I forgot where I was going with this….

Do you see that? Look carefully. Yes that’s a scowl on my face and I’ve developed an eye twitch. I am now WAY beyond the amount of time I should have spent in California, with relatives, and after being in a car with the fighting children for 3 hours straight today, it’s a wonder I don’t have some other tics too.  My head is about to explode. I am sitting here fricken’ freezing because my mother is going through menopause and my father is part vampire. The house is 62 degrees. Now that may  not be cold to some of you, but I’m one of those people who is ALWAYS cold. My nose, hands and feet are like icicles. And I left my down jacket in Seattle.

I may not even be able to get home tomorrow. My neighbor called to tell me that snow and ice have virtually shut the area down and a storm is expected tomorrow night. Which means I might be a prisoner here for longer. Perhaps I will start screaming and not stop.

Note to self: Never come home again without having rented a car. My mother is acting like I’m 16 and telling me I can’t use the car. Like today she told me she doesn’t want me driving her car in traffic. And I’ve put too many miles on it. And I’ve been stranded here for days because she didn’t want me going anywhere in it. Tomorrow I’m going to have to walk about a mile and a half, carrying the kids’ car seats so I can go rent a car because she doesn’t want me driving her car over the bridge to go see Steve’s grandfather before we leave. ARE YOU EFFIN’ KIDDING ME?! Seriously, I am so over this trip. I won’t even get into the in-law situation.

I am tired of the rude, a-hole drivers. I hate breathing in the smog. I hate not feeling safe everywhere I go. And damn, I miss my own bed and my WARM, SEVENTY THREE DEGREE HOUSE.

The ONLY reason I am turning around and coming back here for Christmas is because this Christmas will be Pop’s last. However, I think a hotel, a rental car and a MUCH shorter trip are in order. Otherwise I’m pretty sure I’m going to be huddled in a corner talking to myself and batting at imaginary bugs. Shoot, I might even start a fight with myself.

And Christmas only means that I would share this house with ALL my siblings and their significant others. Oh Goody. I can’t wait. I wonder if I can sell Pop on coming up to Seattle? Then we can go sledding on Christmas Eve again and stay in our pajamas all day on Christmas day. Oh how I long for a Seattle Christmas….

Tonight I was in a burrito store in Hayward, CA. Two unsavory looking characters walked in while I was standing there waiting for them to cook the order. The two guys looked like hoodlums but I tried to think the better of them, that perhaps they were just young kids out for a burrito. As one of them stood there paying for his order, I noticed that his pants were so baggy that his pockets gaped open. And there, in his left front pocket was the unmistakeable butt of a gun. I even knew what kind of gun it was. My heart rate shot up to running pace and I started to sweat. Steve and the kids were out in the car. I cursed stopping in this neighborhood.

I eventually managed to get out of the burrito store without getting shot. I don’t ever recall being so terrified in my entire life. I called 911 after we were a safe distance away, but was so flustered at first, I could not even tell them what street I had been on or the name of the store. Steve finally helped me get the receipt out so that I could read the address and name of the store. I’ve spoken with the police three times tonight. They were gone before the police got there. They were looking for them, but Steve hadn’t gotten a good look at their car either.

I never have to worry about this sort of thing where we live in Washington. I hate it here. I will never live in the Bay Area again. I can’t wait to go home.

Tonight we are at the house of some old friends. When Steve walked into the kitchen he noticed that they had a really cool new espresso machine. The kind where you pour the beans in and espresso comes out. Shari explained “Well Pat was eager to get a new espresso machine and I showed some openess to the idea and next thing I know, he comes home with this! He didn’t even ask!” I said “SHARI! You violated the number one rule of wives! NEVER SHOW OPENESS TO A NEW IDEA!”

Later she was showing us their new robot vacuum cleaner and was saying, “Well I wasn’t really sure about getting one, but it works really well.” I eyed her “You showed openess to the idea didn’t you?!” She hung her head and sighed “Yes.” A little while later Pat came into the room telling Steve how he wanted to get an extra monitor to read his email. “DON’T SHOW OPENESS!” I yelled “SHOWING OPENESS IS WEAKNESS! SAY NO! JUST SAY NO!”

