The random thoughts that flutter through my mind...
In the year 2006 I resolve to: Start spamming people I do not like. Get your resolution here. |
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My birthday: April 17
My anniversary: April 25
YIM: downbutterflylane
If I had a billion dollars, I'd give a million to each of my friends and family. I'd have an indoor gym and pool built at my college. I'd pay for teachers aides at my daughter's school. I'd buy every book Nora Roberts ever wrote, and I'd fly to her next book signing so I could tell her thank you for saving my sanity by giving me an escape from reality for a few hours at a time.
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1,000 Shades of Fool
American Girl
Buddhists Do Scratch Their Heads Too
DJGroovySlug
FlyLady.net
He Wrote, She Wrote
I choose not to believe
I Was Just Thinking...
Jill Shalvis
Long and Writing Road
Miss Snark
Passionate Chaos
Pub Rants
Questions Asked, Questions Answered
Running With Quills
Still I Rise
Sublime Vacuity
The Steal-Me Book
Turn the Page
Woodland Rambles
today
April 2008
May 2007
March 2007
February 2007
January 2007
December 2006
November 2006
October 2006
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
December 2005
November 2005
October 2005
September 2005
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December 2004
November 2004
October 2004
September 2004
August 2004
July 2004
June 2004
May 2004
Taken from the ALA website
Books I have read are italicized.
1. Your boss is always yelling, “I wanna see your ass in here by 8:00!”
2. Can take advantage of computer monitor radiation to work on your tan.
3. “I’d love to chip in, but I left my wallet in my pants.”
4. To stop those creepy guys in Marketing from looking down your blouse.
5. You want to see if it’s like the dream.
6. So that with a little help from Muzak you can add “Exotic Dancer” to your exaggerated resume.
7. People stop stealing your pens after they’ve seen where you keep them.
8. Diverts attention from the fact that you also came to work drunk.
9. Gives “bad hair day” a whole new meaning.
10. No one steals your chair.
I adore my husband. I yawned last night at 8:30 and he booted me off to bed. He cleaned up after dinner, he put the kids to bed, and I slept. Like a rock. Until midnight, that is, when I had a short discussion with myself regarding the inadvisability of raiding the cookies. I then proceeded to go back to sleep, and aside from a very odd dream about zombies, cannibals, my bil who had become a cannibal and was eating the aforementioned zombies, and a bunch of children who were running from the zombies (and the bil), I slept rather well. Oddly enough, the dream wasn't even scary. Odd though. At one point I was in a meat processing plant. They weren't processing cows. There was a long discussion about someone named Melinda who preferred her people meat to come with bones because she liked to eat the marrow. I think I was hiding in a crawlspace above the cutting table.
No more cookies before bed. Or Long John Silvers, for that matter. And I'm going to avoid anyone named Melinda.
Y'know it's used as a form of torture, right? I'm not sure why, but over the last few weeks- ever since I was really sick, actually- I have had one of the worst cases of insomnia I can ever remember having. I've tried almost everything. I've tried watching Fast and the Furious, which usually sends me right off to sleep (Vin Diesel inspired dreams an added bonus). I've tried watching episodes of Stargate: SG1 that I've seen at least 10 times. No luck. I've tried reading. That takes several hours before I nod off. I've tried doing homework. I finished it all. I've tried drinking a couple glasses of wine. That did work, sort of, I slept for about an hour before one of the kids had a nightmare and woke me up. Tonight I'm bringing out the big guns. 100 proof peppermint schnapps. I'd prefer hot damn, but we had the peppermint in the house. (I found it under the entertainment center. Judging by the dust on the bottle, it had been there awhile.) If this doesn't work I'm going to have to resort to the one thing that has never failed me. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The movie, not the book. I have never seen all of this movie. I could have just woken up from ten hours of sleep and if I put it in I'd fall straight back to sleep.
You might be asking yourself why I haven't tried it sooner, if it works so well. Basically, I'm afraid to. If that doesn't work, and I end up watching the whole thing, I think I'd be scarred for life. Oshu loves it. For those of you who may have seen it, I can't seem to get any further than the hotel lobby when all the other people turn into reptiles or whatever it is they become. My brain shuts down in self-defense. Wonder if I can get my mom to keep the kids for me this weekend so I can get some sleep. Oshu got up with them Sunday and let me sleep, which was wonderful of him, but after a week of getting 4-5 hours a night one day just wasn't enough to do the trick. (It probably did help keep me from self-destructing for a little while at least, though.)
Okay, I've stared at the shot glass long enough. I hate the taste of this stuff so much that anything with a strong peppermint scent makes me vaguely ill. (My one and only hangover was a direct result of doing 12 fire and ice shots in a couple hours.) Okay, here goes nothing. If I don't drink it I'm never gong to see if it makes me sleepy. On the count of three... 1, 2, 3, yeah, I know, if I'm typing I'm not drinking. Delaying the inevitable, I suppose.
Gah. Does alcohol get stronger with age? My eyes are watering. I'm trying to keep from gagging. I have to get up in six hours to take Ethel to school. I think I'll go ahead and get George up too and take him to daycare. I don't have to be at work until 12:30, so I could conceivably come home and sleep for a few hours before work. My tummy is warm. Unfortunately my nose isn't numb yet (my personal indicator of a mild buzz is when the tip of my nose goes numb), and my bad knee still hurts. Wonder if it's supposed to rain tomorrow (oh wait, that would be today- it's after midnight). My knee has been mad at me all day. I'm too young to be falling apart, I'm only 27! Good news: I think it's working. My nose is getting numb, and thinking is getting a little bit harder to do properly. One of these days I'm going to buy a couple bottles of Boones Farm and write while getting progressively more tipsy. Purely as an academic experiment, you understand.
