I talked to my sister last night. CPS inspected their home and found nothing wrong, and then they went to the kids' schools (three different schools for four kids), pulled them out of class, and interviewed them. My sister got a call later and the rep said that she had "four delightful children". All concerns have been dropped, and now CPS is following up on the false allegations.

Damn skippy.

Labels: drama, family, journal, misc

Posted by Laura at 8:34 AM | Permalink | Comments

There are several topics of conversation that I have meant to post here and never got around to it. Contrary to my usual forgetfulness, I actually remember what they are, and here you may read, in no particular order:

The box. So, the day before Thanksgiving I got another box from my Uncle with stuff he (or really, his non-pack-ratty girlfriend) wanted to remove from their basement (mentioned here).

"We stopped back at my uncle's (it's weird to say it's his place now, rather than Grandma's) for a few more minutes, and I went through some of my old belongings to weed out what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to throw away. Calvin was cracking up at my old school papers (a two-foot tall stack of them dating from kindergarten all the way through high school), and I pointed out to him the multiple A's and 100's. I laughed at my old high school yearbook and some attempts at artwork (I was never artistically inclined), and my uncle and I discussed how best to ship my mother's sterling silver flatware.

Though maybe he should hold onto it, in case we end up moving to Maine in the near future."

My Uncle decided to send along the papers from my elementary and high school years, a painting of my mother and father in their wedding finery, the silver flatware set, assorted pictures and albums, and an appointment book that my mother kept during the year 1959, when she was sixteen years old.

I promptly sat down on the couch and read the entries aloud to Calvin. It was really cool to get this glimpse into her life back then. However, we were both astonished by one glaring observation. Not to put too fine a point on it, but my mother got AROUND. She'd note a date with one boy, where they went, what time she got home (often after 2:00 a.m.), then the next day she'd note a fight with said boy, then the next day she'd record a date with a different boy. Now, this would be funny if it had been recorded thus once or twice, but there were multiple notations of this cycle happening - always a date with the originally mentioned boy, after which there would be a fight and she'd go out with someone completely different, every time. Often mentioned too were the times she was out with someone else and saw the first boy at the same place, also with someone else. Fights usually ensued then, too.

That boy ended up being her first husband. Natch.

The Grandparents. A couple of days before Christmas we went to Calvin's sister K's house for the traditional family get-together. Food was eaten, conversation was discussed, gifts were opened, children were causing havoc. When things started to die down, I noticed Calvin's Grandfather sitting by himself on the couch. I had been sitting at the dining room table, also by myself (everyone seemed to congregate in the kitchen all of a sudden), looking at old picture albums of Calvin and his sisters when they were little. There were a lot of pictures of his mother and the grandparents from back in the 60's and 70's as well.

I grabbed one of the albums and went over to sit next to Grandfather. He is in his 80's and is getting rather infirm. Sometimes it's hard to talk to him because he's not altogether lucid all the time. And on this evening it seemed like he was fading - either from illness or from just being tired, I don't know. Grandmother came and joined us after a few minutes, too. She's as spry and sharp as ever, and has been going through a lot lately trying to keep Grandfather's health up.

Now, being as sensitive to Grandparents as I am, I had an immediate feeling of time running out in which to spend time with this lovely man. So I knew I wanted to create a memory with him, and with Grandmother, and so I sat and opened the album. I pulled out one of their wedding pictures and passed it to Grandfather. His gaze sharpened and his face lit up, and he started telling me all about his wedding day with Grandmother. She interjected details, and they laughed and sighed about how young they were. I asked them how they met and Grandfather told me all about how a friend introduced them and he used to have to drive for hours whenever he wanted to see Grandmother. Grandmother said they had to get married because, "Grandfather wasn't getting any sleep." We all had a good laugh at how naughty that sounded. They married three months after meeting.

I removed more pictures and passed them between Grandmother and Grandfather. There were a couple of them in their jammies on Christmas morning back when Calvin and his sisters were little, and Grandfather said, "Now these pictures should have stayed tucked in the dresser under the underwear, Grandmother! How'd they get out?" It seemed like the more we talked and the more pictures we looked at, the more animated and articulate Grandfather became. I was a little worried that the nostalgia would just serve to depress them, but they really seemed to enjoy going back through the memories.

I'm so glad I got to spend that hour with them.

My sister. My sister and I have had our differences. The primary reason for that is because we are different. However, we are also very, very alike in some respects. So differences are usually put aside fairly quickly. I'm glad to say that after the misunderstandings of this summer we're back to talking on a fairly regular basis.

I called her on Christmas to wish her and her family happy, and she didn't pick up. Now, regular readers are aware of the tag-like nature of our contacts... to whit, I leave her a bazillion messages and she takes her time getting back to me. So I figured this circumstance was no different, except for the fact that it was Christmas and so therefore a little odd that she didn't pick up.

She finally called me back (three messages later in which I sobbed, "You don't looooove meeeee, you're favorite (only) sister, anymore!") on New Year's Eve.

And so I heard the saga of why she hadn't been calling.

Seems her family and a nearby neighbor family are feuding. They used to be very close friends... they are, in fact, the family that we all hung out with while Calvin and I were back in Maine in May. Now, the details of the feud are a little fuzzy to me since she was desperately upset while she was sharing the story. From what I got, the neighbors have been plowing across my sister's driveway, thereby building a large snow bank that they can't drive past and have to pay to have excavated. The neighbors were asked several times not to do this, they kept doing it, so my sister (I think) threatened to call the neighbor's employer about the fact that he was using a company vehicle (the plow) for personal use.

The neighbors retaliated by breaking into my sister's suburban (parked at the bottom of the driveway because they can't get past the snow bank), taking all of the Christmas presents hidden in the back (hidden there because there's no place to hide presents from the kids inside the house), throwing them out on the street and running them over.

ALL the Christmas presents. My sisters four kids had no Christmas this year because of this.

To boot, the neighbors called and filed completely untrue and erroneous charges with Child Protective Services, saying that my sister and her husband were abusing their kids, that the house was unlivable, and that the kids should be removed from my sister's custody.

Of course, CPS has to investigate every charge (even though they were made aware of the fact that these neighbors were then heard bragging about the trouble they had caused my sister and her family, down at the local pub). They visited yesterday, and my sister hasn't returned my message to let me know how things went.

I'm sure everything is fine - one thing my sister is VERY capable of is motherhood, and those kids are healthy and happy and crazy. I just can't believe that people can DO this kind of thing to other people. If I had this family's name (I gather from my sister that it's the wife more than the husband that's being spiteful), I would post their name right here on this site and encourage my readers to send them hate mail. Just the very idea that someone WITH KIDS can purposefully ruin the Christmas of SOMEONE ELSE'S KIDS, and then proceed to mess with their happiness and sense of security... well, there's a special level of Hell reserved for that kind of person.

The kids of both families continue to be friends, oblivious of the ridiculous machinations going on. In this case, the kids are being much more mature than my sister's idiotic neighbors.

Labels: family, journal

Posted by Laura at 2:50 PM | Permalink | Comments

339 = the number of e-mails awaiting me when I logged in for work this morning. I guess when you divide that number by the number of days it's been since I've been at work (16), that's only 21 messages per day. I'll be gosh-darned if I'm going to log in on my vacation just to maintain my e-mails, though. Sixteen days of blissful ignorance is worth the three or four hours it's going to take me to plow through these and weed out the urgent ones.

I spent two hours yesterday picking up land mines in the back yard (I swear I'm going to stop feeding those dogs), then scrubbing out, rinsing, and re-filling the hot tub (it's been empty since shortly after Thanksgiving). Now I need the hot tub to relax the muscles in my back that are screaming because of yesterday's activities.

It's been raining off and on since last night, and the northern elevations are getting snow like gangbusters. We will probably do some in-state skiing in the coming weekends. And then need the hot tub again. Because we are old and out of shape and skiing is a young, shapely person's sport. Yet, we are game. And perhaps foolish.

Today's Manic Monday activities include: work (natch), laundry, grocery shopping at two different stores, picking up critters for the critters, picking up prescriptions, cleaning the kitchen, cleaning the cat closet, taking back the rental movies, and working out. Aaaaand soaking in the hot tub.

