The home stretch. The final countdown. (Duh nuh nuh nuh....) It's our last few days here in this apartment, and while I'm beyond excited to move on to the next chapter in our lives, I'd be lying if I said I weren't just a little bit freaked out.
This is the first time in a long time that I've moved out of my comfort zone. I mean, anyone else recall those tumultuous months of late 2006 and early 2007? Oye. And this time around, I can't even have a drink to calm my nerves. Though looking back, my nerves should have been waaaaaaaaay relaxed given the amounts I was imbibing and it still turned into a freaking nightmare. Oh Dubuque, how I don't miss you.
But anyway. Back to the topic at hand. And at foot. And eye level. We're moving. And I've been packing like a crazy woman. There are boxes EVERYWHERE. Not even joking. If there was free space, it is now filled with boxes. I am an expert in Uhaul packing supplies. Honorary employee, even. Nick had the nerve to be moderately upset because I'm buying boxes. I quickly quelled those concerns by telling him that buying boxes is cheaper than getting rid of bed bugs or fleas or whatever else I happen to bring home because I'm relying on the kindness and cleanliness of strangers to provide us with quality moving supplies. Plus, I'm a little OCD about many things, and boxes that match and stack ever-so-neatly are good for my nerves. It's like real-life Tetris.
The last few days before a move are stressful, I think. I'm to the point where things are going in boxes haphazardly and even though I'm the one doing the packing, it stresses me out. But I do it because I just want it done. So when we're in the new house and I'm desperately searching for dish soap, remind me that it's in the box with the baby wipes, Wii remotes, bathroom wash clothes and oatmeal bath soak. Because that just makes sense, damn it.
Showing posts with label boring crap. why do you read this?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boring crap. why do you read this?. Show all posts
25 August 2014
04 August 2014
Just when I thought I was out...
Seriously. Just when I thought things were getting figured out. Just when I thought three kids was manageable. Just when I thought I had school under control and getting a job might be on the horizon. Just when I thought that we'd made real progress in the money department.
BOOM.
Just when I thought I was getting it all figured out. Then you get the boom. The big "your-husband-gets-laid-off-and-goes-and-buys-a-camper-so-we-can-take-a-Black-Hills-vacation-only-to-come-home-and-find-out-he's-been-transferred-to-a-job-three-hours-away-and-has-to-live-in-the-new-camper-until-we-can-find-a-place-to-live" boom.
It was a big one. Top that off with being pregnant with Baby 4.0 (SURPRISE!), both the older boys starting school, and being two classes away from finally finishing my Master's - this summer has been absolutely freaking crazy. And it's not slowing down. Maybe that's just how life is going to be from now on; maybe freaking crazy is our normal. I'm just having trouble keeping up. Hopefully it's just a side effect of being pregnant; if it is, it's the only one I'm having so far. (Not complaining there.)
This last weekend the boys and I drove down to see Nick at the campsite he's staying in. He showed the boys the enormous job site he's on. We drove around and saw the area. And discovered that there is a serious lack of housing available down there. I guess when you have 2,500 construction workers from all over the country converging on one job site in southeast Iowa, you have to expect that housing will be hard to come by. Buying a house isn't really an option; we're not sure how long we're going to be in the area or even what part of the area we want to be in. There aren't many apartments to be found. And frankly, what was available seemed to be operated by slumlords. Yuck. So we'll continue to look. But if Nick had his way, we'd be moving at the end of the month.
Which means a lot of work for me.
Zach's birthday party is this week; his fourth birthday is Saturday. Brodie starts kindergarten on the 14th. Zach starts preschool on the 25th. I have classes starting on the 25th. Add in OB appointments, well-child check-ups, dentist appointments, school orientations - like I said, absolutely freaking crazy. But I'll survive.
(I will survive, won't I?)
BOOM.
Just when I thought I was getting it all figured out. Then you get the boom. The big "your-husband-gets-laid-off-and-goes-and-buys-a-camper-so-we-can-take-a-Black-Hills-vacation-only-to-come-home-and-find-out-he's-been-transferred-to-a-job-three-hours-away-and-has-to-live-in-the-new-camper-until-we-can-find-a-place-to-live" boom.
