I forgot where I was going with this….

Last night I had a fight with the F1 key. It fought back by dislodging F2 and ! But that’s not the worst of what’s gone wrong. I feel like hell today and have been trying to pack with “rests” in between. My stomach feel like I’ve been punched. Repeatedly.  Son #1 has taken a turn for the worst. Steve has taken him to ER while I’m here biting my nails and trying to pack. Son’s fever spiked and he has lain on the couch all day and hasn’t even gone to the bathroom.

Steve’s lost 10 pounds. Teixeira illness diet anyone? Anyone? On the bright side, I’ve dropped a few pounds too and my dress for the wedding looks FABULOUS! I’ve also neurotically packed 7 pairs of pantyhose. I know, it’s weird. Years ago I worked for both Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus and you had to wear pantyhose every day. Some mornings I’d run three pairs before I even got to work. I’ve been known to have five pairs of pantyhose days. I used to keep pantyhose stuffed in my purse. So trust me, 7 is not too many.

Listening to Arlo Guthrie sing City of New Orleans, and hoping I will be able to make it there tomorrow….

I thought it would amuse you all to know that Steve sent an email to work saying he was “end-of-the-world, book of relevations” sick. lol. Actually, in the 18 years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him this sick. Not even when he had salmonella and lost 25 pounds in a week. He’s yucky, smelly, germy and a little hard to love right now. ;D

The kids are only marginally better in that they’ve gotten up and are talking again. They spent the first few days laying there and saying nothing. They’re still laying around and haven’t graduated to playing with toys, but they are better. Son #2 is still puking his little heart out. He hasn’t eaten a full meal since Tuesday. They’ve both lost a lot of weight.

As for me, I don’t feel very good, but I’m not incapacited sick. I’m uncomfortable, a little nauseous, have a headache but that seems to be the extent of it. I’m still walking around disinfecting the place every few hours and I’ve taken so much vitamin C, I think I’m peeing pure C. And I found some viral hokus pokus called Sambucol made from elderberries that’s supposed to help. Tastes horrible, but if it works, I’m in.

My kitchen looks like I robbed the pharmacy. Or maybe that I’m opening my own. My nightstand looks similar. I pretty much bought anything that was related to snot, coughing or poop. Between the codiene for son #2 and the NyQuil for Steve, I’m hoping to finally be able to sleep through the night tonight. Without cleaning up barf. Or giving medicines. Or listening to them cough. Son #1 can not take psuedophedrine, narcotics, codiene, most anihistamines, etc. It appears to enhance his hyperactivity and he’s stayed up all night before after having one of those. Consequently, he gets Benadryl. And some pseudophedrine-free cough syrup. And that’s all. So wish me a full night’s sleep tonight and keep praying I don’t start puking and pooping.

Yes, that’s right, the biggest, neediest, most annoying child of all is sick. I’ve had to listen to a four hour long running commentary on how sick he is, what doesn’t feel good, what hurts, etc, etc. So now there’s three puking, sick children I have to take care of. Pray that I don’t get this…..

So Helen, what have you been up to the last few days? Me? Oh nothing much. Yesterday I went to a new dentist. I’ve never even had a cavity before. This guy wanted to perform $3,000 worth of dental work, including drilling a tooth that MAY have a cavity, but probably not. I’ve never had more than 8 x-rays or so at a time on my teeth, this guy did EIGHTEEN!!!!!! Can we say ROBBERY? Let’s say it all together now: GET ANOTHER OPINION. Glad we all agree. I guess I won’t be getting my teeth whitened before the wedding. He didn’t even clean my teeth after all that.

Son #2 has been very sick the last few days, high fever, barfing, cough. I went to get my haircut for the wedding today when my cellphone starts ringing off the hook. Son #1 has a 100 degree fever and the school demands he be picked up within 30 minutes. I am more than 30 minutes away from school, sick son #2 is at Steve’s office so my very sweet neighbor goes and picks up son #1. He repayed her by vomiting in her car. I left the salon with my hair still wet and picked up both kids and have been living in a sea of sickness and vomiting. (Where every good germaphobe loves to be.) These kids are SICK. You’d never know I went to the salon today. My new haircut is messily pulled up into a ponytail to keep it out of the barf.

