Friday, October 13, 2006

What a sap...

So yesterday I was out on the deck filling litter boxes and I looked over into the next door neighbor's driveway and saw a small kitten very close to the road. Cars were whizzing past like crazy. I panicked, because the baby was asleep in the house, and I had no idea how I was going to manage this one. I stared a few moments and then ran inside. I grabbed the baby and put her in the bedroom, praying she wouldn't wake up and start screaming. I crated the dogs, and then grabbed every cat I could find and then put them in the back bedroom. I then put on shoes and ran next door, only to be ready and willing to rescue a large pine cone.

That pine cone could have been in serious danger you know.

I think I should start wearing my glasses regularly.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

And another piece of my past bites the dust

I started working at Tower Records in 1990, and worked there until 1992. I helped build this store before it opened. We put racks together, stocked all of the shelves, and told a lady to go away when she walked into the middle of the construction and asked if we sold batteries. Um, hello, do you or do you not hear hammering and see sawdust?

This was the store that said, on all of its printed invoices, that we were open 368 days a year. We always wondered where the other 3 days were. We could account for leap years, but what about the other 2 days?

This was the store where, one night in late December at 11:45pm, a woman approached me and asked me if we would have extended holiday hours. I asked her since we were open until midnight every day anyway, what the fuck did she want?

One day in mid-summer the management team (of which I was a member) bought a bunch of water pistols at Kiddie City next door and ran around the back employee area squirting the daylights out of each other. I thought I would be smart and run into a closet to hide. My general manager locked me in.

We had a kid named Omar Hassan who worked in the classical department, and he was going to school to become an engineer. He brought falafel with him for dinner one night, his mom packed his dinners for him, and I walked in to find him eating a small container of plain yogurt with a spoon. He was making faces, and he told me that for some reason his mom had sent yogurt for dinner. I told him the yogurt was supposed to go on the falafel. He was amazingly embarrassed. I adored Omar. I'll never forget how he had no idea how to use a manual can opener, and how he was so ticklish that you could stand in another room and make tickle motions at the window and he would collapse into giggles.

And this is where my friend Mike, bass player extraordinaire and ex-love of my life, has worked for over 15 years, and I wonder what the hell he'll do now.

Friday, October 06, 2006

A Dingo Ate My Rice Sock

Well, Ginny ate the rice anyway.
I made a rice sock for Livvie's belly today. She's had tummy issues for the past couple of days, and other than the glycerin suppositories, which I'll get to in a minute, all I could think of was to make her a rice sock. I decided to do this in the living room, since that's where the baby was. I naturally got rice all over the floor. And Ginny, who will eat Anything That Is Not Celery, snarfed up every grain she could find. Still is, because I'm too freaking tired to haul out the Dyson.

Back to the suppositories. Yay, right? Poor Livvie was constipated. Constipated infants are NOT happy, and hence NO ONE is happy. I sent my sweet, wonderful husband to the drug store where he purchased infant sized suppositories. He brought them home, and I proceeded to do the hardest thing I've ever done, which was deliberately make my daughter uncomfortable. Granted, the result was wonderful, she's happy, we're happy, everything is quiet now, but for about 3 minutes there I felt like Mengele.

Saturday, September 30, 2006

The Master Manipulator has arrived...

And boy does she kick ass.

Last night Livvie refused to go to sleep. She fussed and threw tantrums and worked it for all she was worth.
At one point the three of us were on the bed, I had Livvie sitting up on my lap, and she drew in some air and screamed. Then she stopped, opened her eyes, looked at Rich, looked at me, saw that neither of us were jumping up to call the president, and screamed again.

I told her that Jimmy Carter is not on speed dial.

She drew another big breath and then....fell asleep.

This is all so odd.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

I have a question

If Intelligent Design is actually true, and I'm not saying it is (and it isn't), wouldn't the asteroid that supposedly hit the Yucatan 65 million years ago and wiped out almost everyone be considered the biggest act of animal cruelty in history?

I mean, HOW can anyone in their right mind find a god that would do something like that to "make room" for the next go-round worthwhile?

I can see God spinning the universe and then just sitting back to see what happens. I can also see him drinking too much coffee one morning and spending an inordinate amount of time in the cosmic lavatory only to wash his hands and walk out to see a giant fireball where Mexico was, and thinking, "Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have taken the paper in there with me."

But I just can't see this being incinerating and scalding millions of animals to death. Unless he's a psychopath. And I'm not even going to go there.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

40 + 1

In the doctor lingo, that's how pregnant I am. Forty weeks and one day. Based on my last menstrual period. This morning, however, I realized what I had known from the get-go. My due date is tomorrow based on my ovulation date. It also corresponds quite well to the full moon and we just happen to be having a lunar eclipse today.

