Quickie Friday Fragments

Just a quickie today.

• Sarah Palin is leaving politics for good. I know this is the 4th of July holiday, I didn’t realize it was Christmas too.
• In forty minutes I will have a houseful of guests for Fireworksapalooza!!!!
• It is supposed to rain.
• My house is not really large enough for a houseful of wet guests.
• I got last week’s Favorite Friday Fragmenter award!

• No, I have not started on the margaritas. Yes, I did call my doctor.
• My fragments are so fragmented that I have no more and will now go up and start on the margaritas.

A 4th of July word problem

When you already have a wonky and sluggish thyroid and can’t figure out why you’ve been feeling like crap for the last several weeks and just “off” for a few months before that and your husband nobody has the balls to mention you seem “off” and you can’t figure out WTF you ate to cause that weight gain because nothing’s really changed and you can’t figure out what exactly it was that had wheat/gluten in it to make you feel like crap and you fall asleep on the couch at 9:30 only to wake up an hour later for bed and sleep like the dead for over nine hours and still feel like you could sleep the rest of the day and frankly you just want to kick puppies and rip the heads off idiots, then when is the most inconvenient time to finally have the realization hit that maybe, just maybe, your thyroid is frakked up again:

1. The Friday morning of a holiday weekend
2. When your in-laws are visiting
3. The day you’re hosting 20+ people for a fireworks party
4. All of the above

If you picked #4…dingdingding!!!! You win!!!! Your prize is to beat me over the head with my bottle of Synthroid!!!! That sound is my head repeatedly hitting my desk in “duh.”

Have a great and SAFE 4th of July weekend. I’ll be drinking margaritas starting in 3…2…1…now, so I can’t blame my “I feel like crap” on the tequila and not my idiocy. Oh, and calling the doctor. Yes, I’ll be doing that before the tequila.

Halfway through summer

It was the Fourth of July.  The band was in their shirt sleeves and getting ready to rise for the director. The oboist was setting up his tuner and sounding the Bb. But it was wrong, so he tried a new reed. As he put the reed into his mouth, he accidentally inhaled it and began choking. The desperate oboist threw his music stand to the ground and stomped it to bring attention to his desperate situation. The band director stormed over to give a lecture to what he thought was an outburst from yet another temperamental oboist.  But he saw the poor guy was choking and turning purple.  By now the oboist was on the ground and pounding the  floor of the gazebo. The band director quickly dialed 911 and explained the situation to the dispatcher.  The dispatcher reassured the director that help was on its way.

“Do you know what to do until we get there?” asked the dispatcher.

“Yes!”  replied the band director. “We are going to use a muted trumpet”.

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

And if you get that joke, you’re a band geek.

It’s summer!

How do you know, Jen?

It’s July 1st! It’s going to be 95F today! Both boys are on electronics blackout until tomorrow night for disobedience!

Whee!

Today marks essentially the halfway point of summer. The boys have been out of school for roughly six weeks, and return to those hallowed halls in roughly six more. (And as an aside, those construction workers had better start hauling ass here pretty soon to get those classrooms done!) In a few days we celebrate the Fourth of July and then summer just zips by. Right now we’re just in the slowest part of the summer. I intended to sign the boys up for swimming lessons for this week and dropped the ball on that, so we’re not doing a whole lot right now. My in-laws get here tomorrow night for several days, and that will break up the monotony for the boys. It also means I won’t be getting a hell of a lot accomplished until about this time next week.

Gah. Note to self: remember to put in the sugar when you make iced tea. Bleh.

And further proof that I’m just slightly behind the times, I finally surfed on over to Pandora and fell in love. Internet radio is the most beautiful thing…ahh…

One last thing. I’m actively working on being more productive. Stunner. I’m already incredibly organized (and you can ask anyone who knows me about that!), but productivity could use a little work. I’d love to have your fave productivity suggestions. Anything, for any aspect of life. And now time is up for writing, just in time to hit post.

Unnecessarily grumpy

There are so many things I could write about today. Perhaps a Yet More WTF? Crap I found in the Sunday Coupons, or the death of Billy Mays (really, can random celebrities just stop dying now? I miss actual news, and we know it is all about me), or the funny thing(s) my sons say or do.

But I’m unnecessarily grumpy.

No reason. No full moon. No PMS attempting to steal my soul. No stress upon stress.

Just grumpy.