It was a big one. Top that off with being pregnant with Baby 4.0 (SURPRISE!), both the older boys starting school, and being two classes away from finally finishing my Master's - this summer has been absolutely freaking crazy. And it's not slowing down. Maybe that's just how life is going to be from now on; maybe freaking crazy is our normal. I'm just having trouble keeping up. Hopefully it's just a side effect of being pregnant; if it is, it's the only one I'm having so far. (Not complaining there.)
This last weekend the boys and I drove down to see Nick at the campsite he's staying in. He showed the boys the enormous job site he's on. We drove around and saw the area. And discovered that there is a serious lack of housing available down there. I guess when you have 2,500 construction workers from all over the country converging on one job site in southeast Iowa, you have to expect that housing will be hard to come by. Buying a house isn't really an option; we're not sure how long we're going to be in the area or even what part of the area we want to be in. There aren't many apartments to be found. And frankly, what was available seemed to be operated by slumlords. Yuck. So we'll continue to look. But if Nick had his way, we'd be moving at the end of the month.
Which means a lot of work for me.
Zach's birthday party is this week; his fourth birthday is Saturday. Brodie starts kindergarten on the 14th. Zach starts preschool on the 25th. I have classes starting on the 25th. Add in OB appointments, well-child check-ups, dentist appointments, school orientations - like I said, absolutely freaking crazy. But I'll survive.
(I will survive, won't I?)
04 March 2014
Blah, blah, blah.
It's Fat Tuesday; I feel as though my shape (or lack of) is acceptable today.
Tired. Kids aren't sleeping past 5 a.m. and it's killing me. All the "experts" say to put them to bed earlier and they'll sleep later. I say PSHAW! Short of taping them to their beds, I don't see how to fix this problem.
Two-thirds of my children are teething. One is losing teeth and another is attempting to grow them. They are both whiny and cantankerous today. Brodie is following me around, asking me to wiggle his tooth. To be honest, it kind of grosses me out - his tooth is very wiggly and I think if he pushed on it hard enough with his tongue, he could probably pop it out. I kind of hope Nick is home when this happens, I'm not that good with blood.
Tate is nine months old. I have yet to take his eight-month pictures. I should probably do that today. I should have done it a few weeks ago, but whatever.
I need some coffee. This mindless babble is putting me to sleep.
Tired. Kids aren't sleeping past 5 a.m. and it's killing me. All the "experts" say to put them to bed earlier and they'll sleep later. I say PSHAW! Short of taping them to their beds, I don't see how to fix this problem.
Two-thirds of my children are teething. One is losing teeth and another is attempting to grow them. They are both whiny and cantankerous today. Brodie is following me around, asking me to wiggle his tooth. To be honest, it kind of grosses me out - his tooth is very wiggly and I think if he pushed on it hard enough with his tongue, he could probably pop it out. I kind of hope Nick is home when this happens, I'm not that good with blood.
Tate is nine months old. I have yet to take his eight-month pictures. I should probably do that today. I should have done it a few weeks ago, but whatever.
I need some coffee. This mindless babble is putting me to sleep.
02 March 2014
Does school lunch still suck? Also, I'm getting old.
Sunday. As of late, we've been attending church on Sundays. I really liked it, too. Laid back, casual, entertaining, and the kids loved the nursery, too. We could choose our level of interaction - we could be as involved or uninvolved as we wanted to be, no questions asked. And then a few weeks ago, there was no sermon, just a report on the state of the church. And they started asking for money. Not in any subtle form, just a flat out request for about $800 from each family over the course of the year - not including our normal tithing. Ummm.... really? This was my first true involvement with a church since I was a kid, and back then I didn't pay attention to anything that was said, so I don't know if this is standard operating procedure. But it hit us the wrong way. And we haven't been back since. I don't feel good about this decision; church is good for all of us. And we were really enjoying it. But something about that whole thing just felt odd. And still feels odd. And so here we are, Sunday morning, no showers and still in our pajamas.
