Yes, I Really Am THIS Much of a Nerd

I graphed the layout of Griffin's blanket...


And no, I haven't figured out how to get the damn photo to rotate, so you'll have to tilt your head.

I think I'm not going to do the strips of orange in between all the panels. I haven't started yet, and at the rate I work Griffin will be 34 before I finish anyway.

Sigh. Crap. Now I have to go work on it. And taxes. Taxes. We'd better get a big ass refund this year, between the eye accident, neocate, occupational therapist, celiac disease, pcos, wilson's syndrome and the pseudo-brain aneurysm.

Debunking the Blogger's Mantra

Why is it, when I asked a blogger a question the person nearly immediately replied with "You don't know me," complete with finger snaps and head roll?

Why do people choose to blog, choose what to write about and still get offended when someone asks a question? If they don't want random readers, shouldn't they password protect their website? If they don't want comments, shouldn't they not allow them?

I've noticed as I read more blogs and back posts, this has become an epidemic.

For instance, I have been reading a person's blog for quite awhile. She is not at all like me -- Republican, seriously Christian and young. She has planned her wedding, picked her date (in less than two years from now), chosen her engagement ring and yet, even admitted she's never been on a date. Her blog drips with the notion and importance of getting married, right down to quotes of Victorian-era poems describing how important it is to be a wife.

So two weeks ago, she had another post with a link to an article (that "everyone needs to read") -- with the topic being about dating and marriage, and how guys lead girls on. I couldn't take it anymore - I had to ask why she appeared to be so obsessed about marriage. I didn't mean to be rude; I just wanted to know, I wanted to understand.

Her first reply was a no-answer; her second reply was "I'm not interested in getting married" and "this is a small aspect of who I am". Pppppppppfffffffftttttt.

So, not only do I now not understand why she entranced with the notion of getting married, she's pulled out the Blogger's Mantra.

I can't - and won't try to - change her mind about helping me understand. But I can tell you, that as a reader of no appropriate behavior, as long as you ask me a question without being an ass about it I'll try to answer any questions you may have.

Except what's my last name. That's the only one I will not answer (turns out Aaron is a very paranoid person).

Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo

I got to scrapbook this weekend. Scrapbook. I've been perpetually stuck in June since October. But I? I finished June, July and only have two pages left for August. HA!

Example:














I may not be as fancy-pants as other people; but it'll do.

Now, if only I could go complete plastering and Griffin's blanket. Hrmph.

Time Keeps on Slippin' Slippin' Slippin' into the Future

I can't decide which is going to kill me first: Griffin's upcoming birthday, the never-ending redecorating hell that is my entry room or the fact that I'm so far behind in scrapbooking I'm afraid I'll be mentally incapacitated before I can ever get back to it.

Ahem.

So, let's start with the most time-sensitive matter: Griffin's birthday.

Griffin turns four in a little over three weeks. Luckily, we have nearly everything for the party. Unluckily, I have to find a kick-ass recipe for a gluten free cake to feed 20 people. And I have to do the invites today. And I have to work on his blanket.

He's growing out of the last blanket I made him, so I'm making him a bigger one. A much bigger one. It should measure 56" x 68" by the time its done. And that's a big-ass blanket, my friends. He'd better drag that damn thing to college. Or when he bums around Europe. Or when he becomes a roadie.

Anyway, his almost-too-small blanket is a robot print on one side and dark blue bumpy Minky on the other. For his new blanket, Aaron and I though it would be a great idea to let Griff pick our the materials. So, for your viewing pleasure...


He had to have more robot material, and so I ordered some (middle right). But I don't think I'm going to put the upper left material (light background) in the blanket; it just doesn't seem to flow. So maybe I'll make a pillow out of it.

For the sashing, I got a tone-on-town orange star material; for the back, I got two yards of orange bumpy Minky...

So, should I put the star material just around the edges, or should I put strips in between the large panels of the prints? I seriously need to start working on it (I've been ironing all the materials today, which an oddly satisfying chore). And I need some input. Some opinions. Because Aaron's doesn't count.

So, my other catastrophe is the entry room. With the previous people used as a dining room; which the people before them used as a den. It use to be a breeze way between the house and garage, but someone converted it in the 70s (our house was built in the 40s); It has five points of entry -- front yard, back yard, garage, living room and kitchen. Which is why I am considering it the entry room.

Anyway, I've been working on this room since July. JULY. JULY.

I stripped six layers of wallpaper to find horrible walls underneath; half are drywall and the other half is flimsy fake paneling. Eww. So, after staring at it for months thinking "What the fuck am I going to do in here?" I decided to plaster all the walls before priming, painting and (because we've certainly established I'm crazy) glazing. Then, after all that I have to repaint all the wood trim and then I'm ripping up the carpet and putting down new, washable floors. Because I'm tired of scrubbing carpet.

Anyway... my "plastering" on the paneling...

Doesn't look to good, does it? It looks better in person, I swear. And you know I swear a lot.

And Darwin - who thinks the smell of toxic chemicals means its time to p-a-r-t-y.

Don't worry -- I blockade the room when I'm working and while the toxins are drying. Because I'm not totally incompetent.

Not yet, at least.

Nothin' Says Lovin' Like Being Covered in Vomit

Which, seriously? Gross. Blah.

One title, three potential sentences and I've exceeded the maximum overshare limit of the year.

Ha, Ha. I WIN!

Today is a pivotal day in my life.

My mother passed away when I was four. She was 28 and had leukemia. That's a whole other story for a whole other day.

The reason why today is so important, is because today I am 29. I won. I beat her.

Growing up when a parent has passed away at a very young age marks your life. It makes you paranoid, that the Grim Reaper is out for you and everyone in your family. And certainly, you are marked to die young too.

