puddlescript

I'm so proud of myself!

2009-09-23T04:31:02Z

I figured out how to make a blogger button and I'm so proud of myself! I feel so clever.

Blogspot...

2009-08-20T18:19:03Z

I'm moving on...kind of. Ok. Not really. But I did start another blog at www.peelinganorangewithascrewdriver.blogspot.com. I like the format and the control I have on Blogger. I'm also making my posts a little more story like and less diary like. I'll still use Livejournal, but I seem to be using the other blog more often lately. I originally started it so I could keep track of my depression/drug side effects, but it's kind of turned into being whatever I feel like it being about that particular day. So check it out! I think that the livejournal user name allows you to comment and follow on blogger, so come by and say hi! :)

The Joy of Family (Seriously. No sarcasm intended.)

2009-08-07T17:15:35Z

I wrote a short article on depression for www.momdot.com called “Here comes the sun” and was excited to see it featured on their home page! It was the lead story in their health section. I’m pretty sure that they will publish anything and the placement is not indicative of the quality, but still...pretty exciting. It’s like I’m published! Kind of. Too bad it doesn’t pay...

Anyway...I was talking to my mom on the phone when I saw it and I told her about it. Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything because I’m kind of hesitant when it comes to my writing but I mentioned it before I thought about. It didn’t occur to me that she would want to read it. Yikes. I hesitantly told her where to find it and then hung up, quickly, so she could read it. My stomach was full of butterflies waiting for her to call me back. When she did, she was crying. She told me how well it was written and how much she enjoyed it. Then she made my dad read it, who called me and said it made him cry. Then she told my brother. Who called me to tell me how much he liked it and that he wished he could put words together like that. My brother and I have had many conversations about our respective mental issues and I borrowed the “pit” analogy from one of our conversations, it was just so apt. I feel so fortunate to have him in my life. As well as my parents.

I am so, so lucky to have so many understanding people in my life. My life would be considerably more difficult without them.

Not today...

2009-07-10T18:12:23Z

Today...

I don’t want to be mommy.

I don’t want to be responsible.

I don’t want to talk.

I don’t want to be awake.

Today...

I want to take a nap.

I want to lay on the sofa with a bag of candy and read.

I want it to be quiet.

I don’t want to think about the laundry, the dirty house, the unpaid bills. I don’t want to listen to the screaming and crying and fighting. I don’t want to figure out what to make for lunch, for dinner...I don’t want to think about anything.

I don’t want to be mommy today.

Light Show

2009-06-23T14:41:25Z

Light Show , originally uploaded by dawnkrutt.

Last night's thunder storm. It was pretty impressive.

Here's to good weekends!

2009-06-22T14:58:02Z

I shouldn’t be writing, I have a cake to do today and I don’t even know what I’m going to do yet. I have a request for a cake for someone who likes music. That leaves a lot of options... But I don’t feel like messing up the kitchen just yet. My kids got up at 6:30 this morning. Ugh. And
they were up late, so I’m sure they’re going to be fun today. And I’m tired. And a bit grumpy. But I’m trying to fight it. I’m on my second cup of coffee, so hopefully things will improve shortly.

Nick has T-ball in a couple of hours. He’s had two practices so far, and he loves it. Such a different reaction then what he had to soccer. After his first practice, he ran to me yelling “I love this!” Soccer made him cry. So far they’ve just practiced throwing and catching, today they get out the bats. Nick can’t wait. Fortunately, it’s only about an hour because it’s tricky keeping the other two entertained while we watch Nick.

Ok, on to the third cup.

This weekend was quite fun for a change. We celebrated Father’s Day with my dad on Saturday. I took the kids to my parent’s house and we met Andy and Lisa there. We piled into my car and headed out to the Pawnee Buttes. I didn’t think I’d ever been there before, but everyone insisted that I had been there and Andy has now taken to calling me Miss Two-Second Memory. I guess I have to take their word for it. Either way, it’s beautiful, in a very austere, other-worldly kind of way. We had a picnic and hiked a bit. On the way back, we went through the ghost town of Keota and walked through an old cemetery. And of course, in the midst of so many photo opportunities
the battery on my camera dies. Of course. Of course.

Yesterday, Darrin was actually home for a full day and we went to the gun show in Loveland. He thinks I need to get my concealed weapons permit and he wants to buy me a handgun. (And they had them in pink and purple there.) I think he’s insane. Then we had lunch at the Rock Bottom Brewery, which was actually really good. The kids even behaved. Mostly. We got some ice cream and then headed to the fire house and played basketball and played catch with Nick. It was, all in all, a very good weekend. I made two cakes, one paid, for a 95th birthday and a Father’s Day cake for my dad. I wanted to make one for Darrin, but I didn’t have enough time, so I had the kids decorate one for him. It’s quite lovely.

But anyway, I am running out of time. I suppose I should make a cake. And then, while it’s cooling, I can take Nick to T-Ball.

But first, I need to finish my coffee.

Good things...