When I realized this I completely and utterly relaxed. I can't explain it. Maybe it's because rather than giving myself up to the medical wonks this allowed me to acknowledge nature.

We'll see what happens now.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

39 weeks and 4 days

And I'm wondering when, if ever, this kid will come out. Yeah, maybe the previous post asking her to wait was a bit stupid.

I jump up and down in front of Rich occasionally just to hear him freak and yell, "STOP THAT!!!" You get your kicks where you can.

Last night I discovered a mini-Marathon of Law and Order SVU. It's the only one of them that Rich will watch. He's not a fan of the others. I don't think he realizes that I have the hots for Stabler. What chick doesn't? He's an actual MAN. And although he has odd features, they really work for him. I was up past 1am since I was sick anyway, and I kept myself entertained by staring at those shoulders for hours. Again, get your kicks where you can.

Oddly, Close Encounters is on SciFi right now, and I also have a huge crush on Richard Dreyfuss. Always have. And he's the Anti-Stabler. This is, I think, why men have no idea what women want.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Dear Yankees-

No offense intended, but I am never moving "home."

I was 20 years old when I had my first boiled peanut. I was on a camping trip in Cherokee, NC with my roommate Mary, and we found a roadside boiled peanut stand in the Reservation. I bought a bag. Mary and I sat on the hood of my car and ate the whole bag, tossing shells in front of us on the ground. We immediately bought another bag "To Go."

Every day for the rest of the trip we would get another bag and demolish it within minutes. Then we went home to NJ, where there are no boiled peanuts, and if we mentioned them we would get disgusted looks.

I moved down here when I was 24, and when I was 25 my ex-husband and I drove into Eastern NC where I saw a sign on the side of the highway that said, "BOILED PEANUTS." I slapped him to get him to stop the car, and we ran in. They were sold in tiny bags, so I bought three. The lady in the stand said I must be from down here, because no one from "up north" would even touch them. I told her I was from NJ. I think her mind was blown to bits.

I went on a mission to find out how to do this at home. I discovered that it's actually very simple. Buy a ton of raw peanuts. Throw them into a giant kettle with about a half a canister of salt, and then boil the fuck out of them for hours. When they finally sink, turn off the heat and let them sit for a bit. Keep tasting them to see if they're salty/mushy enough. Drain, and store in the fridge.

This worked well until I moved into an apartment on my own where the kitchen was tiny and had no air movement. I went on a boiling spree one night, and walked into the kitchen to find the ceiling raining salty brown water from the condensation that had developed. I learned to put a box fan in the room when craving.

In emergencies I would buy canned. Yes. They sell canned boiled peanuts down here. They're pretty good, but they don't have the same smoky aroma coming from the shell that fresh ones do. This brings us to today.

This morning I suddenly jumped off the sofa, grabbed my keys, and drove about 100 yards to the Exxon station down the road with a ten dollar bill. I KNEW I had seen canned boiled peanuts there, and I was right. Horrifyingly, every can said, "Cajun Style." Huh?? I picked up a can. Put it back down. Picked it up again and said, "Fuck it," and walked up to the counter where the clerk, bless her heart, said not one word about someone purchasing one can of boiled peanuts at 9:30am.

I brought them home, drained them, and dumped them in a bowl. They were COVERED in wet, crushed red pepper. Here goes. CRACK. Munch. CRACK MUNCH CRACK MUNCH CRACK MUNCH. I had red salty water running down my arms and pooling in front of me. My fingertips were getting numb from a combination of brine and splitting shells. I finished the entire can in less than 10 minutes.

Satisfaction. It's a wonderful thing. And I'm never moving back home. I think I'll have my leftover Brunswick Stew for lunch.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Make Your Own Kind of Music...

Rich is On Call this week for work. He has to carry a little gadget on his keychain that generates a series of numbers on it that are a kind of password/code.

Every morning when he gets up he has to read the numbers and punch them into a field on his computer.

So I couldn't take it anymore this morning, and when I walked into the kitchen I said, "Good morning Desmond. Hatch not blowing up today?"

He didn't find it as amusing as I did.

Monday, August 07, 2006


Yep. Socks.

A few months ago I read in one of The Books about how it's necessary to pack socks for the baby to go home in when you pack for the hospital.

I love socks. In my listing, one of the main items that attracted Rich's attention was where you're supposed to list your favorite things and I listed Socks first. He loves socks too. He can go through 2-3 pair a day, and one night I counted over 100 pair of his clean socks that I was folding. To me nothing feels better than clean socks on clean feet. Summer annoys me because I wear No Socks.