As we were leaving I was saying the robot vacuum was pretty cool. Shari asks “So you might  be open to it?” “HELL NO!” I shouted “I AM NOT OPEN TO ANYTHING NEW! BEING OPEN TO NEW IDEAS ALWAYS COSTS AT LEAST $500! I AM NOT OPEN TO ANYTHING!”

So that’s it, fellow wives. DO NOT BE OPEN TO ANY NEW IDEAS! NIP IT IN THE BUD!

Thank you to Maryam for the link that determines what I have issues with. ;D I took the standard word association test.

Take Word Association Test

You can all go and look at the only picture Steve would let me put up. lol. That’s me in the witch hat.

25peeps.com

1. Wake up
2. Go running to prepare for large influx of food
3. Shower
4. Eat
5. Cook
6. Eat
7. Eat
8. Go to sleep

Save a turkey, EAT TOFU! Teee heee heee heee heee heee…… And may your pants still fit when you’re done eating.

I just wanted to let you all know that my computer access is limited right now. Don’t think I don’t love you because I haven’t visited your blog. My choices for computers are: my phone, which is damn near impossible to log in and comment, Pop’s computer, which has the police scanner next to it that is so distracting with me yelling SHOOT HIM! every three seconds that I can’t focus on reading or writing, or my mom’s computer which is really a miniature computer built for Smurfs. Seriously, it’s so small it would fit in my purse. So don’t think I don’t love you, I just don’t have the proper equipment to give proper love right now….

I am laughing so hard there are tears rolling down my face. We just got home from one of my favorite chinese food restaurants where they make the dishes for me with tofu instead of meat. We brought  in the leftovers and my mom was eating some knowing full well it was tofu. My dad walked in the room and walked by and grabbed a big chunk out the stir fry. He made a horrible face and started shuddering and gagging.

Mom: What?
Dad: God damn, that’s terrible chinese food. It doesn’t even have the texture of meat.
Mom: That’s because you just grabbed a chunk of tofu.
Dad: (horrified) OH GOD! ACKKK! IT’S HORRIBLE! (more shuddering and gagging and now utter disgust on his face)
Mom: Steve got one with meat. You want some of this? It’s chicken.
Dad: Hell no. That’s not even chicken. (There’s no longer any trust here.) Damn that’s bad chinese food.

I am still crying I am laughing so hard. He would have never willingly tasted tofu although that really was chicken she offered him. LMAO.

Update: I found my dad in bed, grouchy with a foul look on his face about a half hour later.

Me: <giggling> So is that the first time you’ve ever had tofu?
Dad: <bitterly> YES! Damn that was disgusting.
Mom: Oh he’s had it before, but I never told him. And he sits there complaining about how the food tastes like shit and has a terrible texture.
Me: <still giggling and wiping tears away> So he thought he just kept having bad meat?
Mom: <giggles> Yeah.

I have further proof of the familial cold, dark, black, shiveled heart. My sister and her fiance, Dan, were walking along the street in San Francisco when they were solicited by someone who appeared to be either begging for money or donations for some “cause.” The following exchange took place:

Beggar: I want to ask you today for your heart.
Dan: My heart belongs to her (referring to my sister).
Beggar: Well can I have her heart?
Dan: She has no heart. We have to go.

And then yesterday:

Mom: Those damned squirrels are eating all my figs! I have HAD IT with the damn squirrels.
Me: Well if you fed them they wouldn’t eat your figs.
Dad: FEED THEM? I’m gonna shoot them. No good damn squirrels. I’ll feed them all right. I’ll feed them arsenic!

So as you see, it’s genetic. We have no heart. It’s cold, dark and shriveled.