2009-06-12T16:07:00Z

I went on strike Wednesday night. Darrin’s meeting was canceled and he was actually home at a reasonable hour. Since I had the day from hell, I told him I quit and that he was in charge for the rest of the night. He cleaned the kitchen, the TV room and vacuumed. Vacuumed! I think I will strike more often.. My mom and I were on the phone this morning, talking about the glory of the stay at home mom. She recalled that in the early 70s, “housewives” really did go on strike. She said they were out on the street corners with their signs, the whole deal. I think this is a wonderful idea. I plan on painting my picket signs later this afternoon. Care to join me?

But taking a cue from revoked soul, I’m only going to write about the good things in my life right now, rather than whine about what’s wrong. So...

Last night was my cake class...Course 2, class one. She asked if I’d been making cakes and I told her a little about what I had going and what I had done. “You’re doing better than I am,” she said, rather sadly. I wished I hadn’t said anything. But I still can’t help being excited! Off the Hawaii cake, I have another cake to do for next weekend. The reunion cake got me a graduation cake for next May (if they remember, anyway), the Comedy/Tragedy cake got me another birthday cake for that same group and for this weekend I have a dump truck cake to get done for Sunday. I talked to the lady that wants the wedding cake for September and she wants cheesecake for 150 people...guess I’m going to have to start practicing cheesecake. I’ve never made one before. Any good recipes? I’m going to have to start pretending like I know what I’m doing. If I could fool people into thinking that I should be working in a bank and handling their money, surely I can convince people that I am the ideal choice to make their special occasion cakes.

On the drive home last night, I got stuck in a storm; hail, rain, lightening, thunder. I was pretty sure I was going to be whisked away in a swirling tornado. It was such a relief to finally get home. We’ve had tornado warnings just about everyday for a week. We’re supposed to be
prepared for severe weather again today. Actually, I quite like it. Not the tornados so much, but the rain and thunder.

Anyway, I need to get started on the truck cake while the kids are relatively under control... and before I forget my pact to only talk about what’s good and bright and shiny.

The closest I'll ever get to Hawaii...

2009-06-05T19:40:39Z

Just finished...

Cakes! Cakes! And more cakes!

2009-06-04T17:16:42Z

Suppose I should be careful of what I wish for...I have my first paid cake to finish by tomorrow, a not-paid-but-might-draw-new-customers cake for Darrin’s high school reunion Sunday, a paid birthday cake for Tuesday and another paid birthday cake for next Sunday. I was also going to make one for our family reunion next weekend, but I don’t know if I will have any time. Whew. And three snotty nosed kids. (Bet that makes you want to buy a cake from me, huh? Should I put that on a business card?) Then I have another paid cake for the 27th and an actual wedding cake for September! Yay! I signed up for my second cake class, which starts next Thursday. At the last class, I was the only one who showed up and the instructor was a lot more personable than usual. She told me I should apply to be an instructor after I take all the courses. So, I guess that’s something to think about. Although I don’t think I’d like the whole talking in front of people thing...

Anyway.

Kidisms...

Yesterday my mom was taking a picture of Delaney and she was making silly faces and being the “ham” that everyone always calls her. Nick chimed in saying “ Delaney’s such a beef turkey!”

He knew it was some kind of meat...

When I went to pick up the kids the other day from my mom’s house, Delaney came over to me and said: “You look pretty! Did you dress yourself?”

I beg you...cheer me up.

2009-05-26T17:11:09Z

Money...gah. Why is there never enough? And I’m not asking for a lot, just enough to cover the basic living necessities. Is that too much to ask? I’m sick of all the collection calls. How many times do you have to tell them you don’t have any money and you don’t know when you will? Get a lawyer, take me to court; I still do not have the money. I’m not holding out on thousands of dollars, waiting to feel properly threatened before I relinquish it. I don’t frickin’ have it.

Excerpt from call a few moments ago:

Professional Finance (the collection company that currently holds our past due medical bills):
“When can you bring this current?”
Me: “I don’t know. We are self-employed and there hasn’t been any work. We don’t have any money right now.”
PF: “Ok, well we can set you up on a re-payment plan, of $230.00 a month.”
Me: “I don’t have $230.00. We don’t have any money.”
PF: “We can do a check-by-phone.”
Me: “I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY!”
PF: “This needs to be brought current. Which day can you make this payment?”
Me: “I. Don’t. Know. We. Don’t. Have. Any. Money.”
PF: “I need to put a date down as to when you will bring this current.”
Me: “Pick a day. It doesn’t matter.”
PF: “You don’t need to be difficult, ma’am. I’m trying to work with you.”

Argh. Actually, that was one of the easier calls I’ve had to deal with lately. My favorite was the one to the bank that holds our mortgage. We’re three months past due and got our foreclosure notice and she’s threatening to report default to the credit companies. Like my credit score is a huge issue to me at this point. Or the lady that suggested I get a job. Oh, God! Brilliant! Why the hell hadn’t I thought of that?

Anyway, I thought writing about it would make me feel better. Apparently not.

So...um. Anyone heard any good jokes lately?

Poppies!

