What's Your Source?

Don't you hate when you walk into a store and encounter a fast talking salesman?  Someone who oozes smarminess from across the store and yet, you cannot seem to avoid him?  They come in all shapes and forms and they sound mighty convincing, but you know better.  That whatsywhoozit they're peddling is over-priced and over-hyped.  And don't you want to scream at the old lady gobbling up his bullshit as the gospel?

I feel this way about politics.  Don't get me wrong, I totally enjoy a healthy political debate, but at the end of the day it's just a lot of hot air.  A game.  I have my opinions and I can be rather passionate about them.  As long as my debate opposition can stick to the argument at hand and not question my intelligence, patriotism, faith, ancestry, sexuality, humanity, or whatever else can be questioned, then I can come out on the other side still respecting them.  I think that's rather fair, no?

But there are people out there, amazingly a lot of them who have been fed the koolaid and fall for the smarmy salesman hook line and sinker.  If it weren't so serious, it would be down right funny.  Well, okay, it's still a little funny.

My undergrad degree is in history.  To most people that means I studied names and dates... ha!  This woman can barely remember her own name, rarely the names of her own children and I have some sort of number dyslexia, so no, my history degree is not the study of names and dates.  It is about the study of sources, collaborating data and proving theories.  When I delve into political debates I dust off that history degree and want to read the original document or quote in question and derive my opinions based on my own interpretations, however flawed they may be.  And herein lies my amusement.  And frustration.

Just because Mr. WhoopieDeWhoo on TEEVEE said it's so, we're supposed to believe it?  My ears are nearly bleeding from the pundits telling me what the "American Public" is feeling.  Um, hello, I happen to be part of that "American Public" and so are my friends and my co-workers and the lady at the Walmart checkout and not a single one of us share that opinion.  Who asked us?  The past several years, yes, even before the current President, I have suspected that we have been told what someone wants us to believe.  We have been told and reminded and hinted and told again that all of our neighbors believe this platform or are scared of this certain outcome or are nervous about something that we, yes even me, start to wonder if maybe we're missing a detail.  Our inner-lemmings want to jump on the bandwagon.  Suddenly people who don't give a rats ass about anything politic are repeating the rhetoric.

Like I said, there is an amusement factor to this.  A zombie-esque following, chanting the same phrases over and over and yet not one of them is willing to break ranks and search for an original source.

I do love a good zombie movie.  I just watched ZombieLand and LOVED IT!  Husband hated it, oh well.  At least he isn't questioning my intelligence, we have agreed to disagree, and really that's how I prefer it.

So keep drinking your koolaid and ignore this smirk on my face, zombies amuse me.

Let's Demolish The Bridge While Standing On It

Sundays In My City is hosted by Unknown Mami - click it and see everyone else's city.

Today, I'll highlight a frequent sight in my city, the ever improving St. Louis Missouri - highway construction.  I think it's a standard joke with any large town that road construction is a constant project, it certainly is around here.

This was a few weeks ago.  I remember news warnings that the Arsenal Avenue bridge over hwy 44 was going to come down AFTER I'm on hwy 44.  We passed under it on our way to our destination and it looked rather frightful with big machines hammering away and significant chunks of cement falling on the road RIGHT NEXT TO US.  Of course I take the same route home, like a dipshit, forgetting the major chunks of cement.  I could have easily taken any of the gillion side roads home, but no, I take the way I came.  And got stuck in traffic.  Because the road crew finally became concerned about the possibility of damaging passing traffic.  Brilliant guys, those road crew dudes.  Or maybe it's their supervisors?  Who knows?

So as I sat and sat and sat, I pulled out my handy dandy camera that I bought for its size for fitting in my purse for JUST THIS TYPE OF OCCASION!  Lucky me!

Things In My Hair

In preparation for Girl Scout camping we (the troop leader, Mental Mysteria and myself, the co-leader) took the certified camper course for adults with another 8 women from other troops.  It was a beautiful, sunny weekend.  We got to participate in all of the regular activities of setting up and maintaining a camp so we would know how to supervise our own troops - the goal being the girls do all of the work while we adults sit back and "supervise."  So we got to do the grunt work while the trainers supervised us.

Finally, we got a break from camp duties and were all gathered around the fire pit, enjoying the sunshine.  The coolest part of this weekend was that the butterflies were out in force.  They were so thick they were almost a nuisance, landing on our paperwork as we studied for certification tests.  But really it was cool to see so many.