Calvin and I went to see the new National Treasure movie. It was fun, historically inaccurate, and highly improbable. We did not go to see a history lesson, however, and so we enjoyed.

My husband and I now know what we want to be when we grow up. Bartenders. We shall sell and get out of Arizona, buy a condo or loft in the Old Port in Portland, Maine, and get jobs within walking distance as bartenders. You'd all be shocked at how completely serious we are about this. We even have a bartendress friend at our oft-visited local that is willing to teach us the ropes. At the end of this year, or the beginning of next, we shall begin to make plans in earnest. We're just waiting for the housing market to turn back around so we can get enough equity out of our property.

Finally, I am determined to lose thirty pounds. My plan is to eat 1000 calories Monday through Friday (easing up but not going overboard on the weekends), work out six days a week, and finally do something about this nonsense. I'm serious this time. No, really. I'll stand on the scale in front of Calvin if I have to in order to kick myself in my own ass and get some motivation.

For crying out loud.

Labels: goals, journal, movies, Op:Goddess, work

Posted by Laura at 8:44 AM | Permalink | Comments

Drat, I just spilled tea on myself. I cleared my throat just before I took a sip, Zoe (sitting at my side on the couch) took that to mean something in her squeaky twittery alien cat language, butted my elbow with her head while uttering her weird "prrrowt?" (always questions with that one), and thus I sloshed on myself. And just now Oz tried to jump up to snuggle with me, Zoe growled at him, he jumped back down, and now he's sitting on the rug with his back turned and his ears expressing his disdain.

No snuggling in a patch of sunlight and giving mutual tongue baths for these two.

I have a load to do today, which is my penance for not having to work when Calvin does. I'm hoping to have the house clean, the groceries purchased, and the potato soup in process before he gets home. We never go out on New Year's Eve - too many drunk drivers, and neither one of us are fond of crowds. I usually make up a load of munchies that we can graze upon throughout the night, we mix cocktails galore, and watch movies until midnight.

Tonight's munchies include chips and veggies and dip, baby roast beef sandwiches on potato rolls, the aforementioned potato soup, cheese and summer sausage and crackers, and maybe I'll do up a batch of deviled eggs. If I could do "appetizer meals" every night of the week, I would. In fact, Calvin and I frequently order several appetizers at restaurants in lieu of actual meals. I guess our palates have ODD.

Tonight's movies include Shrek The Third (I do not have high hopes) and Stardust (I do have high hopes). Tonight's cocktails include the standard Fat Tire and 1554 brews, tequila, vodka, and possibly oatmeal cookie shots.

We're going to go out of 2007 the way we went into it... buzzed.

I'll probably post again later, but if I don't, Happy New Year you guys!!!

Labels: holiday, journal

Posted by Laura at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments

This is the first time I've felt like writing since, well, the last time I wrote.

I came down with a Bug of Misery on Christmas Day night. After all of the cooking, cleaning, further cooking, family stuff, more family stuff, yet MORE cooking, wrapping, eating, and more cleaning, my body did indeed decide to "collapse in a heap" as I had previously envisioned. My preferred "heap" would have been a pyjama-wearing book-reading festival of laziness. The actual "heap" ended up being a pyjama-wearing pillow-drooling medicated celebration of mucus.

Deee-lish.

I owe many people phone calls (hi Heather!), e-mails (hi Jayne!), and instant messaging (hi Jen!). I love you all. Really, I do. I have an excuse, nay, a reason for not responding to you all. I have been completely off-line - Internet, telephone, or any contact with the outside world whatsoever - since Tuesday.

It was kind of refreshing, in a medicine-induced coma sort of way.

At any rate, I'm better today. Well enough to work out for the first time in, well, forever, even. Tonight Calvin and I are going to Dark Horse to watch the Patriots celebrate their victory over the Giants and record the fourth undefeated regular season in NFL history. Them's my boys. And I am SO not jinxing it. It WILL happen. Mark my words.

Anyway, I'm back. So, hi there.

Labels: health, journal

Posted by Laura at 3:06 PM | Permalink | Comments

Today is the last day that I physically have to be in the office until January 8th. I "work from home" (picture air quotes on purpose) tomorrow, which really means I will be logged into the network and will periodically check for new e-mails or IM's, but really I'm going to be cooking, waiting for the FedEx guy to deliver the lobsters (de liver de lobsters de sooner de better de later de lobsters de madder I getter!), and wrapping presents. All without getting dressed. Because that's just how I roll. Then I'm on vacation for two glorious weeks. Weeks which will be filled with, well, glory. At least, they better be.

Yesterday was a Very Bad Day. I was Stressy McStresserson at work and had to work until 6:00 when all I wanted to do was get busy on the stuff piling up to be done at HOME. Calvin was not having a good day either, so what prompted him to go Christmas shopping for me at the MALL at 5:00 on the Wednesday before Christmas is beyond me. He rode off on his motorcycle while I was on a teleconference (having come home in time to take it in my jammies). I finished up and was in the process of making Walnut Chews in the kitchen when he came exploding back into the house. And I do mean EXPLODING.

While trying to pay for my gift, his card was declined at the counter -- in front of everybody. Now, nobody enjoys this particular experience, but for Calvin it's just about the worst, most embarrassing thing that can possibly happen. The card was declined because the bank detected fraudulent charges against his debit card number, so they shut off the card. Without informing us.

How rude. I mean, I appreciate them putting the brakes on after a whole three dollars and seventy-four cents got charged against our account from someplace in Maryland. But they could have at least called us to let us know. Especially since its, you know, Christmas, and the use of our primary method of, you know, paying for shit, should be, you know, accessible.

So Calvin comes busting into the kitchen, grabs the phone and dials up the bank. He gets the automated "press or say x" fuckbot nonsense that for some reason automated telephone system developers think actually makes things easier. More convenient. Faster. Except that all of that? Not.

He goes through several machinations, loud repeats, and cursing which confuses the automated phone fuckbot. He finally gets a representative. Who tells him to repeat all of the information that he already told the fuckbot. What followed was not pretty. Calvin kind of went off on the customer service chickie. Or maybe it was a guy? I'm not sure. When he was asked to confirm a bunch of charges and continue to repeat himself, he said, "This is bullshit."

The customer service chickie hung up on him. Calvin held the phone away from his ear, looked at it, looked at me. He turned red. He turned white. He started breathing in huge heaves. I could hear the dial tone from where I was standing on the opposite end of the kitchen.

Calvin very, very carefully put the phone down on the receiver. He turned around, walked across to the patio door, and exited the building. I have no idea what he did out there in the back yard to calm down, but five minutes later he came back in. Breathing normally.

Duuuuuuuude. I thought his head was going to pop right off his shoulders.

We have both decided that we hate Christmas, more and more with every year that goes by. This whole year has been a pisser, and we feel like we're just going through the motions of the holidays for the kids, who take turns between being deserving and being not particularly so. Next year we are going to be COMPLETELY OUT OF THE STATE when December 25th rolls around.

Fuck this noise.

Labels: Calvin, holiday, home, journal, wtf

Posted by Laura at 9:00 AM | Permalink | Comments

I can't call my truck a lemon. The strict definition of a lemon is a vehicle that has been serviced multiple times in a given timeframe for the same issue. My truck has been serviced multiple times for multiple issues.

I shall call it... a pineapple.

Off the top of my head, it has gone in for A/C issues, a weird squeaking sound coming from one of the vents, battery issues, molding separating from the door frames, stereo/speaker issues, and starting issues. To that, I must add...

POLTERGEISTS.

So late last week when I got into the truck to drive it, like I always do, it dinged at me, like it always does. Usually it's because I haven't buckled my seatbelt fast enough to satisfy it. But the belt was buckled. I looked at the dash, and the message said, "PASSENGER DOOR AJAR". So I got out, circled the truck, opened and FIRMLY shut each door, climbed back in, buckled up, and put it in reverse.

"DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING!!!!!" (There are always 8 dings.) "PASSENGER DOOR AJAR." So I got out again, circled the truck opening and shutting doors again, got back in, buckled up, hit reverse...

"DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING!!!!!"

