in green outfits. Okay? Okay.) Of course, to understand why, you need to know that a few weeks ago, I was discussing hair with Hotass. She was thinking of putting some streaks in her very brunette hair, a la Joss Stone, who has lately been looking like her wig is trying to eat her head. Not that Hotass was going for the "wig trying to eat her head" look. Just that her bright pink streaks looked appealing to Hotass, who was interested in trying out a more dramatic look.

Of course, talking to Hotass about going with a more dramatic style made me think of my own old, tired, had this haircut for most of the last 10 years, shouldn't I look more like a cha-cha chick than a middle-aged soccer mom? hair. I had been pondering a color change for a while and just hadn't done anything about it. But with Hotass considering pinkish streaks, I thought perhaps I should go looking for something more fun for myself. So I found this:



We're looking at color here, not cut. What are we thinking? Cute, right? Well, put that color on this hair and then tell me what you think:



Would that not be oh-so-very-sassy? Right.

So I'm looking at these two pictures and thinking a couple of things. First, this is going to cost me some money. Because my hair is not naturally curly, so I'm going to need some sort of perm in order to achieve that effortlessly tousled curl thing. And of course, getting it colored with the different streaks in it is going to be pricey. And damn, that's a lot of money to spend on my hair. Even if I would look freakin' fantastic when all was said and done. Second, if I'm going to spend that kind of money on my hair, I want to walk out of the salon strutting to Stayin' Alive soundtrack in my head. Which means, I need to feel that inner confidence that I am so smokin' hot, not only am I hearing the Stayin' Alive soundtrack in my head, everyone around me can hear it too. Which means I probably need to lose some weight. Because I am a little shaky on the inner confidence lately.

So I set myself a goal. It's an either/or goal. Either I lose a certain amount of weight, or a start fitting into a certain pant size, and then I can go splurge and get the hair. Not that I need an excuse to splurge on myself. I very rarely splurge on myself as it is. If I splurge, I splurge for Oscar or Turtle, because I have a habit of putting everyone else's needs before my own. But that's another post. No, it's not that I need an excuse to splurge. It's that I needed a goal if I was going to make some positive lifestyle changes, of the type that would be long-lasting and life-changing.

So for the last couple of weeks, I've been eating right (fruits, veggies, smaller portions more often, etc.) and exercising and practicing a "just say no" approach to all things sugary and fattening, because I want that cute, sassy hair, dammit. No ice cream, no candy, no pastries, no frou-frou coffee drinks, no fast food, no "all the good stuff that makes life worth living." It's been tough, but I find that regardless of the weight I may or may not be losing, I feel 100% better. I feel healthier and I have more energy. And that inner confidence is coming back, slowly but surely. Because when I'm doing all the right things right, regardless of what the scale says, I see myself as a size 4. (Of course, then I look in the mirror and stare aghast because that second chin? Is still there. Why is it still there? WHY????????????)

But, of course, my nemesis is always around the corner, waiting to catch me in a weak moment. The temptation of those sweet and fattening foods is always hovering just on the edge of my consciousness. Which brings me back to the subject of this post: those little Girl Scout......girls. They are freakin' EVERYWHERE right now! I can't walk into a grocery store without passing their little table filled with those little boxes of caloric sin. I generally practice my "no eye contact, no eye contact, no eye contact" approach to getting in and out and that has been helping. But the other day, as I walked out of the store with my grocery basket filled with fruits and vegetables and low-calorie snacks, they realized I was alone and without even Oscar as a buffer, and they attacked.

"Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?" they asked, simpering smiles fixed on their vampiric angelic little faces.

I gritted my teeth. I swear these girls are stalking me. Just when I think I've gotten over my craving for sugary foods and can be content with my new lifestyle, they pounce. But I managed a smile at them, anyway.

"I would love to buy some Girl Scout cookies," I replied, "but I'm on a diet. Thanks for asking though."

I made it through the gauntlet. I would live to fight another day. Those Girl Scout....girls may be after me. But I will prevail. Oh yes. I will prevail.

Current Events

Snark's Mistress and I don't always sit around and talk about Stargate SG-1 or the hotness of our favorite celebrities or other shallow things. From time to time, we do actually get into conversations about current events. Such as this one:

Me: Okay, no shit, one of the headlines on MSN right now is "Swiss troops accidentally invade Liechtenstein"
Snark's Mistress: OMG!!! I saw that! I was going to talk to you about it, but I forgot.
Me: What IS that? That's craziness right there
SM: That totally made me laugh.
SM: I know. I know it's a small country, but still...
Me: My question is, what happened when they figured that out? Okay, men, I need you and you, on the flank, and you and you to take our six, and we're moving in on my mark. We're going to take those German bastards! "Um, sir, permission to speak freely, sir." This is not the time, lieutenant! We're about to invade Germany. "Well, yes, sir, but the thing is, this is Liechtenstein." Oh, bother.
SM: LOL
SM: Fabulous.
Me: Although, you know what else I find funny about this story?
SM: ?
Me: It was the damn SWISS! Aren't they supposed to be busy staying neutral?
SM: Heh. Totally.

Of course, now, I can't wait to see what Jon Stewart has to say about this.