2009-05-26T14:40:57Z

Yay! My poppies are blooming!

puddlescript @ 2009-05-24T11:54:00

2009-05-24T18:02:18Z

Kids are currently playing with legos on the hairy carpet...seems my old, decrepit, shedding dog who can’t get up the stairs can actually get up them just fine when it’s thundering. And he left his hair all over the floor as proof. Perhaps I should vacuum. Perhaps I should just continue letting Sam put it in his mouth. Hmmm...decisions.

Yesterday we went to Andy and Lisa’s house for her birthday party.

Peanut butter cake with chocolate buttercream frosting...Yum.

It was just family and I finally met the infamous sister that I’ve heard so much about. My brother has painted her as the devil, so it was difficult to see her objectively. But she did look pretty normal, no horns or anything. I was a bit disappointed. And after a rude introduction, in which she barely acknowledged me, she was quite pleasant. Andy said she just put on a good show. Then she had to leave early to feed the homeless at the Guadalupe Shelter in town. Good show, indeed.

My brother, dad, husband and I played catch with a football in my brother’s huge, amazing back yard which was quite fun. I should’ve been a quarterback. If you dropped the ball, the dog would get it and you’d have to chase her around for 10 minutes before she’d drop it.( It reminded me of growing up in PWS when we’d play baseball in the field between the houses and our dog Maddie would play outfield. Then she’d take the ball down to the river for a drink. And drop it in the water...) Today my arm hurts from throwing the ball. I’m such a wimp.

I’m taking the kids over to my parent’s house this afternoon and Nick and Delaney are going to stay the night. Yay! Let Delaney wake someone else up at 6:00 am for a change...

Oh, Sam is screaming. Guess he grew tired of tasting the dog hair. Perhaps I should go and get him...sometimes he forgets that he can crawl. Or maybe it’s just easier to sit there and cry.

Milestones...

2009-05-20T18:10:47Z

“Mom, I wish I was a girl,” Nick says.
“You do? Why”
“Because every time my penis gets big it bothers me.”

And in other news...

Nick “graduated” from preschool Monday night. They had a ceremony at the high school and did a little presentation. The kids sang a few songs, were given trophies and diplomas and then there was a little party at the park. It was cute and Nick impressed me. He was actually paying attention and singing the songs and really getting into it. Delaney was even singing along with the songs that she knew. “...but I can’t spell hippopotamus...” (Which actually, I can’t either. Needed spell check for that one.) There are two weeks of school left. There’s the rest of this week, then next Monday there are parent/teacher conferences, they asked me to come in and paint faces on Wednesday and on Friday there’s the field trip to the Fire Station. This year has flown by. I can’t believe it’s almost June already.

Singing!

Sam is thrilled with the production.

I love this picture of him...even if I cut off half his face.

Delaney...always happy. Unless she's not...

Sam is now up and moving! He started crawling a few days ago and now he’s unstoppable. Now, when I put him down, instead of him sitting there crying and screaming he crawls over to me, hangs on my leg and screams and cries. And says “mama mama mama mama”.

And Delaney has pooped in the potty just about everyday for about two weeks! Yay! Although we had an issue the other day in which it became necessary for me to scrub down and disinfect the bathroom floor, toilet and walls. But I’ll spare you the details.

Anyway...had my third class last night, in which I made a hideous cake. So hideous that I refuse to admit I made it. Therefore, there will be no pictures. And besides, it involved clowns and I didn’t want to frighten anyone. I was early and the teacher told me that I seem to have a “knack” and that I was very “precise.” Then she went on to tell me that her teaching the class amounted to her teaching her competition, which is why she thinks her cake sales (she has a cake decorating business) have gone down. Didn’t really know how to respond to that... We have one more session, then Class 2 starts in June. I’ve been enjoying them. It’s so nice to get out of the house.

And unfortunately, my second paid cake fell through, but then I got another one for the next weekend! The Hannah Montana cake really sparked some interest. I’ve had all kinds of people asking about cakes, but so far only one who actually ordered one. But that’s a start! I’m kind of excited about it.

And that brings us to the end of Sam’s nap.

Broken moon and the Hannah Montana cake

2009-05-16T18:32:57Z

Yesterday we were driving home from Nick's school and Delaney was looking out the window. You could see half of the moon.

"The moon is broken!" she said. "You need to fix it."

"I do?!"

"Yes. Maybe it's laying in the field."

Maybe.

And the Hannah Montana cake...

Dreaming of Alice

2009-04-11T01:12:04Z

Had a dream I was at some kind of resort place and I was sweeping dirt off of the deck, except I couldn’t get anything finished because Alice Cooper kept trying to feel me up and kiss my neck. I was constantly fending him off. Alice Cooper. Really? Come on! I’m dreaming! I can dream about anything, anyone.

And I’m getting intimate with Alice Cooper.

Nick came home from school earlier this week and told me that his class was going to take real guns and shoot eggs. I told him that he must have misunderstood...I said that didn’t sound like something that his preschool would do.

"But mom!" he wailed. "Teacher said we were going on an Easter Egg Hunt!"

Kindergarten...