So now I realize there's a sensor problem with one of the (NOT ajar) doors. Because the truck thinks one of the doors isn't closed, the auto locks don't work properly (they usually lock when the truck is put into drive, and unlock automatically when the truck is put into park).

Along with this issue is a stripped gear in one of the rear passenger windows, thereby leaving it stuck in the "down" position when utilized and necessitating manual levitation to "roll" it up again. So I figured I was going to take the truck back in (again) anyway, and would have this additional issue to add to the list.

So, that was last week. Fast forward to today, when Jen and I went to lunch at Red Robin. The truck did its ding-thing when we got in to drive off, but otherwise acted normally on the way to the restaurant. We had a nice lunch with an EXTREMELY attentive waitress who kept taking my half-drunk Coke away and replacing it with a full, new glass of Coke because she couldn't stand the thought of me drinking watered-down soda. Jen's tea got refilled four times. We finally had to leave before we floated away.

We got in the truck. It had its usual identity crisis when it identified its door as a jar. I ignored it, until about halfway back to work. "DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING!!!!" The truck decided to remind me that the door was ajar, having previously been satisfied to just tell me once, right when I got in the truck. Then, "Shh-click! Click. Shh-click. Click. Shudder shudder shudder shu shu shu shhh-click!" "DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING!!!!"

The doors started locking and unlocking themselves furiously. The dinger dinged over and over and OVER AND OVER. The message center lit up with the "PASSENGER DOOR IS AJAR" message, then disappeared, then re-appeared, then disappeared. As we were driving along, this chaos erupted that prompted Jen and I to completely lose our shit and crack up laughing.

"The truck! It's possessed!" Jen cried.

"Poltergeists!" I yelled back.

"Shh-click! (DING DING DING) Click. Shh-click. Click. (DING DING DING) Shudder shudder shudder shu shu shu shhh-click! DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING!!!!"

By this time I could hardly see the road, I was laughing so hard. Jen was all, "Don't hit that truck!" I'm fairly sure we looked a sight driving along bawling laughing, weaving along on the road.

We're supposed to get our Christmas tree tonight. THAT should be fun.

Labels: friends, humor, journal, work

Posted by Laura at 1:25 PM | Permalink | Comments

I am, on occasion, dumb.

I've been sitting here for a few minutes, contemplating my excessively wired condition. I feel almost buzzed, except that I haven't indulged today at all. In alcohol, that is.

I had a cup of coffee this morning, and two diet pills. A cup of Irish Breakfast tea mid-morning. A Coke with lunch, and two more diet pills. And another cup of Irish Breakfast tea beside me right now.

Hello, caffeine buzz.

My friend Jen is a very very good friend. Her Christmas gifts to me included a clock to replace the one that was stolen from my desk at work, and a Chuckles, the Former Congressman 2008 Calendar (Dooce fans unite!). She also made an itty bitty pet photo album of my Flickr photos, on Snapfish. I heart Jen.

The clock has a temperature gauge. When I got to my desk this morning, it was reading 66.6 degrees. An ominous temperature. Right now it's 72.6 in my cubicle. And barely fifty degrees outside. Sweater weather has graduated to coat weather. Hallelujah.

I handed out packets of fudge to my co-workers yesterday. It has been proclaimed by many to be the richest, creamiest, sweetest, fudgiest fudge they have every had. Go forth and make some.

Lilly still hasn't sent me updated photos of Robert, Devlin and Roman. It looks like I shall have to drive over to Texas myself and beat her about the head and shoulders. Lilly, if you're reading this, consider yourself warned.

I have to make six tins of cookies to hand out as gifts next week. I want to have a variety of types; does anyone have any favorite Christmas cookie recipes that they'd like to share? I'm already making Magic Cookie Bars, Walnut Chews, Vanilla Rum Balls, Hershey's Kiss Cookies, and Chocolate Coconut Snowballs.

Hmm. On second thought, maybe I have enough variety. OH! I know. I'll make a batch of chocolate chip cookies... and I just hunted around on my website because I could SWEAR that I posted this recipe before, but I can't find it. Calvin, who is excessively picky about his cookies, raved over these (recipe courtesy of RecipeZaar):

Soft Chocolate Chip Cookies

36 cookies

2 1/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup shortening
1/4 cup sugar
1 (4 ounce) package instant vanilla pudding
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon almond extract
2 eggs, beaten
2 cups chocolate chips

Preheat oven 350 degrees.
Combine flour and baking soda.
In a large bowl beat brown sugar, sugar, butter, shortening, pudding mix, vanilla, and almond extract.
Mix until well blended.
Add eggs and mix well.
Beat in the flour mixture.
Stir in chocolate chips.
Drop by rounded teaspoonful and bake 10-12 minutes.

Do not overcook! The cookies will still be soft when you remove them from the baking sheet, transfer them to wire racks to cool completely. There are limitless possibilities with this recipe - use chocolate pudding and caramel chips (our favorite), coconut pudding and white chocolate chips, or vanilla pudding with peanut butter chips. I also used a full cup of butter instead of 1/2 butter and 1/2 shortening, and it turned out just fine.

Labels: journal, recipe

Posted by Laura at 1:30 PM | Permalink | Comments

Today is the day that I catch up on the crap I didn't do on the weekend, because I would rather spend my time snuggling on the couch with Calvin. So, in addition to doing my day job, I always have a pile of other crap that make my Mondays exceptionally busy. And that's also why you guys tend to get a "to do" list as a Monday entry. So I can remind myself of what the hell needs to get done around here.

Today I get to do laundry, clean the kitchen, go grocery shopping, go to Pets Inc. to get critters for the critters, make fudge (hi Jen, female fudge!) (no nuts), crank out the Christmas cards that need to be mailed, put together the packets of fudge and cards for my co-workers, and dig through the Christmas decorations. Oh, and work out.

And work. Hello day job that makes all of this joy possible.

It's overcast, rainy, cool, and quiet. All of my inclinations are severely steering toward laying in bed with the cats.

I'm getting up. NOW.

Labels: home, journal, listy goodness

Posted by Laura at 9:00 AM | Permalink | Comments

Finances have been stressing me out lately. Well, forever, really. So today I spent some time working up some figures and making a plan to resolve some of the problems I've been having. And I think I have it all figured out. Of course, part of the plan involves my motorcycle, you know, actually selling. That would be terribly helpful. But beyond that, the other part involves just being a little patient, and by the end of February we should have more breathing room. And three completely paid-off credit cards. Which will then PROMPTLY AND IMMEDIATELY be cancelled. And cut up. And perhaps set on fire.

The truck should be paid off by the end of next year, at which point I shall womanfully hold Calvin at bay with his slathering desire to buy a new car, and use what I would have paid for the truck payment to pay off our remaining debt.

THEN Calvin can have a car. Or another motorcycle. Or whatever motorized vehicle is causing his little heart to go pitter-pat. But the debt payoff comes first. Because I am BOUND AND DETERMINED to go to England on my next Sabbatical, and that shit ain't cheap. According to my sidebar countdown, I have 668 days until I'm eligible, and a couple of months after that before I actually take it, since I'd rather go on a two-month vacation in the spring/summer than the fall/winter.

Lo, my somewhat down and Grinchy mood has turned right around, after putting thought to head and pen to paper and fingers to calculator. I am a big fan of having A Plan.

Labels: journal

Posted by Laura at 12:09 PM | Permalink | Comments

I worked from home yesterday (translation: I fought several fires in between drug-induced naps). Remember this entry? Yes, well, I succumbed to the inevitable. I mean, with odds like that, and an immune system like mine, the outcome of the crap shoot was a foregone conclusion.

So, I'm feeling ookey, but I'm at work today. I figure I'm all incubated and shit, so I'm no longer contagious. Of course, I'm as far away from being a doctor as a person with a Google MD can be, so what the hell do I know.

Calvin was extremely nice to me yesterday, and brought me food and drinks and medicine and hugs while I lolled around in bed and complained. A lot. I threw together some Minestrone Stew in the crock pot so that we would have steamy nummy goodness for dinner. Opening cans and frying up burger meat was about as much thought as I was prepared to put into making dinner.