I register Zachary for preschool tomorrow evening. It's an online registration and it opens at 6pm sharp. Last year, I was late in getting Brodie's information turned in. Same kind of thing, opened at 6pm, and I forgot until bedtime. We ended up getting waitlisted (number 75 on the wait list, actually) and it was by the grace of God that we got a phone call a week before the school year started, asking if we wanted to enroll him in the public program. We were all ready to enroll him in the private Christian preschool here in town (for a hefty monthly sum, let me tell you) so it really was a blessing to get a phone call. But this time around, I am determined to make the enrollment list. De-ter-mined, I tell you.
It's kind of mind-boggling that Zachary is registering for preschool already. That means Brodie will be in kindergarten, and that apparently can't come soon enough. Once he found out that while in preschool he still has to eat lunch at home, he's been begging to be in a "grade" and go to "real school." Just wait until he eats school food; he'll be begging to come home. Or maybe school food has gotten better and they don't serve mystery meat and soggy vegetables anymore. It ought to be some damn fine cuisine for the price; school lunch is crazy expensive. Back in my day, school lunch cost a nickel but we had to go out and get the milk straight from the cow. Of course, that counted as participation in FFA, so it really was a win-win. Plus, the boys loved a girl that knew her way around the farm so all the really good milk maids were betrothed by the age of 15. The joys of going to school in Hickville. (Except for the nickel thing, all of that is based in some sort of reality. Sad.)
Back in my day... whatever. I'm getting old. That's depressing and I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to go take my Centrum and my Metamucil and count my grey hairs. Maybe the 700 Club is on.
I register Zachary for preschool tomorrow evening. It's an online registration and it opens at 6pm sharp. Last year, I was late in getting Brodie's information turned in. Same kind of thing, opened at 6pm, and I forgot until bedtime. We ended up getting waitlisted (number 75 on the wait list, actually) and it was by the grace of God that we got a phone call a week before the school year started, asking if we wanted to enroll him in the public program. We were all ready to enroll him in the private Christian preschool here in town (for a hefty monthly sum, let me tell you) so it really was a blessing to get a phone call. But this time around, I am determined to make the enrollment list. De-ter-mined, I tell you.
It's kind of mind-boggling that Zachary is registering for preschool already. That means Brodie will be in kindergarten, and that apparently can't come soon enough. Once he found out that while in preschool he still has to eat lunch at home, he's been begging to be in a "grade" and go to "real school." Just wait until he eats school food; he'll be begging to come home. Or maybe school food has gotten better and they don't serve mystery meat and soggy vegetables anymore. It ought to be some damn fine cuisine for the price; school lunch is crazy expensive. Back in my day, school lunch cost a nickel but we had to go out and get the milk straight from the cow. Of course, that counted as participation in FFA, so it really was a win-win. Plus, the boys loved a girl that knew her way around the farm so all the really good milk maids were betrothed by the age of 15. The joys of going to school in Hickville. (Except for the nickel thing, all of that is based in some sort of reality. Sad.)
Back in my day... whatever. I'm getting old. That's depressing and I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to go take my Centrum and my Metamucil and count my grey hairs. Maybe the 700 Club is on.
28 February 2014
Peas and bananas... gross.
Two days in a row. Get up off the floor, fool!
Eating lunch with Tate at the moment. Well, he's eating. I'm not. He's scarfing down peas and bananas like it's nobody's business. Gross is an understatement. Watching Tate eat is actually a good appetite suppressant. I ought to market him as a diet tool. Even though most of it ends up in his lap he does get an "A" for effort. I will have to dock points for peas in his nose, though. That's just not cool.
It's the end of another term. (Yup, still in college.) I have a week off from classes and already, I'm bored. Nothing to stress me out, nothing to (not) read, nothing to procrastinate. I can't be made happy. I submitted my financial aid paperwork last week for next term and I think I may have emptied the financial aid bucket. If I read the information right, I will have reached the end of the government's generosity with regard to student loans. I never knew there was such a thing, honestly. But it makes sense. So my plan to never graduate, therefore never having to pay back my student loans, has been foiled. I guess I'm going to have to follow through on that moving to Fiji thing.