One landed on my head and started tromping around up there and sort of pulled my hair astray from my ponytail.  I reached up to fix my hair but my hand landed on a bump that was NOT MY PONYTAIL.

And the fucker started to SCREAM.

It was a damn CICADA!

I had a screaming cicada in my hair, clinging for dear life to MY PONYTAIL!!!!  Have you ever seen a cicada?  It is a big fucking bug with a hard crunchy outer shell and it's ugly as sin and it's gross and I hate bugs and it is big and ugly and gross.  OMG!!!

Since my hand was already on it - because I froze in mortal terror - I decided to finish the deed and grasp the bastard - EW - and fling its screaming ass off of my head.

And then scream.

Here's a picture I took of a cicada shell last summer.  These bastards shed their skin all over the trees and stupid children play jokes by hooking these on each other.  ((((shudder)))))

Isn't that DISGUSTING???  A LIVE one was on MY HEAD.  SCREAMING.  AT ME!  Yes, they scream.  I guess it's more like a fucked up cricket chirp, but on crack, through a blow horn.  They are loud.  Especially when one is on your head. 

I love the Girl Scouts.  I love camping.  I love Girl Scout camping.  But really, I should have taken this as a message.

Friday Fragments - Mar 26, 2010

Check out everyone else posting their fragments - stuff that doesn't quite fill a full post.  And then join in and post your own!

*Week 4 of starting a new business:  Permits cleared, utilities on (without any sexual favors in exchange).  Still things are moving in fits and starts.  Equipment delivery was delayed 3 days due to a truck break down, wrong parts were ordered, the consultant may have a conflict of interest... blah blah blah.  Three days this week were hard manual labor getting the shop and trailer set up, today is another hard long day and I probably won't see The Husband until late this evening.  Next week promises more of the same.  I designed the business cards, but that didn't happen smoothly as we were using an online service and it took two days before I could figure out how to load our own design and not use one of their templates.  The webpage is still needing an update.  We're so busy with the here and now that we're failing to look up and see the light at the end of the tunnel.  It's getting closer.

*For over a week my youngest has been hankering for homemade cookies.  Despite the fact I have several cookbooks and BOXES, literally, of recipe cards, I directed him to look online for a chocolate chip recipe.  OMG total success.  These are by far some of the best cookies we have ever made!  Click Here for the recipe.   I used 2 whole eggs instead of one egg and 1 yolk.  I found we had to kind of flatten the cookie on cooking sheet because they don't spread out a lot.  OH!  And a tip my SIL gave me for chewy cookies - put the batter in the fridge for 10-20 minutes before baking.  The Kid gets a gold star for finding this!  He also made the cookies and I didn't do anything other than answer questions and sample the goods.  

*The Christmas Cactus at work that never blooms at Christmas that this year bloomed for Martin Luther King Day?  Yeah, that bad boy started budding for St. Patricks Day and has three beautiful red blooms in full glory this week.

*Last week we came home to a set of boxes on the front porch addressed to my son.  He ripped into them to find that my dad has unloaded his firetruck collection.  Another three boxes arrived this week.  This kid is in total awe.  These aren't old toys, but a collector set of truck replicas.  Many of the trucks are still in their original boxes so I had to explain why he needed to leave them in the box.  Then I encouraged him to clear a dresser and set up a proper display.  It looks pretty awesome.

Ian's Quilt

I'm being lazy today - go to my parenting blog to read about the quilt my son made (with a little help)

Hair Goes CHOP CHOP

Before: long and frizzy and not much I could do with it other than a ponytail

After:  shorter and kind of sassy.   I had a little bit of a Mary Tyler Moore flip going on.  I said that to my daughter and she said, "yeah that lady who wore the curtain in the Gone With The Wind scene!"  No, that's Carol Burnett.  UGH!

Sadly, once I wash my hair it will never look like this ever again!

How Do You Spend A Day Off?

After two weeks of running hard I hit my brick wall.  Yesterday I took off a day from work.  I finished reading one book, hopefully another by the end of the week, got a massage, took a nap and basically did nothing.  I could use a few more days like this, but I'll be happy with what I have.  Back to work today, back to the grind.

So, how would you spend a day devoted to yourself?

