Friday Concoction

Remember Andy, the ex-drinking buddy virus? He smacked Jim upside the head yesterday and Madeleine got a special treat (like a coffee can of cigarrette butts) on Tuesday. I think I commented somewhere that this has been Spring Break week for us. I'm calling it Spring Break Mommy's Will. I think we may all be through with Andy by Friday. Then, according to the schedule, Saturday we'll all come down with scurvy or something.

Hey, have I told you we're going to move? Every couple years - that's been the trend up 'til now. If Missoula was shaped like a giraffe, we would be living in its eyeball. Did you think I was going to say bum? I thought about it, but that wouldn't have been spacially correct. And plus, Sheesh! the bum is obviously East Missoula. So anyway, we'd like to live more in the ribs area. We mostly means me, because Jim thinks the eyeball is fine with all its beautiful lashes and views of the neck-al regions. But the rib area (here ends the metaphor) is a gorgeous tree-lined community surrounding the University. During election period it's full of signs of people I'd vote for, the parks are close, I can walk the kids to and from school, and if we go out on the town we can walk home (this was a huge selling point for Jim). It's urban living in a small town. Have I said our neighborhood association doesn't allow election signs? It's pure fascism up here in the eyeball.

Links and Random Section:

• This is a cool marble track building set I bought Madeleine for Christmas. Prairie Dawn asked for the link, and it's worth putting up again, because I love it, she loves it, and so far the baby hasn't swallowed any marbles.
  
• Yesterday Madeleine was trying to give Quinn his binky, commanding him to "Thuck! Thuck" (she has a lisp). I heard a little thump, then "Pooey, I thaid THUCK not THIT!!"
  
• Have you seen this old video? Are they doing the same experiments in the White House? Or South Dakota? Yes - notice the bunching.
  
• Does anyone remember reading a post about a mom that bought a parentling book with something about "Strong-Willed Child" in the title? I can't remember who's post it was, but want to ask her about the book...
  
• I'm speechless. This is the prettiest thing I've seen. Maybe ever. Are you even kidding me how pretty it is?
  

I love sandcastles and snowpeople. The first, my brother Tobin and I made on the Oregon Coast when I was 12 (eek! 21 years ago!). The second, Madeleine and I made last year (it looks like her hands are behind her back because the other side is another person holding an armful of snowballs). Madeleine insisted on the boobs.

Then


Now

Writin Wednesday

These segments keep getting less and less polished as Madeleine gives me less and less time to spend on the computer. Sweetie, The Jim Lehrer News Hour is too a kids show - just wait, the puppets come on in just a minute.

Life in the Valley, Part 3

Dawn looked up from unloading boxes when the bell rang above the door. She half-waved at Lanny, then went back to putting boxes of ramen noodles on the shelves. Lanny found some Skittles and Diet Coke and set them on the counter. He leaned back against it, watching her work. She methodically sliced the cardboard boxes open, pulled out the contents, placed them on the shelves, then pushed the empty box towards the end of the aisle where a large collection was accumulating.

Lanny cleared his throat. "What's up?"

"You're lookin at it. What are you doing out this late?"

"We had a little party at the rink. Uh, Bill says hi."

She snorted. "Liar." She waved her box cutter at him. "Just hold on a sec and let me finish this stack."

"No problem." Lanny shook a Kool from the pack in his breast pocket and tapped the filtered end on his thumbnail. "How's Joey?"

"Good. He's good. He was 98 at weigh-ins today. He'll probably have to wrestle an older kid this weekend. Hey - don't smoke that in here!"

He put the cigarette behind his ear. "Huh. I always had to do that. It's good for him, you know. It's good for them to get challenged like that."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. He's a little bummed, though." She threw the last box in the pile and straightened, bending backwards with her hands on her lower back.

"Hey - I was just thinking. Maybe I'll come see him this weekend? I could ride down with Bill and watch."

Dawn moved behind the counter and rang up the candy and pop. "Yeah, that'd be nice. He'd like that. Bill's supposed to have him this weekend, though. You know, you could all ride down together." She put the items in a little bag. "It's a dollar forty."

Lanny smiled and cleared his throught. "Uhh, can I have a pack of those blue ones?" He pointed at the condoms in the case behind Dawn.

Dawn chuckled. "Oh. Going to Christine's huh? Shoulda known you weren't coming in to see me." She smiled and put the condoms in the bag. "What're you gonna do? Wake her up? Nice, Lanny. She'll love that."

He laughed and coughed. "How much?"

She punched the buttons on the register and told him the total. "How long you guys been together now?"

"Almost a year, I guess."