Today has been a blur of doctor’s offices, barf and trips to the pharmacy. The one good thing about my son getting sick “on vacation” is vacation is where we used to live so that he can go to his old pediatrician. I’m not even adjusted to the new pediatrician’s office (in Washington) and their way of doing things, so it’s comforting to be able to talk to nurses that I know and see a doctor I’ve known for 25 years. 

My sister went back home to LA today. Before she left, there were six drivers fighting over one car so when son #2 got sick, I got the car. LOL! But I had to use it in between running errands for and with other people so I didn’t get to go anywhere cool or anywhere that I wanted. I had to carry my 60 pound son to meet my mom on another block because he was too sick to walk.

Luckily he’s a good little barfer. He fertilized her garden and christened her sink. Had that been son #1, there would have been puke all over her car, a trail from the TV room to the kitchen, and several piles randomly placed in very inconvenient places.

In other news, my shopaholic brother bought a bunch of popcorn from my son for his cub scout fundraiser. I had to spot him a check for $55. So I called my parents and told him he STILL hadn’t sent me a check. Between the time I called and got here, my dad sent him $55 to send to me. I got here and complained that he still owed me when my mom informed me that my dad had sent him the money. Last night at dinner we joked about how he had already spent it. Tonight he called and I answered the phone and said “Where’s my $55?” He said “Oh…<laughter>…ummm….can you ask Dad for it?” I said “Yeah um, he said he sent you the money to send to me. Don’t make me send someone down there to break your knees.” <More laughter> “Uh yeah, you’re going to have to get it from the bank of Dad.” My dad walked in the room and I said “Would you care to tell Dad what you did with my $55?” <More laughter> “Uh, Dad, can you give it to them and I’ll give it back to you?” Everyone in the room starts cracking up because we all know that $55 is so totally gone, it will never be seen again. Apparently next time he owes me money, I need to send Guido and Tony to make him an offer he can’t refuse.

Today I ran into the mother of one of my friends. I lived with their family part of my senior year of high school. It’s funny how time can pass, and yet 20 years ago seems like yesterday. Sandy said the older I get, the more beautiful I get. Sniff. I love that woman.

I’m hoping to be able to get out and see some of our friends and go get some really good sourdough tomorrow. I’m also hoping to make it through the next 24 hours without being puked on by the good little barfer. I’d also like to have my $55, but I think I might need to send in some enforcers to get it.

Today is Sunday November 19. The reason I am telling you this is because this morning my mother had an argument with my 88 year old grandmother with Alzheimer’s. My grandmother insisted she was going to church today. My mother told her that she could not because it was Saturday. Sigh. Do you see what I am dealing with here? Honestly, who has the Alzheimer’s?

I’m blogging this from Steve’s grandfather’s computer. I’m really not totally comfortable with this foreign computer. I don’t like the keyboard and the mouse is all weird. Does it make my butt look big? And also he’s got a police scanner right next to the monitor and it’s really distracting. I need a list of police codes so I know what the hell they’re talking about because I keep having to pause while I yell “SHOOT HIM! JUST SHOOT HIM!”

And Pop’s dog is rotten. Yes, you read that right, totally rotten. The dog is a 200 year old rat and smells like he’s already dead. His breath is so kicken’ you can smell it from across the room. When he yawns I gag.

We stood in line for over an hour on Saturday just to get x-rayed at the airport. I’ve never seen the lines that long at an airport. And then they made me get naked before I walked through the metal detectors. Seriously, what the hell is the point of a METAL DETECTOR if I have to walk through in my underwear anyway? They made us take off our belts, clothes, and shoes and when I turned around, Steve had pretty much lost his pants. He grabbed them before they hit the floor though.

SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM! Sorry, I think there’s a chase going on right now. I can’t believe you vultures were all disappointed that Steve was home because you wouldn’t get to watch the train wreck that has been my life. You’ll be happy to know, that the curse has followed me. I was standing next to the microwave at my parent’s house last night. Wait- SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM! (Someone stole a car!) Anyway, I was standing next the microwave, Steve was in front of it and it blew up. I shoved Steve out of the way before he got the family jewels burned off. (It’s an under counter microwave.) There was a fire inside and everything. I think my mother was just relieved I wasn’t standing next to her car at that particular moment.