Friday Fragments - Mar 19, 2010

HUH!  I was going to post this as "Bits as Pieces" earlier this week, but I never finished my thought.  How convenient, I'll use it for Friday Fragments!  Go on over to Mrs. 4444's to find everyone else's fragments.

*Week THREE of a new business - we're getting closer to opening the doors, but still not ready.  The shop is an awful mess and none of the utilities are turned on yet, still waiting for city inspectors and approval forms and blow jobs or whatever it is that's necessary.  I will not be performing any necessary tasks in this realm other than mopping, so the utilities may be off for a while.  I patched together the single most crappiest web page in the history of the internets so I guess I'll be mopping up that mess over the next week.  Like I said, I'll be mopping.  Painting and other grunt work is being done by my son and his friend and they seem to be doing a damn fine job.

*I drove from work with a spider scampering across my visor - AND I DID NOT DIE!  And I did not crash the car!  I'll have to dig through my archives to see if I ever told the story of the monsterous wolf spider at Girl Scout Camp.  Maybe I'll just retell it and if you've already read it you can catch the discrepancies between the two.  UPDATE!!! I found the link!  http://dementiawoman.blogspot.com/2006/04/one-time-at-girl-scout-camp.html

*My child STILL has not brought me my special tub o' ice cream.  I have no clue how he became so forgetful, but this is causing me to... to... get all flustered and forget shit.  Yeah.   It's all his fault.  Bring mommy ice cream and keep her happy.  Twenty years on this planet, TEN MONTHS residing in my uterus, and he hasn't gotten these basic facts straight....

*UPDATE - Wednesday I got my ice cream and it was delightfully yummy.  He is no longer disowned.

*Work is effing insane.  Seriously.  I have lots of whiny things to post but somebody might be reading so I'll behave.  Basically I don't have time to be sick right now, but I am in dire need of a mental health day.  I've been carrying around a gift certificate for the last six months for a massage.  I think it's time to redeem it.

Are You Irish?

I've been doing genealogy for several years.  Back when the internet was still rather new, like 1996 or so, I came across genealogy sites.  I pulled out a copy of the family tree from my mom's wedding album, found those people listed on other people's family trees and suddenly a whole world opened up to me.

Yes, I'm Irish.  One of those Irish sons in my line fought and died in the American Revolution (and yes I am eligible to join Daughters of the Revolution).  We can't prove Bartlett and his brothers actually came from Ireland, but a whole lot of their descendants are digging and digging.

It's a frustrating process to trace one's family.  Because of the frustration and roadblocks and brickwalls most people walk away from the search very early, leaving only a few fanatics to do the digging.  At this point in my search, my digging is going to have to switch to swimming as I need to cross the Atlantic and pick up the search in Europe.

I've put that search on hold and instead focused more on the recent lines, sort of becoming the family historian.  I'm learning about these people and their stories.  I can pick out several faces, some I've met in person.

St. Patrick's Day makes me think of times of drinking with my friends (to be posted on Sunday) but people DO ask if you're really Irish.  And yes, I am.  Just picture everyone dressed in green, they all have ties to the Emerald Isle.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! 

Twisting The Night Away

Digging through the old pictures again, but some of you might take issue with the word "old".  This was taken in 1963.  It's my parents dancing, something they both enjoy today (with different people).

Gus's Pretzels

At certain intersections throughout St. Louis, you'll find people peddling pretzels - Gus's Pretzels.

I've seen this guy on several occasions and for some reason he cracks me up.  This is also my favorite way to shoot photos, from behind the steering wheel!

These are soft pretzels and a huge hit with just about any crowd.  If you eat them right then and there they're rather dry.  You have to pop them in the microwave for a few seconds for them to be perfect.  You can also special order large pretzels for birthdays or graduation.

Happy Diabetes Day

Okay, this is a really long post and I realize most of you won't read it all of the way through so I'll give you the quick version first and if you're curious about the details, read on.  Deal?  (By the way, I'm also posting this on my parenting blog - it's that important to me)

The bottom line is diabetes sucks ass.  If you know you have it, follow your doctor's instructions.  Just do it.  But here's the thing, a whole lotta people are walking around with diabetes and fucked up blood sugars and don't even know it.  If you are having weird symptoms that the doctor has never been able to pin point, ask to be tested for diabetes.  It's a ridiculously easy blood test and for lots of reasons doctors don't think to do it.  Ask.  Insist.