2009-03-25T21:12:46Z

It’s been awhile…did you miss me? You know you did. You’ve been waiting, with baited breath, anxious for the next witty synopsis of my day to day affairs, yes? Yes. Well, I am back and I find myself wondering what exactly “baited breath” is supposed to mean. In fact, I have to look that up…ok, I’m back. It can be either “baited” or “bated” although “bated” makes more sense seeing how it is a shortened form of “abated”. Or, in other words “Breathing that is subdued because of some emotion or difficulty”. There. A little language lesson for you.

Now I’ve forgotten what I’ve come here to say. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Hmmm…

Nick is making play-doh monsters who keep attacking each other, Delaney is sleeping, as is Sam, who happens to be asleep in my arms and I just know that if I set him down he will wake. So, I type with one hand, while the left hand is slowly growing numb and tingly. And I really have to pee. But I will not risk waking the baby. Sam sleeping soundly is such an odd occurrence that I’m reluctant to tamper with it. He does not like to sleep. Ever. They say infants sleep about 16 hours a day. Where are these infants? And why have I never had one? I’m going to have to lie to my Pediatrician again when he asks how he sleeps. Great! Of course he’s in his crib! On his back! Rather than…he sleeps for about 20 minutes then wakes up screaming and I do all the suggested sleep techniques in the books until I‘m so tired that I can’t walk straight and then I just take him to bed with me… the last time I hinted at that I got a little lecture from him. I don’t know why it’s so hard to find a good doctor. I’ve gone through several trying to find one that I am happy with, but I can‘t seem to find a good one. Sigh. Sam doesn’t seem to care for solid foods either. For a while I was pretty sure he had been a dog in his last reincarnation; he licks the spoon, rather than opening his mouth to eat. It’s quite messy and time consuming. The I made a startling discovery! Turns out it’s just baby food he will not eat properly. Give him guacamole and refried beans and it’s a whole different story. The only other time I’ve seen him open his mouth that wide is when it’s emitting unholy screaming. So I think it’s time to break out the baby food grinder and just feed him whatever I make for dinner.

I have to register Nick for kindergarten in about 20 minutes. Kindergarten! That’s real school. He’s a real boy. And suddenly all his clothes are too short. I needed his birth certificate to register him and we keep it in our safe. Which wouldn’t open. We have the key and the combo and it gives the unlock symbol, it just wouldn’t open. So I call the company and she walks me through a few fixes, which didn’t fix anything. So she says I need to find something to hit it with. I laugh. No, really, she insists. Get a hammer and a phone book(so I won‘t dent the safe). So, I do what I’m told ( all the while, cynically arching my eyebrow) and she has me hit the thing a dozen times between the faceplate and the hinge. And it opens. Apparently, sometimes something gets jammed inside and it has to be vibrated loose. Of course.

Anyway, gotta wake up Delaney and off to school we go!

The Plague

2009-03-03T02:58:40Z

After spending a weekend with kids who had fevers and were coughing so hard they threw up, we spent Sunday in Urgent Care...wasn’t so worried about the older ones; they’ve had colds before and I figured it would pass, but Sam’s fever was really high, and he just would lay there and stare into space. He would hardly react when you’d pick him up. It scared me. A lot. So to the hospital we went...after chest x-rays and flu swabs and all kinds of fun indignities, Sam was diagnosed with Bronchitis and an ear infection. While we were there, I figured they may as well take a look at Nick. Who also has an ear infection. His very first one... Delaney is just plain old sick. But she’s worse today than she was, so I’m hoping another trip to the doctor isn’t in order.

This is when having three kids is really hard...I don’t have enough hands and I have to take turns comforting them, leaving the others to scream and cry. Fun. FUN, I tell ya. Fun.

Poor, poor pitiful me

2009-02-05T05:01:24Z

If I had wanted to be a single parent, I’m sure I could have found someone to impregnate me and vanish. But, no, I had to get married for that to happen. Yes, I am feeling sorry for myself. I haven’t seen Darrin for more that 10 minutes at a time in several weeks. And when he is home and awake for any longer than that he really screws up our schedule and I find myself wishing he would just leave. Along with his work, there is some idiot kid setting fires to cars in town and Darrin has been involved in all aspects of catching him...bait car, fliers, working with the police... there’s a frickin’ meeting about it just about every day, in between the hours it takes to respond to the fire call, put it out, clean it up, file paperwork, report the arson and whatever else they do. I wouldn’t know. I don’t talk to my husband. I don’t see him enough.

I was just reading a story about a 5^th grader whom they believe committed suicide at school, by hanging himself in the bathroom. A 5^th grader! I can’t even imagine. It makes me want to go upstairs and hug Nick. He’s been a terror lately and I have a feeling that he may be picking up on the animosity I have towards Darrin right now. That, and it’s really hard to raise 3 kids completely by yourself. I am with them 24 hours a day. I go to bed and usually 2 of the 3 are in bed with me. There is not a 5 minute space of time that I am without them and I’ll admit I get a bit frustrated with them. I think I’m justified. I honestly don’t know how much longer it can go on like this. I don’t even want to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect my husband to help raise our children. Or at least come home once or twice a week. But then I always think I should be thankful for what I have. It could always be worse. I have a good friend whose husband was laid off and she’s had to take an extra kid in 8 hours a day, 5 days a week to make some money. Her husband has a bit of a monogamy problem and has recently left town for three weeks for a temporary job in the mountains. So, where would I rather be? Here, in my life? Or there, in hers, taking care of someone else’s kid, plus my own, wondering if my husband is alone in his hotel room? Ahhh... I don’t know. Aren’t there men out there that come home at night and on the weekends, help with the kids and the house and don’t have affairs? Or am I being unrealistic?