I hear people have arrived in the other room. I think I’m expected to go be social. Let’s see if you all can be civil and not root for more carnage. My life’s complicated enough.

A play.

Scene 1

Son #2 is angry because he is being told that his breath still stinks and he needs to brush his teeth again.

Smacking sound heard off stage

Son #1: MOOOOOMMMMM!!! HE HIT ME!!!!!

Son #1 to Son #2: What did you hit me for?!?!

Son #2: Because you were happy!

<end scene>

I called my mother at 6:45 this evening. I didn’t even bother with a greeting:

Mom: Hello?
Me: Steve’s plane is four hours late. My computer is broken. Simba’s been barking for 6 hours straight. The power has been out for the last 5 hours. I went outside to take care of Simba and I got chased by a rat and stepped in dog shit. All the phones in the house are cordless phones requiring power and my new cell phone not only doesn’t work in the house, but not in the driveway or middle of the street either. The connection to Spain has been so bad, Steve and I have only had one conversation where we could understand each other in 11 days. It took me over an hour to find an old fashioned plug-in phone just to make this call. I finally found one in Steve’s office in a metal box on the very top shelf. And the temporary fence will NOT hold Simba and needs to be reinforced.
Mom: (silence then a giggle then sobering realization…) Is this contagious? Can it come through the phone? I don’t even think I should be talking to you. Maybe you shouldn’t stay here. And are you planning on driving my car when you get here? Because it only has 10,000 miles on it and I’m really afraid of you driving it with the way things are going……

But you’ll all be happy to know STEVE IS HOME! Even though he just fell asleep on the toilet….

Steve returns tomorrow. Steve returns tomorrow. Steve returns tomorrow. Steve returns tomorrow.

Another day in the life of me: 

We’re sitting in the pediatrician’s office and my youngest starts walking over to me with a book which I can plainly see is a Cat in the Hat book. He says “Mom, will you read this to me?” I say “Sure son. The sun did not shine it was too wet to play, so we sat in the house all that cold, cold wet day. I sat there with Sally. We sat there we two, and I said How I wish we had something to do….” My youngest stops dead in his tracks. “But Mom,” he says “I haven’t even opened the book and you’re reading it already.” My oldest says in horror “You MEMORIZED IT, MOM? You mean all this time you weren’t reading to us? You MEMORIZED IT?!” Like I’d committed mortal sin. Apparently they’ve never noticed I sometimes read with my eyes closed. I can do Fox and Socks too or There’s a Wocket in my Pocket. How about Good Night Moon? I can do that one in Spanish OR English. LOL! Seriously, what’s the crime here kids?

Then my oldest points out that I am “reading” the WRONG Cat in the Hat, because son #2 has the Cat in the Hat comes back. I can’t see the book from across the room. Sue me. So I start with that one. My youngest shuts the book. He does not like this new turn of events. He goes and searches for another book. (Does it occur to him that if he picked DIFFERENT BOOKS I would not have every Dr. Suess book ever written memorized? It does NOT. Bring it on! I can do Old Hat New Hat, Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb, The Foot Book, The Ear Book…. Or if you prefer we can go to the non-Suess genre such as good ole’ Fireman Small or the Pokey Little Puppy- my all time favorite.) Of course he picks up Goodnight Moon then shrieks “NO READ IT!!!!! DON’T JUST SAY IT!!!!!!!!” I had to pretend to look at and read each word. This might become problematic for me.