Bummer.
Eating lunch with Tate at the moment. Well, he's eating. I'm not. He's scarfing down peas and bananas like it's nobody's business. Gross is an understatement. Watching Tate eat is actually a good appetite suppressant. I ought to market him as a diet tool. Even though most of it ends up in his lap he does get an "A" for effort. I will have to dock points for peas in his nose, though. That's just not cool.
It's the end of another term. (Yup, still in college.) I have a week off from classes and already, I'm bored. Nothing to stress me out, nothing to (not) read, nothing to procrastinate. I can't be made happy. I submitted my financial aid paperwork last week for next term and I think I may have emptied the financial aid bucket. If I read the information right, I will have reached the end of the government's generosity with regard to student loans. I never knew there was such a thing, honestly. But it makes sense. So my plan to never graduate, therefore never having to pay back my student loans, has been foiled. I guess I'm going to have to follow through on that moving to Fiji thing.
Bummer.
27 February 2014
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz....
So tired... Can't keep my eyes open... Coffee... Must have coffee...
Don't know what's up; Tate was awake for HOURS last night. Seriously, hours. He's never been like that before. He's either realized that all the good TV comes on after he goes to bed or he had a bit of a tummy ache. Considering we were watching Mission Impossible III, which hardly fits the definition of good TV, he must have had a tummy ache. Poor kid. But, like a good mommy (or at least a resourceful one), I headed out to Walgreens at midnight to get the stuff to fix him. An hour and $30 later, it didn't work. So I really don't know what the issue was. He's still a little off this morning. As am I. If he keeps it up we'll have to go to the doctor. Or sell him. Whatever.
Today is pajama day at preschool. I have to try to convince Brodie that pajama day means wearing clean pajamas to school; he's under the impression that he shouldn't have to change out of the pajamas he's wearing. Patience, grasshopper. That privilege is extended once you enroll in college.
That's all I've got this morning. I'm going to go chew on some coffee grounds or eat some sugar straight from the bag.
Don't know what's up; Tate was awake for HOURS last night. Seriously, hours. He's never been like that before. He's either realized that all the good TV comes on after he goes to bed or he had a bit of a tummy ache. Considering we were watching Mission Impossible III, which hardly fits the definition of good TV, he must have had a tummy ache. Poor kid. But, like a good mommy (or at least a resourceful one), I headed out to Walgreens at midnight to get the stuff to fix him. An hour and $30 later, it didn't work. So I really don't know what the issue was. He's still a little off this morning. As am I. If he keeps it up we'll have to go to the doctor. Or sell him. Whatever.
Today is pajama day at preschool. I have to try to convince Brodie that pajama day means wearing clean pajamas to school; he's under the impression that he shouldn't have to change out of the pajamas he's wearing. Patience, grasshopper. That privilege is extended once you enroll in college.
That's all I've got this morning. I'm going to go chew on some coffee grounds or eat some sugar straight from the bag.
20 April 2011
Completely uninspired
We're going to look at houses this afternoon. Do you know how hard it is to find a house for four people and a dog? Most of the time, finding housing for the people isn't the problem - although, I did speak with a man today who told me that four people was just way too many for the THREE bedroom home he was advertising. Um, okay. The majority of the issue is the dog. People just aren't that excited to meet Kingsley. And I can't understand why. Who doesn't like a big, lazy, barking, licking, kissing, slobbering, drooly mess of a dog? He doesn't chew things up (unless you count that entire purse that he ate one time), he doesn't bite (hard), he doesn't make a lot of noise (unless barking counts) and he's not hard on anything (unless you're looking at the yard). Really, people, must you all be dog haters?
Poor Pootie.
Exactly.
Poor Pootie.
His feelings are hurt.