Some random thoughts, the only kind my brain is capable of holding at the moment:

• This writer's strike is really irritating me. Not that I don't support them, and not that I don't think all of their points and needs are valid. No, I'm totally selfishly bemoaning the fact that all of "my" shows are over for the foreseeable future. The one I miss the most? Big Bang Theory. _{Hah! You thought it'd be Gray's Anatomy, didn't you? Shows you what I think of the current season.}


• All of my Christmas "shopping" is done, in that I have purchased one gift each for four whole people and everybody else is getting money, and that's it. Well, okay, I have one more person to buy for, and then I'll be done. This will be the CHEAPEST CHRISTMAS EVAR, which is totally in keeping with my Grinchy spirit this year. Not to mention my budget.


• Sliders are my new favorite food.


• I have added several new journals/blogs to my list of "regular reads". I recommend for your enjoyment the following: Cracked, Daily Coyote, FemMarine, Running in Wellies, and Vespa Vagabond (who is the same author for Daily Coyote).
  

To steal a line from Nance, I'm outta here.

Labels: headspace, health, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments

According to the thermometer outside on the patio, it's 49 degrees.

Gypsy and Gadget, having been let out for the morning for their constitutional, are currently curled up in balls, cat-fashion, in a patch of sunlight. Zoe is warming my feet on the couch and occasionally butting my mouse-hand for attention, Oz is in the bed snuggling with Calvin (who Ozzy calls "The Daddy", what, can't your cat talk too?). Kali the snake is lounging across the length of one of the ledges in her vivarium, directly underneath the heat lamp. Cheeto and Lucy are in semi-brumation (a form of hibernation but not as deep) and nap most of the day, but deigned to stir this morning to chomp on some veggies. Portia is thumping around in the side yard in her usual destructive manner.

We have a lot of frickin' animals.

This house is a disaster. The kitchen is destroyed, there's clothes all over the bedroom, the stack of newspapers on the fireplace is threatening to topple, and there's clutter on the bar and on the kitchen table. Kali's pond is in desperate need of cleaning, the floors could use a good sweep/mop/vacuum, and the wind from yesterday blew in a metric ton of dust.

Obviously, I'd rather write about the condition of my house, rather than actually do something about it.

I will get to it today, I will. There's cooking to be done and decorating to begin (I am trying to do something about my Scrooge attitude, at least). Neither of those things can happen while the house is in the condition that it's in.

But first, I think I'll have another cup of coffee.

Labels: home, journal, pets

Posted by Laura at 9:32 AM | Permalink | Comments

It has been a wonderful couple of days, weather-wise. Most would not consider two straight days of raining to be all that wonderful, but this country girl stuck in the desert sees the blessing in the blah. We attempted to open up all the doors and windows today, but the rain showers were precipitated (no pun intended) by a gusty insistent wind that, at one point, simultaneously SLAMMED shut the front door, the living room door leading to the patio, and the bedroom door also leading to the patio. Calvin in the bedroom, myself in the living room, did a simultaneous (we discovered) painful start of a jump. I went seeking him out afterward for a heart-slowing hug.

Last night we were invited to a party at the home of a gentleman that I've worked with since I started at Acronymco 12 years ago. I think he'd be an outside-of-work bud to Calvin and me if we hung out. Anyway, the rain didn't figure into the plans of an outdoor house party in Arizona (the benefit to living in the desert is that you can pretty much guarantee at most times to have excellent weather for any planned outdoor activities, even if such activities are planned months in advance), but luck wasn't with him and last night proved to be the first rainstorm we've had in months. Not to be deterred, he put up a 40-foot tent in his back yard, that extended to the overhang of the patio.

Open bar, catered food, a dance floor in the back yard, a hired DJ, and a basement boasting a pool table and pinball machines. I can't even begin to estimate how much all this cost him and his wife - there were at least a hundred people there (including the neighbors - smart of them). MAN, did we have a good time, though. We brought Calvin's sister (middle, not youngest, for those of you keeping track at home). I dragged her out to the dance floor once (I think it was KC and the Sunshine Band), she dragged me out once (that line dance song where you "stomp one time... stomp two times... sliiiide to the left... sliiiide to the right... now cha-cha..."). The rain (well, humidity, really) destroyed all the ladies' hairdos, but at a not-too-far-into-the-night point, nobody cared. I danced with a gent from work that until this point had been very staid and proper in my mind... but he can jitterbug, so how stiff can he be? Calvin became fast friends with a couple that he'd never met before (I do appreciate his ability to jump into a party). Calvin and his sister traded jibes and shots at each other throughout.

We left near midnight and parted ways with Calvin's sister. The drive home is a little vague to me. What happened when we GOT home is not. Heh.

We've been slouching around the house all day today (no, we're not hungover, thanks for your concern), watching TV, reading, surfing, munching, napping. The ASU/UofA game is on right now - ASU has the better team (I think) but UofA is currently ahead. I watched a little of the Army/Navy game earlier, too. Funny to see all the dress uniforms in the stands. Ozzy is snoozing next to me, I have a shot of tequila awaiting consumption at my side, and a cool breeze is coming in through the window next to me.

Life doesn't suck right now.

Labels: Calvin, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 8:55 PM | Permalink | Comments

He slammed his hands over the keyboard just as I got done typing the title, which inadvertantly published just the title, and thus he was thwarted despite his own efforts at hiding his true nature. Good has once again conquored over evil. And you all have another small insight into just what I deal with, on a minute-by-minute basis, in being married to him.

The man can be a supreme pest. Cute, but a pest. With all the post-nap energy.

Back to work tomorrow, which thrills me about -->this<-- much. Back to being on the computer every day - I actually managed to stay off-line for three whole days during my vacation. Back to taking my vitamins, working out, eating right, drinking water, trying to get at least ten minutes or so of sunlight a day, hauling out the lotion since it's bone dry in the state now that the cool weather has finally hit. Back to taking conscious care of myself, instead of just lounging about in my PJ's and convincing myself that this much rest is healthy, really.

It could be worse. I only have, like, three weeks until my next vacation. More than two weeks off with that one. Still, I can find it in myself to whine just a little bit that it's back to the grind tomorrow.

Labels: Calvin, journal, vacation, work

Posted by Laura at 7:45 PM | Permalink | Comments

I woke up at 7:30 this morning, which is only a half-hour later than the usual 7:00 wake up time that I have on normal work days. Why I can't sleep on my vacation is beyond me, but there it is. It's not so bad, really, sitting here with Zoe perched directly behind my head on the back of the couch, Oz eyeing her from the floor, coffee at my side, laptop at hand. It would be peaceful and serene if it weren't for all the flipping barking dogs in the neighborhood. At this moment in time I can count five distinct barks. None of them are our dogs, who if not smart, are at least polite. I could close the windows and door to block the sound, but I rather like having it finally cool enough to wear my robe.

A FANTASTIC dream about me and McDreamy (apparently I can hold my breath underwater for a long time in my dreams) was interrupted by my walnut-sized bladder (hmm, come to think of it, that's probably why I was dreaming of water), and from there the brain kicked in with thoughts of all the things I need to get done today. None of the tasks on my list were inflicted on me by Calvin in a fit of protest over my time off, though that's what I fully expected to happen. No, he was going to allow me my week of sloth, but I have discovered that I need to live a purpose-filled life. Thus I compiled a self-directed honey-do list.

First thing's first, though, so I have to write an entry about it. ("Wrote a song about it. Like to hear it? Here it goes.")

Ozzy's nose is out of joint because he just jumped up on the couch to discover that Zoe had moved to nestle against my hip. My lap is occupied by my computer, which means there is no snuggle space for him. He just raced off to climb up three separate doorframes and the column of the half-wall in the living room. Now he's trying to figure out other ways to get my attention and is playing Captain Explorer behind the television. With all the wires. A sure way to get hollered at. Any attention is good attention, I guess.

We're selling my motorcycle. I hardly ever ride it (I actually find that I prefer the bitch seat behind Calvin, because I'm a big ol' chicken in Arizona traffic), we could use the money, and I'd actually prefer owning one of these. I placed the ad last night and am grimly awaiting the round of telephone calls to begin. I hate that part about selling crap, but what are you gonna do.

Now Oz is trying to get into the cabinet underneath the snake's vivarium. That cat thinks that everyone in the household should operate under his schedule and won't settle down until I feed him. Bastard.