Speaking of academics, which featured in the book I read last (Smoke and Mirrors by Jayne Ann Krentz), well (to quote my little sister)shiznit. I forgot where I was going with that. Quick! To the Batbed! Before it wears off! Goodnight, and I'm sorry to anyone bored enough to read this rambling monologue. (Did I spell that right? Howard, we need a spell-checker in motime.)
I'm going to participate in NaNoWriMo this year. (If it doesn't kill me.)
For the uninformed: this is where you attempt to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. I have the faintest hint of a plot, pathetic though it currently is, and thats it. My characters have no names. Only one has a definite occupation. This should be interesting.
On an unrelated note: I was trying to wake George up for daycare one morning last week by pestering him repeatedly. Hey, if he can poke me, talk to me, sing to me, and generally be otherwise annoying on Saturday mornings, I can do it to him during the week. So, anyway, I'm bugging him, and finally I suppose he'd had enough. He rolled over, opened one eye, said "You're wearing me out!", covered his head and went back to sleep. After that I figured he deserved another ten minutes of peace, so I left him alone. He told me again this morning when I dropped him off at his classroom that he was not a morning person. The kid is four. How does he come up with this stuff?
Ethel played sick yesterday- she said her tummy hurt and she couldn't go to school. I fell for it. (Mommy is a pushover. Like Oshu said, I was probably subconciously grateful for the chance to sleep in.) After I left for work Oshu said she experienced a remarkable recovery that coincided, unsurprisingly, with the delivery of pizza for lunch.
Have to remember on next post to tell the story of Ethel's first attempt at homicide.
One of the instructors I mentor for is going to Louisiana tomorrow to help with the relief effort. She started a blog to keep track of what goes on while she's there. Here's the link: Brenda MC. Check it out.
Absolutely unbelievable. Saturday evening there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find one of Ethel's classmates, Erica, standing on our front step. She asked if she could talk to Ethel. Ethel came to the door, and this little girl asked if she could spend the night at our house because her mom had to go pick up her uncle and wasn't going to be home until late. I said that it would be all right, and she rode her bike back home to get some clothes.
This child had never even been in our house before. I had never even seen her mother, let alone spoke to her. I assumed that her mom would come back with her, or call me, or something. You know, just to make sure that I wasn't a crazy woman or something.
That assumption was a mistake. Erica came back, carrying pajamas and clothes for the next day. She made a comment about hating to pack her clothes because she always forgot something. She and Ethel went upstairs to play, then came down for supper. Erica told me that her mom said she needed to be home by 11 on Sunday morning.
When they woke up, they ate breakfast and then played until about 9:30. Erica said she was going to go home and see if her mom was home yet. That was all we saw of her.
I'm sorry, but I simply cannot imagine allowing my seven year old daughter to go spend the night with a classmate if I didn't know their mom. It was almost dark when Erica showed up at the door- by the time she went home, packed, and came back it was dark. I don't care if it was only around the corner. I don't care what neighborhood you live in, you shouldn't let your pretty blonde second-grader ride her bike off to someone else's house after dark. You especially don't let her ride her bike off to the house of someone you don't know at all. And you certainly don't let her go to a stranger's house and spend the night.
If the child had been picked up off the street, nobody would have known until noon the next day. I don't even know her last name, and I have only a vague idea where she lives.
Am I spazzing unnecessarily? Have standards really relaxed that far since I was a child? Or am I correct in thinking that this should be considered neglect?
I'm sick. I think Ethel gave it to me. I've been coughing for ages. I don't think I'm running a fever anymore, though, so hopefully it means I'm on the mend. Didn't go to work or school for the last three days. I took Ethel to school in the mornings and picked her up at night. George stayed home and 'took care of Mommy'. In other words, he brought me bottles of water, covered me with blankets, patted my head and told me I was warm, and watched cartoons with me. I think it made him feel like a big boy. He went back to daycare today, and told his teachers that he was gone cause he had to take care of his Mommy while she was sick. It was adorable.
Atlantis is on the Disney channel tonight. We haven't seen it, so I think tonight the kids and I will pop popcorn and veg out in front of the tv for a few hours. I'll probably fix them spaghettios or something for dinner... or maybe we'll drive through McDonalds on the way home. If I time it just right, we'll get here in time to eat dinner while watching the movie. Okay, that's the plan. It's sort of become a Friday night tradition. Oshu almost always works Friday nights, so the kids and I watch a movie and laze about. Oops, the dryer is done. I'm so far behind on everything... I haven't felt well for almost three weeks now, and this last week I was so wretched that all I've done is watched tv, read, and slept.
She came downstairs earlier this evening and handed me another tooth. She pulled another one. This kid is amazing. As proof, I offer the following.
I was walking down the street alone and no one knew why till I went to a graveyard with flowers. I was crying because my mom died last week. She never came back from heven. It wasn't happy. I wasn't talking to anyone on the street for a long time. I was sad. I live alone now. I am 27 years old. I never went to my broter's house. he's very silly in the age of 23. the end
Caught all the babies last night so I could vacuum the tank. There are 16 live fish in my tank. I oughta get the camera out and take a picture. I oughta do a whole lot of things. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow. And then again, maybe not.