I'm making buffalo chicken nachos for dinner and I have the chicken and the buffalo sauce in the crock pot. It's making my eyes water; it literally smells like gasoline to me. But that's how the hubs likes it, so that's how I'll make it.
Today is the end of my first class in my third attempt at grad school. It's also the final day for all assignments, of which I have a few to complete, and instead of homework, I'm blogging. I could teach Procrastination 101 but....
23 July 2009
It's Thursday, I got nothing
I have to give credit where credit is due. I have to thank Jillian Michaels' for her hand in this week's spectacular weight loss at Chubby Kids - I lost 3.8 pounds. I haven't done much different as far as my eating habits or my points so unfortunately it seems that exercising in her stupid little six-minute circuits seems to be doing the trick.
Hey, I just said I had to thank her. I didn't say I had to be nice to her. She may have aided in my weight loss this week but she's still a horse face bizzo that sucks the fun out of my mornings.
I took Pootie with me to Dairy Queen tonight. And before you all start calling me a big hypocrite for going to Chubby Kids and Dairy Queen all in the same day, I had a slushie, damn it. Back off. (LAY OFF ME, I'M STARVING.) But the great thing about driving around with the Pootie is watching him stick his head out the window. His cheeks flap in the wind and his tongue hangs out and looks all funny. It's great. If I weren't busy driving and balancing my slushie and the Bee's Blizzard, I'd have tried for a picture. Alas, it was not to be. Maybe next time.
The Bee and I have been at each other's throats all week. He's stressing about money and tired from work; I'm stressing about finding a job and started that stupid Shred DVD. We're both cranky and pissy and just plain mad about life in general; the only thing we can agree on is that MiniBee is awesome. Except for when he poops beside his diaper and not in his diaper; we pretty much agreed that that was not awesome. By the time that was over we were all covered in crap and Brodie was the only one happy about it. I still don't know how that works exactly but that's what happened.
Anyway. I'm tired of complaining and just plain tired in general. MiniBee is down for the night; I think I'm going to turn in early.
Hey, I just said I had to thank her. I didn't say I had to be nice to her. She may have aided in my weight loss this week but she's still a horse face bizzo that sucks the fun out of my mornings.
I took Pootie with me to Dairy Queen tonight. And before you all start calling me a big hypocrite for going to Chubby Kids and Dairy Queen all in the same day, I had a slushie, damn it. Back off. (LAY OFF ME, I'M STARVING.) But the great thing about driving around with the Pootie is watching him stick his head out the window. His cheeks flap in the wind and his tongue hangs out and looks all funny. It's great. If I weren't busy driving and balancing my slushie and the Bee's Blizzard, I'd have tried for a picture. Alas, it was not to be. Maybe next time.
The Bee and I have been at each other's throats all week. He's stressing about money and tired from work; I'm stressing about finding a job and started that stupid Shred DVD. We're both cranky and pissy and just plain mad about life in general; the only thing we can agree on is that MiniBee is awesome. Except for when he poops beside his diaper and not in his diaper; we pretty much agreed that that was not awesome. By the time that was over we were all covered in crap and Brodie was the only one happy about it. I still don't know how that works exactly but that's what happened.
Anyway. I'm tired of complaining and just plain tired in general. MiniBee is down for the night; I think I'm going to turn in early.
09 July 2009
Don't bother. This post is boring.
I can't sleep.
It's nearly 2 a.m. and I'm still awake. Yup, I'm still awake as in I haven't been to bed yet this evening. At this point, I'm trying to stay awake because Brodie generally wakes up around 2-2:15 to be changed and fed. And to fall asleep for 30 minutes would just be painful.
I hadn't blogged in a while, going on three weeks, and then I blogged the other night in a fit of self-pity. It wasn't pretty. It was so not pretty that I took it down the next morning. That post won't be coming back soon. It's not that I don't have time to blog; I do. It's not that I don't have things to talk about; I do. I just don't seem to have my words lately - nothing seems to flow like it used to. My conversation, in person and online, seems to gravitate towards the Mini Bee, and rightfully so, he's terrifically interesting. (At least I think so.) For those that aren't related to us, and probably for some that are related to us, that probably gets old. Hell, sometimes I think I've given all the Mini Bee related news and then I open my mouth and surprise myself with more.
A lot of that has to do with the fact that I'm currently home on what I'm still referring to as "maternity leave" even though that insinuates that I've only temporarily left somewhere, not left somewhere on a permanent vacation, which is a little closer to the truth. And being on "leave" is fantastic; I enjoy being home with Brodie. But let's face it - he's not much for conversation just yet. I talk ALL THE TIME and get no response. So when I'm around adults I find myself gabbing away. Sometimes I'll listen to what I'm saying and have no idea what's coming out of my mouth; I guess I get pretty excited over a little interaction among big people.
The point is that I could come here every day and bore you to death with the mundane details of life with a two-month old. Or I could post sporadically, when the urge strikes and I have something fabulous to say.
Unfortunately for you, dear reader, this post is neither. Because as I write it, and as I'm sure you read it, it's boring as poo. There is nothing fabulous occurring here. I admit it.
*Sigh.*
It's tough being mediocre. Good thing I don't have to experience that on a regular basis.
We're going camping this weekend. We consists of myself, the Bee, and the Mini Bee. We're heading to Lake Rathbun on Friday afternoon and we'll be home Sunday morning, the earlier the better. That boils down to about 40 hours of camping. I keep a mental countdown running at all times; it makes me feel better about the idea of sleeping in a tent.
This won't be our first camping trip this year. Last weekend we were at the lake for a couple of nights - the first night was great, I slept like a log and Brodie slept in the camper with the Bee's parents. About the time I got attacked by the tree frog in the shower house was when things started going downhill, at least for me. The Bee got pissy when everyone went to bed at 8:30 on Friday night and he realized that drinking alone in your campsite while your campmates sleep is actually pretty pathetic. Top that off with 18 hours of pouring rain and that makes for crabby campers all around, especially those that sleep in a tent. A leaky tent. More specifically, a tent with a leak directly above my forehead. Water torture, anyone?
Bueller? Bueller?
That's what I thought.
We're camping (again) with the Bee's family. His parents have a fifth-wheel trailer with air conditioning and a flat screen tv. If only they had wi-fi, it'd be perfect. But last weekend I sat in the camper, warming up something to eat and watching Regis and Kelly while sitting in the a/c and laughed at myself for calling that camping. I've stayed in hotels that weren't as nice.
But in exchange for this weekend's camping trip I have gained the Bee's word that we will be viewing the new Harry Potter flick next week, come hell or high water. I've seen every Harry Potter movie on opening day in the theatre - there were showings where I was not only the oldest in the room but also the tallest. And *yes* - I've read the books. And *yes* - I know how it's going to end. But I still want to see it. Consumerism in the flesh.
It's now 2:10 a.m. and not a peep from the Mini Bee. I think it would be stupid to wake him up but I know as soon as I drift off he'll start to whimper. Or, I'll sit here all night, waiting for him to wake up and it'll be one of those nights he sleeps all the way through.
Doh!
I'm hungry. But it's now officially Thursday and I don't eat on Thursdays until after chubby kids weigh-in and that's not for another 8 hours. I think I'll lie here, wait for the Mini Bee to wake up and think about waffles and peanut butter. And milk. And ice cream. OMG. I think I may starve.
It's nearly 2 a.m. and I'm still awake. Yup, I'm still awake as in I haven't been to bed yet this evening. At this point, I'm trying to stay awake because Brodie generally wakes up around 2-2:15 to be changed and fed. And to fall asleep for 30 minutes would just be painful.
I hadn't blogged in a while, going on three weeks, and then I blogged the other night in a fit of self-pity. It wasn't pretty. It was so not pretty that I took it down the next morning. That post won't be coming back soon. It's not that I don't have time to blog; I do. It's not that I don't have things to talk about; I do. I just don't seem to have my words lately - nothing seems to flow like it used to. My conversation, in person and online, seems to gravitate towards the Mini Bee, and rightfully so, he's terrifically interesting. (At least I think so.) For those that aren't related to us, and probably for some that are related to us, that probably gets old. Hell, sometimes I think I've given all the Mini Bee related news and then I open my mouth and surprise myself with more.
A lot of that has to do with the fact that I'm currently home on what I'm still referring to as "maternity leave" even though that insinuates that I've only temporarily left somewhere, not left somewhere on a permanent vacation, which is a little closer to the truth. And being on "leave" is fantastic; I enjoy being home with Brodie. But let's face it - he's not much for conversation just yet. I talk ALL THE TIME and get no response. So when I'm around adults I find myself gabbing away. Sometimes I'll listen to what I'm saying and have no idea what's coming out of my mouth; I guess I get pretty excited over a little interaction among big people.
The point is that I could come here every day and bore you to death with the mundane details of life with a two-month old. Or I could post sporadically, when the urge strikes and I have something fabulous to say.
Unfortunately for you, dear reader, this post is neither. Because as I write it, and as I'm sure you read it, it's boring as poo. There is nothing fabulous occurring here. I admit it.
*Sigh.*
It's tough being mediocre. Good thing I don't have to experience that on a regular basis.
We're going camping this weekend. We consists of myself, the Bee, and the Mini Bee. We're heading to Lake Rathbun on Friday afternoon and we'll be home Sunday morning, the earlier the better. That boils down to about 40 hours of camping. I keep a mental countdown running at all times; it makes me feel better about the idea of sleeping in a tent.
This won't be our first camping trip this year. Last weekend we were at the lake for a couple of nights - the first night was great, I slept like a log and Brodie slept in the camper with the Bee's parents. About the time I got attacked by the tree frog in the shower house was when things started going downhill, at least for me. The Bee got pissy when everyone went to bed at 8:30 on Friday night and he realized that drinking alone in your campsite while your campmates sleep is actually pretty pathetic. Top that off with 18 hours of pouring rain and that makes for crabby campers all around, especially those that sleep in a tent. A leaky tent. More specifically, a tent with a leak directly above my forehead. Water torture, anyone?
Bueller? Bueller?
That's what I thought.
We're camping (again) with the Bee's family. His parents have a fifth-wheel trailer with air conditioning and a flat screen tv. If only they had wi-fi, it'd be perfect. But last weekend I sat in the camper, warming up something to eat and watching Regis and Kelly while sitting in the a/c and laughed at myself for calling that camping. I've stayed in hotels that weren't as nice.
But in exchange for this weekend's camping trip I have gained the Bee's word that we will be viewing the new Harry Potter flick next week, come hell or high water. I've seen every Harry Potter movie on opening day in the theatre - there were showings where I was not only the oldest in the room but also the tallest. And *yes* - I've read the books. And *yes* - I know how it's going to end. But I still want to see it. Consumerism in the flesh.
It's now 2:10 a.m. and not a peep from the Mini Bee. I think it would be stupid to wake him up but I know as soon as I drift off he'll start to whimper. Or, I'll sit here all night, waiting for him to wake up and it'll be one of those nights he sleeps all the way through.
Doh!
I'm hungry. But it's now officially Thursday and I don't eat on Thursdays until after chubby kids weigh-in and that's not for another 8 hours. I think I'll lie here, wait for the Mini Bee to wake up and think about waffles and peanut butter. And milk. And ice cream. OMG. I think I may starve.
15 June 2007
the blender is lonely.
friday night. i should already be on my way to nigel's but i'm running a bit behind. i feel good about the apology i offered today; you never know if the person on the receiving end feels as nice as you do, since obviously you've done something to offend. but that was something that i'd been thinking about pretty much since it happened. it's not fair to pass judgement nor to abandon someone in a time of vulnerability. i'd done both. i won't be surprised if my offering isn't accepted wholeheartedly, but it feels better to know i at least attempted.