Anyway...

I took Delaney to the dentist today to have two of her teeth fixed. They came in missing enamel in two small places and over the past year it has decayed so they wanted to drill and fill them. I was a nervous wreck and it didn’t help when I walk into the room and I’m asked to sign a waiver saying they can tie her down to the cutesy named "papoose board" if they need to. I told them that I was absolutely not comfortable with them using it and I held her hands during the procedure and she did amazing. She never flinched and it over in less than half an hour. The dentist said she’d never worked on a better two year old. Delaney’s mouth was numb for a bit and she kept asking me what was in it...

I’m having a friend over for lunch tomorrow and our kids can play. It will nice to have adult conversation for awhile. Even if all we talk about is our kids...It's funny. I'll never once mention how miserable I am.

Waffles

2009-02-01T22:07:03Z

Sam is sleeping and Nick and Delaney are playing contentedly in the basement. I should be working on my novel. But I’m not. It turns out the whole "page a day" thing was a bit ambitious for me. But I think I’ve maybe written about 3-4 pages this month, so all is not lost. My problem comes when I sit down to write...the chances are so few and far between that I spend a good part of my available time reading what I had written, trying to figure out where I left off. It takes me a bit to get back into character...then the kids are crying and starving and breaking things and I have to go. Sigh.

This morning I woke up to the sound of Charlie barking. From outside. Which would be ok if he hadn’t been inside when I went to bed. So, I get up and go into Nick and Delaney’s room. And neither of them are there. I go downstairs, where all the lights are on and the curtains are open. It also smells like waffles. And the dog is definitely out. But no kids. I go down into the basement/playroom and there they are, sitting on the sofa, eating their toasted waffles and drinking juice boxes. I asked Delaney how she got out of her crib. "Nick helped me!" she said. I look at Nick. "There’s nothing on tv," he sighed.

I’ve been made redundant.

Today is my brother’s 30^th birthday. Which makes me, well, older. We went out to dinner last night to celebrate, where I had a really weak margarita and a very tasty burrito. We all pitched in and bought Andy a belt sander, and I bought him the Planet Earth BluRay movie. Earlier that day the kids spent hours making him cards. They were quite lovely. A little glue, Apple Jacks, noodles and markers and you have a masterpiece. Oh, and pipe cleaners. I also made a cake. Which I can say without a doubt, was the most fantastic cake wreck I have yet to make. It wouldn’t come out of the pan, so I tried to reassemble the pieces with frosting, but ran out of powdered sugar so the frosting was too runny. I suppose I could have made little fondant people and placed them around the teetering mess and made an earthquake cake, but instead, I dumped it into a bowl and added some strawberries and blueberries. Only to discover, too late, that the blueberries had been frozen too long, tasted like the freezer and were extremely chewy and gag inducing. The whole mess went into the trash. So I’m going to make another and bring it over to him next Sunday and we are going to have another little party. A birthday in our family can last for weeks...

Sam is no longer asleep. He is crying. So is Delaney. I suspect Nick.

My head hurts.

puddlescript @ 2009-01-22T14:44:00

2009-01-22T21:53:27Z

Sam has been crying for about 3 hours straight now. He stops if I pick him up, but I can’t carry him around all day. You should see my house. The laundry basket stands taller than I do at this point. Half folded clothes cover the sofa and the table downstairs, there is another half folded basket in the bedroom. And I’ve had to make phone calls today. Fun ones. Like trying to figure out why the hell the State of Colorado thinks we owe them $6,700.00 for our fuel tax which is supposed to be $0, since we’ve already paid tax on our fuel. But of course, no one returns my phone calls. Not that I’ll be able to hear them, over Sam’s screaming. Then I was trying to set up a payment plan for our state taxes for 2007. They refer you to their website. Where you discover that you don’t have a PIN number to access your account, so you have to request one by mail. I finally received it and entered it, only to be told that they can’t access my account online. So I call again and have to go through their automated system, pushing buttons for 10 minutes just till I get to a point where I can talk to a person. Then there is the issue of being paid for work. Darrin was hauling ice slicer alone last year, but was pushed out by a huge company out of Denver. In an attempt to win back the account, Darrin combined his trucks with a few other small companies so they would have enough trucks to compete. We delegated the combined billing to one of the other companies because I didn’t think I’d have enough time to do all the billing for all the trucks with the kids. So, two months ago they started hauling. Two months later, we had yet to get a check. We call Brett daily to ask where it is. "Oh, we haven’t been paid yet." Which is bull, because the ice slicer company pays every two weeks and always has. Which means he would have gotten at least 3, maybe 4 checks by now. Which we know, because Darrin has hauled for them for years and in case you forgot Brett, we got you the fucking job. So he calls today, all pleased that he "finally got a check" and relieved, we go to pick it up. And it’s for two fucking days of work. Two damn days. No wonder he can afford that monster house. He pays for it with other people’s money. I guess he has to afford the crates of Busch Lite somehow. Bastard.

