This Happens When You've Got Three Things Going On

Boredom.
A bitchen digital camera.
A perverted sense of humor.

Oh - wait - I COULD have taken these pictures!

Earth Erotica Photography by Heather Firth

Earth Erotica Photography by Heather Firth

Another Tuesday Night

It's actually very early Wednesday morning.

Well, 4 out of 5 people in my house are now either sick or getting sick. I'm not sure who started it, but within the space of an hour I had one complaint of a super-sore throat, and then a coughing baby, and then my throat started to hurt. I don't like the sound of baby Decaf's cough - I hate when the kids are sick :(

I also hate being sick at the same time. That really sucks. However, I guess this explains why I was roasting hot when it was only 68 degrees in the house, and why I was so tired last night and today. Nice. Shit. I hate the sound of that sweet little baby's cough. :(

What sucks for me is that I can't take cold medicine of any kind. There is only one medicine I can take - and that's mucinex, which only makes everything really loose in a head or chest cold - doesn't stop coughing or make it hurt less, though. I'd really, really like to wake up tomorrow and not be sick. Like a 12 hour bug or something - that would be doable.

So anyway, I talked to my sister and my mom about the email that Grande sent to his dad on the 15th (posted below), and both of them think I should sit down and have a talk with him. Yeah, like that would do any-fucking-thing. When we attempt to talk to him he just shuts off completely, or yells then gets up and walks away. If we 'make' him stay sitting and try to force him to listen or talk he really does just totally shut down completely. I'm sure that's what would happen - and God, if he found out I read his email he'd freak out and never talk to me again. However, I'm his mom - I get to read his email if I want to. If he doesn't like that he could always feel free to move out when he's 18 and pay for his own internet connection.

Short Decaf is crying now. That happens when he can't suck his thumb because his nose is stuffy. It's gonna be a long next few days. Shit. I feel so bad for him. I hope I still have his cold medicine. I know I have baby advil, at least.

So - 4 more days left of regular eating before Venti and I start on the Atkins diet. I'm actually looking forward to it. There's nothing I really want in the next 4 days except for that Mongolian BBQ stuff I love so much from the mall - and I could actually have that on the diet if I didn't put noodles in it. Lucky me. That and curry chicken should make it easy to stay on the diet. :) Ya get a tad sick of eggs and tuna after a few days. Really sick of it.

I just wanna look like Angelina Jolie...is that too much to ask???

Actually, if we're being honest - I'd rather have Tea' Leoni's figure than Angelina's. With my face and her abs I think I'd be one hot chick. :) Obviously, from seeing the movie Spanglish, she must do some SERIOUS fucking yoga. This brings me to another point...

I really want to start doing yoga. I have a big collection of yoga-for-beginners videos. The problem is that I never have ANY privacy to do them - and I'm not about to do it in front of anyone other than the baby. So, what do I do? My bedroom is tiny - so I can't put a tv and vcr in there and do it. My basement is scary - so that's out. I guess the answer is that if I wanted to do yoga badly enough that I wouldn't care who saw me. However - as logical as that sounds - I'm way to fucking embarrassed about my weight to let the kids or Venti see me doing yoga. HOWEVER (again) - I REALLY fucking want to do it! Ugh. Maybe this is something I need to work out in therapy. :)

I wonder if I'm the only person in the entire history of the world who is actually looking forward to going to therapy? I mean - it gives me a little bit of hope that maybe I will actually be able to get over some of my phobias and panic attacks, and lead a more normal life. God, that sounds good. Just being able to walk for exercise without being terrified of my heart would be a life altering event! You can't even begin to imagine what that would do for my self-esteem. (Through the roof.)

So anyway - four days until the Atkins diet goes into effect. That also means I have to actually eat 3 meals a day and like 2 snacks or something - and how gross does THAT sound? Eating five times a day just is so not me. I think you have to do it though or the diet doesn't work like it's supposed to...something about eating regularly keeping your metabolism going faster. *sigh* Ick. I can't imagine waking up and eating breakfast right away - that's just gross.

Oh - and Venti doesn't think we should weigh ourselves but like once a month or something. That's just torture. He thinks, and I agree, that we will have to be on the diet for 18 months before we both hit our goal weights. So - June of 2007 I guess I'll look like I did when I was 20. That's a good thing - at least I wasn't ugly. I mean - you can undo fat, but you can't undo ugly - well, not without a lot of money, anyway.

Well - I guess this is enough blathering for one night.

Lies, Ungratefulness, and Now I Feel Ashamed

This is an email that my son sent to his father - my ex-husband - about ten days ago. I'm going to defend myself against this shit somehow. What the FUCK would make him say things like this??? I am so ashamed - it's a feeling I don't know why I have because this shit is NOT TRUE. It's 3 in the morning and I feel like going upstairs and shaking him out of bed and asking him WTF??? I hate that he thinks things like this about me. I hate that he lies to his father about the way we live, and the things we "force" him to do.

His sentence of "so has she always been like this, is this normal , i want more than anything to get my car running good and to get a job and a license so that i never have to be here!" about slayed me.

I'm so upset I almost didn't change the names ... ugh.

Dec 15
hi,

i have a ,question,

has my mom said anything to you on the phone or email about me being angry or something being wrong with her or Venti,
because they both have been so angry and crazy lately, me being mad at them is not going to do what is usually does, which is cause me
to move, i refuse to do that again, but right now and for the last 8 or 9 months i would have Rather lived in a sleeping bag in a train in Seattle than live with and put up with theare moods lately,
i have been really trying to make this new school thing work and my teacher said i am doing good and completing everything i should be even tho its supposed to be parent assisted learning and with my mom being who she is it has been more like student doing everything and getting nothing learning, i do about 5 hours of school work a day and all of my homework, i got a 100 percent on my last math homework!
even with me doing everything they want they are just making it harder for me, to make things even worse for me she had $100 she got from google, the deal with my laptop was that if i cleaned the house every day and did laundry and stuff like that (which i did every day anyway with no help from them) that she would give me the money to give to them for my laptop, it has been it has been like 6months and have not seen any money for all of my cleaning which was a lot of cleaning, so now she gets $100 from Google she promised would go to my laptop and she bought a kitten which poops everywhere and i clean it up i just don't know how i ended up doing everything and no one helping and when i say something to Venti he tells me to tell my mom and when i tell my mom she gives me this hole we give you everything and you can even do a little cleaning for us and she tells me i cant tell her how to run her house, but if i didn't clean it would be just disgusting, i mean rotting food, pizza boxes, rotting dipers, cat poo everywhere just not humane, not safe for four adults and especial for a two year old and two cats, hear is a list of what i did today and got nothing for, keep in mind that i am not refusing to do anything, i don't mind cleaning but no one helps me, ever, this is just stuff i cleaned not stuff i did for myself.

1- filled the dishwasher and washed what wouldn't fit in it by hand,

2- filled a large black trash bag full of trash,

3- vacuumed the carpet,

4- moped the hardwood and stares and tile in the bathroom and kitchen,

5- feed my moms evil cat and the other cat,

6- washed windows,

7- scrubed the stove and fridge and dishwasher and microwave and sink,

9- cleaned the bathroom,

10- washed towels,

11- watter the x-mas tree,

12 dusted,

13- cleaned the TV and stereo and speakers,

14 tried to fix a few small things (broken tree ornaments, broken basement lock and doorknob)

that's most of the big stuff,
and then Venti comes home and i get the groceries out of the trunk and put them away because Grande is on the computer and cant help do anything,
and then new cat poops all over the place while we are watching the apprentice and after they let Short trash the living room i just cleaned there like go switch the towels into the dryer, help us clean cat poop,
and they never make Grande do anything, one in a while they will make him take a shower or feed the cats but or change a diaper but that's it,
like i said I'm not thinking i shouldn't have to do anything but i do just a little bit much considering i don't get any money or anything for it,

i have been looking for a job despite what my mom tells you, she thinks it easy to find a job in a town where every store is famous and has a job waiting list!

so has she always been like this, is this normal , i want more than anything to get my car running good and to get a job and a license so that i never have to be here!

what have you been doing? having fun and partying i hope!
will you be coming out here anytime?

if you see Michelle around tell her i said hi,

bye!

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuugh. There is SO MUCH bullshit in this email I don't even know where to start or what to say??? How about cry? That seems to be the only thing that would work right now.

(insert crying sounds here)

God - what lies, what outright ungratefulness, and what the hell am I supposed to do - just let my ex believe all this shit is true when it's not???? I really, really did not need this. Oh - but I guess that's just me being "the way I am." Is that fucking NORMAL??????

Christ.

F u t u r e M e . o r g

F u t u r e M e . o r g

Everyone should do this. It's cool.

Six Degrees of Separation - The Thesis Scene That Bites Back

I never saw the movie Six Degrees of Separation before tonight. However, there was an amazingly acted scene in it - acted by Will Smith (who plays Paul) - that I did not ever want to lose the words to because it touched on something I could never imagine being able to put into words. (If you need to picture the other two people mentioned here - Ouisa is played by Stockard Channing, and Flan, her husband, is played by Donald Sutherland.) If you want to skip down to the part that interested me the most - although all of it did - I have it in bold.

---

Toward the begining of the movie, Paul summarizes his thesis:

PAUL: Well...a substitute teacher out on Long Island was dropped from his job for fighting with a student. A few weeks later, the teacher returned to the classroom, shot the student... unsuccessfully, held the class hostage and then shot himself... successfully. This fact caught my eye: last sentence, [New York] Times. A neighbor described him as a nice boy: always reading Catcher in the Rye.