Okay, they're fed. Now maybe they'll leave me alone. CRAP. I forgot to grab the camera while I was up. Dammit.

OKAY. And now, for some pictures. Hover over them for comments.















Man, I'm REALLY putting off getting started on my list.

• Grocery shopping
  
• Go to the bank
  
• Sweep, vacuum, mop, dust
  
• Clean the kitchen & bathroom
  
• Laundry
  
• Litter boxes
  
• Adjust the sprinklers
  
• Take the movies back
  
• Dig up the motorcycle title
  
• Empty and clean the hot tub
  
• Work out
  

Alright, I'm outta here.


_{Momentary Thought: There's a massive amount of birds cheeping away in the backyard. I miss chickadees and whippoorwills, though.
High: It's actually chilly this morning.
Low: I have a craptastic amount of stuff to do today.
Obsession: I'm doing new pie recipes for Thanksgiving this year. I need to make them enough in advance that if they turn out like crap I can still run to CostCo and buy a couple.
Grin: The dream I had last night.
Playing: Birdsong and barking dogs.
Location: Living room.}

Labels: home, journal, listy goodness, motorcycle, photography, vacation

Posted by Laura at 7:56 AM | Permalink | Comments

This is one of those times where I feel like I haven't quite mastered this whole grown-up thing. I envy Marie's frequently-expressed relief that she's moved back home with us and no longer worries about money, making ends meet... essentially, she's put off being an on-her-own adult for another little while.

I wish I could move back in with my parents. Except, how weird would that be - lack of, you know, actual existing parents aside. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't know what to do with parents if I did have them. But if they were anything like how Calvin and I are toward our kids, my parents could be counted on to pick up the pieces, kiss the boo-boos, ride to the rescue, and provide the vehicle for bailing me out of pretty much any situation.

Heh. How backwards is that. If I had a mom I'd want her to be just like me.

Maybe that's a little sad, too, as well as backwards. Perhaps I should not dwell on that thought.

It's not that I don't like being an adult. I wouldn't go back to being a teenager if my life depended on it. Okay, well perhaps ONLY if my life depended on it. My teenage years, wonderful though many aspects of them were, weren't exactly what I would call fraught with fond memories. I was overly serious, studious, responsible, and worried. Very representative of the attitudes that are continuing on to this day. The difference is, when you're a responsible teenager people express their admiration at the wonder and rarity that is you. When you're a responsible adult, well, you're just doing your damn job.

I need to stop comparing my attitudes as a teenager and young adult to the attitudes of the teenager and young adult I'm occupied with parenting. I've turned into one of those, "Back in MY day, things were different," sorts.

Which isn't to say (again) that I'm looking for accolades. Really, I'm just rambling along with this entry. I do a lot. I don't do enough. I'm busy. I'm bored. I want to be flippin' patted on my head and told I'm doing a good job. I want to be told everything's going to be okay. I want to be surrounded by loved ones. I want to be left alone. I want to have control. I want to be taken care of. I want to be a center of calm. I want to throw a massive tantrum.

Apparently, I want to be conflicted. Mostly, I want to turn off my brain.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 8:48 PM | Permalink | Comments

I want to take a long, hot bubble bath tonight, but it's McThursday so that may or may not happen. The Necessary needs to get done before 8:00 - working out, soaking the lizards (heh, that sounds naughty, but I mean it literally) and feeding them worms, making and consuming dinner (which does not involve worms), and doing the Night Chores (mail, coffee, work clothes, not making my lunch for tomorrow because Jen and I have plans to go out). I like to have everything done before Marie and I sit down to watch Grey's Anatomy together. So the bubble bath may have to wait.

I want it to be cold. I want to nest and I can't nest while it's still ninety-frickin-degrees outside. I just put together the menus for Thanksgiving and Christmas and have my shopping lists. I'm all about the cooking, and I'm really looking forward to next Friday afternoon when I can call myself officially "off". I plan on cooking a lot, but just what I don't know yet (other than the aforementioned Thanksgiving Menu). I think I'll look through my lovely collection of cookbooks and pick out something new each day - I might even try baking my own BREAD, for gosh's sake. Look at me, planning my own spontaneity - it's not like the grocery store is that far away so if something strikes my fancy and I don't have all the ingredients immediately to hand, it's not a bother. I'll have to watch out for the impulse buys, though. I'm worse at that in the grocery store than in any other kind of store.

I'm really crossing my fingers that the cold weather sets in by the time I'm off. I don't know why it's so important to me, but it is. Temperatures below 70 degrees are absolutely necessary for me to enjoy this season. I'm trying to generate my own happiness here before I go nuts with the homesickness, and a little cool weather would be helpful.

This entry doesn't have an ending, it just kind of stops. Right here.

Labels: food, headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 3:13 PM | Permalink | Comments

I periodically like to record a "day in the life" entry. I like to go back and compare them and see what's the same, what's different, and what is proof positive that I am VERY FIRMLY set in my ways. (For instance, compare today's entry to this one, or this one.)

5:30 a.m. - Alarm goes off for Calvin. I grunt and roll over.

6:18 a.m. - Calvin's phone rings. And rings. He comes running in from the other room to answer it. I grunt and roll over.

6:25 a.m. - Calvin kisses me goodbye. I grunt and roll over.

6:36 a.m. - Zoe prrrrowts in my ear. And touches me on the face with her wet nose. And pat-pats me on my face with her paw. And reminds me of this entry. I scritch her and roll over.

6:40 a.m. - Oz jumps up on the bed. Zoe beats me to death trying to dive off the bed, and under it. Oz follows.

6:40:15 a.m. - Growl. Hiss. Growl.

6:40:25 a.m. - HISS. GROOOOWWWWLLL. SPAT!

6:40:30 a.m. - I holler at the cats and thump the headboard. One runs out, I don't see which but I assume it's Zoe.

6:50 a.m. - Zoe prrrrowts in my ear. And touches me on the face with her wet nose. And pat-pats me on my face with her paw. I squint at the clock, debate getting up 10 minutes early. Dismiss it as a bad idea.

7:05 a.m. - The alarm goes off again. I mutter something that sounds like, "This is bullshit." I turn off the alarm, start the shower.

7:05 - 7:15 a.m. - Wash face, shampoo, conditioner, wash body, rinse rinse rinse, dry. Pick out and put on clothes (blue jeans, white T, maroon zip-up hoodie, socks, sneakers).

7:15 - 7:20 a.m. - Acquire coffee. Coooooffffffeeeeee. Take vitamins and prescriptions.

7:20 - 7:40 a.m. - Hold conversation with Zoe (who likes to sit on the edge of the tub while I perform my ablutions) while moussing and combing out hair, moisturizing face, cleaning out ears, putting on deodorant, putting on makeup, drying and styling hair, brushing teeth.

7:40 - 7:55 a.m. - Put water in snake's tank, turn on waterfall and UV light. Put water in dog's dish outside, give them a cookie and pets all around. Put canned food in dish in Oz's closet, put canned food in Zoe's dish in the weight room. Fill up indoor water dish. Shred summer squash and tear up dandelion greens, put a handful in Cheeto's dish and a handful in Lucy's dish. Turn off A/C, lock bedroom doors, defrost two slices of spelt bread and slather with cream cheese, put in baggie and then in work bag. Take pork chops out of the freezer to thaw for dinner tonight. Grab bag, keys, badge, out the door and in the truck and on the way to work.

7:55 - 8:00 a.m. - Drive to work. Listen to one of the TUS mix CD's.

8:00 - 8:10 a.m. - Get to desk, put down bag, dock and start up laptop, grab water cup and tea mug, rinse them out in the bathroom, head down to the cafeteria to fill up water cup and get hot water and honey for tea, head back to my desk, log into the network, put tea bag in hot water, settle down with my baggie 'o breakfast.

8:10 - 8:30 a.m. - Answer e-mails, eat breakfast.

8:30 - 9:00 a.m. - Start this journal entry and update with morning activities.

9:01 a.m. - Stop! Potty time!

9:05 a.m. - Start balancing checkbook and paying bills.

9:15 - 9:35 a.m. - Life is interrupted by an AcronymCo fire drill. Lights flashing! Alarms blaring! People filing out of the fire exits like lemmings! Lots of standing around in the parking lot while the building sweep is conducted. Then, more filing! More lemmings! Aaaaaand I'm back at my desk.