"She's pretty good, huh? I like her. Katie's a cutie too." She took Lanny's money and pulled his change from the register.

"Yeah, she's good. Hey, so maybe I'll see you this weekend, huh? At the tournament?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice of you to go watch him. You're his favorite uncle, you know." She laughed. "Not much to pick from, though, eh?"

Lanny laughed and pocketed the change. "Yeah, thanks a lot. I'll see ya."

She smiled and waved, already moving back to her boxes. He checked the time on his watch on his way out the door. He could faintly hear Dawn calling out after him, "Don't wake her up, Lanny! She's gotta work early!"

33 Things, Part II

The second installment of the exciting serial...

Stuff about Me (rockin sweats-under-shorts since 1979)

34. I'm good at jigsaw puzzles. I can do them for hours at a time.
35. My dream job is to be a syndicated columnist for newspapers or magazines.
36. When the kids are back in school, I want to go back to college because engineering is boring and I hated it.
37. Except the time I had to repair a steep, concrete wall along the Willamette River in the middle of summer for 8 days. It was seeping crude oil into the Willamette, and I had to repair the holes for aesthetic reasons.
38. I love hard, physical work like chopping wood and carrying heavy things.
39. I think if the columnist thing doesn't work out maybe I'll be a laborer.
40. Or a teacher.
41. Because I can't burp, I can extend my stomach out so it looks like a giant pumpkin.
42. I used to do this at parties all the time, thinking it was clever and funny.
43. Then I saw a picture of myself and it is, in fact, grotesque.
44. My daughter and I are struggling with control issues right now (I mean both at this moment and at this time in our lives)
45. She tests my patience and parental fortitude daily.
46. Right now I'm feeling extremely angry and I want to run out of the house screaming.
47. My mom says I wasn't like she is.
48. That makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong.
49. One time I drank a little, smoked a little pot, and had a cigarette, then passed out when I was sitting on the toilet peeing. I woke up covered in blood with two chipped teeth from falling on my face on the tile floor.
50. Three months later, in a bar in Portland, I was telling my SIL about it, and the exact same thing happened.
51. My closest guy friend from high school and off-and-on boyfriend died of a heroine overdose six years ago.
52. I think about him almost daily and dream about him often, but had not seen or heard from him for a couple years before he died.
53. I was captain of my college soccer team.
54. I didn't vote for myself - I thought everyone was going to vote for Dawn B.
55. I have a heart murmur, like my mom, and when the doctor couldn't find/hear it at my last visit I was terribly sad.
56. My oldest brother knocked out my first tooth when we were boxing after school one day. He's 6 years older than me.
57. I don't know when I ever would have embraced my feminine side if I didn't have kids.
58. It's tough to be a tomboy while nursing a baby.
59. I would love to be on a reality tv show.
60. Mostly so I could publicly humiliate the idiots that are usually on those kinds of shows.
61. I think sometimes karma needs a little nudge.
62. But also I think I would kick ass on Survivor.
63. If I could change one thing about myself, I would like to be taller.
64. Like 5'11".
65. I quit going to church when I was 13 and invited to a friend's Assembly of God church service.
66. Now I'm an atheist.

Scratch it off my list.

Tomorrow, early, we'll all get up and throw clothes and toys and unnecessary personal hygiene stuff in duffel bags, load up on coffee and doughnuts and head for the hills. Specifically, Jim's parents' cabin, nestled in the hills a long-ass way from here. Jim loves this cabin, the dead animal heads, the scritching of the rats on the tin-roof, the permeating smell of woodsmoke, the endless games of pinochle and Scrabble. I would love this cabin too, if it were in a town, had electricity, several bedrooms, air purifiers, rodent-free (which includes the yappy biting dogs that steal food from my childrens' mouths), and wasn't situated next to Randy Weaver's vacation home. No, I'm no kidding.

This is one of those things that I do for Jim once or twice a year that makes him love me a whole bunch and giddy like a schoolboy wrestler who doesn't eat enough and the dehydration and dieting makes him hallucinate and giggle uncontrollably in his little leotard. Did I say that the children and dogs have to wear orange vests when they go for walks? Why? So they don't get shot by Dick Cheney. Haha ha ha ha. *Ahem* Anyway, we'll back Sunday, dirty stinkin tired. And Jim will think I'm the Best Woman Ever Made. And then Grey's Anatomy will be on, and all will be right again. Jim will be refreshed and refueled from the weekend, and that will make me feel good. And hopefully, come Monday, this won't be me:

(Don't worry. Mrs. Floppy's okay - she apparently has a swim bladder issue, according to Jim the Science Guy. Believe it or not, the swim bladder was the focus of his abandoned PhD project. So he probably knows, but still, I poked her a couple times to be sure. And no, I'm not sure it's a her, but the other one we call Mr. Floppy because he always has a big long string of poo hanging out his butt that is slightly reminiscent of a giant unit. Which actually makes me wonder a little more about the obvious distress of Mrs. Floppy. Huh.)