God, how long can a baby cry without stopping? Shouldn’t he be tired by now?

Old books

2009-01-16T04:49:28Z

In an attempt to scare up some extra money, I recently had several of my books appraised, to see if I could possibly make anything there. I picked three first editions that I had have trouble researching on my own and found an appraiser. Apparently, the three I picked are worth $4,100 (insured value). So, extremely surprised and intrigued I had him appraise a set of text books that I have from the early 1900s. They are in mint condition, still in the dust wrapper and are actually still in the boxes they were issued in. They range in topics from Standard Bred Poultry to Cherries and Apricots, to Toolmaking and Grinding, Carpentry to Patterns and Molds and "cupola making", to Qualitative Analysis and Organic Chemistry...they’re pretty interesting. And most had never even been opened. And they also appraised at around $4,000, insured value. Several are extremely rare, apparently, especially the two about fruit... So, now that I know they are worth something, I’m extremely reluctant to sell them. So much for that. Although I’m glad I had it done. It’s interesting. I had no idea that I actually had anything worth anything. I have several more that I’d like to have appraised and I’m beginning to think that maybe I should have my entire collection looked at and insured. I have about 10 little pamphlet-type books by Rand- McNally in the "Pocket Map and Shipper’s Guide" for different states. They even have the original state map still attached, showing all railroads, cities, rivers, etc. They’re extremely fun to look at (carefully). They are also from the early 1900s and the ads in them are great. One advertises the Albany Hotel in Denver, 300 rooms with private baths! $1.50 a day! Or there’s always the "New Million Dollar Hotel" in Texas. It’s "fireproof!" Or there is always the "Hotel Vail" in Pueblo, which is "absolutely fireproof", featuring the "European Plan" and "solid comfort". I have a feeling they might be worth something, as well. Although, I could never part with those either. I’ll leave them to my grandchildren and they will probably auction them off on some futuristic e-bay...

Whoa. A post that’s not about my children or my tentative grip on sanity. Amazing.

Tonight...

2009-01-11T01:27:43Z

...I am drinkng a margarita and feeling sorry for myself. Nick and Delaney are spending the night at Andy and Lisa's house and I had plans for dinner and an adult movie (no, not that kind of adult movie-just the kind that isn't animated. Although I suppose they do make animated that-kind-of-adult movies....but not that I would know, of course. Ahem....anyway...) And guess what? Guess? It's an easy one. Darrin just called and has to work tonight. Of course he does. How silly of me.

Anyone wanna come over for dinner and a movie? And margaritas?

Happy New Year!

2009-01-01T22:32:44Z

Christmas has come and gone with relatively little trauma. I had one of the worst migraines of my life Christmas Eve and half of Christmas, which meant that since I was doing dinner, dinner was late. By several hours. But no one complained. And I wasn’t feeling as nice and agreeable as I usually am, so if anyone had said anything, there was the possibility that we could have had a fatality. Ok, maybe not. Even at my least agreeable, I’m still pretty nice. Only because the good comebacks don’t come to me until several hours later. It’s very unfortunate.

The kids had a good time...I remember how fun Christmas was when I was little. I miss that a bit. Although I still look forward to it. Watching the kids open their presents is so much fun. They did well this year...I won’t have to buy clothes for any of them for the rest of the season. Or toys. Darrin got me a camera bag and some accessories for my new camera. Which I love. I’ve probably taken more pictures this month with the new one than I have with my old one the entire year. On Christmas, I found myself taking pictures of things like the gravy. Because you never know when you might want to frame one of those.( I posted a bunch of them on Facebook, for those of you who are Facebookish. But not the gravy one.)

Then came New Year’s Eve...which we also survived. I’m normally a stay-at-home-drink-wine celebrating kind of girl, even before we had kids. I’m just not big on (ok, terrified of) lots of people and the crowd thing but we had two parties we had to attend last night. After a beer and Valium, I was reasonably fortified enough to deal with them. One was hosted by a man with a black widow tattooed on his head (among others-that’s just the most memorable)...He works with Darrin and he’s a very interesting man. We always talk about tattoos. And once we had an intriguing conversation about horseradish. We dragged our kids to that party first, knowing that it was not going to be kid friendly and babysitters on New Year’s Eve are hard to come by. They had a nice big pig roasting (that I tried not to look at-poor thing) and I think we were the only ones not wearing our leather chaps. I talked to a woman about her grand kids and alcoholics for about an hour, while Darrin mingled and ate pork and the kids followed an ancient pug with bad legs around and around the garage. Then we slipped out and headed to the other party. Which was at one of the firefighter’s houses. Him and his wife have 4 kids and because I believe in karma, that’s all I’m going to say. But I know a really good story about them that involves a strip club and pierced nipples. But I’ll leave it at that. I ate about 50 little (ok, maybe they weren’t so little) chocolate covered cream puffs and handfuls of m&ms. And maybe a chocolate chip cookie. Or two-ish. And we were home by ten. Diehard we are. And although I usually do not make resolutions because I have a bit of a commitment problem, but this year I am going to try. I will write at least one page a day on my novel. One page a day. That’s reasonable, right? For once in my life, I would like to be able to complete something. I would like to see at least one of my brilliant ideas through to the end. I can do that, can’t I? Can’t I? Sure. Yes. I can.

Happy New Year.

(See? That was about a page. I can write a page a day. No problem.)

Holiday cheer!

2008-12-18T23:20:37Z

The holiday season has dawned at our house, bringing with it three gifts...

1. Pink eye

2. A cold

3. Some gastrointestinal ailment that causes projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhea.

It’s been great fun. When I’m not crawling to the bathroom myself, I’m changing the kid’s sheets and trying to keep up with the astronomical amount of laundry these illnesses have caused. All I want for Christmas is a maid. And my mommy.

There. Aren’t you glad to know that?

Actually, I’m feeling much better today. My head only hurts if I move. Or breath. Or blink. I feel much better. Or I was until a little while ago when my step-mother-in-law called. Apparently, since I hadn’t issued formal invitations to the Christmas dinner that we have here every year, she and Heather (sister-in-law) decided that they would go ahead and make their own plans and have a Mexican dinner at Chris and Heather’s house on Christmas. I told her that like usual, I’m cooking here and they are more than welcome to come if they like. Like they do every year. "Oh, well we hadn’t heard..." (When I know for a fact that Darrin called them.) Next time I’ll issue a singing telegram. Then; "Well, I know feelings will be hurt if we go to one place and not the other..." I assured her that my feelings would most definitely not be hurt. "If we do decide to come, I’ll just make a dessert. That’s easy. I’ve just been so tired and busy with work..." Which is a not so subtle jab at the fact that I stay home with the kids. And all stay at home parents know how simple that is. Especially when their children are leaking from every orifice. Argh. I then immediately call Darrin, who assures me that he did call them and his dad is planning on frying a turkey to bring. And he had spoke to Chris as well, and they are also planning on coming over. What?? Is there just not any communication in that family? Is she just playing games with me? I give up.

Anyway, gotta go. I have to attend to some leaking children.

Houses...

2008-11-05T23:17:53Z

While searching online for the value of my house, I started to get curious about past houses I have lived in, which then plunged me into a pit of nostalgia. Some of the house I’ve lived in meant very little to me, some I have wonderful memories of, and then there is the one that I wish we had never left. And now you get to hear about all of them! Yay!

I was born in Phoenix and lived for 3 years in a house I have no memory of. When we’d go back to visit, my parents would point it out but I can’t even remember what it looked like. I do remember that we had a pet tortoise named "Toy-dool" because apparently I was an adorable 3 year old and that’s how I pronounced turtle. When we moved, we left it with some friends and the last I heard, that turtle was still alive.

Then we moved to Longmont and lived in a tract house on Yew Court. It looked just like all the neighbor’s houses. All I remember about that house was my Holly Hobby bedspread, the yellow curtains and the donkey shape in the ceiling texture above my bed. I have a slight memory of going down the stairs at Christmas and finding a plastic Disney character table and chair set. My best friend Nicki (wonder whatever happened to her?) lived across the street and I remember her room better than I do my own. She taught me a charming little ditty about bodily functions, of which I only remember the last line. "...down below is lemonade and ‘round the corner chocolate’s made!" And Cecil, the little boy that lived next door, once hit me in the head with a 2x4. (Did you notice that rhymed?)

We only lived there a few years and before I started first grade, we rented a cabin in Estes Park while we built our house in Pinewood. We also lived in a camping trailer for several months while my dad was finishing the house. I had to sleep with my brother and he wet the bed. Our house was underground, a "burm" house and back then it was so novel that the building inspector recommended putting flags on the roof so no one would drive on it. If you’d seen the house, you’d know how silly that was. It was obviously a house and if people were driving on it, they were in need of a help that flags just wouldn’t be able to provide. I loved that house and I have so many good memories of it. The blue cornflower that grew above the window well of my room, the Denver Bronco’s "Three Amigos" poster that my mom hung in the laundry room. The stop sign shaped window in the little bathroom with the sink that the cat always slept in. The place I would sit at dinner, long after my family finished eating, with the lights off, still chewing my food because I thought I was going to choke and die. How the popcorn texture on the wall next to the table would break off if you brushed against it. The old fashioned skeleton keys and locks that where on all the interior doors. (I still have one of those keys.) The corner where my brother used to stand when he got in trouble...But most of my memories of that house happened outside. I don’t think we were inside very often. The well-trodden path between our house and the neighbor’s house. We played soft ball in the lot between our houses. Our dog Maddie, played outfield and when she’d get tired, she’d run down to the river for a drink and drop the ball into the water. We lost a lot of balls. There were fossils in the flagstones on the porch, where I would jump rope and watch "Days of Our Lives" (Oh, Beau, how I loved you!) through the window. My mom would lay out on the roof with her suntan oil and sunglasses. The "trapper" that lived across the river and up the hill a bit, who hunted and hung his dead deer from his deck. As a result, I often had nightmares about waking up to find a skinned deer laying across the end of my bed. The old woman, Helen, who lived up the hill and taught me how to crochet. During the winter, me, my brother and friends would slide down the hill in the back of the house, stopping inches away from the river. We’d try not to scream while we were sledding, because Maddie seemed to think it meant we were in trouble and she’d try to grab us as we flew past, resulting in many ripped pairs of snow pants. It’s the house where I decided I was going to be a writer and I wrote my first story...a brilliant Halloween story about an owl, which, um, I’m sure made sense at the time. Ah... I could go on and on. And I might. Just not here. I should make a journal or something. Anyway, when I was about 12 or 13 we sold it and moved temporarily to a house across the highway where the 1970 counter tops were flecked with glitter and the stove actually pulled out of the wall, while we started building our log home above Lyons. The house that was to become my all time favorite and I wish, I wish, I wish that my mom and dad still lived there so I could take my kids up there. Sigh.

We then bought an old mobile home to set up on the property while we were finishing the log house. It was propped up on cinder blocks and every time the wind blew I was afraid we’d end up at the bottom of the hill. You had to wear shoes when you went to the bathroom, because when you flushed the toilet the floor got wet. And one night I woke up with my cat, Patch, chasing a mouse. Through my bed.

By this time, my brother and I were old enough to help with the house and I pounded nails when we framed the basement and interior walls, I helped drywall, paint and texture. I even laid tile in my bathroom. And that is why I take offense when people say they "built their house". No. You had one built. Big difference. Picking out your counter tops does not mean you built it. And now that I’ve clarified that... I loved that house. I remember I had a huge crush on the stonemason’s assistant and I used to grab a broom and sweep the floors wherever they were working. We moved in before it was finished and I the railing on the landing by my room was open and I could swing down from there and land on the stairs into the basement. The same stairs where I once was carrying a plate of spaghetti down and Andy decided to run up. It was a spaghetti explosion. In the basement was the tv and Andy’s room, where he once got paint in his eye while splatter painting the walls in his room. I loved my room. That’s where I used to lay in the dark, on my bed and (in my heavy metal phase) listen to Pantera’s Cowboy’s From Hell as loud as I could. I used to lay on my water bed, with my feet up on the headboard while talking on the phone to my boyfriend into the wee hours of the morning, even though we’d see each other in Radio/TV Broadcasting class the next day. I was into Dean Koontz then and had printed sayings from his "The Book of Counted Sorrows" that he always quoted in his stories and I had them hung all over the place. As in "In the real world as in dreams nothing is quite as it seems" or "Holy men tell us life is a mystery they embrace that concept happily but some mysteries bite and bark and come and get you in the dark" Used as inspiration, while I sat penning angsty poems of the cruelty of the world while twisting my dyed so-purple-it-looked-black hair around my finger. One night I came home late and my parent’s weren’t home (out looking for me, I later found out) and I didn’t have a key. I climbed up the pine tree closest to the house in my skirt and fancy shoes, crept along the roof and broke in through the balcony door off my parent’s room. Perhaps if I had fallen off the roof, my mom and dad wouldn’t have been quite so upset. That was the house where I learned how to drive, smashing my mom’s Escort into the side of my dad’s truck in the driveway. I remember her coffee splashing all over the windshield and for a second I thought the glass had broken. When I needed to get away, all I needed to do was walk outside and hike up the hill where I could lose myself in the trees and rocks. I had so many places I could hide. I once found a dead horse up there. I always wondered where it came from and how it got there. I also found an old, low, stone wall that stretched several yards into the trees. There were no houses within miles and we were backed with National Forest Land and I wondered who had built it, when and why. While talking about it with Andy recently, he told me that he had alcohol and cigarettes hidden all over up there. I suppose they’re still there. In a field near the house we had buried our pets; our dogs, Ebony and Sugar (sound like strippers), our cats, Patch, Scrappy, Violet, Jack, Cisco, the lop eared rabbit that threw pine cones, Cisco and various other small animals. Then I found this: www.paradisevalleyalpaca.com and under "Ranch Stay" is our house. It made me a bit sick and extremely sad. There are now alpacas trotting on our pet cemetery and part of the house can be rented out. There is a picture of my room, but the bed and dresser are in the wrong place. And there is a picture of the wood burning stove, which I spent many hours in front of. I have graduation pictures taken in front of that stove. And my senior Prom picture...

My dad and I at my high school graduation party, 1994

Senior Prom, with Karl 1994

I was crushed when my mom and dad decided to sell it. I’d always imagined myself getting married on the front staircase and taking my kids there. But I guess at least out here, I can let them play outside and not be afraid that the mountain lions will attack...

To be continued...