Today is the five year anniversary of when my son, Keith, was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes - the insulin dependent type.  The one that you can't control with diet and exercise.  This was the single most frightening day of my life, the day unmentionable things could have happened.  So, um, "happy" Diabetes Day!

******************

That nagging feeling that something is wrong.  The tiny voice that screams from the darkness to persist, to keep digging despite being patted on the head and told everything is okay, even by so-called experts.  The knowing something is wrong.  Yes, you know if you dig far enough you're bound to find something, if you ask enough people eventually you'll find someone who agrees if only to pacify you.

But what if you're right?

There is no happy dance, no sweet vindication, no sing song "I told you so."  I know because I was right, there was something wrong.  It was something very very wrong and my son almost died from it.  I was right and I very truly wish I wasn't.

I have long moved past guilt, but it still hurts that we didn't catch it earlier.  The what-ifs will always haunt me in the quiet of night.

So here I am to stand as a warning to follow that gut instinct, especially as parents.  Mother's intuition isn't reserved just for women, because my ex felt it too.  Stand strong, YOU are your child's only advocate.  Take that role seriously and keep digging until you have conclusive evidence showing otherwise.  I scream at the simplicity of one tiny blood test that no one thought to run.  When all else fails, please ask, no INSIST, that your loved one is tested for diabetes.

Diabetes?  Yes.  There are so many people out there with diabetes and keeping this malady at bay that we forget that it is horribly dangerous.  Within a matter of hours fucked up blood sugar can literally kill you.  Period.

And we never knew he had it.

The pediatrician never thought to test him for it.  The gastro specialist didn't test him either before she prescribed medicine in almost placebo-esque fashion for irritable bowel.  No tests, no exam, just a series of questions before issuing a diagnosis.

For ten years my son suffered upset stomachs, sudden diarrhea, vomiting and a general malaise of not feeling good.  Frequently we passed it off as expert hypochondria.  He did miss an amazing amount of school as he feigned illness all the damn time.  He would urgently trot to the bathroom, come out looking like hell and then in hours be fine as pie.  I admit to being confused - believe my child and try to shield him from pain or call him out on crying wolf.  This is what held me from digging further.  I wondered if he was faking it, but that morning trot wasn't made up.  Could he really be THAT good at pulling the wool over my eyes?  At such a young age?  It just didn't seem possible.  As he aged the complaints didn't change, they didn't become any more sneaky.  If anything, his bouts of morning sickness became more inconvenient, holding him from activities I knew he wanted to attend.  He was fourteen when I asked for a referral to a specialist, finally resolving to believe my child.  That is when we were given the prescription to treat IBS.

One year later, almost to the day, we discovered IBS was not the culprit.

Keith had been sick, very flu-like sick, but without any fever.  He had missed school on Thursday and Friday.  On Saturday he went with his siblings to his father's house and spent the entire day on the couch watching cartoons and being pumped with Gatorade and cold-n-flu syrup (know where I'm going with this?  Do you see the problem?  Treating a diabetic with trumped up sugary treatments?)

On Sunday morning his father brought him back to my house as Keith didn't feel up to making the trip with the rest of the family.  My ex nearly carried him into the house he was so weak.  Something was wrong, little did I know just how wrong.  His father and I quickly discussed the possibility of dehydration and we agreed if he got any worse I would take him to Children's Hospital, not the closer ER just down the road.  He suspected something too.  Our collective spidey senses were tingling.

Keith plopped down on the couch, clutching his jug of Gatorade.  I returned to the computer for my regular online fun. 

From here time gets garbled in my mind.  What probably took just minutes played out in agonizing slow motion.

From the corner of my eye I saw Keith crawling to the bathroom.  Not staggering, CRAWLING.  My fifteen year old, six foot tall son was crawling to the bathroom.  A weak call for my assistance came from inside, he wanted his Gatorade.  I promptly slipped it in through the barely open door.  A thud signaled he had dropped the jug of Gatorade.  Another weak request for a change of clothes that again was slipped through the barely open door.

And then another weak request.  He couldn't pull up his pants.  Something is very drastically wrong if a normally shy teenaged boy asks his mom help in getting dressed.  That was it, he was going to the hospital.