I’ve been canceling appointments left and right, leaving me with plenty left undone before I have to leave next week. Steve is also going to be sequestered in a hotel next week and not allowed to come home for 4 days. (This happens about every other month.) My body is responding to the stress with a series of cold sores INSIDE my mouth, and threatening to completely breakdown and go on strike (I feel like I’m getting sick too.)

Steve and my sister’s fiance had a little tiff and I’m still not taking any phone calls from California or Louisiana. In addition to all this, I’m trying to teach Art for 3 classes, plan 3 school parties and son #2’s birthday party. Sigh. Thanks for listening to me complain. I feel better now.

I should take this moment to say: If you don’t have kids and choose to have them, God will give you a child that will challenge the things about yourself that you have the hardest time with. For example, my whole life I’ve found it annoying and disconcerting to be around people who can’t sit still. You know the kind: always fidgeting, always moving, always on the go. God, in His infinite wisdom, decided I needed to get over that and gave me a child with ADHD. Great sense of humor, that God guy.

Secondly, I didn’t do barf. I will hold barf in until I explode, because I don’t do barf. I used to not even be able to WATCH people barf even if I was out of smell range. So what does that funny God guy do? Next he gives me a child who has severe reflux. Still. Six years of puking. SIX YEARS OF PUKING. That God guy, HE IS SOOOOO FUNNY!!!!!!!! I think I somehow digressed here, but forgive me, it’s been a tough day. Puking is on my mind.

Baseball managers meeting was tonight. I was the ONLY chick in the room. They talked about male bonding and stuff. I almost started throwing tampons.

Because these are the kinds I get from mine:

Subject: Just in time for Valentine’s Day

My reply? I am SO blogging this!

Don’t look over here. I don’t want them to see me. Pretend like you’re talking on the phone or something. I’m being stalked by a whole bunch of family. They’re still trying to drag me kicking and screaming into their wedding drama. SHHHHH! Someone will HEAR YOU! Now here. Take my cell phone. Give it to the nearest homeless person with my love. Also give ‘em a 20 and tell ‘em if they pretend to be me there’s more where that came from. I’m going to crawl over to the TV now. Don’t want to stand up and walk in front of a window. There’s a 20 in it for you too if you can run interference. Peace out.

Update: Multiple incoming calls from several California area codes. If we all sit here VERY quietly, they’ll think I’m not here. Make noise and I’ll cut your throat.

There are two recurring nightmares that I have had for years. Details of the nightmares change, but the gist of the nightmares remain the same. The first one is about college. I know you’re immediately thinking that I dream that I am at school naked. No. I’m always fully clothed. The recurring dream I have is that I’m just a few classes from graduating and/or in my last semester and something happens to derail my graduation. I forget to go to class, I forget to take my finals, something of the sort, and then I don’t graduate. It’s agony. I relive this dream over and over. I have no idea what it means, except that I was probably pretty relieved when I graduated.

The second recurring nightmare I have is about moving. I hate moving. I know, I know, you hate moving too. But do you hate it enough to constantly dream about it? I didn’t think so. The thing I hate most about moving is all those little things that go in a million different places, that you NEED and can’t toss, that you find after pretty much everything is packed up and don’t know what to do with. Or you find them at the bottom of a box when unpacking and don’t know what to do with it. They somehow got separated from what they go with or go to, and there they are. And you always say the same thing “What the eff am I supposed to do with all this?” It makes me want to start screaming and not stop. I wake up screaming. Sometimes I just start screaming and unfortunately realize I am already awake.

In 1996, we moved into the first home we bought. It was the last time we ever moved without using a moving company. Because it took us a month. No lie. A month. The last two weeks were just all that little stuff. All those odds and ends. I’d think I was done, I’d go by the house to do one last walk through and I’d find more crap. And I’d load up the car again and think “Damn, I’ll have to come back one more time.” But it was never just one more time. And this move in particular is the move I dream about STILL. I dream I’ve got to go back to the house to get the rest of our stuff. And I open drawer after drawer and the stuff keeps coming out in a never ending loop. It’s horrible. It’s like the movie Groundhog’s Day. But it’s hell. And it’s my life.