The nitwit -- Chapman -- who shot John Lennon said he did it because he wanted to draw the attention of the world to The Catcher in the Rye and the reading of the book would be his defense. And young Hinckley, the whiz kid who shot Reagan and his press secretary, said if you want my defense, all you have to do is read: Catcher in the Rye. It seemed to be time to read it again.

FLAN: I haven't read it in years.

(OUISA shushes him.)

PAUL: I borrowed a copy from a young friend of mine because I wanted to see what she had underlined and I read this book to find out why this touching, beautiful, sensitive story published in July 1951 had turned into this manifesto of hate.

I started reading. It's exactly as I remembered. Everybody's a phony. Page two: "My brother's in Hollywood being a prostitute." Page three: "What a phony his father was." Page nine: "People never notice anything." Then on page 22 my hair stood up. Remember Holden Caulfield -- the definitive sensitive youth -- wearing his red hunter's cap. "A deer hunter hat? Like hell it is. I sort of closed one eye like I was taking aim at it. This is a people-shooting hat. I shoot people in this hat."

Hmmm, I said. This book is preparing people for bigger moments in their lives than I ever dreamed of. Then on page 89: "I'd rather push a guy out the window or chop his head off with an ax than sock him in the jaw...I hate fist fights...what scares me most is the other guy's face..."

I finished the book. It's a touching story, comic because the boy wants to do so much and can't do anything. Hates all phoniness and only lies to others. Wants everyone to like him, is only hateful, and he is completely self-involved. In other words, a pretty accurate picture of a male adolescent. And what alarms me about the book -- not the book so much as the aura about it -- is this: the book is primarily about paralysis. The boy can't function. And at the end, before he can run away and start a new life, it starts to rain and he folds. Now there's nothing wrong in writing about emotional and intellectual paralysis. It may indeed, thanks to Chekhov and Samuel Beckett, be the great modern theme.

The extraordinary last lines of Waiting For Godot -- "Let's go." "Yes, let's go." Stage directions: they do not move.

But the aura around this book of Salinger's -- which perhaps should be read by everyone but young men -- is this: it mirrors like a fun house mirror and amplifies like a distorted speaker one of the great tragedies of our times -- the death of the imagination.

Because what else is paralysis?

The imagination has been so debased that imagination -- being imaginative -- rather than being the lynchpin of our existence now stands as a synonym for something outside ourselves like science fiction or some new use for tangerine slices on raw pork chops -- what an imaginative summer recipe -- and Star Wars! So imaginative! And Star Trek -- so imaginative! And Lord of the Rings -- all those dwarves -- so imaginative -- The imagination has moved out of the realm of being our link, our most personal link, with our inner lives and the world outside that world -- this world we share. What is schizophrenia but a horrifying state where what's in here doesn't match up with what's out there?

Why has imagination become a synonym for style?

I believe that the imagination is the passport we create to take us into the real world. I believe the imagination is another phrase for what is most uniquely us.

Jung says the greatest sin is to be unconscious.

Our boy Holden says "What scares me most is the other guy's face -- it wouldn't be so bad if you could both be blindfolded -- most of the time the faces we face are not the other guys' but our own faces. And it's the worst kind of yellowness to be so scared of yourself you put blindfolds on rather than deal with yourself..." To face ourselves.

That's the hard thing.

The imagination.

That's God's gift to make the act of self-examination bearable.

Daisy Montage

daisy montage
Originally uploaded by spiroll.

Made this pic from this website, Montage-A-Google, which I thought was pretty cool.

Can't Wait For That First Apartment

When I was a young girl - maybe 14 or so - I had a best friend named Sheila S. We were supremely good friends, and spent many, many a day and sleep-over night dreaming about the day when we were going to move out of our parents houses and rent an apartment together. It was going to be the best EVER! We'd stay up late and nobody would bitch, watch whatever we wanted and nobody would bitch, wear what we wanted, spend time with the guys we wanted to, decorate the way we wanted to - again, it was going to be the best EVER!

Sheila and I never got that apartment. By the time we were old enough I had already had one son and was well on my way to being pregnant with my second. And married.

Now I'm 34 years old and I can not wait until my oldest son gets his first apartment. I think that's going to be the best day EVER!

I needed that dream of an apartment when I was a teenager for many reasons. I compare them with today - 20 years later....

THEN: My parents screaming at each other, throwing things, and slamming doors.
NOW: My oldest son yelling at everyone, throwing things where they don't belong, and slamming doors.

THEN: Scurrying up off the sofa and darting from the room when I heard my parent's truck pull into the driveway because I knew one of them would have something pissy to say - taking some of their own shit out on me.
NOW: Scurrying up off of the sofa and trying to look busy when I hear my oldest son's footsteps approaching because I know he's going to have something pissy and mean to say to me - taking some of his own shit out on me.

THEN: I was going to be able to revel in the silence like I had never done before.
NOW: There is no silence, and if there is it usually means someone is pissed off, which makes me feel small and as if I should retreat to my room.

THEN: I was going to decorate our apartment in the coolest, hippest way - anything that struck my fancy. Anything that made me happy.
NOW: I am not allowed to decorate as my oldest son has taken all of my decoration attempts and trashed them, changed them, or ruined the things I was going to decorate with to begin with.
THEN: I was going to have long, long quiet talks with MEN.
NOW: If either me or my husband can get a solid sentence out the other doesn't know how to react. We are always on guard - why is it that we can suddenly have a conversation??? Oh, never mind - here comes someone to bitch about something.

THEN: I was going to have a lot of cats. I love cats, and I wanted many of them.
NOW: As fucked up as it sounds, my son takes my cats from me and makes them his own. I got a kitten recently who is sick, and I don't have the emotional strength to take care of her - OR hear any more bitching about her. She has to go back to the pound. I just wanted a snuggly kitten.

THEN: I was going to have a key to my apartment. My parents didn't give me a key to our house - I had to use the spare key if it was there, and quite often had to break in.
NOW: I don't actually know if I have a key to my own house. I have a key ring, but I have never once had to lock the door because I never go anywhere. If I had a key, my oldest son probably took it and lost it.

THEN: I was going to listen to my music, which was so important to me. I couldn't listen to my music at home because my father was always blaring - at an insane volume - classical music, and I had gotten in trouble for going to sleep with my clock-radio on.
NOW: I don't have a working stereo. Well, the stereo works, but not the DVD player - and even if it did work I wouldn't be able to play "my" music because some kid would most likely be watching TV or made me scurry out of the room because of his pissiness.

THEN: I was going to have a telephone on my night stand. It took FOREVER for my parents to wire a phone to my room - and actually, they never even did that. They wired it to my sister's room. I poked a hole in the wall after she moved out and ran the cord into my room - which is how I got a phone.
NOW: If I had a phone on my night stand it wouldn't ring for me. I don't have a night stand. I also feel guilty every time I even look at my telephones because my oldest son paid for them. (Long story.)

THEN: I was going to have amazing dinnerware and glasses. My parents threw plates and glasses and broke them all. One of the first things I ever did for my mother after I moved out of the house was to buy her an expensive set of beautiful glasses to replace the mismatched cheap ones she had. I fucking HATED the Corelle dinnerware we had. It was white with little blue flowers around the rims of everything.
NOW: My children have broken all of the dishes and glasses that I love or loved. I cannot get attached to anything because I know I'll just end up losing it. My dishes and glasses are mismatched, and I hate my coffee cups.

THEN: I was going to decorate my bedroom with luxurious fabrics because I'd never had such things, but had seen them and loved them.
NOW: My oldest son has taken for his own many bedding items of mine in his lifetime. I gave up a long time ago. When he was younger he'd make tents and poke or tear holes in blankets and curtains. I had to stop fighting him on this or I would have gone insane. I have walked into his room on occasions too numerous to count, and seen a blanket or comforter that I loved being used as a fort. Poles run through it and everything.

THEN: I was going to have privacy. I had none as a kid. There were no locks on my bedroom or bathroom door. My parents entered without knocking - often times throwing the door open. Many, many times my door would fly open simply because my father would stomp up the stairs and SLAM his bedroom door shut after a fight with my mom. It's a noise I'll never forget.
NOW: I hear the echoes of this door-slamming now in the way my son stomps around and slams things. And as for my privacy? It's not totally just he alone that has taken this from me, but geez, I can't even go to the bathroom without someone asking where I am. My oldest son will come down out of his bedroom while I'm standing outside the door smoking and just STAND THERE saying nothing. If I ask "What's up?" or "How's it going?" in even a very gentle tone of voice - he'll sigh and say "Nothing." and then walk off. If I ask him what's wrong he says I wouldn't care to listen and then walk off. All I wanted to do was smoke a cigarette and watch the goddamn little birds on the bird feeder - not get more guilt rammed into my gut because I did or said the wrong thing while trying to catch a quiet moment.

THEN: My apartment was going to be serene. A haven. A place that would be the polar opposite of what I had growing up.
NOW: My home is like an insane asylum. It is exactly the same as it was when I was growing up except the players have changed. My son has replaced BOTH my mother and father - something I never thought possible. My father was an manic alcoholic with serious self-esteem issues, and a sex addiction. I love him, and may he rest in peace, but I simply couldn't take the perverted sense of humor any more when I was a kid. My son is not an alcoholic, pervert, nor is he addicted to sex that I know of - however, he is manic depressive as far as I can tell - just like my father and mother were. A lot more like my father was.