I made a silent agreement that if I couldn't manage to get him in the car on my own that I would call an ambulance.  I did get him in the car and drove the 30 odd miles to the hospital barely inside the speed limit.  God and I had a little chat along the way, mostly on my part pleading for my son to be okay.  There was a calm to my frantic movements, a power beyond me that kept me calm, kept my car within the lanes, something bigger than me that delivered us to our destination.

I ran in the ER and just started talking to the first person in blue that I needed someone to help me get my 15yr old out of the car.  I knew to get him on a gurney would guarantee immediate service.  It took four large men to pull him out of the backseat.  Somebody offered to move my car into the garage and I tossed my keys to a stranger.

From that point everything moved like a blur.  He was rushed past the front desk and the official process of checking in.  I never got an id tag.  By the time I gave his name and basic vitals to one nurse I heard the people in the room quizzing him about the previous night ensuring they weren't dealing with alcohol or drugs.  Soon they were asking if diabetes was in the family.  The kid could barely speak and what he did say was severely slurred.

Like a brick they hit me with the possibility of diabetes.  They rattled off numbers to me that made no sense.  After two hours in ER he was admitted to Pediatric ICU at which point I received a crash course on diabetes.   

The rest of Sunday and that night were spent with him getting poked every hour and trying to get him more coherent.  His girlfriend spent nearly 9 hours at his side as the rest of our family filed in and out of the room.  I spent the night in the room with him with very little sleep.  Monday and Tuesday were spent in classes learning about diet and shots and blah blah blah blah....

I did indeed have a very sick child.  He didn't have the flu, he wasn't dehydrated, he wasn't faking it.  Had the doctor we visited a year earlier ran one very simple test, just one blood test, this trip to the ER and expensive stay in ICU could have been averted.  There are a lot of what-ifs.

A healthy blood sugar is somewhere between 60 and 100.  Diabetes is the inability of your body to maintain healthy blood sugar levels.  Too low, anything below 40, the person can pass out and the organs begin to shut down.  But we also have to worry about levels too high.  Around 200 people usually feel a little woozy, over 300 and you ought to contact your doctor, maybe even get to the ER.

They told me at the hospital the highest they had ever seen was 750.

Keith's blood sugar that day was 1268.

He was slipping into a diabetic coma right before my eyes.  His size and strength and youth are what kept him going for so long.

His diabetes may not have been caught in kindergarten when he first started clutching his gut in the bathroom, but at some point he would have tested positive.  I am angry no one tested him and his pediatrician got an earful about it.

He has Type I, the sort that requires expensive daily injections and regular testing.  If you don't have a diabetic in the family, you would be surprised how outrageously expensive the supplies are, particularly the test strips.  It's obscene.

Keith is healthy and active and not feeling any repercussions other than carting around a little pack with his injection pens.  He monitors his carb intake and adjusts his insulin accordingly.  He does not suffer dietary restrictions like people have in the past due to the types of insulin and medications he takes every day.

So it wasn't so much a "happy" diabetes day, but I am ecstatic my son has a name and treatment for the beast that tormented him for so long.  And he is very much alive and here.

Take care of yourself and the ones you love.  Get tested.  And PLEASE support the Juvenile Diabetes Association.

Friday Fragments - Mar 12, 2010

Time to post the bits and pieces that don't make enough for a full blog (yeah, right I could ramble on for any of these).  But click the above button and see everyone else fragmenting.


*I overslept this morning.

*My son begins Spring Break today.   What the hell is up with giving them the Friday BEFORE the week off?  Back when I was in school there was no such thing.  Spoiled brat.  So yeah, I'm dragging his ass to work so he can hang out with his bud and birthday twin, the son of my coworker.  Fortunately at 12 & 13 they keep themselves very busy and far away from us wetblanket moms.

*I AM ICE CREAM DEPRIVED!  My older son, the child I will highlight in tomorrow's post, is going to be disowned for FORGETTING to bring me my special Samoa mix they did at his shop earlier this week.  I may wither away.  If I don't post in a few days you'll know that I died of lack of ice cream.


*There is a serious itch to pull out my sewing machine (buried in the bowels of my basement) and start sewing again.  I made the mistake of following quilting blogs and these bitches are inspiring.  Dammit.

*Come back tomorrow, it's really important - we need to have a serious chat about a heath issue.