So tell me, what crappola thing do you do for your partner that makes them happy? Is it worth it?

Have a happy weekend!

Pink hearts? I thought it was the Lucky Charm influence.

Did you notice Writin Wednesday was swept under the carpet? I had to postpone my meeting with my instructor until this afternoon, so I spent yesterday writin writin writin, just not sharing sharing sharing.* The instructor wrote his own course materials, and as a friend said to me yesterday (quoting another teacher), in creative writing classes you learn how to write like the instructor likes to write. In this case, he apparently likes to write a piece the incorrect way several times before weedling it down to something a little more 'quality' (has anyone ever read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? I love this idea of quality as it pertains to art...). I don't like his method, because I'm a snotty egomaniac, and I don't want to bend my words into something obviously piss-poor. I'm going to kindly broach this subject today with Mr.H - maybe we can come up with a different way to do the exercises. Because I'm paying him.

*Backstory: I signed up for a distance learning course through the UofM a couple years ago, but got a little sidetracked with pregnancy and two kids, so I'm finally getting my act together to finish the thing.

Here, looky the pretty heart Madeleine drew for me yesterday:



"No, Mommy. It's not a heart... it's a GUN!!! See the bullets?"
"Honey, what do guns do?"
"Kill."
"Kill what?"
"Elk."
Yes, sweetheart. Pink guns with bubble-gum bullets kill elk.

Vote for the worst, indeed!

I hate this. But only because Bucky is far worse.

And Nnnnnnennnnna? In my mind you've already won. They should just send the rest home with some fried chicken and other lovely parting gifts. I mean, shit! She's a chemist!

Not myself, but sort of.

I feel weird today. Melancholy, but happy. My head hurts a little, but spring is coming and makes me feel more awake. I'm meeting with my writing instructor tomorrow and need to finish the exercise that's been hanging over me for a year and a half. It's a distance learning course and I'm not enthralled with the 'textbook' he put together, but I appreciate his input and it forces me to finish a story that's been haunting me. Right now I'm listening to Suo Gan (the boys' choir song from the opening scene of Empire of the Sun) and yesterday I bought a pack of postcards... here:





Madeleine was vomit-y and feverish all day yesterday, but as is her m.o., she's bouncing off the walls of pretend-land this morning. I think right now I'm supposed to be Rage and she's my big sister Sketny. Yep, yep, she just yelled from the other room, "Rage! Go clean the stables right now! Baby Hanry is late for school." I love my kooky kids.




I hope you have a mindful day.

Serendipity.

We went to a St. Patty's day parade Friday and then trekked a couple blocks to The Ironhorse, where Jim had been drinking with friends half the day. I was standing there, awkwardly trying to make conversation with a woman I didn't know, when the Missoula Chamber of Commerce Bagpipers (not really sure about this, but it could be right) crowded in all around us and struck up a tune. Madeleine was sitting on Jim's lap and started to cry. It was the loudest thing I've ever heard. But did I whisk us out of there? Of course not. There were drums! I can't leave when there are drums! Quinn was in the backpack, so I took him off and cradled him with my hands over his ears. He was asleep in less than 5 minutes. I shit you not. He slept through the whole thing, including the part where a drunk guy tried to squeeze in between me and, well, me and spilled half a Guinness down my back. Look, can you see Madeleine burying her head in Jim's shoulder?

As you can see in the picture, the troupe surrounded our table, and played for us as if my rich BIL was shooting hundies out his bum. It made me happy. And also reminded me of other serendipitous occasions in my life. One, actually. One serendipitous event.

I went to college in Connecticut, but my family lived in Southwest Washington, which meant a lot of flying back and forth across the country, a lot of money spent on tickets and a lot of time spent in airports with giant duffel bags full of dirty laundry. My sophomore year I bought a ticket home for Christmas using frequent flyer miles. I had to fly out of La Guardia on Christmas Day. Or barely Christmas Day, because the flight left at 6:30 in the morning, which meant I had to be at the airport before the rest of civilization was awake. It also meant I had to either stay in a hotel room around the airport (scary! and too much money!), or take the Peter Pan bus to the airport the night before and sleep in the terminal (scary! but not as much money!). I chose the latter, took the bus, and found a nice bank of plastic chairs next to the Northwest Airlines ticket counter. I could literally roll out of bed and check in the next day. I had my enormous duffel bag propped under my knees, my pea-coat was a pillow, and a stocking cap pulled over my eyes. I read a discarded newspaper for a while, then settled in for a restless night's sleep. And then someone tapped me.

"You can't sleep here miss," a voice said.
"Huh?" His English was heavily accented. Farzad smiled and repeated himself.
"Should I go somewhere else? I have to fly out in the morning..." I wasn't sure what to say. I had looked around the airport briefly before picking my spot. My bag was too unweildly to go too far, and I didn't want to be in a secluded area. That seemed more dangerous. Did he mean there was another place for people in my situation?
"It's not safe. A young woman shouldn't be sleeping in this airport."
"Oh. Okay. But I can stay here, right? I can just sit in this spot?"
He smiled again. "Yes. You can stay here, but try to stay awake."
So I did. I tried really hard. Or maybe I didn't. In either case, I soon tipped over again. Farzad came back.

"Miss. Miss? You have fallen asleep again!" He gently tapped my shoulder.
"Oh.... oh." I rubbed my eyes. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day. Maybe I'll try to read..." I looked around at my pile of belongings, confused. Farzad sat down next to me.
"I will talk to you to keep you awake. I am worried about you."

My first thought was "Here comes the part where he tries to hit on me and make me a Muslim." But he didn't. He was lonely, and he just wanted to talk. He told me about his family in Iran. His wife, his children, his elderly father. He and his brother were both security guards at La Guardia, but he missed home. He asked me about college and my family. He offered me an Iranian cigarette, and I smoked it, trying not to cough and embarrass myself. I told him about my new boyfriend and he laughed at my story about our first blind date. We talked for at least two hours, then, mid-sentence, he jumped up remembering some duty he had neglected. He told me to stay where I was, he would be back soon, and he ran off. "Don't sleep!" he yelled as he was hurrying away.

I woke up an hour later, and the airport was coming back to life. Lights were coming on in check-in counters, and employees were walking in groups to their jobs, chatting about the holidays. I wiped the drool from my cheek and sat up. As I did, something fell to the floor, and I bent to pick it up. It was a card. Farzad had left a Christmas card on my shoulder. The cover was a drawing of holly, and inside, in strange penmanship it said, "Enjoy your holiday with your family! I enjoy talking with you. Regards, Farzad." It made me feel grown-up and young at the same time, and I think that was how Farzad felt. Stuck between two worlds.

It's these random encounters like this that make me think. I wish they happened more often, but then they wouldn't be special would they? Do you have a Moment In Time like this?

I have no pride.

This post idea is shamelessly stolen from Arabella. I would like to steal her post ideas every day, but that would be a little dumb.

SO, pick out the weirdest thing from the following items found in and around my house:

1) Strangest item in my medicine cabinet:
a - Paint can opener
b - Golf tee
c - 2 shot glasses

2) Strangest item on my kitchen counter (Arabella said cosmetic drawer - me say huh?):
a - Rocks (9)
b - Spoon found in the backyard 8 years ago
c - A tiny wooden rake from a tiny rock garden kit that was spilled on the floor 3 weeks ago

3) Strangest item on my bedside table (better phrase than nightstand, which is what I do when hovering over sick, sleeping children)
a - Rocks (7)
b - 1 Lira
c - Used Dora band-aid

4) Strangest item in my "handbag" (better word than purse, which is what old women that smoke too much do with their lips):
a - Origami Tyrannasaurus Rex
b - Pulverized packet of saltine crackers
c - Pulverized hotel souvenir soap

5) Strangest item in my refirgerator (I blame it on Andy, the ex-drinking buddy virus):
a - 29 condiments
b - An empty bottle of wine
c - An empty 6-pack of Sierra Nevada

Okay, pick the strangest from each list.

(Side note: I just put Quinn down for a nap, and instead of nursing a little then going to sleep, he slurped a couple times, pulled his head back, stared at my nipple for a minute and laughed. He laughed out loud heartily. As if to say, "What the hell? I'm sucking on your boob and milk is coming out!!" He even looked up at me to see if I realized how bizarre the situation was.)

Writin' Wednesday

It's back. Here's Part I, if you missed it. A whole hell of a lot of nothing happened, but it was all I could manage that first time. Andy the Virus is still here. Still poking his nose all up in my business when I'm trying to watch American Idol (which I've renamed Taylor and Mandisa Are My Favorites But That Rocker Guy Chris Is Going to Win). And still running out the back door... (Are you saying Enough Already! with the back door thing? Yeah, okay. That was the last quip. I promise.)

Life in the Valley
The cleaning didn't get done. Lanny and Bill shared a joint on the couch by the DJ booth. Bill kicked off his work boots and took off his socks.
"You think that chick Lori is hot?"
Lanny rubbed his face with both hands. "I don't know... do you mean Laura? The really young one? She's jailbait, dude. How'd she end up here anyway?"
"She came with Mike... Laura? Huh... she ain't too young - she works at the plant or something. Tight ass. Nice tits too."
Lanny closed his eyes and leaned back against the vinyl. The floor and tables all around them were littered with cans and pizza crusts. He would have to clean it up in the morning before Gary opened. Or at lunch. He'd have time to do it at lunch. Gary was going to find out anyway. He'd know as soon as he saw that crack in the jukebox. Bill threw a pizza crust at him.
"What the hell! What?"
"I said, did I tell you about last weekend? When I had to drive down to Polson with that feed load?"
"Yeah, idiot. You told me yesterday."
"Huh. You shoulda seen that little bitch. A little ugly, but tight. You know? She was just standing there with that sign. It shoulda said Fuck Me." Bill laughed at his joke. He laughed until he started coughing. A hard, ugly hack.
Lanny sat up and looked at him, then sat back and closed his eyes again. He needed to go back to 7-11 and pick up some rubbers before he went to Christines. Rubbers and Diet Coke. She'd like that. Maybe he'd get some Skittles or something for the kid too. Christine didn't like her eating candy too much, but that kid always went apeshit when Lanny brought her candy. He liked that. Seeing her jump to reach the bag, trying to climb up his arm to get it. Sometimes he'd grab her and swing her around and toss her onto the couch. She'd bounce there, laughing, begging him to do it again. He thought maybe he wouldn't tell Christine and he'd hide them in the kid's lunch box, if he could find it. Maybe a Snickers or Skittles or something.
He opened his eyes again. The buzz was wearing off, and he was getting a headache. "Come on dude. I gotta go. I'll give you a ride home or your car or whatever. Come on!" He threw Bill's boots and socks onto his lap and shoved some of the cans and pizza crusts into a pile. The boys got their pot, shut off the lights and locked up their brother's roller rink. The neon roller skates blinked a couple times, reflecting in the puddles as they walked out to Lanny's car, then finally went out.

Now I know there's a point of view issue going on, but I like it better this way than in the last part, so I'll work on that later. Also, this section hasn't been edited at all. Tell me if I've left out any explanatory stuff or if anything doesn't make sense. I've had this story half done for so long that I may have left out something I know about these guys, but those of you that don't live with them in your head may not know. You know? I just read it over again and I realized that it's actually a very short blurb. I feel like there's a lot going on, but somehow it comes across very... well, short. I'll have to think about this some more. If I need to expand something or not.

Sugar would totally fix this right now.

I used to do a lot of thinking. I kept journals and read philosophy (that I mostly didn't get - but I tried). I could sit for hours with a cup of coffee and watch the world go by and ponder my place in it. I realized this morning that I've gone too many days to count without once thinking about myself, and the last time I thought about myself it probably involved something negative or critical. Sure, having kids makes you lose yourself a little, and especially young (sick) children. Last night Quinn was up for two hours straight writhing and crying, consuming me. It eats me up, my brain, my body. Chews me up and spits me out. But as we would all agree, a person needs to make time for themselves. Whether that be an hour after everyone's in bed, a long shower, an afternoon every other weekend-

I'm sorry. I'm cutting mysef off. That was all just too damn maudlin and preachy, wasn't it? Is anyone coming this way? I could really use a large decaf mocha and a piece of coffee cake. Quinn seems to be content with the plastic palm tree from the My Little Pony beach party and Ali's doing okay with his empty nutsack. Dogs love to lick this sad little reminder of what could have been, don't they? The licking licking licking is gross gross gross.

Aw hell, I'm just gonna go for a walk and get my own damn sugar. (And do you have any funny stories from the weekend? I'm a little sad.)

Edited to add: I'm not really sad. Just feeling sorry for myself because of various little things that I won't name because you'll just go "Sheesh! What's the big deal? Just use milk instead!" or "There'll be reruns before you know it" or "Nobody knows - just take them off and throw them in the washing machine!"

Friday Concoction

I have to make this short today. I need to get the pack (of wolves) ready for our conference with Madeleine's teacher, and Quinn woke up too late to take a morning nap. Right now he's crawling around, using baby sonar to look for me (he crawls a couple steps, yells "AAAA" and then waits for a response - my little baby bat). If I type quietly maybe he won't hear me. Quinn's namesake [Update: it should read opposite-of-namesake, but what's the word for that?] is coming this afternoon for a barbecue and we're going up the mountain in the morning. He lives in Okinawa and we only see him once a year, at the most. He and Jim were BFF growing up, and he's great. Hence the name thing.

Oh yeah - remember how I was going to leave the house on Thursday? I did. I went and had a giant coffee, an M&M cookie and a tangerine and sat in a coffee shop window and wrote and eavesdropped. It was heaven. Then I got my glasses fixed, bought Madeleine some purple nail polish and monkey Kleenexes and came home. I can't wait for next week! Babysitter Extraordinaire was awesome, the kids were fed and happy and we survived another Thursday.

One note before I get on with the Concoction: I'm very sorry if I normally visit your site and comment daily, but what with suppositories, Thursday Free Day and other interruptions I've only been able to occasionally catch up on my blogroll. I still heart y'all.

Now The Links

• I got one of these from Esereth and another from a friend. It's fun to drag Bush around.
  
• Here's a classic example of how breaking down humor makes it decidedly unfunny. Here's what real-live funny people say about writing humor.
  
• Yummy yummy. Let's eat some kidney-shaped babies.
  
• One final item... Did anyone watch Without a Trace last night? Somehow they've turned this show into a comedy. I'm serious. I laughed out loud at least 5 times in a show about the FBI tracking down missing persons. At one point Anthony LaPaglia was confronting an agoraphobic woman who had not left her apartment in 2 years. She had paid a hilarious Asian man to drag her out of her place, after which she tracked down the estranged mob boss dad of her secret crush slash female assistant, then traveled to the suburban bowling alley that kicked off her agoraphobia. So she's crouched in this little compartment where the bowling pins go after they're knocked down and LaPag crouches next to her and says, "Julie [or something] come on out of there." She says, "I can't. I'm an agoraphobic." And he says, "You're 15 miles from your house! You're the worst agoraphobic I've ever seen." Did that sound funny? It was really funny, I promise.
  

And...

Then (me at work, circa 1995)


Me (at work, circa 10 am) (isn't it funny when Madeleine does that bratty thing with her eyes? yes we all laugh and say How Charming!)


Wish me luck at the p/t conference and have a great weekend!

Writin' Wednesday (is postponed...)

I'm getting an x-ray this morning that requires me to participate in a little S&M treat the pharmacy likes to call The Bowel Prep Kit. It consists of liquid, pill, and suppository laxatives, and I think all of my guts have just run out of my bum. Sorry if you're reading this with your coffee. Not too sorry though, because I can't have any. In fact, I haven't eaten since 10 am yesterday. I am a bitch right now, and will write more when the voices in my head tell me it's okay.

Update: The exam is over, but the laxatives are the gifts that just keep on giving. Everything looked okey-dokey in my guts, except for a slightly herniated stomach in the area of my diaphragm (did I just make this up? I'm sure that's what he said). This is apparently not a big deal, but results in tummy aches and heartburn. Yes, well, so does food.

The radiology tech was maybe a month over 16. I think his voice was still changing - either that or he was confused how my boobs ended up in my armpits when he tried to position me on the x-ray table. Radiology doc was fortunately so hot and unfortunately so humorless. Come on, man! This is some funny shit we're doing here! Looking at my guts on tv while I drink cherry flavored cement. Wasn't it funny how I said that I was really comfy when I got twisted up in the exam table paper and it was no big deal that you hit me in the head with that poker thing you were using? No? Do you speak English? ARRGH. I don't like doctors that don't laugh when I'm trying to make jokes because it's all so awkward and embarrassing. He also had one of the chest hair lines that you can see just below the collar, indicating, left unchecked, his hair grows from his lips to his knees.*snort*

I also apparently digest things so quickly that a 90 minutes exam only took 45 minutes because I was already pooping out the cherry cement halfway through the test. This satisfied the competitive part of me entirely too much. After it all I ate a chocolate chip cookie and half a bag of Tim's Cascade potato chips. aaahhhhh... chewing.

The new babysitter makes me look like a train wreck.

They came, they saw, and Babysitter Extraodinaire conquered. She is coiffed, articulate, motivated and intelligent, and wonderful with kids. And 18 years old. At 18 I had just about learned how to wipe my own butt (mistakes were made, but I won't go into it). She will begin on Thursday and, and... and I'm not sure what happens after that. I leave the house, and something will happen to me... that part is yet to be determined. Anyway, I will leave the house on Thursday!

Here's what we did up in here today:

Clung to mommy's legs:

Tried to nap, but couldn't get comfortable:

Got high on Read Between the Lions (thank you Erykah Baduh for making this show watchable - I don't like puppets)

Ate stuff - hey, if she wants to sit on top of the car with my wedding dress on eating peas, I will allow it

Folded until my fingers bled. Can you find the elephant? How about the fox?


Did I mention I will be leaving the house on Thursday?

Oscar Cliff Notes

I can't drunken blog, as some do so well, but I can take teeny-tiny, illegible notes on the telephone message pad. I will give you those notes from the 78th Oscar Extrambagamba.

Note 1: Jim's on to me with the 'forgetting to buy mushrooms' gig. How will I keep mushrooms out of the spaghetti sauce any more??
Note 2: Did Sandra Bullock forget her makeup? Or did she run out of the salon in haste after just the pancake part because she saw a rickshaw speeding by and thought it was her next movie.
Note 3: Nicole Kidman's wedding dress is gorgeous. How romantic to marry Keith Urban at the Oscars. And oh, I'm glad she brought her forehead with her. It's taken on a life of its own lately. Or I should say death of its own.
Note 4: Reese and Ryan, I could just eat y'all up! Except Ryan's chin fuzz might get stuck in my teeth.
Note 5: Matt Dillon is aging very very very very well. Why is he alone? Why is he always alone?
Note 6: I can't help it. I sing along to the Diet Coke commercial with the bubbles and the roller skating.
Note 7: I just picked my way to a bloody nose.
Note 8: It seems like Felicity Huffman has more ribs than normal. Oh wait, you're not supposed to be able to see a person's ribs! That's it! Oh but, shit, she's crying because her friends did that thing. Now I feel bad for pointing out the fact that she looks a little decomposed.
Note 9: Philip Seymour Hoffman, I love you so much. Please don't lose that giant belly and never cut your stragly hair, because that way I can have you all to myself. I just have to fight off that nameless whore sitting next to you. Wait - they keep cutting to her during your speech about your mom... is that your mom? Were you caressing the knee of your mom? I just can't compete with that.
Note 10: David Straithairn, I've loved you since Passion Fish, but you need to speak in public. I mean, open your mouth and let words come out and have them form sentences. It's okay. I still love you.
Note 11: Quick! Call 911! Charlize Theron's rotator cuff exploded.
Note 12: Nose is still bleeding. I guess I'll have to put my finger up there to stem the flow.
Note 13: Oh William Hurt. What has happened to your beautiful head? My heart still races at the thought of Children of a Lesser God. Oh good. ABC has realized he is damaged and will not punish me with any more with shots of him.
Note 14: Dolly Parton is starting to look a little like Nancy Reagan. How can she sing with her lips spread all over her face like that?
Note 15: Wasn't the Pimp Song girl's dress adorable? So Marilyn Monroe. So cute.
Note 16: Chris Penn died? Must google! Oh, that's sad. He was 300 pounds and had a full pharmacy in his belly. The thought of Sean Penn at the funeral seems very normal. I bet he goes to funerals every day.
Note 17: John Travolta, I openly mock your religion, but that is a fine tie. You look hot.
Note 18: I like Jon Stewart everywhere except here. He is funny and I will marry him someday, but these people aren't getting him. (Katie Couric, you bitch! His jokes weren't flat. You're probably sore because Carrot Top didn't get picked or something.)
Note 19: It's over. That wasn't very long, and Jennifer Garner didn't fall on her face. Humph.

And that's it.

Friday Concoction

Some of you have been noting in small ways the arrival of spring and I smile politely and do a baby clap for you. But I say screw you. Screw you and your crocusts and balmy afternoons. Do you know what it's like to live in a Montana subdivision with a deer problem (read: poorly landscaped or landscaping chewed to shit) and to stare out your window and see one little dead oak leaf clinging to the single long branch of a splindly oak tree? The only action out our front window these days is the rhythm of the tipped-over garbage cans. The wind blows them into the street where they pitch around fitfully bumping into each other like a bunch of 7th graders at their first dance.

Nah, I'm not grouchy really. I got eight responses from my on-line babysitting job posting (through the University career services website). All eight have nanny experience, First Aid/CPR certification and are either majoring in elementary ed or early childhood development. I gathered all the e-mails together in a folder and now I feel a little like Fagin when the Artful Dodger unloads the loot. Two girls even offered in their e-mails to do my grocery shopping and errands. Sort of reminded me of Orange's G-Spot post.

So now on to the Concoction:

Links and Other Goodness

• They say this is where Usher learned his moves. Except not from the lady on the left. She screwed up a couple times.
  
• Did you know the primary function of sinuses is to keep the brain cool? That's why animals that run long distances have long snouts - more room for brain cooling sinuses. (horses, dogs, deer, etc.) Yes, my husband knows some shit.
  
• This is, well, I don't know what to say. Gap demolition. (Please can they do this to Wal-Mart next?)
  
• Doodoo and bung. That's what I think of, when I think of puffed rice.
  
• My favorite jewelry store, Twist, is in Portland. That's Sad. However, Jim recently suggested my wedding ring needed an upgrade (it's a cheap silver band with a diamond chip), which prompted me to go shopping. Any suggestions? I like red and green stones. Not big on diamonds. I'm thinking this or this with sapphires. A girl can and does dream.
  

And now, a little tribute to My BFF, J-Mo (*mouths "call me" and makes the little thumb/pinkie sign*)...
Really Then

Slightly Less Then (this was right before my rehearsal dinner at the burger joint on Flathead Lake)


Got plans this weekend? Tell me, unless it's really fun and cool. In that case make up something else. I've got a wee bit of a jealousy problem.

Tagged! By the everclever MooAlex for this Four Things Me!Me! I was excited to do it, but have revealed my true identity as Boring, Not-Been-Anywhere Girl. This exercise reminds me of MASH (remember? Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House...). Except the four things in each category are blah. There was always supposed to be one exciting option. Like Scott Baio.

Four jobs I've had:

• Weight room monitor
  
• Environmental Engineer
  
• nanny/cook/housekeeper
  
• Berry picker
  

Four movies I can watch over and over:

• Hoosiers
  
• The Black Stallion
  
• She's Having a Baby
  
• The Sound of Music
  

Four places I've lived:

• Goldendale, WA
  
• New Haven, CT
  
• Eugene, OR
  
• Kalispell, MT
  

Four places I've been on vacation:

• Fernie, BC
  
• Jimenez Springs, NM
  
• New Orleans
  
• The Delles, WI
  

Four websites I visit daily:

• CNN.com
  
• GoFugYourself
  
• Mine
  
• PBS Kids (Not me - but Madeleine. Gives me 20 minutes to read the comics and editorials.)
  

Four of my favorite foods:

• Cheeseburgers - must have giant beefsteak tomato slab on top
  
• Cupcakes
  
• Mashed potatoes
  
• Truffles
  

Four places I'd rather be:

• In the shower
  
• On an airplane, with a book and an ipod full of Greg Brown, Madeleine Peyroux, and Johnny Cash
  
• In a movie theatre
  
• In a house with a big picture window and a fireplace on a bluff overlooking the Oregon Coast
  

Four bloggers I'm tagging:

• The first four on my b-list
  
• The last four on my b-list
  

Writin' Wednesday

Did you see that up there? I'm dubbing this Writin' Wednesday. I've got my new glasses on, my backwards, evoking-Fletch baseball hat, a full cup of tepid decaf, and a stack of notes and partial pieces of a story I really want to finish. Quinn's asleep, the dog's in his doghouse and the eagle has landed. And if you're so inclined, please join in on future Wednesdays - maybe it will inspire me if I see other's getting jiggy with it. (Fletch would never say that would he? I'm so embarrassed.)

Here is the opening to The Valley (or Life in the Valley - can't decide which)...

Lanny stumbled to his car and opened the door. There was a sucking noise from the garbage bag over his window. The neon roller skates from the sign above the parking lot lit his dashboard, and he sat behind the wheel and lit a cigarette. He wouldn't tell Gary about the jukebox yet. He reached in the twelve pack next to him and counted two cans. He listened to the basketball game on the radio until a commercial break, then got out of the car, crushing his cigarette under his work boot. The market across the street was still open.

Bill was sitting up in the back seat when Lanny came back. He avoided a new puddle next to the car and said through the garbage bag, "Come on asshole, let's get this done. I told Christine I'd come by."?

Bill tipped a can to his mouth. "She's fuckin' damaged goods, dude. Rode hard and put up wet, you know?"?

Lanny opened the back door and put in his hand to help his brother out. He figured with a good hour they could at least get rid of the beer cans and pizza boxes. The roller rink floor needed to be swept, too. Gary was going to shit about the jukebox, but maybe they could blame it on that kid with the braces and headgear that had been kicking it earlier in the day. Bill crushed the can and threw it towards the front seat. It landed with a dead thunk against Lanny's toolbox. It was still half full. Bill pushed himself out of the car and they both went back into the rink to clean up the remnants of their party.

Okay, that's all I can do for now. I don't want to blow my writin' wad on the first day. And, as always, any and all criticisms and comments are welcome (unless you make fun of my new glasses for being crooked - it's my fucking cock-eyed ears!).