tonight... well i'm not sure what's going on tonight. we're supposed to go to a softball game and then it's sort of open. our saturday plans sort of fell through because nobody wants to get the golden school girl in any sort of trouble and that plan was just asking for trouble. we're exploring alternate options though and we should be back on track shortly, albeit most likely at the gay bar with the one really drunk annoying (straight) chick but whatever. unless tractor comes through, but i hear he lacks for follow through.
it's hotter than holy crizzap today. we sold some ice cream but in weather like this eating it just about makes you sick. or at least it about makes me sick. but it didn't stop me from eating it - but i'm not feeling the greatest.
i hear the blender is lonely with over 24 hours of non-use. i believe we'll remedy the situation this evening. yum...
tonight... well i'm not sure what's going on tonight. we're supposed to go to a softball game and then it's sort of open. our saturday plans sort of fell through because nobody wants to get the golden school girl in any sort of trouble and that plan was just asking for trouble. we're exploring alternate options though and we should be back on track shortly, albeit most likely at the gay bar with the one really drunk annoying (straight) chick but whatever. unless tractor comes through, but i hear he lacks for follow through.
it's hotter than holy crizzap today. we sold some ice cream but in weather like this eating it just about makes you sick. or at least it about makes me sick. but it didn't stop me from eating it - but i'm not feeling the greatest.
i hear the blender is lonely with over 24 hours of non-use. i believe we'll remedy the situation this evening. yum...
13 May 2007
never betray the way you've always known it is...
i'm lying in bed. it's 0900 and i'm still in bed. i should be up and coherent; instead i'm still just lying here. i'm not sick. i'm not hungover. i'm just suffering from a lack of motivation this morning. that, and the fact that i'm out of milk kind of has me depressed. (doesn't take much to push me over the edge anymore...)
yesterday didn't go as planned. i had planned on packing all day yesterday and heading home today to spend mother's day with my mom and my gram. instead, yesterday i out getting boxes and planning the fish portion of the move (this is going to be messy) when my mom called to ask me to work at the ice cream store for the evening. quick drive to pella, make some ice cream, and head back, all in one day. the drive is nothing anymore; it's sad that now that i finally have it down to where i could make it in my sleep and i'm moving away.
yesterday didn't go as planned. i had planned on packing all day yesterday and heading home today to spend mother's day with my mom and my gram. instead, yesterday i out getting boxes and planning the fish portion of the move (this is going to be messy) when my mom called to ask me to work at the ice cream store for the evening. quick drive to pella, make some ice cream, and head back, all in one day. the drive is nothing anymore; it's sad that now that i finally have it down to where i could make it in my sleep and i'm moving away.
08 May 2007
everytime my phone rings i wish it were you.
i'm home. well, i'm in dbq where all my possessions and my kittehs and my fishies reside. i'm in dbq, where i rent a house and sometimes i even pay for that. i'm in dbq, where i sleep at night in my own bed with my own pillows. but am i home? no. on my way back up here this afternoon, i realized how much i resent this drive. i resent being so far away. my mom asked me if i was happy to be home and i said no, i said i was not looking forward to coming back.
she said that's a little more than a sign.
wouldn't it be great if a person could go back to being eight years old again? when the toughest decisions you had to make concerned which side of the tiger beat poster you were going to hang up - kirk cameron or corey haim? i was good at being eight years old, even though i didn't realize it then.
the kittehs were happy to see me; i missed them. they know how to destroy a house, though. i've never seen so many toys and uprooted plants in less than 900 square feet. heck, i'm not even mad. that's amazing...
i'm kind of sleepy. and i need to make my list of things to do in the morning. so toodles for now.
she said that's a little more than a sign.
wouldn't it be great if a person could go back to being eight years old again? when the toughest decisions you had to make concerned which side of the tiger beat poster you were going to hang up - kirk cameron or corey haim? i was good at being eight years old, even though i didn't realize it then.
the kittehs were happy to see me; i missed them. they know how to destroy a house, though. i've never seen so many toys and uprooted plants in less than 900 square feet. heck, i'm not even mad. that's amazing...
i'm kind of sleepy. and i need to make my list of things to do in the morning. so toodles for now.
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