Reindeer Games (AKA Playing At Work)

1) Cut out a set of eyeballs from a magazine

2) Tape eyeballs onto your glasses

3) Sneak up on your coworker

4) Pose for photograph after the laughter dies down

5) Wait for revenge

Hockey Pic

There it is, but I swear to God that's my mother.  Yes, me on the floor with a hockey stick and the guy behind me looks like he's going to hit me.  I'm sure I deserved it. 

I think I'm still wheezing.

I Got To Play HOCKEY!

Last night was the players against the parents game.  I have never played hockey so this was interesting.  No, not ice hockey, the last time I put on ice skates I gave myself a concussion.  Floor hockey wasn't much better as I fell on my ass in the first 2 minutes.

His dad and stepmom also came out to play... probably a good thing we were on the same team or that could have been violent.  No actually we are quite able to be in the same room peacefully.  The dads did pretty good out on the floor, the moms barely protected the net.  All of us were panting heavily after each line change and had bright red faces.

We lost, but only by a few points - bummer.  But hey, my kid finally landed a goal!  AND

he was chosen to play in the all-star game!  Woot!



If I get pictures I'll post them later today.

Grilled Cheese

Recently I emailed Piranha and asked "exactly when will this joke stop being funny?"

Her response, "The 12th day of Never!"

********************

The day before Super Bowl Sunday (I think it was 2006) I had attended a youth event where we provided lunch.  I had made approximately a gillion grilled cheese sandwiches.  There were several left over.

My kids love grilled cheese.  Just warm them up and a free meal, right?

So I tossed them into a bread bag and took them home.  Oh hey, there will be a houseful of kids running around Sunday night, and they all like cheese...

You see where this is going, don't you?

Yes, I took my bread bag of day old grilled cheese sandwiches to the Super Bowl party.  For the kids.  Who like cheese.

It seemed innocent enough.  My intentions were good.

My friends, however, were dumbfounded.

And the more I explained why I possessed a bread bag filled with grilled cheese, well I was digging myself even deeper.  Everyone was laughing.  My friends are ruthless, to say the least.  And quite honestly, had they never raised an eyebrow the kids would have sucked up those sandwiches.  I'm convinced of it.

Sooooo.....  Now every time we have a gathering and have that discussion of who is bringing what, grilled cheese sandwiches are suggested.  I swear I was THIS close to making grilled cheese for Saturday's trivia night.  I'm going to do it eventually.

We've been making birthday cakes for each other for MANY years, since ninth grade!  My cake for 2006 was, you guessed it, a grilled cheese replica.  A damn fine one at that!

Yes, that is yellow cake trimmed in brown frosting and orange frosting oozing out of the middle.

Brilliant, isn't it?????

Starting A New Business - Week 2

Monday - Download directions to class and confirm online orders.

Tuesday - Attend 1st day of food safety class.  Health Department does initial walk through of proposed prep kitchen location, ticking off list of needed repairs.

Wednesday - Argue with landlord about who should be responsible for what repairs and question if this location will be the best for our needs.  Receive word that concession trailer will arrive 24 hours later than predicted.

Thursday - Order cart for the shop

Friday - Leave town (yay I have house to myself!!!!) to pick up concession trailer in Kansas City.  Notice small nick in the trim due to unloading mishap, receive a set of free locks in compensation.  Uncle Carl tags along for the ride, approves of the trailer, says it is much nicer than the one he used (we're using his business model and he is working as our consultant).  Drive trailer to Uncle Carl's house for the night.

Saturday - Load trailer with equipment from Uncle Carl's garage and drive to St. Louis.  Cart arrives via Fed Ex.  Sleep.

Sunday - Discuss logo, painting the trailer, and setting product prices.

Sunday In My City - March 7, 2010

I snapped these just last week cruising down Hwy 44

Very soon the commercials will start and kids will begin begging for a trip to 6 Flags.  One of the NOT free locations for a family in St. Louis - ugh!  It's so much better when they earn their own money and can drive themselves...  less of a family activity, of course, but also less headache for those of us who have developed weak stomachs in our old age.

Friday Fragments - Mar 5, 2010

*The Husband is leaving town to pick up a trailer.  That means I have the house to myself for two whole days.  I'm quite giddy at the thought - TV marathons where I own the remote?  Finish the books in my stash?  Impromptu happy hour lasting until the wee hours (it's been a long time since I pulled one of those).  I bet I stay up late, read a lot, sleep in a little and really not use my time in a useful manner.