So. Zoom to the past few weeks. Ever hear of nesting? I'm not nesting. RICH is nesting. He's tearing parts of the house apart, cleaning them out, bleaching, scrubbing, vacuuming, building. Me? I'm panicking over socks. Last Monday when it was discovered that I had begun dilating I told Rich it was ok because I should probably receive some socks at my work baby shower that night. Not ONE pair of socks. Ok, no big deal. There's time to buy socks. Yesterday I touched my Target gift cards repeatedly throughout the day as if they were talismans. Socks could be acquired with those.

This morning I had leakage that concerned me and caused the doc to tell me to come in for an exam. Let's check to see if the water has broken! Sure! WAIT!!!! I don't have the socks!! Would it be ok to send Rich to Target with me in the hospital? Honey, buy a six pack of socks? No. No fucking way. I get home from the doc, no water breaking, everything fine other than the same "Well, let's hope for a few weeks more but probably not..." and I grabbed my Target gift cards and went to buy socks.

It took me FIFTEEN minutes of staring at different socks in the infant sock area to find some I could live with.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Well then

On Tuesday morning I was driving to work, and I passed a very wiry young black man walking down the street.

Wearing a pair of lowriders and a wife beater.

Carrying a purple umbrella over his head to keep the sun off him.

I've been laughing about him ever since. THAT'S a man who has no doubts about his masculinity.

Plus, if you gave him cheek about it he could either beat you with it or stick it through your ribs. He COULD. But I have the feeling he'd just smile and shrug and go about his business.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Dear Baby-

Yesterday you caused quite a sensation. I lost my mucous plug and started having contractions, and at one point they were every ten minutes for a few hours. They did calm down, but I'm still 1cm dilated, and I have some things to tell you.

First of all, I am not done shoving omega-3s down my gullet to make sure you become a Super Genius. I ended up eating salmon salad on a hamburger bun for breakfast this morning Just In Case. I'm eyeing the container of ground flax seed and trying to figure out if I can sneak it into spaghetti sauce without your father realizing it. If you could wait a few more weeks so that I can choke down some more of this stuff that would be great.

Second, your father is a chickenshit. I know, that's mean, but I needed to get that out there. When I was telling him what happened yesterday he practically covered his ears and sang "Lalalalalalalala I'm Not Listening..." It amazes me that a man who would pee with the bathroom door open TWO WEEKS after I started dating him is so grossed out by bodily functions. (To give him credit, I only had to tell him to shut the damn door once.) Also, last night you got the hiccups, and since your head is engaged every time you hiccupped my crotch bounced. I thought it was very funny, but your Dad refused to look to tell me what it looked like. I tell you all of this so that you'll not feel hurt when your dad spends your entire birth behind my head so that he doesn't see you come out. He does love you, but frankly, I prefer that he do this his way and not have to ruin his psyche by never being able to look at you without seeing your head squishing out a hole half your size.

Third, if after this week you despise spinach/artichoke dip and hummus I will totally understand.

Fourth, your room isn't done yet. Hell, your room isn't even a room yet. It's currently a storage depot for bags and boxes full of Your Stuff, and also Daddy's Drum Room. I think we should leave the drums in there for you, but your father is freaked out by the metal bars and such sticking out. I told him there's Very Little Chance that you will bonk your head or put out an eye on them for the first year, as you A) won't be able to walk for almost that long, and B) when you do finally walk you won't be that tall yet. However, your dad wants the rug in there professionally cleaned before you get here, and the drums will have to be broken down. Bummer.

So. If you could manage to hold out for a few more weeks so your slacker parents can get their game on, that would be fantastic. We do love you, and we're anxious to see you, but we both suck.

Thanks babe!!

Friday, July 28, 2006

So here's something new

I don't know if any non-pregnant people have experienced this, but for the first time in 35 years of life I sneezed while peeing.

Two things:

When you sneeze mid-stream you pee very fast, very suddenly



I have 40 days left. How Biblical.

This morning I opened Rich's Igloo cooler to pack his lunch and discovered that he only ate half of his sandwich yesterday, and the remains were floating in the water left behind by the melted ice. In a Rubbermaid container, but still. I nearly beat him in the head with it.

Considering that last night I was very affectionate with him because he had decided to have a child with me, and I with him, and it had struck me what the implications are for our relationship, I would have to say the moods they are a-swingin...

Monday, July 24, 2006

6 More Weeks

Six more weeks of pregnancy left. Back in January it felt like it would never get here. Then it seemed to be moving faster. Now that the temp is usually in the 90s, it feels like it will never get here again.
Yesterday we went to Target to buy the car seat and the travel crib/play-yard. While we were there another couple was standing a few feet away. I had asked Rich to watch my purse in the shopping cart while I read the info on a box, and he overheard this conversation from the other couple:

"Honey! Where's my pocketbook?"

"It's right over there."

"You're supposed to be watching it!"

"It isn't going to walk away!"

"But someone could take it...."

He was very amused, since we had just, almost word for word, had the same conversation.

BUT. BUT!! I had a secret sarcasm weapon. We were leaving the store, and he was continuing to harp about how wives don't trust their husbands to take care of these things, and I told him that most wives might, actually, but my reason for doubting him is that I know for a fact that he set his check card down on a counter, walked away from it, and proceeded to throw away $500 to some slimeball.

He told me to shut up.

I cackled quietly.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006


Conversation with husband:

"I'm fat."

"So what?"




"Well at least you look good."

I've managed not to chuck anything at his head during this entire pregnancy. Let's see what happens in the final stretch, shall we?

Monday, June 05, 2006


I just nearly burst into tears because I couldn't find my dish sponge.

Raging hormones? YA THINK????

There's a freaking SQUIRREL stealing birdseed out of my feeders. They haven't noticed the feeder for over SIX months. NOW he decides to realize it's there? A) I can't afford to feed the motherhumper, and 2) The birds won't come to the feeder while he's there. If I had a fence I would SO let the dogs out to chase him up the maple tree.

Buttmunch societally acceptable rat.

Saturday, April 08, 2006

My boys are Ok.

Diana, one of my very best friends, and the mom of my almost four year old twin Godsons, lives in Murfreesboro, TN, not too far from Nashville.

I called them last night, and when they got home she called me back. They're all ok. Baseball sized hail dented the daylights out of her car, but it's all ok, no window/windshield damage. She had cleaned out a hall closet and had plans to stuff herself, the boys, her two dogs, and the cat if she could catch her into that closet if a tornado came up where they are. While I was on the phone with her a tornado had been spotted 30 miles from her.

The boys, bless them, were totally unaffected by everything going on around them. Yukon, her 13 year old Spitz mix, has a lifetime phobia of thunderstorms, and when they got home last night she couldn't find him anywhere in the house. She finally located him under a bed, and once he realized they were home he dodged her heels the entire rest of the evening.

This was the second round of major storms in a week in her area. She is trying to find a job here so she can move them all and be close to us, and I wish sooner rather than later. A couple of years ago a tornado touched down a block away from her and destroyed the entire street. I want her out of there.

I'm very grateful that everyone is ok.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Serenity when?

Abdul Rahman could die because of his beliefs. He believes SO strongly in his faith in Christ that he's ready to die for it. So I've been sitting here watching the news each day wondering if there's anything I believe that strongly.

I haven't come up with a thing.

I feel sad about that. In my mind I feel completely secure in my opinions that the universe is random, that we evolved from apes, that everyone is entitled to personal freedom, that animals need our stewardship and care, but I don't know that if anyone held a gun to my head and told me to renounce my beliefs that I'd be willing to let them pull the trigger.

To quote a famous poster: I Want to Believe.

My mother would die for her beliefs. I know that as well as I know that my husband believes in nothing. My mother is dead certain that her faith will be rewarded, and that she is on the Right Path. Rich cannot believe in anything that can't be proven. So I muddle through life, HOPING that there's something bigger than all of us, having a tiny glimmer of certainty that I know sort of what it might be, but always feeling doubt.

I wish for the serenity that my mother has. I wish for the ability to "let go and let God." I wonder if this child that is coming will change my mind.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Most people have a squirrel

We have a Turkey Vulture.

He's been coming around for weeks now, and gradually we've gotten him farther and farther from the road so he won't get creamed. This morning he showed up early, at about 7:24. I thawed a piece of flounder for him, and when I went outside he started to run off. I kiss-kiss-kissed at him, and he literally came running back, I'm sure thinking, "FOOD!!" Chucked the flounder and he snarfed it down, then he walked off into the woods.

I don't know if his wing will ever heal to the point where he can fly again, and I hope we can nab him and get him to the rehabbers so he'll be safe.

Although at times my life can suck, it's never, ever boring.

Monday, February 27, 2006

How can $13 ruin a day?

Rich gave me $100 to go buy groceries and get the car inspected. After he left I realized I needed to replace the windshield wipers in order to pass inspection. Emailed him and he said it should be enough.

Spent $12 on blades.

Spent $69 at Food Lion. I only bought stuff that was on sale, and only bought stuff that was on my list.

That left me with $17. An inspection is $30.

Now, I know pregnancy can make you emotional, but damn. The despair I sank into because I can't afford anything. I feel like I never, ever have enough. And screw having any extra. I felt guilty for buying a bag of pumpkin seeds because they aren't necessary.

So. How can a person NOT let a matter of $13 ruin the day? I'd really love to know.