I was planning on escaping and making a new life. I didn't think having children would affect that so greatly. I thought I could make them BE different. I succeeded with at least one of them - but the oldest? I just don't know what to do but say that I really think that when he moves out and gets his own place that I'll have a lot - a whole lot - less anxiety and fear.

Maybe I'll stop jumping up and scurrying out of his way just to avoid the guilt, frustration, fear, and sometimes-resentment.

Maybe I'll be able to live those "first apartment dreams" finally. Wouldn't THAT be THE best day EVER

*sigh*

Heh

Elsewhere, scientists reported that mice who were injected with human brain cells stopped running on a wheel and sat down to watch the wheel instead.

-borrowitz report
12/14/05

Tuesday, Tuesday

I did absolutely nothing of interest at all today.

I did have a fight with Grande Decaf, though. He is oh-so-superior to everyone in this house - or so he thinks. HRH thinks that we are a few miles beneath him. Venti thinks that when Grande goes out into the "real world" he's not going to be testing the waters, he'll be confronted by a huge tidal wave. I think so, too, and I'm trying to avoid that from happening - but man, has that kid got a fucking attitude! And I don't know WTF to do about it.

Tall Decaf is now officially a published model. His picture was used in an ad campaign for a small college in Arizona, and the person in charge sent me a copy of the ad. It was awesome. Tall is officially walking a foot off the ground at this point. He was so happy, and that makes me so happy. What's strange is that Tall is only 14 years old, and was portrayed in the ad as a high school senior. He is way, way, way too big for his age. His nickname here on the blog is Tall Decaf because that's where he fits into the family - he's the middle child, but it's also appropriate to describe him physically. He's surpassing his older brother, Grande, in height and Grande is 2 1/2 years older than him. I am so curious to know what he'll look like when he's all growed up. :)
So, I've been working really hard on setting up www.anxietyportal.com I think it's coming along nicely. I've applied for Google Adsense - I'm sure they'll grant me admission. Once I get that I just need to code it into the header and I can "go live" with it. I hope to God google picks it up and ranks it highly. Now - if I can just find a way to get people to contribute!

I also started a yahoo group for people with panic disorder local to the Puget Sound area. So far two people have emailed me about it, and one of them is working on her MA in counseling. She says that she has her panic attacks under control. God, I envy her. Anyway, it would be nice if I could find some local friends through this venture. I used Craigslist to post the ad about it and had 2 responses in an hour...very cool.

Short Decaf is hiding little pretzels in Tall's jacket. I wonder what he'll say about that tomorrow morning. He adores his baby brother so he'll probably laugh about it.

I can't believe it's ONLY Tuesday. It's definitely feeling like it should be closer to the weekend. Thursday - yeah, it should be Thursday. This week is going painfully slow.

Tomorrow we get another experience of Grande going to his 1-hour appointment at the school to check in with his home-schooling counselor. Last week he managed to get on the right bus, but coming home was a different story in that he got on the wrong bus (which still passes REALLY close to our house) and didn't pull the cable, so he ended up at a mall 8 miles from here. He waited outside for an hour for the return ride - why he didn't go in the mall is beyond me. I guess he witnessed an old lady pull the cable on the way home, and he got off at that stop - second closest to our house - so maybe he'll find the nerve to pull the damn thing tomorrow. Shit, I hope there are some dollar bills laying around for him to use for bus fare.

Well, nothing else of interest to report...as I said, it was a slow day.

Quote I Ddn't Want To Lose

TWoP Forums -> 7-9: "The Wedding" 2005.12.11: "Sometimes people who owe others a great deal do all they can to ruin them. It's a way of erasing a debt and asserting one's independence. It's really asshole-ish, but it's not that rare."

(link has no relevance to why I wanted to keep the quote.)

Fat and Tired

I think my bed is trying to kill me. Both Venti and I feel like we've cracked a rib, and perhaps we actually have. I don't understand this, though, because the bed is actually not old, and I think pretty expensive. It's extremely comfortable and supportive, so what the hell is this cracked rib feeling? Of course - I am unable to NOT obsess about this - what, with being a hypochondriac and all.

Second thing I'm freaking TF out about is this weight gain. I've gained ten pounds since we've moved to Seattle. WTF is THAT all about? And it's not a comfortable ten pounds, either. It's one of those skin-stretching, belly feels like it's got a bowling ball in it, totally uncomfortable ten pounds. I don't know what else to do other than obsess about it. I think it must be my thyroid gland malfunctioning. Thyroid doesn't have very many syllables, I'll grant you that, but it still sounds kind of scary.

I don't know how to exercise with my agoraphobia and heart phobia. I guess I'll get to talk to a psychologist about this soon.

I also get to go to the dentist this weekend - right smack dab in the middle of a Saturday when I should be out shopping (because we have not yet done any Christmas shopping at all!) I also panic in dentist's chairs. I'll have to be sure to take extra xanax instead of thinking I can just brave it out. I always get a kick out of telling a dentist that I'm sedated because they scare the shit out of me. Ever reaction is unique...but fun.

Goddamn it. I better weigh less tomorrow morning when I step on the scale than I did this morning. I simply will NOT put up with being this fucking fat.

I'm not really tired. I don't know why I put that in the title of the post. I'm actually quite wide awake for it being 2:30 in the morning. I guess it doesn't hurt that I had a 3 hour nap today. I think naps are a thing of beauty.

Oh - here's a picture I took. I was going to take more pictures, but my camera's battery died right about after I took this pic. I think it reminds me of the Arches National Park - the rock formation that's called something like the Three Gossips or something like that.

Hmm. I think if you click on it that it will look better than it does in this small version. I should have cropped it, too. Yeah well.

I haven't heard from my mother lately. I wonder if she's pissed at me for not sending a thank you note for the glasses she bought me from Pier 1. I wonder if she'd be pissed if she knew that all the glasses she sent me are breaking VERY easily. I wonder if they're a different batch than the ones I got at the Pier 1 here. Anyway, I'm sure she'll cheer up as soon as she gets the 2 bottles of wine and box of chocolates I got her for Christmas. Now...just have to get them packaged and in the mail.

Oh, man - I had the greatest Mongolian BBQ yesterday. Venti and I ventured out with only Short Decaf and Grande Decaf had pissed us off so badly that we just wanted to be gone from the house for a while, and figured they could find their own dinner anyway. We braved going into the mall to the food court - which you would think would suck - but I tell you, that dude who runs the Mongolian grill there is just awesome. I can't understand very much of what he says - but I ended up getting curry sauce, peppers, and soy sauce on mine. Lots of peppers. He was shocked that I wanted it so spicy, but obliged. Man, it was so fucking good. And it wasn't unhealthy, either - I would think the only unhealthy thing about it would have been the noodles (not a lot of them) and the sodium in the soy sauce. (So that's NOT why I'm suddenly fat.)

I wish I could adopt the guy. He probably doesn't wish that.

Speaking of adopting people, Venti saw a homeless lady with a 2-year-old little girl. If he sees her again he's going to work up the nerve to talk to her. I think she should come and live with us. We have the room, after all. I'd just love, love, love to help someone out like that. I just wish that we knew we were going to be in this house a little longer, or that we would - for sure - be able to find as big of a house to rent next July when it's time for us to get out of here. If that stuff was in the bag, I think I'd actively seek out someone who could use a break in life and give them the spare space in the house. Man, homeless with a 2-year-old...I can't even imagine. That's so sad. :(

(God, I am SO SICK of Blue's Clues.)

I just realized tonight that the chick that plays a Real Estate agent in the T-Mobile 1500 minutes a month commercial was the same actress in Kirstie Alley's Fat Actress show. She was great in that. I loved her hair.

(Yes, these are random thoughts.)

So, I've got my television nights all planned out for the week.

Sunday: (past already): West Wing - it rocked.
Monday: (tonight-past already): The Medium. Pretty damn good episode.
Tuesday: Not a goddamn thing because The Office isn't on. WTF? My name is Earl is on, but I don't like that a whole lot (although I used to have a serious crush on Jason Lee)
Wednesday: Martha Stewart's Apprentice
Thursday: Season Finale of Donald's Apprentice - of course! 2 Hour Finale, Bay-bay! (Also, will be watching Joey.)
Friday: Yeah....I don't watch Friday night TV. Or Saturday night, to be honest. Those are "I'm not home right now..." or movie nights.

I made something in response to that gay-assed Cookie Exchange party. You can read it here if you're interested. It really is funnier if you read the original version first. God, I just really don't like people like that.

Totally Insane: Christmas Cookie Exchange - Invitation

Christmas Cookie Exchange - Invitation

Oh. My. God.

This person, and anyone who ever attended her cookie party NEEDS serious therapy - or surgery to remove the stick out of their ass! See - this is the very reason I did NOT want to go to the cookie party with SIL Decaf. No fucking way.

This damn page should be circulated on the web as a hideous stupid joke. Featured on snopes.com as a "This isn't a real thing, right?"

Nasty.

White Trash Mom

White Trash Mom

ColorQuiz.com

Decaf took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test!

"Wants interesting and exciting things to happen. A..."

Click here to read the rest of the results.

A Quote I Didn't Want to Lose

Prozac On Paws: The Tale Of Two Spayed Females: "I remember being really upset when Jeffrey Dahmer’s father stuck by him duringhis trial and incarceration while my family had cut me off altogether for being bitter, unforgiving, greedy and wanting a free ride, but, damn it, I had not killed or eaten even one person."

NO SHIT!!! No shit.

Frappr is cool.

http://www.frappr.com/decaf

I'm hoping that this turns into a map of where people who visit my panic website are from, and a short blurb from them, and not some horrible idea. I'd hate to have to redo the html.

Church Sign Generator

Church Sign Generator:

A person can have so much fun with this.

Very Funny Movie: Just Friends

I just got back from seeing the movie Just Friends. Oh my God was it funny! I didn't expect it to be funny, but everything in our theater looked lame (like Rent, Yours - Mine & Ours) and Yahoo Movies - critics and regular ole' Joe reviewers liked it, so I thought I'd give it a shot. I really did laugh my ass off, had to question how it was going to end once, but mainly laughed a lot. Stay through the closing credits for a really hilarious lip synch, and "Forgiveness" sung by Anna Faris of Scary Movie fame. Fucking hilarious.

Well, that was my hot date for the weekend. It was nice to go somewhere alone with Venti. I did have a panic attack (as usual) at first when we got into our seats at the theater, but I took a xanax and it went away pretty much as soon as the movie started. I'm so glad the panic passed so I could watch this movie instead of running out of the theater. ;) Thank you Venti for getting me through that anxiety.

Decaf Family Gains Set of Wheels

Well, Grande Decaf got his first car today. He's incredibly happy as the picture should show. The car is kind of goopy in this picture, but it cleaned up really nicely. The car is a 1972 Volvo 145E. What's scary is that this car is a year younger than me. I think I've held up better than the car, but if Grande succeeds with all of his plans for the new love of his life, then that may change. This kid is totally psyched. I am very happy that he's very happy. It's a good feeling. (Thank you Venti!!!)

Vens-daiye

Well, it's Wednesday. Some random Wednesday in the middle of November. This also reminds me that Thanksgiving is coming soon, and that means that Christmas is close behind. Damn.

Anyway, so I hate Virginia. The people who live in that state, not the state itself - although the weather sucks, the roads suck, the traffic sucks, the cost of everything sucks - oh, wait - I DO hate all of Virginia. I had to force myself to get in contact with some fucktard from Virginia today, and I didn't like it one bit. I had to call a pharmacy there about my Xanax XR prescription, which Dr. Decaf gave me several months worth of refills on - and yet, (not) surprisingly, the Virginia pharmacy has no record of the refills. They actually lost several months worth of refills, and now I'm out of Xanax XR, and nobody cares.

I'm actually glad this happened. I'll tell you why. I want off of it. The stuff is awful. It's a marketing exclamation point - I mean, you literally can NOT wean yourself off of it without spending more money, and taking a year or two to do it. Once you start it - you're stuck on it forever - however, there is a loophole. If - and it's a pretty longshot of a an IF - you have generic xanax, or alprazolam, (and I do) you can take that at the same milligrams and then cut back from there. So many people can not get a doctor to prescribe xanax, and I'm really worried about that for myself in the future - but for now I'm just focused on getting the hell off of the XR. It's made me stupid, fat, - and as I've said before - still I panic. Oh, AND it's a HELL of a lot more expensive.

Anyway, so I may be rather anxious the next few days - we shall see. I think I'll be okay though.

Moving on...

I have been spending way too much time on the web tonight exploring/reading about Bradley Whitford. I don't know what the draw is, I really don't - but I just can't get enough of the guy. I'll have to think on it and elaborate some day.

I wonder what the difference between peanuts and cocktail peanuts is. I bought these peanuts, and when I did I couldn't help but to think of my grandfather who always had a jar of peanuts somewhere in the house. Usually next to chocolate and a crossword puzzle. Anyway, I realize now that I don't like cocktail peanuts, and so next time I'll just buy the goddamn honey roasted peanuts that I know I do like.

Who talks about peanuts in a blog??? Wait a minute! Maybe the cocktail peanuts, being bland and all, are called cocktail peanuts so you know to serve them at cocktail parties when you don't want people to stay very long. "Hmm...yeah, these Steven's are real nice people, but the food at this party sucks...wanna go get some Thai food honey? I'll get our coats - tell them the sitter called, and the kids are sick."

Maybe that also means that my grandfather always had cocktail peanuts setting out when we visited because he didn't want us to stay long. We never stayed long anyway. My grandmother always made a nasty pork roast, and my mother could not stop her eyes from bulging out of her head any time my sister or I would scrape our forks against the expensive dinnerware. I swear she'd watch every single sip we took out of my grandmother's glasses, too. First of all - who let's a couple of little kids use expensive stemware, (grandparents who don't care because they're just glasses?) - and second of all - why did my mother spend more time with her eyes bulging out of her head than visiting with family? I don't think my mom liked us as kids, and she pretty much doesn't like as adults, either.

Oh my God. Get this. So, my sister goes down to visit my mom. My mom owns a semi-large daycare center, and was having computer problems. My sister went in to see if she could straighten said problems out, and while she was there and online she set up Outlook to retreive her own email, and never REMOVED the account from Outlook. So for MONTHS my mother has been getting every single piece of email sent to my sister, and the worst part is that she said NOTHING. And she read them all, too. I know this because she has said things she couldn't have possibly known because I wrote them to my sister, and only my sister. How rude is that? I mean, yeah, okay, Sister Decaf was stupid for not removing her email account, but damn - if you're gonna score on downloading someone's email like that at least don't fucking tell anyone! Who wouldn't have done the same thing? Really. Most people, if not 99% of them, would have kept on reading the emails (which quite often mentioned made mention of them in good and bad ways) even though, yes, they SHOULD have told the person - "hey, I'm getting your email - how do I stop that?"

Bottom line? I wonder what the hell bad things I've said about my mother to my sister in the past few months!!!!

Change of subject.

I really need to get to a dentist. Well, I have the worst case of needing to see a dentist, but Tall and Grande both need to see one, too. Both have cavities. I need a root canal and a filling. The last time I was at a dentist it was to get my wisdom teeth pulled. I had a nasty nasty panic attack, but it ended up not being a big deal. I'm a chicken shit, I know. I really am not looking forward to going. :(

My kitten is still adorable. She's got bathroom issues, but she's still adorable. Her name is Decaf Kitty, although she is anything but decaffeinated. Very playful when she's not pooing.

While I'm adding pictures I may as well include one of me with my pink hair.

I know that I don't post pictures of myself on my blog, and I probably shouldn't do this because some far off day it will probably get me in trouble - but here I am, Decaf herself, with pink hair. I'm choosing this picture because it's out of focus and Venti thinks I'm beautiful in it. And no - not because it's out of focus. Damn, you really can't see the pink in this picture can you? I'll try another one....


Well, you still can't see it, but trust me, it's pink. I'll have to go outside and get a "natural light" shot at some point.

Damn, I need Anbesol. And a cigarette. I wonder if those are a bad combination?

Okay, so this is all for tonight. I'll keep you posted on how I'm doing sans Xanax XR, and with everything else.

Let me know if I'm totally wrong about Virginia - if anyone can think of anything that doesn't suck about it, leave a comment. (No - I'm not one to let go of grudges.)

Where the FUCK is the Anbesol?????

The Lights Are On, But Nobody's Home

I've heard that saying so many times in my life - not directed at me, or anything, just you know - in passing. Now, you see or meet people like this all the time. You swear you can hear the wind rushing through one ear and out the other with them. There's just nothing going on in there.

It occurred to me today that I have the absolute opposite problem.

It must appear to people that I am of the "lights are on, but nobody's home" variety, though. I mean, it just must. I am expressionless almost all of the time. I have no telling emotions to give anyone a clue that there's even a single thought floating through my mind at all. Only someone who really, really knows my eyes would be able to tell what I'm feeling - and even then it would be hard.

Inside I am a whirlwind of thoughts and ideas that I can never shut off. I want to do, say, feel, act, so many things. My body doesn't respond like it's supposed to, though. I feel like I'm a prisoner. I scream at myself internally to get off my ass and ACT - move, say, emote...but nothing happens. I just sit and my body is in this terrible zone. I really have to fight it to do anything.

I know it's the medicine that I'm taking that's making me feel like this, and yet I cannot muster up the ... anything ... to call a doctor and make an appointment to talk to them about this. I need to get off of the xanax xr - and perhaps the lexapro, too. Just go drug free and see what it feels like to FEEL something again.

On the outside I have put 40 pounds on my body that wasn't there the day my doctor told me - assured me - that these medicines would NOT make me gain weight. I know for a solid fact that when I lose weight, look good, and feel good about how I look - that my panic attacks all but disappear. My anxiety lifts with every pound lost - and yet fucktard doctors give me this medicine that makes me gain weight. Dumb fucks. God, and he seemed so goddamn certain that I wasn't going to gain weight from it. When I told him I was gaining he said it was because I'd cut back on smoking, and that it certainly wasn't the medicines. Ideally I'd like to stop taking the Xanax XR and the Lexapro, and just go back to taking regular xanax as needed. Hell, the medicines aren't doing much, that's for sure. I am still totally phobic of driving a car, totally phobic of exercise, my heart, showers, smoking, walking, sleeping...and you may have noticed a few new phobias in there - yes, they didn't start until after I started taking these medicines that were supposed to make my anxiety go away. How about a big WHAT THE FUCK???

I feel like my life is falling apart around me. I have no control over anything. I especially have no control of my children who love to take advantage of me, mock me, say nasty things about me when I've pissed them off - which seems quite often lately. Grande will no longer be going to regular school - I've come to the conclusion that it's just not working for him so why put him through the misery. So - we make this decision after he's skipped school for a week, and another week is going by and he's not really made any moves to get started on independent home schooling. Of course, we will have to get that all started for him - and hell, probably do his work for him, too.

And when I say "we" - I mean Venti, because lately I can't even bring myself to make a goddamned phone call when I need to.

Venti is in Chicago right now and although he'll be home soon enough - man, do I really miss him. It doesn't sound like he's having a whole lot of fun there, but at least the scenery is different for him. He's taking a class. I wish I was taking a class.

I'm not doing much of anything lately, to be honest. I get up, change and feed Short Decaf before turning on Blue's Clues or something equally mind-numbing, will the coffee pot to hurry the fuck up, sit down and check my email, drink my coffee (starting drinking it sans sugar), and then I have nothing to do - or nothing that I want to do - until Venti gets home at night. I pretty much walk around life in an effort to make sure that Short Decaf is fed, entertained, and clean. He's such a precious little boy. But, that's my life.

Books help pass the time when I feel like reading them.

The name of the book I just finished reading about 15 minutes ago was The Time Traveler's Wife. It was okay. I wish I wouldn't have bought it because I know I'll never want to read it again. It was a complex story, and I don't think I could write a better one than it - but eh, I just didn't really enjoy the ending. I'm a happy ending sort of person.

So many books. I'd really rather be writing, but I don't have much of an urge to do that lately. My panic/pregnancy book is about 3/4's of the way done, and I could easily finish it if I just opened the damn thing up and started typing - and yet, I don't. And I don't know why. From birth I've NEVER been the type of person to finish a project. I'm really into starting them, though. Before Venti left he dug out his really cool art set for me because I had a notion that I wanted to do some painting or something. It's like five days later, and I have yet to paint anything.

I often wonder if I'm depressed. There must be a test online to determine that - but, to be honest, I don't need one. I'm not depressed - I'm fucking bored. I need some friends. Venti wishes that I had one really good friend other than him who REALLY gets me. I do have that friend, but she's in Pennsylvania working the night shift at some warehouse at the moment. My sister. I miss her. A lot more than I ever imagined being able to miss her.

There's not much of a life for me here in Washington yet. I'm sure I'll make one as the years pass and we grow some roots, but for right now I have nothing here. Because I cannot walk anywhere or drive anywhere I only have one view, and that's of nothing but big evergreen trees surrounding my house. Well - not MY house - but the house we get to stay in for the next few months at a ridiculously low cost. I wonder how much such a limited view takes a toll on a person? I mean, if my view was vast - mountains, water, the town - maybe I'd feel differently, but now I feel like I'm in a green cocoon where I really have to strain to see what the sky looks like during the day. Yes, I do go outside - to smoke. Every now and then I walk around the yard for a little bit, but then I have to quickly go back inside before Short Decaf finds a pair of scissors or a magic marker or something.

He has successfully locked me out of the house once already. I had to kick the door in, and Venti had to patch it with wood putty and nails. He has also attempted to lock me out of the house about a hundred times. So - smoking outside isn't a whole lot of fun. I take my keys with me and stand on the porch with my foot against the door, which is cracked open just a bit, just to ensure I never have to kick in the damn door again.

So, I have been thinking about hypnosis again. I got the number of a doctor here in my town who says that one of his specialties is panic disorder, and he also specializes in hypnotherapy. Man, I'd just LOVE that. I would love, love, love to be hypnotized and have the insurance company have to pay for it. I would also love for it to help with the phobias.

To be honest, I know that just TALKING to someone is going to help. I don't get to talk very often. I'm more like the designated listener in the family. Anyway, the last time I had a hideous driving phobia I was over it within three weeks after just talking to a psychologist. That was really cool, and got me a big chunk of my life back. I hope this guy is taking new patients, and I hope he's kind, gentle, and interested. And most of all, patient.

Well, I've written a lot, and I needed to - so whoever is reading this - thanks for the time. If anyone is wondering??? Yes, indeed, I am okay.

RG = DS? If So Then = PO'd

Here's a toast of the finest, most expensive wine or liquor of your choosing to you - in the biggest glass I could find. May you not fuck up my marriage or life, and may you stay the fuck away from me for a while until I'm not so pissed off at you.

morguefile.com : I'm cool.

One in 4.7 people who view my pictures on morguefile.com actually download them. Cool.

Views:
4,755

Downloads:
1,015

New Kitten Tomorrow

Or, well - today really since it's after midnight. I'm very excited about getting the new kitten. :) Venti and I picked it out on Saturday with Short Decaf's help. She had her "surgery" yesterday and now I'll have her very soon! I spent ALL my Google AdSense money on her, but she's going to be worth it. I really hope she's as much of a snuggly cat as she seemed to be at the Humane Society.

So Grande Decaf got my dad's computer running again. He died nearly five years ago and nobody has really touched his computer much since then. When I got ahold of it (from my sister's clutches) it didn't work very well, and I had to rescue all the emails. I exported them into a .pst file, but before I could take them off the hard drive it kind of "blew up". Grande actually blew it up by trying to plug a floppy drive into it while it was powered up. He did this about a year ago, and I didn't realize how much intense guilt he has been harboring over the situation ever since. Knowing that his grandfather's last words via email to anyone were on that computer, Grande really felt bad. However, now he's somehow fixed it and I got to read some of my dad's emails. He was so, so, so very supportive of everything I did. Man, I really miss him. As soon as I can get those emails off of that computer I'll post the last one he wrote to me - and the last one he wrote.

He was an awesome guy.

So, I had a lot of racing thoughts today. It was reminiscent of what I felt like the entire time I was pregnant. Absolutely horrible. A 1/2 of a Xanax took the feeling away, but it's just horrible to experience. I have a lot on my mind lately.

I've pissed off sister-in-law Decaf by not responding to an "annual cookie exchange/potluck/Chinese auction for an ornament" email invitation. She sent the "let me know" email a 9 days ago. Yes, I know - I need to grow a pair and just fucking reply to people even when the answer is one I know they won't like. Anyway, she called Venti and asked him about it - and so I had to pony up a response to her. I hope she's not too pissed. I think she is, though.

I just don't DO things like that. I mean, even if I wasn't agoraphobic, anxious, panic attack prone, and overweight (total body image issues here) - I STILL wouldn't be into "annual cookie exchange/potluck/Chinese auction for an ornament" parties. I'm not that kind of girl. Hell, I NEVER ONCE went to my own mother's annual Christmas cookie making get-together. Martha Stewart I am not - and that's one of the things I actually DO like about myself. I know some people would like to change that about me, but it's not going to happen.

Here is the portion of the email invite that regards what goes on at this party. I have highlighted the things in color and bold that DO NOT AT ALL APPEAL to me.

Basically, [party-holder] takes a total of all people attending, lets us know how many cookies to make, and how many bundles. Everyone brings their little bundles, and exchanges them with everyone else. We have a potluck lunch, and then have the Chinese Auction for a Christmas ornament that you bring wrapped. It is always a ton of fun watching everyone "fight" over the coolest ornaments. You go home with about 15 different kinds of baked goodies, and everyone thinks you are the queen of the kitchen. [So-and-so] has come with me in years past, and had a great time. It's all women that party-holder teaches school with, and or has aerobics class with. Let me know if it sounds like fun, and I will forward the information to you when she replies. We could get together one night before the party and make our goodies over here if you would like.

Let me just clear this up a bit by breaking it down:

• Bundles: I really don't like the word bundle. I especially don't like making bundles of things.
• Potluck Lunch: This implies I have to cook and then eat in front of 12 to 15 women I don't know. I don't like chick things like this. There is always that one woman who makes something outrageous and you have to ooh and ahh over what everyone else has brought. I fucking hate that shit.
• Chinese Auction: This is another one of those stupid party games I hate. I'm going to go shopping and get a headache, a panic attack in the mall, and spend $20 on an ornament at the Hallmark Store just so I can get the hell out of the mall. This does not at all sound like fun to me. I don't like party games, and I don't like spending $20 on a "thing" and then going home with my $2 trade. I always get screwed at these things. I honestly do. The last time it happened was at a Christmas party with a bunch of Tupperware saleswomen. I brought THE coolest gifts, and took him total shit.
  
• Wrapped: To women going to a party like this - whatever needs to be wrapped had damn well better be done REALLY cool. Like, you just might want to MAKE the paper yourself, and use something jiggy like ostrich feathers as the last festive finishing touch. The fucking wrapping is a party game in itself. More ooohing and ahhhing. I hate that shit.
  
• ton of fun: I'm thinking it's actually not. Pretty sure, actually.
  
• "fight" over the coolest ornaments: This sounds so totally fucking mind-numbingly stupid that I can't even respond more than what I already have.
  
• everyone thinks: Why do I doubt this??????
  
• queen of the kitchen: More comparing. See how it's not a party? It's a Showcase Showdown. Bob-fucking-Barker should be there. I am DAMN good in the kitchen when I want to be, and when I want to be has nothing to do with 12 to 15 women I've never met before who CARE who is a queen of the kitchen or who has the coolest ornament and ACTUALLY WANTS to fight over it.
  
• aerobics: ugh. Bunch of skinny chicks. No thank you.
  
• goodies: I'm 34-years-old. I don't like to use the word "goodies." Okay, to each his own, and all that - anyone who wants to say it certainly CAN, but I refuse to do it. I don't actually think less of people who talk like this, it's just not "me."

One might be asking themselves why I would go to such great lengths to bitch about this cookie party thing in my blog. I know there's some psychology to it - probably that somewhere deep inside I hate myself for not being more like these women who can get into shit like this. I have tried, and tried, and tried my ENTIRE life to fit in with people who seemed to be "normal" and do "the right things" - and I mean that. I said it earlier...I was at a goddamn Tupperware Sales Person Christmas party! I wasn't a fucking guest! I was selling the shit so that I could FIT IN. I still have a thing about Tupperware (love the stuff) - but selling it and going to all those goddamn meetings as if it was church, and if you didn't go you just didn't "fit in" - or as my mother would put it - "weren't being a team player" - well, fuck 'em. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Fit. In. With. People. Like. This. GET IT?????

I thought I got to put all that bullshit trying-to-fit-in shit behind me when I left my old life, but it always creeps back in, doesn't it? Somehow it always does, and I'm the one left feeling like a cast-out, creep, weirdo, not like everybody else....This totally, totally fucks with my having been okay with that for a while, and sets me WAY THE FUCK BACK.

Now I'm trying to figure out if I'll have enough money left after picking up my kitten tomorrow to buy a couple of boxes of brown hair dye to get rid of the pink streaks ... Why? Because people who ... no, woman - gaggles of women - who go to aerobics, cookie parties, etc., do NOT look at you like you FIT IN when you have hot pink fucking hair, and everyone else in the room has (a) brown flat hair, or (b) medium brown hair with blonde highlights, or (c) all gray hair. (I find those with all gray hair to be most forgiving.)

Anyway, so I'm feeling really bad about this. Obviously.

I need a fucking cigarette. (Still not smoking in the house - and still down to less than 10 cigarettes a day.)

Okay. Change of subject. I'm nervous about driving with J-Mac Decaf tomorrow to pick up the kitten. I like him. He has had panic attacks really bad (I mean REALLY bad), and so I know he knows what it's like - so that's great, but still - being in the passenger seat when anyone other than Venti is driving is really going to be a challenge. I hope that somehow it works out and that I can find a way to forget about that "silly phobia" - and just have a good time. J-Mac Decaf is a good guy - I think he's my only friend here.

So wish me luck with the whole kitten, driving, cookie thing.

Sleepless Nights and Pink Hair

As you can see, it's 6AM on a Saturday morning. I haven't been able to sleep, and I don't know how it got to be 6 already. I wrestled with sleep all night until I finally decided to get up and do something productive - which means I dyed my hair pink. Not all of it - just streaks. Now I'm waiting out the last ten minutes before the rinse. I hope it turns out alright. No going back now. :)

I've been really anxious the past couple of days - but yesterday (and now) especially. I know why, but I can't put it in the blog except to say it's a chick thing.

Honestly, not much has been happening lately or else I would have written something here.

Well, time to rinse. As soon as something interesting happens I'll blog it. Pink hair is the most interesting it gets here at this time.

Out of Books -- Internet's Back Up

Well, I've read four books in the last week. I have to say I'm not really impressed with any of them. In Her Shoes, which will be (or maybe already is) in theaters soon starring Cameron Diaz, Splintered Icon by I can't remember who, The Probable Future, and Northern Lights by Nora Roberts. I had to put the Nora Roberts one down about 3 chapters in because it basically sucked. I'm just not into romance novels. I must have outgrown them when I wasn't paying attention.

It's 11 PM and Short Decaf is refusing to sleep so he's in this empty bedroom, which is serving as a catch-all room/office until our stuff gets here this weekend. I'm sitting on the floor because, although having the laptop on the ironing board is a good height for just checking your email - it's a bitch for anything else. I'm sitting on a really, really nice hardwood floor, though. I love the floors in this house.

One thing I do NOT like about this house is the critters. Namely spiders, slugs, snails, and frogs. So far that's all I've seen, and it better damn-well be ALL I see. I've actually heard something else in the woods, but not seen what it is yet. And these little fucking frogs? I actually caught Tall Decaf running out of the house with one saying he'd found it hopping down the hallway! WTF!!? How the FUCK did it get into my house? They're so little, though. Like maybe an inch long tops. I hate them no matter how cute they are.

So yes - I went through these books, but now we finally have internet and cable (meaning phone as well since we use Vonage) hooked up. I'm no longer off the grid. I have been a bit taken back by how well I did without internet or phone access, and only books to pass the time. I am, however, out of books - but have a nice list of recommended books from Mother-in-Law Decaf. She's cool. I actually do miss her and wonder when the next time I'll see her will be. Venti and her don't seem to be very close, and I hope like hell my kids are closer to me than he is to her when they get older.

So, basically nothing on the radar screen for me in the next few days. Sister-in-Law Decaf is coming over tomorow night with dinner. I wonder how much everyone will drink. I should keep a list. One thing's for sure, I'll never feel guilty about buying a $6.99 novel that only takes a day to read.

I've been thinking about lists alot today. I know that sounds stupid, but I really came up with alot of dumb things to keep a list of. Places I've been, how many times I call my mom or sister, (or vice-versa), books I've read, things like that. My grandpa used to keep a very organized list on a tiny memo pad of every book he ever read with very brief notes written next to the title. *GOOD*, *SLOW IN THE MIDDLE*, *BAD*. Hell, I could do it for movies, too. Of course, I had to come up with ten different ways to keep these lists - mostly excel, but that just didn't seem right. I think it would be cool to write them all down in a little memo pad like my grandpa used to do.

First one I'd write down would have to be Matrix Revolutions *SUCKED AND SHOULD BE REMADE AFTER ORIGINAL DIRECTORS ARE REMOVED FROM GENE POOL."

So anyway, a third-grade teacher from Alabama wrote to me to tell me that she used a picture I'd taken of a chubby toad in one of her Life-Cycle class projects, and wanted to tell me thanks, and that she really liked the picture. That was pretty awesome that someone actually - finally - let me know what they were doing with my pictures that they downloaded off of morguefiles.com. I've had somewhere around 600 downloads and only that one email letting me know how they used the image.

And that's everything of interest for now....

Move-In Day Cometh

Well, it's about 45 minutes from being October 1st, which is the day we move into our own house. I'm so very glad that this week is over. It's just been mindnumbing to be in sister-in-law Decaf's house all week. She's not the problem, as I said before. She's really nice and everything, but maybe it's one of those woman things where you just NEED your own house for your own family. I don't know. I just know I've been utterly stressed beyond words, and so happy to finally know that when I go to sleep tomorrow night it will be in MY house. My rules, my ways of doing things, just mine, mine, mine.

Venti, you know I love you.

Venti has been extremely excited about his new job since his first day. They've given him a bouquet of flowers and great gifts, a wonderful office where he's eye-to-eye with the Space Needle, all the freshly ground Starbuck's coffee he can drink, and the latest and greatest technology and everything else the world has to offer in the most beautiful building in Seattle. I am so very glad that he's so excited about it, but I'm an ogre for feeling jealous and even slightly resentful when he goes on and on about it, but then kind of doesn't want to listen to what I've got to say. I admit that it's not much that I've got to comment on, but still.

I guess this is the time of my life when I have to make my own life with my own friends, likes, dislikes, conversations, just things that Venti isn't a part of anymore. He has so much here that makes him happy already, and I have to find that for myself. I'm officially an executive wife now. I immediately picture some 1950's housewife pulling a roast out of the oven moments before her husband comes home. Yeah. That'll fucking happen. Right.

Venti's sister doesn't quite yet believe that I have a brain in my head. His sister has been a tad pushy on getting things done, especially surrounding the kid's school. I know how these things work, and could do it on my own - but I really did need to wait until the lease came through and we had it in our hands before the school would even talk to us. His sister told him to tell me to start looking for immunization records now because the school will need them. Like I haven't put the boys into schools before? I don't know - it's just the way it's all said. And, of course, because Short Decaf is being a monster lately for some reason - opening doors and just walking outside - she is overly adament about us putting indoor locks or safeguards on all the doors in our new rental house so he doesn't walk out into the street. I mean, come on. Like I wouldn't think of that? I'll explain and say that Short Decaf has never had the opportunity to open doors before, and that opening doors is very new and exciting to him...but this is, again, a very new thing - specifically since we spent the first night in a hotel prior to starting our trip. He's been fascinated ever since. I know this. I have seen this. I am not about to let my little boy walk out of the front, basement, or back door and let him wonder off into traffic. It just annoys me. I think it annoys me even more because Venti is so wrapped up in himself right now, rightfully so I suppose, to notice that any of this shit goes on. He just doesn't see it, but still - it infuriates me.

I know that I'll be able to make a good life here and that we're going to live here for many, many year - and so I'd better make a life for myself, and all of that. I'm going to have to because I am not going to spend my whole life proving to Venti's family that I'm not a fucking moron.

Yes, I have panic attacks and a driving phobia the size of Montana, but I am not a fucking moron. Not even a moron. Not stupid. What I am is stressed out about all the changes in my life and not having anyone to talk to about them. Venti will suggest a counselor or the local find-a-friend service (as if it were that easy), but to be honest I really don't know WHAT it is that I need right now. I suppose out of everything I just need to grow some goddamn roots and get a life.

I need a car. I think it's disempowering to be left at home all day without a car. Venti said I could drive him down to the bus stop / park-n-ride every morning that I wanted the car, and that way I would have the Passat anytime I wanted it - but it's HIS car. I'm sure he's still squeamish about the pendant I hung off of the rear-view mirror.

Well, for all of my bitching/venting - which was nice - I suppose I ought to try and get some sleep now. We rented an SUV for tomorrow morning from the local Enterprise so that we'd have something bigger than a small trunk to stow away all the stuff we have to buy tomorrow for our empty house. We have it all weekend, and I hope that we can find the things we need to make it a comfortable house without breaking the bank....or doing any more damage to my ankle ;) (Oh - did I mention I majorly, majorly twisted my ankle last Saturday? It hurts like a bitch! No broken bones, thank God, but man does it hurt. The doctor said there are two directions, of course, to twist your ankle, and I went ahead and twisted mine the worst way that takes the longest time to heal. Naturally!)

Off to bed, then IKEA...but at least I get to go into Seattle tomorrow. That'll be nice.

Arrived at Destination Five Days Ago

The move isn't 'quite' over. Not yet. We made it to Seattle (despite my hideous driving phobia) late last Friday night. We looked for houses to rent all weekend and came up empty-handed. We finally got one that is temporary - only 9 months - which I think we're moving into this weekend, although our belongings are still on a truck god only knows where, and won't be here until a week from Saturday. I'm having a hard time getting the kids into school here because I don't have a lease or anything that proves that we live here yet.

It's hard living with Venti's sister. She's nice, but her and her boyfriend are both super-neat-freaks and I've been walking on eggshells trying to make sure that nothing - and I do mean NOTHING - shows any evidence that we're here. Of course, Short Decaf has been acting like a 2 1/2 year old bad-ass. I don't know where this came from, but he really is NOT acting like my sweet little baby, which is driving everyone insane.

I feel really frantic. I feel like we haven't really gotten here yet because I don't have anything that is MINE around me. I feel like pulling my hair out at the end of every day, and am terrified of the time between 3 and 7 PM. That's the time frame between when Venti's sister and her boyfriend come home from work and when Venti gets here. He gets here at 7. So I have this whole entire day to make sure that the house is clean, Short Decaf isn't running or wrecking anything, Tall and Grande aren't fucking with anything or being slobs or making a mess or eating the wrong thing or on, and on, and on. I really wish we were in our new house because, damn, I'm just a fucking mess at the end of the day. I wish I was a drinker sometimes.

Everyone around me is. God, what IS it with people drinking? We went to look at the house we're going ot rent and there was a 12-pack of beer in the fridge. The first thing Sister-In-Law Decaf's boyfriend did when he ran into the house was open one and suck it down, then head for another one? Everyone has a couple of drinks - hard ones - every night. I guess I shouldn't bitch - at least they're not as critical when they're drunk.

So, about the trip. It went okay except for two days where I panicked. I panicked pretty bad the first day, and had to pull off of an exit in Ohio and let xanax kick in. I had to have Venti pull into exits like once or twice that day. After that I was okay until the last day - day 8 - of our trip when I had THE WORST panic attack. It was in Missoula, Montana and we were stuck there for 3 fucking hours in a truck stop parking lot while I just kept taking more and more xanax to try and make it go away, but it wouldn't. I called my panic doctor and had him paged, and he told me to take more xanax than I was comfortable with - but I did it, and finally I was able to be back on the road. This, however, got us to our destination at 11 o'clock at night instead of 8, which kind of fucked up some plans a little. Man, it was a bad panic attack, though. It just wouldn't stop. I think I was really scared of getting to this house and then everything stopping the way it did. Travelling and being with Venti and the kids, staying at hotels, having fun, etc., for so long and then suddenly I'm completely alone with the kids in a strangers house.

Anyway, since I've been here I haven't had any panic attacks, and am taking less medicine than I was on any given day in Virginia. Of course, I've been very, very busy all day.

I still can't believe I travelled 3,000 miles. I can't believe I made it. I honestly, at times, didn't think that I would.

In other news, my own sister's husband re-joined the Army and will be active duty in a month. They gave him a $15,000 signing bonus and he's enlisted for 6 years. Since he's already put 7 1/2 years into the military he'll be able to retire from the military when he's 51 years old. I just can't beleive he's been out of the military since just after the first gulf war in the early 90's, and here it is fifteen years later and he's joined up again. He says it makes him happy, and so I guess that's all that matters.

That's all I have time to write at the moment....I'll catch up more as soon as I can.

One Full Day Away

Well, wow. We're getting down to the wire with the move. The landlord will be here tomorrow morning at 10 AM to do God knows what. I hope I'm still asleep, but I know - at that time - I won't be because there's still so goddamn much to do, and only 36 hours to do it...plus, it would be kind of fucked up to be asleep in bed when the landlord is touring the house.

Venti was supposed to stay up late tonight and work on stuff, but succumbed to sleep early despite my not-so-subtle bribery attempts. He says he'll wake up early and get everything done, but we'll see.

I'm not tired, but I know I have to sleep now. I still have no idea what I'm going to pack my clothing in - these, and a thousand other thoughts are what will be running through my head for the next few hours as I try to fall asleep.

A quick note: I didn't have any panic today - even when going out to the grocery store - I actually had fun. Maybe there's a not-so-bad time ahead on this trip. Maybe I can get over my driving phobia and actually enjoy this - what should be - cross-country adventure. That would be really, really nice.

Some Things to Be Excited About

1. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy came out on DVD today. I fully intend to purchase it at some point today.
   
2. We added a day to our drive across the country, and I get to visit Breckenridge, CO now. Breckenridge is where Venti says Picabo Street lives, but I just want to visit the highest-elevation Starbucks.
3. The rooms in my house are starting to echo. We leave in 4 days, 3 if you don't count today.
   
4. My oldest son just taught my youngest son to say "pimp car" - that's not exciting, but funny, and now I have to smack my oldest and re-teach my youngest.
5. Tomorrow is Venti's last day at his job.
6. When we leave I get to throw away our ugly yellow microwave!
7. I think today will be the day I put the purple streaks in my hair.
   

The Move Has Started

Well, as you can see in this picture our storage containers are here. This means we're really getting down to the wire. They drop them off and leave them in your driveway for five days. That means we have to be out of here in less than five days.

I think we're getting closer and closer to being done. There's nothing left to throw away; only things to pack, and then put into these 2 containers. I'm worried the containers won't be big enough, to be honest. I'm going to be pissed if my king-sized mattress doesn't fit, but it should.

My panic attacks are considerable when I'm driving in the car, and so I'm really nervous about the drive, which starts in exactly four days. I'm trying to be strong, brave, stoic - all that shit, but the simple fact is that I have panic attacks in the car, and I'm going to be IN the car for seven days. Yes, I am very scared. I suppose this will be like exposure therapy. I just hope it's not traumatic, and I hope to God xanax does the job of taking the panic - if any - away.

My family isn't talking to me. I suppose this is their way of saying "we care." After leaving a message for my mom on Thursday that we wouldn't be going to her house on Saturday because we had absolutely no time to spare, but anyone was welcome to come here, I expected a call. None came. I've decided not to call them - I've already tried to email my sister - who I know gets my emails - she just never returns them. I'd have thought she'd want to see - at least - Short Decaf before we left. It kind of hurts how little they care - or how they expressing their 'care'. I guess it should make it easier, emotionally, for me to leave.

God, how did I ever end up in Virginia anyway? That wasn't exactly the plan. I really can't wait to get back to Seattle. I do love it there - just, UGH - this damn driving ISSUE!!!

So, only a few more days and we're off-and-up-out.

Managed the Day

I went to the family doctor this morning, and fortunately she was very nice to me. She gave me four refills on the xanax, which should be like - WAY plenty time to find a doctor in Washington. I went in on 4 hours of sleep, and my blood pressure was 124/74. She said that was excellent. I was too tired to care, but actually it is reassuring. I thanked her for all she's done for me these past three years. I actually won't miss her that much, though. She was always patient with me, but very ... I don't know...mini-mom'ish? I know that's a retarded word to use, but I can't think of anything else.

I came home, waited for Short Decaf to get sleepy - and at the first sign of drooping eyelids I grabbed him and we took a nap. I didn't sleep well. I woke up and started panicking - of fucking course.

I panicked until about 8:30 tonight. I don't know why I don't take the dose of xanax that my doctor says I should - I take 1/2 or 1/4 of that and then wonder why the panic attack won't go the hell away. Duh.

Grande Decaf took his broken HP laptop (something with the DVD) back to Costco and got a less expensive computer. He had something like $300 or $400 left over so he bought speakers (Altec Lansing), and then gave Dave the rest of the money. Dave bought a wireless networking system and something for me - a really bitchin set of cordless phones by Uniden I've been wanting since February. Now everyone in our house, except Short Decaf, can have a phone in their room. Grande is very, very excited about his new laptop, which is a Compaq.

Right now Venti is researching renters' rights, and it appears that our landlord is, in fact, insane. She sent us a certified letter (about the house, not her sanity) , which I know her daughter wrote. Like, what? That's going to scare us? She put alot of "subsection 9 Paragraph 3" shit in it - oooooh....scary. Well, as ridiculous as it was, it IS what set off the panic attack.

God, I hate that fucking bitch.

So. Venti only goes to work at AWH FIVE MORE TIMES!!!! Yes, yes, and YES!!! I am so excited for him. He's literally watching the organization start to shake at the foundation as people begin to realize "but....who's going to do this if YOU don't???" HAhahahaha. I'm so, so very glad he's getting to see that. He deserves to have a bit shit-eating grin on his face after putting up with their crap for three years. Underpaid, overworked, and mistreated by his department leader (man-hating bitch who knows nothing about IT.)

That's my rant. Going to spend time with my men...