Finally the pediatrician comes in and saves me. She decides to put my oldest in a fiberglass type cast that goes up to his armpit. He just about has a stroke as soon as she walks out the room. Literally the tantrum started before we even left the pediatrician’s. It’s uncomfortable. He can’t move his arm. (Duh.) It’s itchy. (Too beady. Too Bumpy. Too Leafy. Too Lumpy. Too Twisty. Too Twirly. Too Wrinkly. Too Curly. -throwing down some Old Hat New Hat for all you non-Suessians out there.) By the time we get into the car he is HOWLING at the top of his lungs. It’s not fun (and the last time you checked it was?) It looks STUPID. People will LAUGH. Finally I told him he looked like C3P0. I seemed to have caught a break with that. Because he started talking like C3P0 saying “Greetings Human, I am C3P0, human-cyborg relations. I am fluent in over three million languages.” It temporarily distracted him until he started howling again about how his arm wouldn’t fit on his desk. Which made me laugh every time he said it. I’m still laughing. It makes me laugh to type or read that. Which only made him howl louder. Seriously. He thinks he needs an extra desk for the arm. So I gave him another C3P0 quote and he was off talking like C3P0 again, temporarily pacified.  As we pull up into the driveway he announces he WILL NOT go to school tomorrow. At which time I inform him then he WILL NOT be going to his cub scout meeting tonight and be missing out on pizza and ice cream then. Check mate. Mommy 1, Son 0.

Ah but that is not the end of the story, my friends. He will still exact his revenge. He discovers that if he is going to wear this new C3P0, he can not undo his pants. He can not dress himself. He can not UNDRESS himself. He can not brush his teeth. And here is where it becomes Mommy 1, Son 400. For he will now no longer even allow me to sit down. And I must brush his teeth before the scout meeting because his breath smells very much like you would imagine the smell if you were standing at the Gates of Hell when they let Satan back in after a long night of carousing with the politicians.

Now brushing the teeth of a child who is tactile defensive AND has ADHD is very much like trying to give a cat a pill. The cat-child starts backing up the moment he sees the toothbrush (pill) coming. Should you back said cat-child into a corner or against a wall, cat-child will roll up into a ball and make you push arms and legs out of the way searching for a mouth. When you have finally found a mouth both cat and child will claw you to shreds with violent, loud shrieking. Then both cat and child will try to run away before brushing and/or pill is administered. Upon recapturing cat-child, you must start back at step one and be clawed to shreds again. I have found that really the best way to accomplish this task is by sitting on either cat or child. Roll them up in a blanket so that claws and running away become impossible. Flip them on their backs, squeeze the cheeks and JAM it in there as fast as you can. Then hold the jaw shut. Oh wait, that’s only for a cat. Although children respond nicely to the rubbing of gullets too. Treat your wounds with Neosporin all the while cursing the day said cat or child was born.

So where was I? Ah yes, a day in my life. I’m betting you want to trade places with me just reading this, don’t you? Neighbor came by again tonight to tell me that he had spoken with the fence guy and they think they can get the posts in without taking down the whole fence. I’m wondering if it had to do with the signs I stapled all along the fence telling the fence guy not to take the fence down. lol. Anyway, it looks as though I will not be able to deal with the fridge until we come back. I had hoped to start packing today, although it looks like that will not happen either. I need sleep. And the pediatrician said I had to get up during the night to medicate son #1 so that he would not be in so much pain all day long again. Sigh. Steve returns tomorrow. Steve returns tomorrow. Steve returns tomorrow. Steve returns tomorrow.

I have to take son #1 back to the pediatrician today. He is in more pain (he’s called me from school 3 times today) and I’ve been over to the school twice. They want to splint it up past his elbow now. Sigh. Going through airport security on Saturday is going to be FUN with that.

I’m going to take the kids to a restaurant after the pediatrician. Say a small prayer for me that they don’t start pummeling each other again.

Why is it that a mother feels her child’s pain so accutely? I watched as the doctor examined his wrist yesterday and nearly passed out when he bent it and my son winced and yelped. I had a visceral reaction to that. I would have rathered it be me.

My son keeps telling me to stop staring at his wrist. But I feel physically ill every time I look at it. They never mention this sh!t in the “What to expect when you’re expecting” books. I want my money back.

You’re laughing already aren’t you? You know something else has happened and you just can’t wait to see what it is. Rubber Neckers!