It makes no sense, I know. But making it to this day is something I've always wanted, and yet never thought I would see.

So today, I am happy. I know the future is in my hands; I will see my children grow up; I will see my grandchildren grow up.

If I can make it to 29, I can make it to 109.

Poop Hunt

Time it takes me to run down to the basement, get another rinse cycle started in the washer, and check e-mail: 8.2 minutes

Time it takes Darwin to strip naked, take off his poopy diaper and wander around the house leaving surprises everywhere only to sit in front of the tv: less than 8.2 minutes

Time it takes me to find (I think) all the surprises all over the house, with no light source in the living room (Darwin broke the last lamp last week) and no good sunlight due to rain: 1.3 hours

Oh yeah. Its a fabulous day.

Observation

My husband will never again have clean socks.

Why?

Because the have been in the washer all day, put through six rinse cycles and they are still soapy.

I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watchin' Me...

As Tom pointed out recently, it is damn near impossible to buy adequate cold medicine without getting harassed.

Last night I was sent on an Osco trip to get cold and flu meds for all three boys -- all three needing different stuff: adult, children's and infants.

Holy Fucking Shit. They needed my driver's license AND made me sign a form. You've got to be kidding me.

Now, I realize that I live near the Meth Capitol of the World, but if everyone's this concerned, why aren't the major players coming up with new formulas?

And on a side note: It took me AND a pharmacist over an hour to find me a gluten-free vitamin. What the Fuck?

At Which Point I Turned Into a Crying Puddle on the Floor

First of all, hormones suck. Suck. Suck. SUCK.

Second of all, I'm not Super Woman, Wonder Woman or SuperFantabulousTotallyAwsome Woman either.

I'm real. I don't cope well with sick children, a pissy husband AND my pseudo-brain aneurysm acting up.

I would like a break, Universe. A break in which everyone is happy, no one is stressed and the debt is paid down.

In all seriousness, is this too much to ask?

Overheard at My House

Aaron: Did you hear? We bombed Pakistan.

Me: Huh?

Aaron: We bombed Pakistan, by the border of Afghanistan.

Me: Was is an accident?

Aaron: No, we did it on purpose; to get a terrorist.

Me: Riiiiiiight. Because we'll bomb the hell out of anyone if we think a terrorist is there. Its the American Way.

Aaron: Yep. Belafonte it totally right.

Just Some Good Ol' Boys

Being that I'm a huge religion, philosophy and sociology fan, it should be no surprise that I'm completely intrigued with Country Boys.

In case your local PBS affiliate hasn't been airing it this week, let me fill you in a little...

Tonight was the second of three installments (in my town, anyway). The documentary followed two boys, Cody and Chris, during their dramatic adolescence growing up in rural, poverty-stricken, Appalachian Eastern Kentucky. Both boys attend a "troubled teen" high school and the film tries to cover all aspects of their lives.

Its very intriguing; and you can watch all three of the installments online (click on above link).

Chewin' On Aluminum Foil

I love music.

No, make that: I LOVE music. With a big heart. A red heart. A big gushy-gushy red heart. Printed on a t-shirt for the whole world to see.

Growing up, my dad always quizzed me and taught me the importance of music. I can remember being five years old and driving into the city, and naming off every band/singer he asked for... Fleetwood Mac, Kansas, Shooting Star, George Thorogood. My dad taught be about rock, blues and the importance of live music.

Flash forward twenty-some-odd years later, and I still love music. In fact, probably more than my dad (or, at least, ranging a larger scale than my dad). I still love rock and the blues, but I also love alternative, rap, bluegrass, big band, classical, oldies, and - yes, Goddess help us - some country (which Aaron totally give me shit about; but on a side note, he does agree than its the only music genre right now discussing true American life and putting all aspects of life into the music. Unless your agnostic or atheist, then you're screwed).

Like every other Saturday for the past few months, I took my cousin Sarah (see? I remembered the damn "H") out to run some errands and have some fun. The previous week I had discovered that her parents and two older brothers had been neglecting her and NOT TEACHING THE POOR CHILD ABOUT MUSIC.

How does this happen?!

She doesn't know who sings what, what year it was released or what the title of the album was called. And I told her, "And that's why you're not making straight A's you slacker. You need to be studying your music."

Griffin - not even four yet - knows the different genres of music; he loves Fall Out Boy, Weezer, "Micky Donna," White Strips and Beck. He doesn't like Nine Inch Nails, because (in his words) "They're too techno." Darwin loves dancing to the music and rushes into the room when he realizes I have MTV Hits on tv. Death Cab for Cutie calls him down. And they both like relaxing to Jack Johnson.

Music just isn't the soundtrack to movies; its the soundtrack to our lives. I don't understand how some people do not realize its importance, do you?

Yes, I'm Jumping Off the Bridge Too

Okay... everyone else is doing it.

Go map yourself!

In an Effort to Satisfy the Gods

Instead of bitching today (and oh, honey, do I have a lot to bitch about), I am attempting to please the karma gods with my favorite little doosie...

"It is a wise parent that gives their children roots and wings."
--Chinese Proverb

Okay, now bless upon me fantabulous karma. Please. And I know asking for it isn't helping. But seriously....

Conversation with Griffin

At Target...

Me: "Griffin, are you purposely trying to drive me crazy?"

Griffin: "Yes Mommy. I like driving you crazy."

Cashier: "Well, at least he's honest about it."

NormaIcy

Okay. The holidays are over. Can everything just go back to normal already?

I don't mean to whine (okay, maybe I do). But seriously... I want my house back to normal, our schedules back to normal and a little bit of time so I can start organizing this rats' nest and do a little bit of scrapbooking (because, HEY. I like to do stuff that STAYS COMPLETED).

Okay. Bitchfest over. For now.