6 1/2 Hours and 9 Days

It's 2 AM and I have to be at my family doctor's office at 8:30. I've been trying to sleep since 11:30 with absolutely no success. The reason I am going to my family doctor is to see if she will refill my prescription for xanax so that I can make it across the country on our 7-day drive. I haven't seen her in two years, I think it's been. I do know, however, that ever since I had that BIG panic attack on August 12th I've been having a REALLY damn hard time driving in a car anywhere that is too far from home. I have been panicking alot lately. I'm trying to be strong, but it's just not working all too well.

So, my mind is just racing. There's so much to do that most days I do more sitting and planning than actual "stuff" to get ready for this move.

We leave in 9 days. Jesus Christ. Can that be right? I guess it is - we're leaving sometime during the day on the 17th, with our first stop being Columbus, Ohio - I think. We still haven't secured our exact travel plans.

Man, I wish I could sleep. I already know I look like shit - because I feel like shit. I've been really working my ass off these past few days. I hope my doctor is nice because I can't take a single other person being a prick to me. Our landlord, and her daughter, were just such assholes over the weekend that I think I'm still feel the anxiety from that. I actually yelled at her daughter for using threatening words to Grande - who is 14 years old. She said something about calling the police and having them get over to our house. We were not at home at the time, but fortunately, were just down the street. Grande called me on my cell phone and was terrified.

Why would our landlord's daughter be threatening to call the police? I'm not sure. We haven't done anything illegal other than not pay rent yet. It was due on the 5th day of the month, but there she was on our steps waiting to attack us verbally on the 4th day of the month. Bitch. I really let her have it for scaring the shit out of my son. God, I hate people here.

So then our actual landlord calls us on Sunday morning - very early on Sunday morning, and tells us that we cannot leave until we pay for September's rent. She said she would have the police come and make us not be able to leave. Yes - actually barricade us in the house. You might have to understand that she MAY still think she's in Vietnam, or wherever the fuck she's from. Venti told her she'd go to jail for doing that, and that this is America, and blah, blah, blah...but it still upset me really badly. Well, it upset everyone really badly.

Sometimes 9 days seems way, way, way too long.

We've been invited to 2 going-away parties this weekend. We don't have time to go, but they are relatives and friends - so what choice do we have? None. I'm really, really scared about the drive to see my family - which is about 3 1/2 hours from here. We really needed that time to finish packing, cleaning, and painting because uber-bitch landlord will be here on Tuesday night for an inspection.

No wonder I can't sleep. Who WOULD be able to sleep??

My camera broke. It would figure that it would considering that, as I mentioned in an earlier post, have become addicted (let's call it a hobby) to Morguefile.com - I love taking pictures. Anyway, Venti took my camera back to Costco and they didn't even ask any questions - they just traded it in for the same one I had. No questions asked. Weird. Good, but weird. I was really bummed thinking I wouldn't have my camera for the trip. Panicking or not, I plan on taking pictures.

Well, I guess I ought to try and sleep again.

Anxiety Avenue: Tom Terriffic?

Anxiety Avenue: Tom Terriffic?: "The beliefs of Scientology include this interesting tidbit:

'Xenu, the evil intergalactic ruler who implanted 'thetans' or alien spirits, in earth's volcanoes 75 million years ago, after which they escaped and invaded human bodies. The ultimate belief of Scientology is that you are possessed by the spirits of aliens murdered 75 million years ago by 'Xenu' and you have to exorcise these spirits.'"

Morgue File (not grim)

Check me out on morguefile. Let me know if you like my pictures.

3 AM Is When People Think Best

I mean, it really has to be. The house is at its quietest, and you're utterly worn out from a horrific day. Well, maybe not you, but me.

I never did get my paycheck, which means we cannot pay rent. This also means that the uber-bitch landlord will not give our $1500 deposit back.

Does it matter? No.

Why? Because we won't be here in four weeks. Instead of moving to Washington in 2 months, it is now 3 1/2 weeks. Seventeen days. We have to leave in seventeen days so that we can get across the country so that Venti can start his new job on the 26th.

He finally got the all-clear from the company tonight. We needed the good news, and it came just when we needed it the most. However, I am completely overwhelmed. As I sat listening to Venti call everyone he knows, and then email everyone he knows, and then check his email some more - I obviously had alot of time to think. (First of all - how about talking to me first? Not to dilute his absolute bliss about getting hired - just, well - I'm making a life altering change, too - ya know?)

There's so much to do, and what did I do other than panic? I wrote a list of rooms, and what to take with us - and what to put in storage to have shipped later. I thought alot about the upcoming guilt-fest my family is going to dump on me. I don't need that right now, but I sure would love their support...and not that riddled-with-sarcasm support shit, either.

Anyway, Venti called about 5 or 6, maybe more, people. I tried to get through to my mom, but only got her answering machine and she didn't call back. I didn't have anyone else to call. Ugh.

Grande Decaf is extremely excited and is planning on not going to school tomorrow so that he can stay home and help pack and throw things away. Seventeen days. Good lord. In the short space of 3 hours my home suddenly became knee-deep in cardboard boxes. We currently live about 3 blocks from an enormous outlet mall. Finding boxes are of no concern.

Venti is going to give his resignation letter tomorrow. I wish I could be there to see how they react. I bet it will be priceless, and I bet they'll counter-offer. He'd never take it, but it would be a boost to his ego. Priceless.

I'm wrong - people, well - me, don't think best at 3am, as this scattered entry tells. I'm all over the place with my thoughts tonight.

So - let me tell a stupid story about the bitch at Borders last week so that I can get my mind off of how much shit I have to do.

I needed a couple of books to get me through Venti being 3,000 miles away for several days, and so he took me to Borders. I wanted to read the novel version of Practical Magic (which, of course, was that Sandra Bullock movie.) I walked up to the computer and searched, and they didn't have it. Some goth chick was nearby at the counter and I asked her if she had any thoughts on books similar to that which might interest me. At the time I was holding a totally trashy romance novel looking thing in my hand. She looked me up and down and said "That's not really my genre."

Not really my genre. Really? Yeah, I suppose thinking isn't either. Christ. Don't judge me just because I don't have purple streaks in my hair. (Yet. The box of dye is still sitting on the dresser - just haven't gotten around to doing it yet.) I don't read fucking romance novels. I wanted something interesting, something other-worldly - and I wanted some goddamned help since she "worked" at the store - and I do use that term loosely. I ended up finding a couple of books on my own that were about alternate planes of existence, and fucking forgive me - but they were wound up in romance, too. It's not my fault. The Borders here doesn't carry many, if any, books on witchcraft. Did I see Christian Romance Novels, though? YOU betcha!!!

Give me a fucking break.

Here is one instance where I cannot wait to get to Seattle. The book thing - it's different there.

Anyway, back to my current plight. (I feel as though I can vent better about it now.)

So...12 hours ago life was shit, everything was up in the air, and I was crying. 5 hours ago I found out that yes, indeed, we are going to Seattle, and alot sooner than we thought. ALOT sooner. We'll be stopping in Montana so that we can visit Venti's mom for 2 days. His gay brother will be there. The last time I saw him he was really mean to me, and so I'm not really looking forward to seeing him again. It will be the first time that either of them will have met Short Decaf, though. After our stay in Montana, we will form a caravan with Venti's mom and brother, and drive to Washington.

So. Our first stop is St. Louis. We'll be leaving on a Saturday morning from Leesburg, Virginia. Google says that this is a 15-hour drive, but of course you have to leave time for stopping to eat and gas-up. Let's call it an 18-hour driving day. I really wish Venti wouldn't want to get that far that fast, but he says he wants to get across the Mississippi River so that we're no longer in "the East" as quickly as possible. Yes. He hates it here that much.

And I'm terrified. My panic doctor told me to not cross the bridge until I come to it when it comes to my utter fear of having a terrible panic attack while driving across the country. Well, yo doc! Bridge coming up!!! So, I have to call him, and also go see my family doctor to see what I can do to prepare for this. I will not be ruining a cross-country trip because of my panic attacks. And the funny thing is - it's not even the panic attacks that are the most terrifying thing.

I'm really scared about moving back to the west coast again. It's true that I'll have more family there than I do here, and that I'll see them all the time - but it's not MY family - as fucked up as they are. I don't know why this scares me.

Is it possible that I'm feeling traumatized? Too much going on? Overload? God - do you think nervous breakdowns are real? I wonder. I'd hate to have one.

My best never-met-in-real-life friend IMd me his phone number, but my son logged me out so that he could talk to his girl friends about moving. He is the only one who has cared enough to offer support, although I put out the distress flares yesterday. No familial response. And I'm scared to leave here WHY???

Ugh. I'm just so conflicted.

And....moving on. Gas prices here are $3.08. Of course, our car can take nothing other than Ultra Supreme Unleaded so we always pay the highest prices. Now - we ARE getting $3k for moving expenses from the company, and thank God for that, but damn...gas is really going to fuck with our quality of trippage. Speaking of our car - it's at the VW dealer getting the seat fixed. We also need two new tires before we leave. Damn. Just thought of that. Fortunately, we got one of those thing-a-ma-bobs that convert a car's lighter into an electrical outlet - so we can at least keep all three kids occupied with movies via laptop for the entire trip. We'll only have to watch Shrek 12 times the first day. Niiiice.

Well, I should really think about my brother's bait shop website. Or should I go to sleep? (meaning - lay there and stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.) Decisions...decisions...decisions...

So many to make in the next seventeen days.

PS: Thank you X for your # - although I lost it - it means the world that you sent it.