Tonight Steve and I were unpacking the garage. It’s the only thing left that hasn’t been unpacked since we moved here. He handed me a box, looked in and said “What in the hell is all this?” I looked in and uttered one of those gutteral sounds. I could feel the urge to start crying start climbing inside me. I tried to take deep breaths. Finally I sighed loudly. Steve said “What?” And I said “This is the stuff of my nightmares.” He laughed. I said “No really. If you were take a look inside my head while I was sleeping, this is what you’d see.” He laughed harder. “I’m serious!” He shook his head and said “I know you are, honey. I know.”

So tonight I was living the dream. The bad one. Sigh.

But I’ll entertain your offers….

I am worth $2,725,986 on HumanForSale.com
How much are you worth?

Thanks to Icedmocha for that link!

Me: SON! Put some clothes on! I’m tired of looking at you walking around with your johnson hanging out.
Son #1: I’m not naked, I’m ”nude descending a staircase.”

So I finally get all the kids out of the house and back to school today after more than a week of snow days, when the dog decides she’s throwing her lot in with the kids and becoming a defiant little bitch. I go to let her outside to pee and she just stares at me. Doesn’t move. I politely tell her to get out. She just stares ahead, pretending I neither am talking nor standing there. After a minute or two of this, I go around the front of the kennel and yell at her to get the hell out. She pretends to stare right through me. I get in her eye line and yell OUT! She tentatively starts to step out. I break eye contact to turn around and see what her co-conspirator is doing because he already charged back inside in fear because I was yelling. I turned back around as she ran back in, threw herself down defiantly and slammed the kennel door. Bitch.

Update: I’ve outsmarted the dog. This is why I went to college. I got her all pumped up, hackles raised from head to toe by whispering “Get the Kitty” over and over until she was worked up and then I opened the door and she charged out. Don’t look at me like that. I realize that I lied to the dog. But these are desperate times. It’s me or them.

Me: Son, are you letting your brother write all over you?
Son #2: No
Me: Then why do you have NO! NO! NO! written across your shoulder?
Son #2: Because he was writing ON! ON! ON! and I didn’t know what he was trying to do.

Because that explains it all, right?

UPDATE:

Me: Did you draw you on your brother?
Son #1: No
Me: You’re telling me you didn’t draw on your brother?!
Son #1: Well…. I wrote No…..

Growing up in Louisiana, Texas and California, I was never exposed to snow. Now that I live in an area where it snows, I’m discovering things about snow that never occurred to me. Now I’m sure all this is rudimentary instead of novel discoveries for those of you who live in areas with heavy snow, but you have to realize that people who have never lived with snow find these things both surprising and fascinating.

1. Snow has many different shapes, sizes and textures. There’s itty bitty stingin’ snow, big fat fluffy snow, snow that floats down, snow that comes in sideways, and sometimes snow that seems to come from underneath.  
2. Hail is mean. Being pelted with giant balls of snow hurts. Yelling “HEY! You’re denting my truck!” at the sky does not stop it from falling.
3. There are millions of different ways to say it’s snowing. I am fascinated by checking the forecast and never knowing what in the hell they are talking about. For example, what in the hell is freezing drizzle and how is that different from snow? What is sleet and how is it different from hail or snow? For that matter, how come hail isn’t snow? What is the difference between snow, snow showers and few showers. Is this some meteorologic humor? I have never seen so many damn ways to say icy stuff is coming down from the sky.
4. You can’t build a snowman with “dry snow.” Apparently, snow can be of a texture that it will not pack up into a snowman. I find this annoying. 
5. Black ice means you can’t see it and won’t know it’s there until you’re flat on your ass or face down on the concrete.
6. Interestingly enough, dog shit freezes. This is something that never occurred to me. The beautiful, white, winter wonderland that is my backyard, is only marred by several ugly, brown turdgloos (turd igloos) frozen solid to the ice and snow. Who woulda thought?
7. After about 4 inches of snow, it is necessary to dig your vehicle out. Apparently windshield wipers freeze to the windshield and can not simply throw the snow off. I know this is not surprising to those of you in snow bound areas, but this is surprising to people only used to rain. I had the kids’ plastic sand shovel and had to dig my windshield out. The neighbor came over and asked where my ice scraper was. After I decided he was not being a smart alek my reply was this “I’m from California. I don’t own an ice scraper.”
8. On that same note, doors can freeze shut. This is both surprising and annoying.
9. When applying salt products to de-ice the driveway, if one were to just drop handfuls of salt onto the driveway, instead of say, a fine sprinkle, it creates melted holes in the driveway. Nothing more. Thanks for trying, honey. A neighbor came over and shoveled it. Apparently that’s what you do AFTER you put salt on it. It doesn’t magically dissolve. You learn something new every day.
10. As the weather climbs to the mid 30s, one must be careful standing under trees as large clumps of snow just arbitrarily fall from the sky, sliding down the back of one’s neck and inside clothing. Screaming is not appreciated by those around you.