9:35 - 9:40 a.m. - Take a phone call and answer questions.

9:40 - 10:30 a.m. - Resume paying bills and balancing checkbook. Run a Quicken report to show Calvin how much money we spend on groceries and on going out to eat. Boggle a bit.

10:30 - 11:00 a.m. - Enough of that nonsense. Answer e-mails, place PO's, field phone calls (hi, Calvin!), get annoyed by a new cube neighbor moving into our territory, NOT OF OUR GROUP. Grr.

11:05 a.m. - Stop! Potty time!

11:07 - 11:15 a.m. - Go down to the cafeteria, procure a Caesar salad, stand in the LOOOOOONG line forever as the POS system dials out for each individual credit card transaction. Contemplate that the flow of purchases is faster with cash, in direct contradiction to the current Visa commercials.

11:15 - 11:25 a.m. - Back at my desk, start to eat, phone rings. Chat with Calvin. He tells me things about an FX 40 and a Niagra something and sensors and whatnot. I'm lost.

11:25 a.m. - 12:05 p.m. - Continue eating. Read Bitchypoo. Peruse ICHC. Read Dysfunction Junction. Read Chaos Theory. Check in on Laurell K. Hamilton. Read 6YearMed. Read Because I Said So. Read Crazy Aunt Purl. Read Miss Britt. Determine that I shall use the phrase, "What le fuck?" in the near future. Read Avitable. Read BurtsStache. Pry off my wedding ring, take off my watch, apply hand lotion. Put ring and watch back on. Read Sunday Undies. Update this entry.

12:05 - 12:25 p.m. - Turn, with a sigh, back to the 140 e-mails awaiting response, deletion, and/or categorization in my in-box. Method involves sorting e-mails by subject to group all of the FW's and RE:'s and RE:RE:RE's together to find the latest message in the string, and delete the others. Manage to weed e-mails down to 87 by using this method. Then I start back in chronological order, oldest first, and disseminate as appropriate.

12:25 - 12:30 p.m. - Recall something Calvin mentioned to me, and check Hotmail. See message from Maine Lobster Direct about a deal on live lobsters. Place our Christmas dinner order (6 1-1/4 pounders, 4 lbs of king crab legs) for nearly $80 less than I was expecting.

12:30 - 12:35 p.m. - Update this entry some more.

12:35 - 12:50 p.m. - Do work stuff: run consignment inventory usage report for the last 12 months for one of my suppliers; approve request for new part number to be added to inventory; set up new part number in the stockroom database.

12:50 - 12:55 p.m. - Stop! Potty time! Grab a piece of candy from the dish on the admin's desk on my way back.

12:55 - 1:40 p.m. - Do more work stuff: Check my queue for any purchase orders that need to be placed, find three and submit them; dig out iPod and headphones to combat the boredom ("I believe it's time for me to fly..."); take pain pills to combat the headache I've had since I woke up, curse being a woman; terminate a requisition; ("I've heard people say that... too much of anything is no good for you..."); weed through e-mails some more, enlist a CM's assistance for an issue with a non-responsive supplier; ("Tell me whatcha eat, I might cook for you..."); determine if a discontinued chemical is going to effect the factory; ("Spent my days with a woman unkind... smoked my stuff and drank all my wine..."); request a quote from a vendor for a needed part; ("Welcome to your life... there's no turning back..."); research a vendor payment issue and try to communicate clear instructions in a different way than the clear instructions I sent to them last week; curse Accounts Payable; ("Every time I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer..."); ("You own the money, you control the witness..."); revise the prices on a purchase order; ("Now if you're feelin' kinda low 'bout the dues you been payin'..."); adjust part prices in stockroom database; ("You know what the midwest is? Young and restless...").

1:40 - 1:45 p.m. - Stop! Potty time! Then walk down to the windows and press my nose against the glass before returning to my desk. Contemplate the lack of Vitamin D in my life.

1:45 - 2:25 p.m. - Do more work stuff: ("I can play the guitar like a motherfuckin' riot."); adjust a purchase order; request tracking information for an overdue shipment from a supplier; ("She's a craze you'd endorse, she's a powerful force..."); complete a feedback survey for my manager; ("And she won't give up, cuz she's seventeen. She's a frozen fire..."); reconcile an on-time delivery report; ("Far four winds blow, there's trouble and it won't go..."); approve a Level 2 purchase order; ("I got the call today, didn't wanna hear, but I knew that it would come..."); make updates to yet another purchase order; look up status of requested order; ("And here's to you Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know..."); make change to yet ANOTHER PO; ("Well I fight authority, authority always wins..."); research parts in inventory to see if we can share with another site in need; compile shipping memo to share parts; ("Oh what a night, late December back in '63..."); edit a form for a new part request.

2:25 p.m. - E-mail count is now down to 23, eleven of which are in "green flag" status (my code for "waiting for someone to get their thumb out of their butt and respond to me").

2:26 - 2:35 p.m. - Sigh heavily. Update this entry some more. Think about going home early, because, well, feh.

2:35 p.m. - Stop! Potty time! Which strangely coincided with fourteen other women's need to pee.

2:40 - 3:10 p.m. - Decide a mental break is in order. Read Draw the Girl. Read Body of Work. Check ICHC for new pics. Look at pictures of Chuck on Dooce. Go back to where I left off yesterday in my Colloquial archives.

3:10 - 3:15 p.m. - Talk to Calvin on the phone. He's mad at me because he wanted me to make ANOTHER phone call to the title company (we're still trying to get the "free and clear" title for Michael's motorcycle) to find out the status. I've mailed them once, faxed them twice, and had phone conversations with them FIVE different times. So today? I just... didn't. I don't know why, I just didn't do it.

3:15 - 3:45 p.m. - Talk to a manager at the Oregon AcronymCo plant. Discuss a training plan for a new buyer over there. Discuss plans with my manager. Decide upon a series of teleconferences rather than a face-to-face meeting.

3:45 p.m. - Close enough to 4:00. Shut down my computer, grab my stuff, and I'm outta here.

3:45 - 4:10 p.m. - Drive home, again listening to one of the TUS mix CD's. Arrive home, dump my bag on the bed, say hi to Calvin, get run over seven times by Portia saying "Hi! Hi! Hi there! Hi!" Change into comfy clothes.

4:11 p.m. - Lay down for "just a minute" on the very comfy bed.

5:14 p.m. - Wake up with a snort. Zoe prrrrowts in my ear. And touches me on the face with her wet nose. And pat-pats me on my face with her paw.

5:15 - 6:10 p.m. - Go out into the living room, sit on the couch and put Calvin's feet in my lap, tickle his feet while he naps. Watch last week's episode of Bones.

6:11 - 6:15 p.m. - Get a call from Marie about some "weird shape light thingy" lighting up on her dashboard. I have no idea.

6:15 - 7:35 p.m. - Ride the motorcycle over to DarkHorse with Calvin. Have some Moosedrool and some grub. Watch the Suns lose. Watch a couple of poker games going on in front of the bar. Get annoyed by the guy sitting next to us. Pay up and head home again.

7:35 - 9:00 p.m. - Hug Marie for cleaning the kitchen - a task I didn't look forward to doing when I got home. Be amused as she cannot stick with just washing the dishes, but also has to reorganize all of the cupboards and closets. Feed the dogs. Get the mail. Flip through "Cover and Bake" and "Baking Illustrated". Get the coffee ready for tomorrow. Change into my jammies. Sit on the couch typing this while half-watching "Let's Go To Prison". Shut down the snake's and beardies' tanks.

9:00 - 10:00 p.m. - Watch miscellaneous TV. Get Calvin's clothes together for work tomorrow. Put my breakfast and lunch together for tomorrow. Set the alarm. Go to bed.

Labels: home, journal, listy goodness, meme, misc, pets, work

Posted by Laura at 9:00 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm perusing through my original journal archives and just re-read this entry. What an awesome time we had.