*The mornings are still chilly but not bad enough that I couldn't manage a decent walk.  I keep nagging myself to start up my walks again and then I gravitate to the couch and laptop.  It has to be the first thing I do in the morning - maybe tomorrow.

*My son doesn't enjoy watching hockey on TV, but I forced him to watch the overtime game of the US/Canada game (I'm such a mean mom). 

*Two new people started at work this week.  There was speculation whether they would fit in, if we could bond.  So far they seem very cool.  We might have new drinking buddies, but we haven't confirmed if they're drinkers or not.  We'll see.

The Pill

I don't remember if I took it.  I spent all day yesterday convinced I took my pretty little pink pill that morning, but as the day progressed I wondered.

Then it struck me when I got home, that the memory of the pill and the juice chaser was the morning before, not that day.  Damn.  I rushed to the cabinet and popped my dose for the day and soon my senses relieved. 

Miserable all day long finally sweet relief.   I could breathe.

What?  I'm talking about my allergy medicine!

Yes, folks, allergy season has kicked in and my face is nearly dripping as a result.

Family Look Alikes

I was surprised to find this photo.  The old guy is William McDowell, born in 1827... let's do the math...  he was born 183 years ago.  Through the years he had managed to marry three different women, all named Elizabeth.  The last one (my relation) was 21 years younger than him.

My great-grandfather, Frank, is the younger man in the back with dark hair.  We know that's him because we have other pictures as he aged, plus his son, my grandfather, is a dead ringer for him.  It's weird because Frank and his brother to the right could easily pass as my brothers.  The little girl in the center looks amazingly like my mother as a child, but with dark hair.

Everyone is so somber and dressed in black, almost makes you wonder if someone died.  More likely this was their Sunday finest and probably a happy event to pose for a family portrait.

I look at the photo over and over, always trying to discern something new, the boots, the faux background, everyone is looking at the camera except the three guys in the back, the velvet chair, fobs, poofy hair...  just to glean a little more knowledge about my family history.

My Daughter's Birthday

Today my baby girl turns 22.  It is SO not possible that she's 22 or that I'm old enough to have a child in her twenties.  I mean, I still feel like I'm in my twenties!

And so start the cliches.

Time flies, they grow so fast, they'll be graduating before you know it, cherish each moment...

The thing that stuns me the most is how much I've forgotten.  If it weren't for photographs I fear I may have forgotten even more. 

Click on my parenting blog and help me celebrate twenty-two years of this parenting thing, all starting with the birth of my daughter twenty-two years ago.

Woes Whoas & Wahs

Starting A New Business - Week 1

After several months of debating the possibility of opening a new business, it's coming to fruition.

Monday - We received confirmation of financing.  The paperwork was drawn up and signed.  We went to bed nervous, not giddy, for a lot of work lies ahead and we just signed up for a whole of responsibility to make this happen.

Tuesday - Applied for federal ID number, an EIN, then opened a bank account in the business name.  We generated long lists of things to do, forms to fill out and started contacting salesmen to finalize purchases now money is certain.

Wednesday - Confirmed deposit was received, schmoozed the bank rep to ensure money wasn't on hold as we started to promise pick up of equipment.  Enrolled in state mandated food safety courses and arranged for initial inspection of kitchen.

Thursday - Downloaded state forms for tax ID number and calculated bond for sales tax.  Okay, this bond thing totally threw us for a loop.  He never had to deal with retail issues in the past so this was a surprise and potentially expensive.  The state is asking for basically a deposit of three month's worth of presumed sales tax liability.  We have been calculating possibilities of average sales with an eye toward profit, but what if????  We had to calculate low for this form or pay out the ass.

Friday - Breathe.  This is the last day before we make any purchases, technically we could back out at this point and return all of the money.

Saturday - Withdraw cashier's checks for equipment and sales tax bond.  BUY TRUCK.  Oh holy crap we bought a brand new pick up truck, in full, no loan.  It sure is pretty.  And big.  But YIKES.  We own that puppy outright!

Sunday - Go to Dickey Bub's farm & home supply to purchase tow ball at 50% what the trailer dealerships were asking.  Stop by the proposed location for the kitchen and peek in the windows.  Yep, this location should work.


It's happening!