Dear God,

Please do not let it stop snowing. Every time you put the kibosh on the snow, son #1 starts crying hysterically. If he sees melted snow, he goes psycho. I can’t take much more of this. He cried for 2 hours the other night when it stopped snowing and just started sobbing again because it stopped after snowing all morning. Also, he realizes if the snow melts he has to go back to school. God, if you don’t make it so that they CAN go back to school soon, *I’m* going to lose it. Steve’s going stir crazy in the house. The kids are fighting and I haven’t had a second to myself since October. So God, I guess just let it keep snowing because then the kids go outside and the house is quiet and I can have a moment to myself. Also I just wanted to let you know that the snow you’ve been sending is a little dry. I can’t even make a snowman with it. Please send word to the chef that we need it a little stickier. Thanks!

Love,

Helen

Dear Diary,

I remember why Steve and I decided to elope instead of having a wedding. I was able to take about 3 months of this before I nixed the wedding. That’s right people, Silver Bells Wedding Chapel, Reno, Nevada, October 16, 1993. Wedding guests: 1. My oldest friend in the world was both maid of honor and best man. He took the pictures, he signed the license. No headaches, no bullsh!t. The Reverend Minnie Folk performed the ceremony. I should also note, since it has come up though, that I never promised to obey when I said my wedding vows. It was love and cherish, honey. 

Weddings suck. My sister’s wedding is KILLING ME. My sister hasn’t set foot in Louisiana since December 20, 1992 (she came the day after we buried my grandfather) but has decided to get married there. That’s her choice, except she hasn’t invited half of the family. They keep calling ME asking why family isn’t invited. This is very frustrating to me since I am not involved in any of this. My sister and I had a falling out a couple of years ago (probably unknown to the majority of people asking me this stuff) and didn’t speak to each other at all until a few months ago. We are on speaking terms now. We don’t take long moonlit walks or call each other, but we speak when spoken to. This relationship suits me fine. My sister and I were close growing up, but choices I made (leaving home at 15) and the kind of lifestyles we each live are so very different, it’s nearly impossible for us to find common ground anymore. Plus, relentless sibling rivalry has left a bitter taste in both of our mouths. I’m guessing my siblings also felt somewhat deserted when I left. Especially my sister. My family put the D in dysfunction and I felt it was necessary for me to leave in order to preserve my sense of self and who I was. I’m very different from them. But alas, I always have been.

Some things have come up over the last few days making me question why I ever thought it was a good idea to go. I bought a dress that I was either going to wear to the wedding or rehearsal dinner and when my mother asked me what color it was and I said dark brown, she said “You can’t wear that. That’s the wedding colors. That’s what the bridesmaids are wearing. Go return it.” Yesterday my mother sent me an email and said that my kids are not invited to the rehearsal dinner and that I needed to find a babysitter. The groom’s siblings are all bringing their nannies, so I need to find a babysitter there or bring someone. Right. Because we have a nanny. NOT. I have ONE babysitter. ONE. Son #1 is a handful. There are very few people that can handle him. Babysitters are hard to come by. And like I’m going to just use some random person in Louisiana to watch my children! I’m flying thousands of miles to go to this damn thing and I’m told my kids aren’t invited AFTER I buy the flippin’ tickets! My sister didn’t want any children at the reception either (she doesn’t like kids in case you haven’t noticed but she is planning on having one- mind boggling.) I said if I’m going, they are going. I’m still wondering if I’m going to be told at the last minute that they can’t go to the reception either. I should also point out that my kids are the ONLY nieces or nephews my sister has. Two. That’s it.

I’m tired of family members calling me to ask why my sister has done this or that. Everyone is offended and angry. I see their point too. Why would you go to a place you haven’t set foot in for 15 years to get married? You’re inviting people you haven’t seen or talked to in 15 years, inviting some siblings, but not others, inviting some relatives, not others, banning any children from the entire thing. She even made all her bridesmaids leave their kids at home.