Grumpy that no matter how much I do, there’s more there for me.

Grumpy that no matter how much I read, there are more books waiting for me to devour.

Grumpy that no matter how hard I work, my reward is more work to do.

I appreciate all the blessings in my life, I really do, but it’s Sunday afternoon, and I want nothing more than to sit on my back porch and read a book. Or watch the boys play. Or just do nothing at all.

I’m trying to get the urgent things done, but everytime I sit down to work, I HAVE A CROWD OF LITTLE BOYS AND A DOG PRACTICALLY IN MY LAP AND IT AIN’T WORKIN’ FOLKS!

Oh. Wait. I think I discovered why I’m so grumpy.

Nevermind.

And that is why Tom and I will never divorce

I’m sure our parents will be oh-so-thrilled to hear that.

A does not do well with change. At.All. It’s better than it used to be, but still ain’t all that great. When he was a wee thing, getting him out the door, even to do something fun that he wanted to do, was an experience that had me desperately needing a drink. At 9:30 in the morning. Dropping him off at preschool often involved the teacher (God, I love that woman) reaching into the car, prying his fingers off the carseat, and carrying him inside. She’s the awesomewonderfulamazing woman who had a “cozy cove” in her classroom for kids who had trouble with transitions. A spent a lot of time in there, because he knew when he needed to get back in sync during transitions.

When we were at Disney World a few weeks ago, the original plan was to go back to the hotel after lunch for a break, some rest, maybe a dip in the pool. Then I read in a book that kids who have difficulty with transitions really shouldn’t do that, for obvious reasons. Well.Duh. Just as he would have been getting into the swing of the parks, we would have insisted we leave (meltdown), then we would have insisted on leaving the pool just as he was getting into the swing of that (meltdown #2). We stayed at the parks and when we could, went back to the hotel early to swim.

He is better, but change sucks for him.

Last night Tom and I cleaned up the basement. I took my six foot scrapbooking table and made it the Lego table. Six feet of building goodness! I took the old, smaller Lego table and put it in my scrapbooking room. And made myself an office. With a door. And a lock. And out of the corner of the kitchen (truly for the best. I’m out of traffic, and that corner is so much nicer not covered in my office crap).

A about lost his shit this morning when he found out. Never mind that the new Lego table is half again as big. Never mind that he can find all the Legos. Never mind that the new table can also be jimmy-rigged to be a fort. There.Was.Change.

Sigh.

I finally had to tell him that this was an experiment for the summer (’cause I had to get my hot self out of the hot kitchen with the hot laptop) and we’d reevaluate in the fall. I’m pretty confident he’ll bring it up on the first day of school.

And that, dear reader, is why my husband and I will never, ever divorce. Oh, and the whole vow thing. That too.

Complain, complain

Dear lady at the doctors’ office today,

Please note that when you make an appointment with your OB/GYN that she has that pesky “OB” in her title, in addition to the “GYN.” Those two little letters mean that, on occasion, the doctor will have to toddle on down the hall to the hospital and catch a small human being as his/her mother screams him/her out. It’s nothing personal, really. It’s not a secret conspiracy to screw up your day, the doctor isn’t in cahoots with the people you’re paying to watch your kid(s), it just happens. When you make an appointment with your OB/GYN, just accept that you will likely be waiting longer than expected because of a small, inconsiderate, wailing child being hoo-hoo-hooed out of someone’s hoo-hah down the hall. Then, if there is no miracle of birth on the day of your appointment, woohoo! You’ve lucked out! Buy a lottery ticket on your way home! Stop for an iced coffee, skip to your car. But it’s not necessary to be a cutting bitch to the office staff. They’re used to hormonal, irritated women, your rant really can’t stand up to a woman two weeks past her due date in late July, so don’t bother trying. Be nice, these women are in cahoots with your doctor, and your doctor is about to go poking around in certain sensitive parts, so don’t piss them all off.

Love and kisses,

Jen

TODAY (just when I thought I had nuttin’)

Summer is delicious and sometimes I just don’t want to slap my wrists down on a hot laptop when it’s hot out. I’d rather enjoy a cold beverage on the patio with a book. Yes, a book. I seem to recall I have a few waiting to be read (plus two new ones I got at the library yesterday…and a new magazine. It never ends). And then, fate intervenes and I have a new meme (many thanks to Cathy Zielske for posting this today and thus getting me out of thinking) that will fill this blank page in mere minutes, allowing me the time to actually get to Target before I have to do the day camp return trip. Thank GOD for podcasts or that drive would be sending me further into the mental abyss that is summer vacation parenting.

Outside my window… construction workers tarring the roofs of the new classrooms. And a thunderstorm a’brewin’.

I am thinking... of what I want to do when I (ahem) grow up. I’m getting closer to my answer and it’s feeling pretty good. Still toying with it, taking it out for a spin, kicking the tires. Gotta still see if it’s worth the “price.”

I am thankful for…the trip Tom and I get to take next month. Sometimes his job bites (long hours, the challenge of dealing with the unrelenting stress, 6 months of busy season), and other times it rocks the house and we get to go to Hawaii. Thirteenth anniversary is tropical, right?

From the kitchen… Hm…there’s a whole chicken thawing on the counter (hush, I don’t thaw meats in the fridge. Never have, never will. Have never gotten food poisoning from it, so ain’t changing), the dishwasher is gurgling, and I’m thinking of moving what serves as my office from the corner of the kitchen into the craft room I rarely enter in the basement. Might be good for all aspects of my life.

I am wearing… a bright purple shirt (it might actually be in the magenta family), sand shorts, and a smile.

I am creating… a plan for the future. What is it? Beats the hell outta me, I’m still creating.

I am going… back out to get the boys from summer camp. And tomorrow I get the unparalleled joy of volunteering at the Cub Scout camp. Please have stiff drinks ready for me.

I am reading…Enlightenment for Idiots by Anne Cushman and I Could Do Anything If I Only Knew What It Was by Barbara Sher.

I am hoping… that A’s recent improvement regarding all things digestive continue to get better.

I am hearing… a snoring dog. She’s loud. Wish I could take a nap. She has it so good.

Around the house… there is crap everywhere. Better than yesterday, but still crap on essentially every horizontal surface. Mama no like. Mama like clean, simple things like a clear countertop with a single bowl of fruit on it. Very Zen. Not so Zen today.

One of my favorite things… The Get It Done Guy podcast. I recently discovered it and love it so much I’m listening to every single one. Makes driving to and from day camps pleasant and frankly, awesome. I learn new things, am double-tasking, and could honestly not care if I’m spending half the day in the car. Again.

A few plans for the rest of the week… camp again tomorrow, yoga with the boys on Thursday, scrapbooking all day Saturday, and cleaning like a crazy woman for the next ten days because my in-laws are coming out on the 2nd. Hopefully I’ll suddenly discover a way to eliminate dog hair from all surfaces visible and invisible. If not, well…that’s why there’s wine.

Okee dokee! On the road again…

Still more bizarro stuff I found in the Sunday coupons

This topic could go on forever. There is no dearth of crap out there to snicker at, and somehow much of it ends up in the Sunday coupon circulars. Let’s see what I have here, collected over the last few weeks.

Let’s start out this Sunday with a little sacred gem.

Who doesn’t need an eight-inch tall Nativity Scene, painted with more Nativity Scene? Double your Nativity, in resin! Can’t go wrong!

Do these look comfortable to you?

I think I might maybe wear these if I was giving myself a pedicure in January on top of Long’s Peak. And probably not then, either.

This one, not as bizarre as others…

I’m sure it works wonders, and would come in handy to eliminate the frakking bird nest in my satellite dish, but I just can’t help but laugh when I think about the boys stealing that from the garden supplies to play in the hose(yes, we really do have to hide the hose nozzle so they don’t play in it 24/7). One boy would turn it on the other, and next thing we’d know, we’d be on a search and rescue mission in Kansas to recover the child. Giggle…I’m evil…

But, truly, my favorite from the pile I’ve saved is this one.The house plant that never dies…would not have a chance in this house. I kill house plants. My garden? The one that we have set up so it’s worry-free? I am apparently killing it this year. Yes, due to our leaving the sprinkler system on while we were on vacation and extreme amounts of rain during that time, the garden is drowning. The only plant I am apparently unable to kill, and God knows I have tried, is this one:

I got this plant as a birthday gift in 1996. It.Will.Not.Die. I took this picture shortly before I cannabalized it repotted it into two new pots. Doesn’t matter what I do, the plant survives and grows and grows and grows. The aforementioned resurrection plant would die in my house, and this one would eat it for fun.

That’s it for this week, kids! Keep watching those circulars!

Friday Fragments–6/19/2009

AHA! I’ve figured out the Friday Fragments thing. Many thanks to Mel, who directed me to Half-Past Kissing Time, so I can give credit. God knows I have enough flotsam and jetsam swirling around my brain today to play. Let’s play!

• My favorite search terms of the week: crocs you boots gimlet (a new drink, perhaps?), rhubarb problem (yes, rhubarb is indeed a problem. Ours is huge and tomorrow will be made into something involving strawberries and crust. There may or may not be ice cream involved as well.), tomato plants won’t stay up (I recommend tomato erotica. Or stakes. You decide, but I bet the plants would prefer the first suggestion.).
• I have determined that my constantly-twitching eyelids are due to a combination of stress and allergies, for they twitcheth not while on vacation. I sweat glowed through my clothing every day while in Florida, but no twitchy-twitchy.
• Construction on the school is moving at a quick pace. Ahhh….how I missed the beepbeepbeep of trucks on a peaceful morn.
• My friend’s son, the one who was diagnosed with Leukemia last month, is doing very well. He’s close to remission already. Hopefully I’ll get to see him (and hug him over and over) tonight when I take them dinner.
• I hate birds (bite me, PETA). Three years ago we had the Psycho Mama Robin From Hell take over our front yard. She would dive-bomb our heads if we dared to step out the front door, chase us into the backyard, scream at us…as soon as she and her little birdlings left, her perfect nest hit the trash. This year we had robins trying to build a nest in the roller shade on our back deck. Birdbrains. We took it down until they got the hint…though it really was funny to watch Papa Bird fly up to where his nest was with a bit of straw and look terribly confused. And then a bit worried, as he would have to now go tell Psycho Mama Bird that their condo with the perfect mountain views was suddenly missing. And then she’d go all pregnant psycho bitch on him (been there, done that) and he’d fly off all “yes dear, whatever you say dear, I’ll find the pickles dear.” And damned if he didn’t find another place, well out of our reach. All spring we’ve been hosing bird poop off our back patio; I figured it was just payback for the birdie condo. Nope. Damned Papa Bird built his nest in the framing of our satellite dish…two stories up. And if there are baby birdlings in that next, I can’t take a sharp stick to it. Grrrr…
• Vacations are pure bliss. Returning from vacations are pure hell. Been home four days and still can’t catch up.
• I found out last night that I inadvertently volunteered myself to work the Cub Scout daycamp next week. There were profane words involved when I discovered this. Must stock the wine rack in preparation.
• Know what’s fun? Watching your dog like a hawk to make sure she’s “outputting,” after discovering she chewed through a used pullup. Good times, good times.

That’s the brain dump for this morning. Now I have the extreme pleasure of pulling two little boys away from the Wii to hit the grocery and liquor stores. Really, Colorado, throw me a bone here. I’m thrilled that we can finally buy booze on Sunday, but making two stops with kids is murder. Just let stores sell Mama Juice so I don’t have to feel like a bad mommy dragging my kids into a liquor store. Again.

Book queue

Good Lord, Jen, did a library explode on your kitchen island?

As a matter of fact, it did. The floor is just littered with small pieces of paper and other library-ish detrius. It’s a mess, I tell ya.

What you are gazing upon here is the stack of reading I have scattered all about the house…unstacked for your horrified pleasure. True schadenfreude. I gathered this from three different rooms on two different floors of the house. This is just the unread stuff. Magazines (and one showed up in the mail after I took this picture), online newsletters I’ve printed off to read, books of all sorts. Books on giftedness. Books on twice-exceptionalities. Books on kids and anxiety. Books on spirited children. Books on sensory processing disorder. Books on figuring out what I want to do with my life (God, I’d love to figure that out).  And only three pieces of fiction. Oh, and I have eight books on my wish list at the library.

This weighs heavily on me. I love to read, always have. But having all this staring at me is intimidating, especially when I’m so busy doing other stuff. I’d rather be reading. And when I finally have a chance to read, I’m too sleepy to do much more than page through a magazine. Finding time to read and concentrate on what I’m reading is the biggest hurdle. I certainly don’t have an issue finding things to read. I’ve lost count of how many books I’ve returned to the library unread.

Now excuse me, my friends. A thunderstorm is blowing up and I think that’s a good reason to shut down the computer and read. Or…yawn…thumb through a magazine.