I’m trying to quell the hysteria. Literally there are tears running down my face as I type this. My new neighbor just knocked on the door to tell me that his fence guy is coming tomorrow to take down the common part between our yards. Yes, you guessed it, that fence is one of the fences enclosing the dog run. But wait, it gets better. I can’t let the dogs run loose in the yard because part of THAT fence is coming down too. Oh and wait! There’s more! He says it will be down at least four days. (Let me put into perspective that the other three sides of their fence have been down for five months because contractors keep walking off the job.) Let me also point out that as of 6 a.m. Saturday morning, we’re supposed to be on a flight to California and if history is any indication, that fence could be down for months. I’m trying not to panic. I’m hoping I can talk this fence guy into not tearing the fence down until the posts are set and he can do part of the dog run one day and the rest of the yard the other so that I have a place to put them. I’ll wear my sluttiest attire to go and try to beg. But, with the way things are going, he’ll be gay. Queer as they come. It’ll happen. You watch. I have no idea what I’m going to do……

That Steve is now banned from leaving town for more than 4 days:

That’s right. Your eyes aren’t deceiving you. I spent the afternoon with my son at the pediatrician’s office. AND during that time, I was supposed to be at school teaching art.

You can’t look away, can you? I’m just this horrible train wreck that keeps you staring….

And if you’re idly wondering, no the fridge isn’t fixed either….

After the Fridge Fiasco, Inner Martha got her ass kicked by Inner Food Network Chick. I’m pretty sure my nutrition has hit an all time low. Tonight I ate some raw baby carrots that got hot in the fridge (Please God, don’t let me get diarrhea), a bowl of plain rice and then followed it up with a banana that I dipped in melted chocolate chips. Don’t judge me.

I have just spent the last four hours cleaning out the fridge. Yes, this is the fridge that broke. Yes, this is the one that is only a year old. I threw away hundreds of dollars worth of food. Then had to scrub the thing down because it stunk. Cuz that’s what I really wanted to do with my Sunday. The one day I was finally going to get to relax. I’m not bitter or anything….

When the inners argued this morning, Inner Martha bitch slapped Inner Food Network Chick and decided to make pancakes from scratch. I put all the ingredients together and was just about to stir it, when I picked up the buttermilk carton and noticed it felt warm. My hands were icy, but….I picked up the eggs….warm. Oh no. I opened the fridge to check the temperature: 64 degrees. Crap. The door has an alarm that goes off if it’s left open and no alarm went off. So instead of the usual plumbing breaking when Steve’s gone, it appears the fridge has broken. The phone rang just as I started to cry. It’s Steve. I forbid him from leaving for this long ever again. (I did that last September when he was only home for 8 days the whole month. Notice he left again for more than a week. ) I think he was about to tell me how much Spain sucked with only a dial up connection in his hotel room but decided my Inner Angry White Male just might be homocidal.

After I was able to gather myself, I went outside to our garage fridge which had spare eggs, milk, buttermilk, and butter and re-made the pancakes. Inner Food Network Chick was pretty smug about this until Martha sucker punched her. Looks like Martha hooked up with Angry White Male last night and has a new lease on life. Chocolate chip pancakes from scratch are TOTALLY worth it.

Martha threw four tennis balls in the dryer with the down jacket and the feathers seem to be unclumping a bit. It still smells a little like wet dog. And washing it probably removed any waterproofing. Sigh. The repair guy for the washer insisted we switch to a High Efficiency detergent for our front loading washer. Dude. I told him we bought this washer before HE detergents were even invented. But he insisted and Steve listened. So Steve bought All detergent. Just so you know, All sucks. It sucks big….AHEM. Sorry. Anyway, it’s not cleaning. Which is really annoying because I’m going to have to rewash this jacket and after spending 2 days trying to get it to dry with no heat and 6 times through the dryer, I’m annoyed. Really annoyed. And the pizza stains didn’t come off my youngest’s shirt. I told him not to wear his pizza, but he never listens. Martha does NOT recommend All. Or Tide. They sucketh. Martha will be going in search of some yummy smelling Gain or Mrs. Meyers that actually CLEANS clothing.