And I'm beginning to realize just how verbose I've been over the last seven-plus-years:

- Original Journal Archives, 2000-2006
- Colloquial Archives (the original weblog, which started out as Uno Momento), 2003-2005
- Operation::Goddess (archives are listed in the right hand frame), 2002-Present
- Waking Mind (moved to WordPress in 2007, started in 2006 I think)
- Storyteller Archive, 2001-2005

And this blog (2005-Present), the archives to which are in the right hand frame. Thousands upon thousands of words. Apparently, I have a lot to say.

Labels: journal

Posted by Laura at 4:27 PM | Permalink | Comments

Marie and I just got back from going to Pets Inc for "critters for the critters" (a medium rat and three dozen superworms), then to the grocery store for people food. She volunteered to go with me, and we gabbed and ooh'ed at the lizards and spiders and snakes, and impulse-bought food (at the grocery store) we didn't need. It's nice to have her back around the house again.

So right now the snake is writhing around on the floor of her vivarium, and the tail of the rat has just disappeared like a string of spaghetti into her mouth. A gape to re-hinge her jaw, and lunch is over. It's fascinating, in a totally gross kind of way.

I really had to push myself to stay on the elliptical this morning, and still only finished 35 minutes of my allotted 45-minute workout. I start negotiating with myself after about 20 minutes... "Okay, that's probably enough. Well, no, after the end of this song. Okay, the next song... five more minutes. Thirty minutes is long enough, right? Okay, dammit, thirty-five is close enough."

I appeased my guilt at shortening my workout by spending the next hour cleaning. I'm sure I killed more than enough calories that way.

Oz and Zoe are re-enacting WWII's Battle of the Bulge. Zoe is backed into the weight room and Oz is holding territory beyond the hallway. Volleys of hissing and spitting sail back and forth approximately every three minutes. In the end, Zoe will lose and go back to hide under the bed and sulk.

Labels: journal, Op:Goddess, pets

Posted by Laura at 2:51 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm having to re-write this entry because I accidentally hit the "back" button on my browser and STOOPID BLOGGER didn't save a draft. Dammit.

Anyway. Tonight is happy hour at Kona Grill with some work cronies. Tomorrow is Grown Up Responsibility Day with the cleaning and the yardwork. Tonight is the Suns Game (though basketball takes a back seat to football until February), tomorrow is the ASU vs. Oregon game, and Sunday is the Patriots vs. Colts game.

I love this time of year. I just wish that it felt more like fall. It's supposed to be in the mid- to high-80's all weekend and all next week. Which is nothing to grouse about, I'm sure, especially with the protests I can hear coming from my loyal readers of chillier climes. Still, my KINGDOM for just ONE day of sweater-weather.

The cooking extravaganza continues. Last night I made a Tamale Pie that was really good, except that it was so spicy that even I, the girl who eats nacho-sliced jalapenos by the handful, was reaching for the water. It falls under the category of "make again", though next time I'll cut back on the chipolte peppers and the adobo sauce.

Chipolte Tamale Pie
(modified from the recipe from RecipeZaar)

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 lb lean ground beef
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 green bell pepper, diced
2 garlic cloves, finely minced
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 (15 ounce) can pinto beans, drained and rinsed
1 (8 ounce) can diced tomatoes
2 chipotle chiles (found in the Mexican food area of the grocery store), chopped, *plus*
1 teaspoon adobo sauce, from canned chipotle in adobo
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro leaves
1 (8 1/2 ounce) package cornbread mix (such as Jiffy)
1 egg
1/3 cup milk

- Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
- Spray an 8-inch baking or casserole dish with non-stick cooking spray and set it aside.
- Heat the olive oil in a nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add the onions, green peppers, and garlic and cook until transparent and softened.
- Add the ground beef and cook until it no longer pink and is cooked through. Drain off any excess fat and sprinkle the meat mixture with the cumin.
- Add the beans, tomatoes, chiles and adobo sauce to the skillet and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer until heated through and slightly thickened, about 5 minutes.
- Remove pan from the heat and stir in the cheese and cilantro.
- Spread the beef mixture in the prepared baking dish, pressing down on it with the back of a spoon or spatula to make an even, compact layer.
- Combine the cornbread mix with milk and egg (note: this will NOT be according to package directions) and spread the cornbread batter over the beef mixture.
- Bake until the cornbread is golden-brown, 20 to 25 minutes. Let the tamale pie stand for 5 minutes before cutting into squares and serving.

I have the week of Thanksgiving off (two work-provided days, three vacation days) and plan to alternate between cooking a new dessert recipe and a new dinner recipe each day. I shall surely post the results herein. To aid me in this endeavor, I have recently purchased several new cookbooks, namely Cover and Bake, America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook, Baking Illustrated, and America's Best Lost Recipes.

Calvin's family (the only family we have here in AZ) hasn't mentioned what the Grand Turkey Day Plans are, but rest assured I'll be conducting my usual Gastronomical Culinary Extravaganza at home.

I've used the word "extravaganza" twice (now three times). That's a good entry, right there.

Aaaand then after Thanksgiving I'm going on a full-out Cooking Strike until it's time to "Kill the Wobsters!" (think Elmer Fudd ala "What's Opera, Doc?") at Christmas. An Animal Planet tradition since 1998!

Labels: food, home, journal, recipe

Posted by Laura at 1:12 PM | Permalink | Comments

Last night I succumbed to such hysterical laughter that I cried. I was so pissed off about something that I broke into hysterics. I just pointed stiff fingers at Calvin and said, "Raaaaaage." Then laughed, and laughed, in a very maniacal way. I couldn't stop laughing. It was psychotic. Tears rolled down my face, I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't stop myself. It was like I was having a seizure. Except that endorphins are endorphins, even if the laughter was rage-induced. So after I finally got a hold of myself I felt really good for a while.

Calvin thinks I'm a little bit crazy.

When a person suffers from depression, it never just goes away. You're never cured, you just manage it until it goes into hiding, and when it comes back again you manage it again. It's a disease that there is no complete escape from, it just goes into remission now and then.

At this moment in time I am choosing to manage my depression through non-pharmaceutical methods. I cook, I clean, I write, I exercise, I read, I watch movies and TV, I wrestle with Calvin. Some days are better than others. Some hours are better than others. I've been struggling a bit over the past month. Decided for about a week to go back on a prescription. Gave it up in anger at myself because I felt like I was taking the easy way out. I can find ways to re-wire my brain on my own, without drugs, dammit.

I take a lot of naps. Something about depression makes me tired. I know I'm trying to avoid my own mind by turning it off.

Lately I've been wishing that I was someone else. Someone else inside my head. I don't want a different life with different people, I just want to swap brains with one that is whole, calm, and at peace. I have a good life - I'm married to my best friend, I have a decent job, I have a nice home, and all of my material needs are met. The only specific things that I am unhappy about are money and the fact that we don't live in Maine. Last night Calvin assured me we would get there, someday, we just have to figure out how.

The knowledge that he's on board with moving back home, and that he's going to help me figure out how to dig us out of debt, is very comforting to me. I don't remember being depressed when I lived in Maine. Granted, I was nineteen when I moved away, but is that the variable that will switch my brain back to normal? It certainly can't hurt, that's for sure.

I asked Calvin last night if he ever wanted to be someone else. He said not permanently, but he wouldn't mind inhabiting the body of Kate Beckinsale's husband for a weekend. That's my guy.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 8:24 AM | Permalink | Comments

Ahhhh. The summer, she is finally over. It was in the 70's and 80's all weekend long, and this morning it's 60 degrees. We rode around on Calvin's motorcycle Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I can't on the offhand recall where we went on Friday, but Saturday we went to Mill Avenue for the MOST AWESOME-EST cheeseburgers EVAR, and on Sunday we went for a ride through the foothills before hitting Rock Bottom for a couple of beers and appetizers.

Zoe and Oz are driving me BATSHIT this morning. They want to be together, but they don't. I have this (marvellous) routine in the morning where I lock Zoe in the weight room so she can eat and poo in peace without Oz all, "Whatcha doin? Are you my friend yet?" I feed Oz, per usual, in his dish in the "cat closet". He eats three bites (if that), then hightails it (heh) back to the weight room door to talk to Zoe under the crack, rattle the handle (like I said, I have to LOCK the door so he doesn't open it), come in my room where I am steadfastly working (or, you know, writing an entry), fuss at me to LEEEEEET him IIIIINNNNN, then when I finally open the door so she can come out/he can go in, instead of acting like long-separated lovers they FIT at each other for the rest of the day. Oz just follows Zoe around from hiding place to hiding place. Occasionally they can stand to be in the same space (sitting in front of the screen door, hanging out on/in the bathtub) for about five minutes, then suddenly Zoe will look at Oz like he's grown horns and gets all, "WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!?" And she fits, and hisses, and growls, and Oz is all, "Geez, woman, PMS is a bitch, innit?"