My kids are going to miss three days of school because I was flying in for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. My mother was going to move my grandmother into the hotel I was staying in but now has decided not to. My grandmother was really the reason I was going. She’s 88 and I try to spend every second with her that I can. I haven’t seen her since April. It just doesn’t look like I’ll get to see her much though if she’s staying in another hotel. I don’t want to change to the hotel she’s staying in because it’s much more expensive- it will cost another $500+ to stay there. Plus, that’s where my parents and siblings are staying and I don’t want to be sucked into all their drama. This is the worst of all worlds, because everyone is assuming I’m involved or have a say or have influence in all this, but I am just a guest. Same as they are.

 I’ve spent the morning trying to figure out if I should just forget the whole thing. Cash in the tickets? Cancel the hotel? We moved 1200 miles away from family so that we didn’t have to deal with this kind of crap anymore. Yet, the last few months have been nothing but crap from both of our families. Seriously, how far is Alaska? And do they have phones? I heard of some property up there that you can only get to by boat. And only at certain times of the year. I’m not answering my phone anymore. If the call is coming from California or Louisiana, I’m yanking the cord out the wall. Don’t call me. I’ll call you.

What would YOU do?

Steve and I keep watching this and then laughing until we cry. Not appropriate for kids.

When phone calls start out “so what are you doing this spring?” Yell “ABORT! ABORT!” and hang up….

<sometime yesterday>

<phone rings>

Me: Hello?
Voice on other end: Hi, it’s <name omitted>, I’m the VP of instructional baseball this year.
Me: Oh hi!
Voice on other end: <nervous laugh> Soooooo. What are you and Steve doing this spring?
Me: <laughs> Well I signed up to head coach T-Ball again and I think Steve signed up to asst. coach son #1’s team.
Voice on other end: Yeah…… about that. How do you feel about managing?
<silence>
Me: Uhhhhhh…….
Voice on other end: It’s really easy if you’re organized!

Sigh. So you’re looking at son #2’s T-Ball Manager. God help me.

That fall on the ice yesterday may have been worse than I thought. The shoulder that I’ve had operated on TWICE is not good. Not good at all.

It’s been an eventful few days around here. First thing you should know is that I’m multitasking. I’m vacuuming while I type. Ok, the ROBOT is vacuuming while I type, but the floor is being vacuumed while I type. The problem is that I keep having to yell at the kids to stay away from the robot. They’re just fascinated and won’t leave the damn thing alone. Steve is all into it because being the nerd that he is, he found out that he can write software to make it do stuff. When I asked “Like what?” In his most geeky manner he says “ANYTHING!” Yeah, that explains it, Steve. Glad you didn’t get all technical on me. Program it to pick up the crap you and the kids leave all over the house and I might be able to get as excited about this as you. Or teach it to take out the flippin’ trash. Or feed the crazy dog. Otherwise, I can’t get excited about playing Tertris on the vacuum, dear.

You can now call me Sacagawea. Some large beast has been getting into the metal garbage can we keep dog food in and turning it over every night. Today I found tracks in the snow. And being Sacagawea, the great tracker, there are thigns I can tell you for certain about those tracks: I can tell you that it’s one big mofo that keeps knocking over the trash. Seriously. My dogs weigh around 90 pounds. This animal’s tracks weren’t that much smaller. I’m guessing this animal weighs between 40 and 50 pounds. Steve thinks it’s a raccoon. I fear meeting a raccoon big enough to make tracks like that. But it rules out the coyotes we suspected. Unless they’re very weird looking coyotes. That dance around on dainty, sissy feet.

Which brings me to the next issue- Snow. WOO HOOO! And how! About 4 inches fell in just a few hours last night. I. love. it. here!!!! California take your ONE season of the year and shove it! Give me snow and four seasons ANY DAY! There is something so soul satisfying about watching the snow fall and turning everything into a winter wonderland. The silence that seems to settle with the snow…it’s just hard for me to describe. I feel the same way when I’m scuba diving and 100 feet below the surface. Life just seems so serene, so pure, so simple. Of course, Steve didn’t get home until nearly midnight last night because the traffic was so bad with people abandoning their cars and roads closed and such. The kids are out of school until Tuesday. We started to build a snowman on the front lawn today, we’ll have to finish tomorrow. I slipped on some ice and feel like I was in a car accident. My back, neck, shoulder and knee are killing me. But we had a good snowball fight anyway. I’m too old to fall like that any more.

Speaking of old, I know I’ve been making jokes about the hot flashes I’ve been getting, but I received a call from the doctor last night telling me that blood tests confirm that I am in peri-menopause. Except I’ve got several years before I even hit 40. So when you’re as young as I am, it’s called premature ovarian failure. Don’t worry, I’m not all depressed about it. We are done having kids. It’s just a little shocking. And now Steve won’t stop with the old jokes. Sigh.

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned that my sister in getting married next month in New Orleans. I’ve been on the fence about going to the wedding, for various reasons, and before I sound cold-hearted, let me clarify that my sister lives in Manhattan Beach, California, not in New Orleans. Anyway, she chose not to invite a large part of the family (ALL our family is there except my parents and siblings) and it was going to be thousands of dollars for us to go in for the weekend. In the end, I decided to stick it out and buy the tickets and go. Yesterday I found out that my favorite cousins WERE invited and at least ONE of them is going. So now I am really looking forward to going although it means MORE travel (and more comedy for you). I have to fly in alone with the boys (EIGHT HOURS ON THE PLANE!) because Steve can’t leave work until 2 days later. THIS is love. Sigh.

The last piece of news is a little scary, my mom had a 2.5″ section of her scalp removed and it turned out it was skin cancer. Allegedly they got it all, but still….not what I needed to hear on the heels of Pop’s death. Steve and I have both been dreaming about him every night. The movers picked up the stuff of his that we wanted yesterday and should arrive with it some time next week. I took all of Pop’s garden things like his fountains and statues, I only wish he could have been here to help me set it all up. He loved our yard and this house and I feel like I can bring at least a little of him here with us. Pop and I used to garden a lot so it seems fitting that his garden stuff comes here.

So that’s been the last couple of days.  There’s inner chi to be found in the snow. I’m wearing better snow shoes tomorrow! And anyone making old jokes DIES.

Lately I’ve been hearing a lot of a certain grouping of words that strikes fear in my heart. The exact order of the words and superfluous adjectives and nouns surrounding them may be different, but four certain words keep making my heart do a flip and making me say “Oh Shit!” to myself.

At the Microsoft Christmas party several people came up to me and said “I read your blog” and immediately I thought “Oh Shit! What have I said?” And I start running a mental inventory of my latest shenanigans. At Pop’s funeral some FAMILY said “Hey I’ve been keeping up with you guys by reading your blog!” And my immediate thought was “Oh Shit! I hope they didn’t read that entry I wrote about not answering the phone when Steve’s cousin calls.” And then I slyly look around to see if said cousin is heading my way. Really. “I read your blog” should not strike fear in one’s heart, and yet it does.

My friend has a complex about people saying “I saw you driving” because she immediately wonders if she was picking her nose at the very moment that person drove by. It’s sorta like that for me. I wonder if the exact moment I was writing something  hilarious but probably not something I’d say in polite company about Steve or the dogs or the kids was that moment when they drove by. Did I cuss? Probably. Shit. No, shoot. I mean DARN! Did I talk rudely about some bodily function I’m not supposed to discuss? Probably. Uh, excuse me. I only belch like that in private. Did I make fun of someone? Probably. God, I hope the Boy Scout leader NEVER finds my blog. EVER.

So you see what I’m dealing with here? Blogging = Terror. If random strangers would just read my blog I’d be ok. They don’t know me. They have no idea who I’m making fun of when I say Steve’s uncle or his cousin or Steve for that matter. Perhaps I should make a rule. If there’s every ANY possibility you might EVER meet me in person, you are not allowed to read my blog. Ok, that’s unreasonable. I see you sitting here still reading. And now I know for fact when you do finally meet me in person the first thing you’re going to say is “I read your blog” just to watch that crestfallen “Oh Shit” look cross my face, aren’t you? I see you plotting it. This is MY diary ok?! You’re here and you’re reading it. I can’t be responsible for the things that go through my head. Or that come out my mouth. Or get posted for all eternity in the blogosphere. So that’s what I’m going to have to go with. A disclaimer. I think I might get a T-shirt too. It will say “I am not responsible for anything I say or write. These things can not be held against me. You were reading my diary. It’s your own fault.”  

Steve is massaging my very sore back yesterday and says “OMG! Your back is SO skinny!” I don’t get excited because I think I know why. I sigh “I think it’s because I’ve lost muscle mass from not being able to work out.” A few minutes later he says “Yeah. I think that’s why.” Sigh. I went to the gym on Saturday and my usual routine was BRUTAL. Did I mention BRUTAL? I thought I was going to die while running. Who tied pianos to my legs?! By Sunday, rolling over in bed hurt. So being the smartest person EVER, I went and worked out again today. I didn’t have much time so I had to rush through it and was killing myself because I was not resting between sets. My trainer finds this amusing and is plotting my torture for Friday. However, growing up my dad always taught me that whenever you were really sore from something, go out and repeat whatever it was that made you really sore and it will actually relieve the soreness. (He was a big fan of making me run when my legs were so sore I couldn’t sit down on the toilet.) So that’s what I did. So allegedly I’m not going to be sore tomorrow. Allegedly. I can’t tolerate being flabby or too skinny. I’m going to try to workout every day this week. Except Sunday. I rested on Sunday. Because even God rests on Sunday.

Oh, say, like the cabbage I made for dinner tonight…. ;D

I logged into bloglines and it says I have 1,187 feeds to read. Honestly people, I pressed “PAUSE” why didn’t you listen?! ;P

Apparently my inner chi sometimes wears a Hawaiin shirt, flip flops, and call himself Jimmy Buffett. Because I seem to have found him at ear splitting decibels driving through a horrible storm. Hello chi, I’ve missed you…..

I’m the smart ass, edgy woman who lost her chi? Yes well I’m back. I think. At least this looks like my house and my stuff. I think I recognize this computer. Except, I’ve spent 30 of the last 45 days in another state. So I’m not sure. I seem to have misplaced my chi again too. Anyone remember where I left it? Ah yes, the gym. I’ll try to get there ASAP to see if anyone else is trying to wear my chi or trying walk off with it or something. Maybe it’s in my locker.

I got home last night and was surprised to see the Christmas tree. “Ah yes,” I thought, “it was Christmas.” I looked in the mirror, surprised to see that I looked haunted. I discovered piles of Christmas presents I forgot that I had opened. But the thing about life and death that I find so surprising is that time and life just march on. Oblivious to the fact that my world is in complete and total darkness, the sun still rises in the morning. Life continues to go on around me and without me. I tell it to wait, and it doesn’t. “But” I say to the sun, “I’m not ready for you to shine because everything inside me is dark.” But I hear no reply. I look around me and realize that everyone else just kept living. Time didn’t stop for them. But wait. I’m not ready.

I sit here in silence with only the ticking of the clock. Reveling in the what ifs. Wondering why time can’t pause until I’m ready to hit “play” again. And I wonder how long it will take for the sun to shine on my soul again? How long will it take before I can be funny without feeling guilty for laughing? How long before I have to face people and tell them that no, the holidays weren’t too good to me this year, without raining on their parade?

Today I go in search of my chi again.  I tried to be funny, for your sake really, but I’m not so much funny, am I? Maybe for a second? Until I got all philosophical on your ass? Stupid sun. It’s not that I haven’t laughed in weeks. I have. My six year old beat my sister in law at the game Fact or Crap. When I ridiculed her for this she retorted “HE ONLY BEAT ME BY ONE!” and I laughed really hard.

The kids seem to be doing ok. My parents took them for a few days and took them to movies and played with them. They’re back at school with their friends today. As for me, I gotta go get the annual hoo-ha check up. Which I just LOVE. Let me tell you, it’s my most favorite thing in the world to do. Favorite. Thing. Oh I’m sorry, was that dripping with too much sarcasm for you? We also just realized a few minutes ago that Steve is supposed to be taking son #1 on a cub scout camping trip. Tomorrow. Mmmm. So much fun packed into the next couple days I’m not sure how I’ll manage. First a hoo-ha exam, then more packing. You’re envious aren’t you? I have to go now. The doctor is expecting my hoo-ha shortly. And I still need to find where I put my chi.