We’re slipping back into summer mode. The kids are reading and drawing and playing quietly. After basketball yesterday I refused to leave the house, because the kids have started fighting the second we get into the car. Being enclosed in a small space during a civil war could drive someone to drink. I took them to a restaurant yesterday and they started screaming and fighitng and punching each other DURING THE MEAL and I could not get them under control. I’d grab one and the other would be throwing a roundhouse punch, I’d grab the swinging arm and the one child I didn’t have would kick or throw another punch. Needless to say, I walked out the restaurant without them even finishing their meals. I was totally humiliated. I would have walked out carrying one under each arm, but their combined weight is more than I weigh. Two teenagers were staring at me as I was trying to get them into the truck with them punching and screaming. I almost turned to the teenagers and screamed THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU HAVE UNPROTECTED SEX! But my youngest was punching in the face by then and I didn’t want to have to visit the ER so I had to focus on them.

I drugged the crap out of the dog last night. He’s all mellow now. He’s staying high until Steve gets home. Because it’s the drugs or the gas chamber. I’ve had it. My other dog seems embarassed to even know the bad one. She tries to pretend she’s never seen him before in her life.

I forgot to mention that due to a trainer induced injury, I couldn’t turn my head yesterday. Well it wasn’t all his fault. I worked out eight times in 6 days. My back rebelled. Night before last I couldn’t sleep due to pain. It was so bad last night I debated about searching the medicine cabinet for some narcotics. But I decided that I probably couldn’t combine narcotics and my knee medicine, so I opted for a boat load of Tylenol. I’m a little better today. I can turn my head, although not very far. I usually work out on Mondays, but perhaps I’ll ride the stationary bike tomorrow and read a magazine. I still have to do running club too, and extreme pain makes me crabby. I listened to my neighbor and dropped the intensity of my workouts when I’m not working out with my trainer, but the problem becomes that I don’t feel like I worked out. So then I work out again. Sigh. It’s a vicious, vicious cycle.

We’re headed to California on Saturday for 11 days. I’m really hoping the weather is nice. I’d like to spend some time on the beach. And I’ll be doing a lot of running. I might go work out with my old swim team too. Certainly there’ll be stories to tell. And Thanksgiving is coming up. Where Martha rules the roost and we don’t even know that Food Network Chick.  

In episode 6 of Steve’s gone, we have: I am not cooking. Just trying to survive. For dinner I ate: broccoli, some baked onion rings and peanut butter and apples. lol. I made the kids something with meat in it so I didn’t eat it.

Don’t worry, the kids are being fed, but my inner Martha Stewart has died and been replaced by that semi homemade chick from the Food Network (she sucks, by the way.) Inner Martha might come back tomorrow. She saw some recipes she wanted to try in a cookbook. But inner Martha was traumatized by coaching basketball today. Inner Lucille Ball was working overtime. Inner Martha also washed her new down jacket because it kept smelling like wet dog every time she got rained on. Inner Martha may have ruined her new jacket. Enter Inner Angry White Male. Where the hell was he during the coaching of basketball?! Inner Lucille would like to point out that the kids had their best game ever. And they applied skills learned in last night’s practice, also run by inner Lucille.

Inner Martha and Inner Food Network Chick are having an argument right now about breakfast tomorrow morning. I’m going to take me and all my innards to bed now before anyone else shows up…….

Besides being interviewed, I’m now listed in the blog directory at “5 Minutes for Mom.” They also have a mom owned store directory that you can check out as well.

It was the Bill Gates connection. Me and Bill are tight. He got me the interview.

I just yelled that. Because my mouse has gone through 6 batteries in about 2 hours. I was just muttering under my breath and loading yet another set into the mouse when I noticed it says very clearly on the side of the batteries: rechargeable. Sh*(*&(*. I think I’ve thrown out $50 in batteries.

Steve really needs to come home soon….