Plus, you know how Marie is moving back in? Well, so is her dog. In the past two weeks we added another cat AND another dog as permanent additions to the household. Current count for those of you playing at home is two cats, three dogs, two bearded dragons, and a snake. All of whom I get to take care of. I am not kidding, nor am I exaggerating, when I say that I spend a total of probably two hours a day, split between morning and evening, taking care of the animals. AND it seems I will have to take Cheeto to the vet, as the poor dear is constipated. We can't have a constipated lizard on our hands, now can we?

Yeesh. At this point I am SO qualified to be a vet.

Anyway. Last week's drama is calming down a bit, but I still have anxiety up the wazoo. Marie was having troubles with her ex-boyfriend that resulted in us having to ride to her rescue in the middle of a work day. She'd moved all of his belongings - i.e. all of the furniture (she is apparently a strong black woman trapped in that teeny white girl's body) - out onto the patio of her apartment. Ex-BF was blowing up her phone with threats and angst, she called us. We showed up, then HE showed up with his brother to get his stuff. Argument ensued during which he and his brother got all up in Calvin's face.

Ahem.

SO! Calvin deterred that shit right there, then phoned the police. Who very promptly showed up to supervise the removal of the furniture and belay comments thrown from the Ex-BF in Marie's general direction. In the meantime the Ex-BF's mom showed up, and we got to witness first hand where her son got his charming personality. They left, the police left, we left, then went down to the court house to get proceedings started on a restraining order.

So, that was fun.

AAAAAANNNNNNNND then I discovered fraudulent charges against my checking account. It seems that Calvin's debit card number has been compromised. So I got to deal with that last week. On top of the refrigerator dying, buying a new refrigerator, waiting around for said refrigerator to be delivered, spending $300 on groceries to replace those lost, dealing with Marie's ex-BF, dealing with New Pet Issues, and everything else that normal life dishes up when one has a full time job and a more-than-full-time life.

Current tally: angsty shit - 10, Laura's ability to cope - 0.

BUT! Calvin and I are going to see Jersey Boys again tomorrow with Calvin's sister and her husband. I am looking forward to that like nobody's business - probably even more than I was looking forward to seeing it the first time, and despite the fact that I have had "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" firmly entrenched in my brain for, like, ever.

(baaa DA baaa DA baaa da DA da da...) "I love you baby..."

Labels: headspace, home, journal, kids, motorcycle, pets

Posted by Laura at 8:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

Once again waiting related to a fridge. This time, it's the new one that's supposed to be delivered SOMETIME today. I spent an hour throwing away a metric ton of spoiled food and cleaning behind/under the old refrigerator. Whatever the ook was that was back there is cancer-causing, I'm positive.

Right now I am putting together a grocery list of epic proportions. In keeping with my plan to create moments of happiness for myself, I have decided to kick my cooking hobby back into gear and make two new dinner recipes and one new dessert recipe per week. This week, well, I'm going overboard. Beef stroganoff is lined up for tonight, stuffed peppers on Saturday, Jamblaya on Sunday, and Enchilada Chowder next Thursday (standbys of burgers, tuna noodles, spaghetti, and the best meatloaf in the world fill out the rest of the days in the week, if you're curious). Plus I'm planning on making my grandmother's apple cake and her pumpkin bread this weekend.

My diet is taking a firm back seat to my happiness at the moment.

I don't remember if I mentioned it or not, but Calvin and I went to see Jersey Boys last Saturday at Gammage Auditorium. The show was ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. Even Calvin loved it, and he's not a musical kind of guy. If you don't know much about them, check this out (be patient through the Sopranos tribute stuff). This was their performance at the Emmy's this year, and WAY doesn't do justice to the entire production:



This was the performance that prompted Calvin to suggest that we get tickets when they were in town (quoth I, "You do realize that this is a musical? Where people randomly dance about and burst into song?"). Which they are now. We might even go again, it was THAT good. Plus, of course, we went out on Calvin's birthday and bought a couple of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons CD's. "Walk Like a Man", "Can't Take My Eyes Off You", "December 1963", "Grease", "Who Loves You", and "My Eyes Adored You" have been on constant spin around here.

Loved the show. LOVED. IT. Go see it so we can still be friends.

You know? There's a CRAPTASTIC load of drama going on around here, but now that I've gotten to this point in the entry, I am in no mood to write about it right now. So you'll have to wait in barely restrained anticipation until I work up the gumption to put all the crap into some semblance of cohesion.

Labels: best things, food, headspace, home, journal, kids

Posted by Laura at 12:36 PM | Permalink | Comments

I am and always have been an proponent of the theory that true happiness comes in little bits and pieces. Oh sure, sometimes the "big happy" comes along - an unexpected win, a vacation you didn't think you'd be able to swing but then pulled off, a relative who didn't actually have to die in order to give you their heaps and heaps of cash, just because they wanted to be around to see you enjoy it.

You know, that kind of thing.

For the most part, though, happiness comes along and hangs out with you for a little while. For an afternoon, a day, the length of a favorite song. It comes in the form of a rainy afternoon or a new recipe that falls under the category of "make again -- soon". And you stop, acknowledge the little upwelling of good feeling, and move along with life with that little feeling lingering in the background for a while.

Day to day life can be neither "happy" or "negative". It is what it is, as Calvin is wont to say lately. You live, you work, you do your thing. There exists neutrality to most of life in which there is nothing to say "woo!" over, but also nothing to say "waah!" over.

Amongst this day to day thing-doing, however, there are little bits and pieces of good, and fun, and positive. My belief is that your life - or to break it down into more manageable chunks, your day - is what you make of it. "Fake it till ya make it" is a favorite expression of my own. Push yourself to be in a good mood until you are. Search for your happiness, even amongst the shit, until you find it. Because it IS there, somewhere. Buried, sometimes, but present.

I think we as people tend to have an "all or nothing" attitude about happiness. People want to be euphoric all the time, and if they aren't then that must mean their life is the suck. It just doesn't work that way. Every day brings a little of both pleasure and pain - some days its a lot of one and a little of the other. And it just doesn't tend to balance out in the end with life's experiences tallied evenly between negative and positive. We are, as a species, full of angst. Which is why we need to look for, find, acknowledge, accept, and create for ourselves those small moments, those little pockets of peace.

Being happy takes effort.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 3:45 PM | Permalink | Comments

Actually, I'm waiting for the refrigerator repair guy. Our fridge - just seven years old and WHAT happened to the kind of appliances that lasted, like, 25 years and your parents only replaced because the 70's motif of olive drab and orange didn't match the decor anymore??? Anyway, our fridge is on the fritz - refrigerated part not cold enough, freezer part not freezing. I had to throw a ton of stuff out yesterday, which was annoying. Most of it was frozen veggies, though, so cheap and easily replaceable. We've already had to replace the washer and dryer (14 years old) and dish washer (7 years old) this year. A new fridge is NOT on our list of money spending priorities at the moment.

I am starting to feel discouraged, like we're making no forward progress in our current lives. Marie has decided she needs to move back in with us (we'll have to pay the EXORBITANT fees for breaking the lease on her apartment, which Marie is going to pay back to us in installments), and Michael never moved out, so we're back to (or will be soon back to) having a full house. Which is fine, really - we all get along quite well. There will be household citizenship RULES, however. Not the least of which is that Calvin and I should never have to wash a single dish or take out a single bag of trash for as long as the kids are living with us. And this coming and going at 2:00 in the morning nonsense will be NO MORE.

Aaaand the fridge repair guy just left. The compressor is shot. We have to buy a new fridge. Fuck a duck. Another $1500 (at least) out the door.

Does it ever end?

Labels: home, journal, kids, wtf

Posted by Laura at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments