The Year In Review

Normally I wait until the official last day of the year to do this, but since I am travelling it's gonna have to be a day early. Here's hoping that nothing shocking happens tomorrow that alters these lists -- then again, I will be seeing "The Bitch Cow," a.k.a. my S-I-L who needs to drop 20 pounds, and upset & humiliated me the last time I saw her, so who the phuck knows?! That's okay, I am in a much better place this year, one of strength, and I swear I will kick her cream puff ass if she so much as looks at me funny. Cheers!

WHAT WAS GOOD:

1. Falling in love with Lil Pumpkin the moment I saw her referral photos
2. Greasy, delicious, noodles and rice from "The Baby Restaurant."
3. Hearing Jane repeatedly ask "does anybody need any pure, bottled, water?!"
4. Chinese hospitality and housekeeping. And laundry.
5. Adrian's surprise packages.
6. Crazy cross-country chats.
7. Kimbolton!
8. Unlimited texting. Still.
9. Hope found me.
10. Watching my Dad fall in love with his granddaughter.
11. Being granted the privilege to love & parent the most amazing child that ever existed. And I am not biased. Really.

WHAT WAS BAD:

1. First-hand experience of just how much a toddler can grieve. As prepared as we were, it was still 100x's worse than anything you can imagine.
2. The Nanning Airport meltdown (Lil Pumpkin's and our own)
3. The IRS announcing mileage reimbursement is decreasing in 2009. Phuck.
4. Chinese heat & humidity.
5. The visit to the County Health Dept.
6. Extreme financial stress.
7. The repeat visit to the County Health Dept.
8. Losing/misplacing my beloved & semi-pricey RayB.ans. I have waaay sun-sensitive eyes and my el' cheapos ain't cuttin' it.
9. The Bath That Broke The Ceiling.
10. Cracks and crevices that deepen into caves.
11. The mourning of what likely happened to Yuanchun.

WHAT I LEARNED:

1. Attachment techniques work if you stay consistent!
2. How to clean my house in 60 minutes time, top to bottom. Okay, maybe 90 minutes. And okay, maybe just passable enough to fool visitors.
3. Micro-fleece is my friend. Meow. Not sexy, but warm.
4. Dr. J is capable of mowing the grass if it gets high enough.
5. God's power to bring together the right baby to us, under extraordinary circumstances.
6. My husband can dig way deep when he wants to. Evidence: walking, walking, and more walking. And then bonding, bonding, and more bonding.
7. Dr. J and I could NEVER have created a child more stunning than the one we adopted. Every inch of her is stunning.
8. Wedding details are far less stressful when you are a bridesmaid than when you are Thee Bride (love ya, Lori!)
9. I am Sydney Ellen Wade.
10. Things can get better.
11. Faith does make things possible, not easy. Truly. Just like the sign said near my house.
    

WHAT I WANT TO DO IN THE NEW YEAR (my potpourri category winner):

1. Get toned again.
2. Buy a treadmill and not feel guilty about it. (LMAO).
3. Embrace DVR.
4. Not cry when on a business trip.
5. Take more long baths. Uninterrupted.
6. Start/Finish the Life Book.
7. Hike on every sunny day. Or at least use the jogging stroller.
8. Feel sexy again.
9. Stay unapologetically patriotic and in-love with our troops!
10. Hook up with Howard again.
11. Fall in love all over again.
    

Redacted

Found the extra bottle (3/4's full) of eye makeup remover that I just KNEW was in my house somewhere. It was hiding out in my gym bag, all snug and cozy.

I think I am entitled to recess and an extra Butte.rfingers for this, right?! Oh wait, I ate all of the Butterf.ingers that Dr. J stowed in my Christmas stocking.

BTW, thanks for the terrific Christmas gifts, hon! I loved each one, and was mucho impressed with the thought you put into them, por favor ;o)

Bar.t Simpso.n Blackboard Moment

I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.

Oh, and if I were sent to the blackboard tomorrow? The message would be . . . "It's very difficult to get red wine stains out of little girl's pink jeans." Actually, I should make Dr. J write that one, as it was his wine, foolishly sitting on our IKE.A cocktail table, that Lil Pumpkin rode her new Big Whe.el into, which sent his wine glass flying. MumMa is smart enough to always stow her wine glass on the window sill. Or clutch it carefully in her hand ;o)

In Dr. J's semi-defense, I don't do too well with stains. I give it a feeble attempt, and then give up. I would rather just replace the item. There are few things I own that cost enough money to make me want to commit that kind of effort. In the case of Lil Pumpkin's ultra-pale pink jeans, they were bought at Target, by her Lahng Island grandmother. So I am out no money.

In other exciting news, I moved Lil Pumpkin DOWN a size in diapers. Her ass continues to swim in the size 4's, so I gulped and bought the 3's, and prayed the $32.04 investment at Sam's was not going to be one I regretted. They fit much better. She has gained close to 4 pounds over the past 5 months, and is 3 inches taller, too! However, she continues to have the same teeny booty as her Daddy (which, being as she is adopted, something we laugh about - the similarities she has to both of us, physically and in personality). Her little bum is super-pinchable, I have to refrain from doing it endlessly when she gets out of the tub!

I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.
I will remember to buy eye makeup remover.

'Cause if I have to use a baby wipe one more night (they have a tiny bit of aloe in them which is one of the same ingredients as eye makeup remover), I will rub my friggin' skin right off. Grrr.

Christmas Eve

Okay, so it is slightly sucky that I have to put in an appearance at the office today (a half-day). But at least I got to hear the awesome, and poignant lyrics of my fave John May.er song, "Say," on the drive in. This song was featured on the travel blog we did when we went to China to be united with our Lil' Pumpkin.

Every time I hear this song, there is this amazing mental video montage playing in my head . . . feelings and scenes and frustrations and doubts and tears that surrounded the fertility exploration and then the adoption paperchase that culminated in Thee Supreme Privilige of being granted the opportunity to become my daughter's Forever Mommy by the Chinese people. And then there are the rush of feelings that accompany the giant (and I mean GIANT) leap of faith it took to believe that THIS was actually going to happen . . . that she would be ours.

Take all of your wasted honor

Every little past frustration

Take all your so called problems

Better put 'em in quotations

Say what you need to say (x7)

Say what you need to saaaay...

Walking like a one man army

Fighting with the shadows in your head

Living out the same old moment

Knowing you'd be better off instead

If you could only

Say what you need to say (x7)

Say what you need to saaay...

Have no fearFor giving in

Have no fear

For giving over

You better know that in the end

It's better to say too much

Then never to say what you need to say again

Even if your hands are shaking

And your faith is broken

Even as the eyes are closing

Do it with a heart wide open... wide...

Say what you need to say (x7)

Say what you need to

Say what you need to

Say what you need to say...

The past several years worth of holidays have F'in sucked, with a capital F. This year, this child, have changed that . . . have changed me.

Jesus may have been sent to save all of us, but surely God also sent Lil' Pumpkin to save me, too.

Powerless

I have decided to admit the following . . . I AM POWERLESS (meaning nada willpower to resist) WHEN IT COMES TO THE FOLLOWING:

• Butterf.ingers candy - ooooooh, baby, I do love you. I have eaten like 6 of the bite-sized ones over the past few days. I am trying not to stress about this, since I dropped like 4 more pounds last week when I was sick, and so far haven't put it back on (which brings my post-baby weight loss to 12 pounds, yeah for me!)


• Victor.ia's Secret Fashion Show - they showed the rerun on tv the other night . . . and I was mesmerized all over again - imagining myself on the catwalk, grooving along to the awesome music selections, whimpering for the lingerie to be in my personal repertoire, sniff sniff.


• White-chocolate covered pretzels - my personal version of crack coc.aine, thank you!


• A thin V-neck sweater - damn, they look good on me, and are so versatile ;o)


• Free drinks - I admit it. Especially if I can combine it with semi-legit work schmoozing


• Gossip - Live it, love it, embrace it!
  
• Lil Pumpkin's Giggle - And I know just how to make her do it (chase her around the room, toss her into the air so she lands on her bed, or hold her upside down - I tell ya, my baby girl is a fearless daredevil!)

Christmas Lovings and Longings

Okay, so this is the first year in quite a few that I don't dread Christmas. If you don't already know why, please feel free to check in on my other blog (which, I am thrilled to say, has well over 18,000 hits - WOW!)


Still, in spite of several shitty years of wishing I could fast forward from the day after Thanksgiving to sometime in January, there were always a few things I could count on as my Christmas Guilty Pleasures:

• The Vic.toria's Secre.t Fashion Show - it ALWAYS delivers! In my Fantasy Life, I am up there walking with them, blowing kisses, winking at the celebs in the crowd, and tossing my fabulous hair over my shoulder as I model dangerously sexy underwear.


• Christmas Crunch - mmmmm, a recipe passed to me by a guy from Nashville about a decade ago, it basically involves melting white chocolate overtop Ric.e Chex, Cheeri.os, peanuts, almonds, min-pretzels, and whatever else you feel like mixing in. Mmmm, white chocolate soooo smacks my lips of Christmastime!


• Shopping - okay, so I haven't had the money to do so, but I still enjoy the by-proxy feeling in the air while wandering the stores. The people-watching alone is worth the hassle to find a parking spot (of which I have terrific Parking Lot Karma!)


• Sending Out Christmas Cards - I do enjoy it, I admit it. I have trimmed my list back every year (I think we will probably only send about 90 this year, as I am pissed at the non-senders and late-senders). And this year I am not quite as much as living-in-fear at receiving photo cards, as you will see from this Other Blog Entry (okay, so maybe just a little bit, which will probably never go away). Please Jesus, nobody send me any glitter cards (embarrassing story), though I have learned my lesson, I swear!!!
• A Real Tree - want to like crazy, but CAN'T DEAL with thought of pine needles on my hardwood floors being possibly ingested by my Lil Pumpkin, nor can I handle the stress of her tipping it over and sappy water going everywhere. Hell, I am already dreading the constant chorus of "No, No, NO!" that will emit from my mouth as I try to keep her from yanking ornaments off of the artificial tree we will put up. I suspect it will look like something Cha.rlie Br.own would be ashamed of, as I can't possibly put up my favorite ornaments lest I chance an ER visit for a toddler who managed to swallow a sequin, glitter in her eyes, or some other bodily injury due to being poked by something too sharp for her inquisitive little hands. I never thought I'd be this stressed out by the thought of a Christma.s tree

Cysta-Bitch

So last Friday I was all hoo-ray about the sweet deal I got on those cysts being removed. I am STILL happy about the price, but let's recap the past week's developments on the issue . . .

Using the cream prescribed by the Physican Assistant (which, again, Praise Gawd, came with thee cheapest co-pay possible), my face has been peeling like I forgot to apply sunscreen while away on a tropical island somewhere. Okay, it's not THAT bad (am I dramatic? NEVER!!!) But the first week or so using the cream had me flaking and peeling. I was warned this would happen, but still it was annoying.

But after the scabbing from the cyst removal was finished I noticed that ONE of the cysts was still there, argh!!! Bitch, bitch, bitch! So I called the doctor's office and then said to come back in this morning for another go-see.

Luckily (for them and me and Dr. J, who had to listen to me whine) most of the peeling is now concluded. But they still needed to ZAP some of that one lingering-not-quite-yet-gone-bitch-cyst.

ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP. ZAP.

That was 9 times - did you count as you read along?! Yes, NINE ZAPS of the electric needle. Just under my eye.

I deserve . . . I dunno, SOMETHING for being so tough. For not crying. For not hitting or kicking anybody.

Maybe a cupcake. Or ice cream. Or a massage. Or all three.

Bitch, be gone!

Micro Meow (meee-yow!)

I have found somebody new. Somebody who warms my legs and loins like no other ever has.

Here's a picture of my new love.

I purposely keep my house quite cool because (A) gas heat is expensive, and (B) I start to have all sorts of allergy/stuffy nose issues if it's kept too warm. But I must admit that I can't keep it quite as cool as I did last year because I think the social worker would give me a hard time if my Lil' Pumpkin turned into Lil' Popsicle. In past years I had a heated mattress pad on my bed, but I am too paranoid about Lil' Pumpkin reaching for the cord that would have to be connected between it and the wall socket, so I was leery of bringing it out of storage, and certainly you can NOT put a heated mattress pad in a toddler's room, LOL!

Lil' Pumpkin SUCKS at keeping a blanket on her (what toddler does?!), and it has already taken me some coaxing to get her to wear footed pajamas (she was a big fan of having me rub her tummy as she fell asleep, skin on skin. I give an excellent tummy rub, so who can blame her!)

But I still worried that she was too cold at night, so I began investigating the possibility of (gasp!) flannel sheets on her mattress. I was raised by an anti-flannel sheet mother ("the pilling, egads!"), and live with an anti-flannel man (no metrosexual likes flannel, unless it's a sleep shirt resting precariously on the shoulder of a Vict.oria's Secre.t calatog model with a peek of pushup bra underneath).

But then I discovered micro-fleece sheets! I bought some for Lil' Pumpkin's bed, and the first night I laid her down to sleep on them . . . ooooooooh, baby! I DIDN'T WANT TO GET OUT OF HER BED, THEY FELT SO COZY AND WARM!!! The next day I ordered Dr. J to pick up a set for our big bed. Ahhhhhh, what a divine night that was!

And now, my by-chance discovery of these micro-fleece lounge pants?! HOLY PHUCK I AM IN NIRVANA, PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!

Micro-fleece pants, micro-fleece sheets, and my big, fluffy white robe?! Oh girl, I am toasty!!!

I Should Play the Lottery

I just returned from having a medical/cosmetic procedure done on my face that I was extremely nervous about. Basically, it was to have a couple of teeny cysts removed that, while benign, have been bugging me and making me inscure about my non-makeup face. Part of my reluctance to have this taken care of was due to it being benign, which means "not covered by insurance."

The dermatologist told me it would probably run anywhere from $350 - $500 for the removal, and referred me to a cosmetic dermatologist.

I won't lie . . . it was, um, painful. Repeatedly. But the pain was lessened by the cost: $25. Yes, just $25. Three different office staff (including the one doing the removal) said "$25." I paid cash, have a receipt that says paid in full, and went on my still-hurting-but-otherwise-merry-way. They also gave me an Rx to help even out my complexion which I was CERTAIN would not be covered by insurance, but I figured, what the heck, I should just get it filled.

The pharmacy called me 10 minutes ago with the cost . . . COVERED BY MY INSURANCE (due to the diagnosis code the Physican's Asst put on the Rx), and thus IT'S ONLY A $10 CO-PAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am so friggin' happy!!!

And my face is reasonably presentable, too! (I had envisioned a week of Nico.le R.itchie behavior, wearing giant sunglasses to avoid being viewed as hideous by the public, LOL).

Off to get my hair cut now - yes, a full day of beauty (if you count yesterday's manicure, too).

Office Spouse

While watching "Fox & Friends" this morning the gang was discussing the "office spouse" concept, and stating who at the station was who else's office spouse, and so on.

This made me a bit wistful for my old job. Oh, I do NOT miss my a-hole boss, nor much of the B.S. we had to endure as employees, but I sometimes miss it when I watch the tv show "The Of.fice," because we had some of those same bizarre idiots and management behaviors at my prior employer.

All of which made having an Office Spouse a necessity, LOL. You needed somebody to hang with, gossip with, confide in, conspire with. Not to sound like a bigamist [sp?], but I think I actually had 2 office spouses at one point, until the one left for another job. Then the other one did, too, but we at least still get together occasionally to have lunch or catch up.

My current job is waaaaaaay better, in so many ways, but sometimes I miss the wackiness of a large office. But I mainly I miss the friendships, the commraderie, and of course my Office Spouse, Larry.

Soup

I have been fighting the flu (or what I suspect may be the flu) for the past 24 hours. Achy, sore throat, energy non-existent, and so on. Thankfully, this coincided with Ve.terans Day (thanks Vets, I "heart" each and every one of you!), so my mom and stepfather were off work, and thus able to take my Lil Pumpkin off my hands so I could cut down her exposure to her germy Mommy, and give me a wee bit of peace.

Around lunchtime, as I was propped up on the couch in my fluffy robe, banging away at some emails while 902.10 reruns blared on the tv, Dr. J surprised me with my favorite soup from a local restaurant. I was stunned. And touched. And it was delicious.

It was so simple, but it meant so much. It had been so long since I last had it that I had forgotten I even liked it.

Me Time

I got to do something last night and this morning I haven't had the opportunity to experience in a long time.

It's called "Me Time."

I got to take a bath, alone, and in peace. And truly enjoy the experience. Breathing deeply, sighing as the hot water enveloped my achy and neglected body. It was heavenly. No distractions, no unwanted or outside noises. Just me, hot water, and my own swirly thoughts.

And then this morning I treated myself to a hot shower. Alone, and again in peace.

It felt like Christmas.

Power Outages & A-Holes

Is is power outages that bring out the as*holes of the world, or is it the lure of free W.iFi?

I am too pissed to write out what some a-hole just said to me. But PHUCK am I ever pissed!

Yep, Still Feel the Same

And they say time softens the blow. Hah.


I am watching the Hist.ory Chan.nel footage people recorded that day. Ya know, THAT DAY. And I still feel the same. I want to make sure every piece of scum is eradicated from God's green earth. I want them to meet Satan, after a prolonged amount of torture that begins by Marines, the NYPD, and the NYFD shooting them in the gawddamn kneecaps, then delivered the world's biggest ass-kicking, where they slowly die the most torturous of deaths possible, followed by eternal damnation, courtesy of The Big Guy, God.

Never Forget. Never.

Semper Fi.

I'm Back!

And I have a few observations to share (what a stunner).



Okay, here is what I miss about China:

• Housekeeping - not just the fact that your bathroom gets cleaned and the bed made, but that if you kid throws up on the bed in the middle of the night, all it takes is one phone call and a kind Chinese employee scurries your room and quickly changes the sheets, and with a smile! (This happened to us twice).
• The breakfast buffet each morning . . . Lord, I will always miss that scrumptious and bountiful spread. Pout!
• Co.ke Lite - their version of D.iet Cok.e
• How cheap the food is (and dee-lish!)
• The service we received EVERYWHERE - smiles, doors held for us, eagerness to please, attempts to speak English for OUR convenience, encouragement as we struggled with our new baby
• No job to attend to, no emails to check - just focusing solely on the baby
• How cheap and easy it was to have our clothes laundered, pressed, and meticulously folded whenever we needed it done
  

And here is what I love about being back home:

• I am no longer BAKING in the Chinese heat and humidity
• More than one english-speaking t.v. station (we were stuck with B.BC, too, ick!)
• Toddler-proofed house
• Better pizza
• Having our strollers available (the ones we spent endless hours researching)
• Finally having a baby in the room that has stood empty for far too long

My Friends Are Insane

How do I even explain THIS?! Okay, here goes . . .

The aforementioned "Man Hands" (Adrian from CA) has two hobbies which I consider bizarre. One is bird-watching, the other is collecting the state quarters the U.S. Mint has put out over the past few years.

Well, last year about this time I joked something like "hey, I have the new Montana one!" and ManHands immediately replied that she did NOT have it, wanted it, and if I sent it to her in CA she would give me a dollar in return. I did send it, and really didn't expect anything in return. After all, this woman has let us camp out at her lovely beachfront home for free TWICE.

Fast forward to Monday of this week, when instigator "2.0" pipes up with an inquiry as to whether ManHands ever sent me that dollar for the quarter? I say no, 2.0 chides her for not mailing it since I am "with child" and thus need money. I then teased ManHands that she should send it via F.edEx since I was flying away to China this Friday.

I guess ManHans decided to be a smart ass (gawd, I love smart asses!), 'cause look at what I received at work this morning . . .



A freakin' $1.oo bill, and one individually-wrapped Twi.zzler, courtesy of ManHands and her company's Fe.dEx account (gotta love those internet companies that don't watch their bottom line that carefully, LMAO!)

I am so anxious right now, that this insane delivery made me whoop it up pretty damn loud! I think I frightened my company's receptionist, hee hee.

It's the little things that put a smile on my face, and this most certainly did.

I wuv you ManHands!!!! (Can we all now change into our jammies, braid each others hair, and bake brownies?!)

Time is Relative

"As the days grow shorter, your hours grow longer."

-- wisdom from "Mr. Bill," my little brother

Is That a Can of Pringles or are You Just Happy to See Me?

This morning I woke up from a dead state of sleep just shy of 5 a.m. The reason? I had a bad dream in which I had been arrested. For shoplifting a can of Prin.gles. Yes, a can of Pri.ngles.

WTF is wrong with me?! (I know, do I want that list alphabetically?!)

In the dream I manage to get out of what had to be the dirtiest grocery store I have seen in a long time, am 3/4's of the way to my car, when security steers me back to the store. I hadn't much concealed the can -- it was kind of in the crook of my arm, along with my purse.

Now WHAT is this all about?! Much as I love the salty, crisp yumminess that are Pr.ingles, I am thinking it that this bizarre scenario has something to do with denying myself something I want or desire. (I do love chips, gawd do I ever, but rarely buy them, since I am determined to keep my weight under control and I know that letting chippies into my home are like a "gateway drug" that could spiral into me falling of the wagon).

Nah, dreams are rarely literal like that. Objects and people always represent something or someone else. What am I denying? What am I wanting? What am I reaching for? Is it as yummy as a can of P.ringles?!?!?!

Now Somebody Else is Trying to Kill Me

As if my own attempts to physically injure myself weren't enough, apparently the County Health Department is also trying to "off me."

In preparation for our trip to China, we decided to get the recommended (though not required) Tetnu.s booster, and He.p A and H.ep B shots. The A & B shots are three-parters . . . you get parts one and two prior to your trip (must be a month apart), and the third part after your return.

Please note, that EACH time we get the H.ep A & B shots it costs us $188. That pisses me off to no end. I will wind up spending $564 in preventative vaccines. Insurance cuts you NO break, and these can not be administered by your regular PCP, because they are considered infectious diseases and thus can only be handled by the County Health Department. So add into this the cost of parking, and traveling a good 25 miles each way to the friggin' County Health Department, each time. Grrrrr. It further pisses me off that insurance cuts us NO BREAKS on these costs . . . but IF we come down with H.ep? Oh sure, THEN it will pay half a million bucks in hospitalization costs!

If you have not previously read my rant on the County Health Department, and all of it's nastiness, now is an appropriate time to do so. In mid-June we went for our second round of the shots.

With time growing short and our schedules likewise crazy in the closing days before we blast off to China, imagine my horror when last Friday I received a call from the County Health Department telling me that our second set of shots "Was No Good." Well, at least that's what it sounded like "Ana" was saying, because SHE DID NOT SPEAK PASSABLE ENGLISH!!! Now listen, before I get unfairly labeled a racist or any bullshit like that, please know that my pediatrician, my favorite dentist, and my current PCP, RE, and OB/GYN are ALL foreign-born, with English as their second language. Great, no problem. I love accents (hell, I married one), and admire greatly people who are bi-lingual. But when you are being called with such critical information as "gee, the vaccine isn't valid!" I don't think it's too much to EXPECT that the messenger speak passable English!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Seriously, a call center overseas has better English speakers.

I was told some bullshit that the 'fridge which stored our second round of vaccines "had a temperature failure," and thus we need to repeat it. But that they're would be "no charge" for doing so. WERE THEY PHUCKING KIDDING ME?! Hullo?!?!? I asked "And who will be paying for my parking, my gas costs, and our time off of work? And will the clinic be open for extended hours to accomodate us?"

Any guesses on the answer to THOSE questions?! Of course, all "No's". I guess "Ana" knew I wasn't a Happy Camper, because she said she would have a supervisor call be back. Damn right, "Ana"!!!

So "Sharon" called me back about 10 minutes later, and gives me the same B.S. about a 'fridge failing, and thus we didn't have the proper immunity. WTF?! I asked, WHY, if we got the second round of shots on June 17th, I was being informed of a "temperature failure"on July 11th? Oh, um, because the County Health Dept. consulted with the CDC, and the CDC recommended they call people and have the vaccine repeated. Again, I ask, "why am I being told this NOW? We leave for China in 2 weeks -- what if we had already left?!" Well "Sharon" then said "Well you need to have 28 days in between Parts One and Two, so you couldnt' have come in before next Monday anyway." Which prompted me to ask incredulously, "YOU SAID IT'S NOT VALID - SO WHY WOULD I NEED TO WAIT UNTIL MONDAY ANYWAY?!" Then Sharon said "Well, we're not sure how much of it was good."

WHAT PHUCKING CLOWNS ARE WORKING ON MY PHUCKING TAX DOLLARS?!?!

I gave "Sharon" an earful as to HOW they need somebody with a better command of the English language to make these calls than Ana, and how I had lived in California, so I am not some anti-immgrant b*tch who is complaining, but when it comes to important medical stuff like this it DOES make a difference -- cause for a few scary moments while on the phone with "Ana" I thought she was telling me that I had somehow contracted He.p A and/or B!!! Sharon surprisingly agreed with me when it came to Ana.

I think me throwing around "My husband is a doctor" also got her attention, because suddenly she was willing to stay as late as 10 p.m. to accomodate his schedule. In retrospect, and after speaking with a colleague about this, I think "Sharon the Supervisor" is more worried that between myself and My Doctor Husband we will raise a public stink about this, and the County Health Dept (and its employees) will be in even Deeper Shit.

What's kinda comical is that I am connected enough politically (thanks to my job) to the County elected officials who sit on the committees that fund the County Health Department, as well as have oversight on it. I could cause some serious-ass trouble if I wanted to. Plus, what low-levcel reporter isn't looking for a possible investigative story to help them get a leg up in the newsroom?!

But honestly, I am too rushed right now with other stuff, too preoccupied with trying to sew up things before we leave, too tired from lack of sleep, too frazzled with worries and fears, too agitated by little stuff . . . to go through all of that.

So instead, we took "Sharon" up on her offer to meet us after hours and get our second round of shots. And we even got a free parking spot closeby. Even funnier, since she knew we needed these shots in conjunction with our adoption, she gave us a free bib and onesie with the emblem of the County Health Department on it as a baby gift. She was VERY pleasant in person.

Don't ya just LOVE that?! LMAO (cause otherwise I will cry).

Just praying I can get through these remaining days without any more mishaps (self-inlflicted or otherwise). But I am waiting for some ninja to jump out at me, I swear. Next?!

Getting Closer . . .

:o)

More Self-Inflicted Punishment

Sheesh, when it rains it pours. And clearly, this has been MY WEEK to injure or otherwise cause harm to myself.

Last night, I decided to remove the cutesy pink toenail polish that has been on my tootsies since early-May, when I treated myself to a pedicure prior to a business trip. For some reason, polish stays on my toes pretty well (maybe because I don't walk around barefoot, I don't know). So I grab the non-acetone polish remover (you must use non-acetone lest you cause serious damage to the silk wraps that are on your manicured nails -- I know, it's complicated being a girly girl, and I have had a lot of catching up to do in the last decade). It took some SERIOUS rubbing to get this shit off. My hands were actually cramping from the effort (and I do a lot of texting, so my hands are in shape, LOL).

Once it was done I made sure to scrub my hands with hot soap and water. That's when I did something stoopid. I decided this would be a marvelous time to take out my contacts. As I brought my hands to my left eye, I could still smell the vapors on my scrubbed-clean hands. I plunged ahead anyway. The vapors from my hands had my eye buring like friggin' hell! But what was I gonna do?! One was now out, and my vision is too poor to walk around with just one in so I endured the burning and yanked out the other one. Fearing that somehow a trace amount of chemicals were now on my contacts, I pitched this 2-day-old pair straight into the garbage. PHUCK -- I hate wasting money like that!

I flushed my eyes with a ton of cold water, which seemed to soothe my peepers. But this morning I was in for a lovely surprise . . . my eyelids had some peeling skin on them, and were super-puffy! They haven't been this bad since we lived in the Silicon Valley/Bay Area (which I then atributed to pollution and allergies). When we lived out there I used to fix this the ol' Miss A.merica way -- which means whipping out a tube of hemor.roid cream and applying some on my eyelids. Go ahead, laugh your asses off - pageant queens swear by it and guess what, IT WORKS! Whatever is in that cream to shrink a hemorroid, and in a non-inflammatory manner (cause really, if you need it for THAT that last thing you need is more burning), ALSO works the same way on your eyelids! It works miracles.

But alas, I had none in the medicine closet, so I skipped my eye makeup and went about my day. And my day was going fine. I was hustling to get done at work early because I had bumped up my bi-weekly manicure to earlier in the day so I could ultimately go to the airport that evening to welcome home some friends who had just returned from China with their new daughter.

I prepared my spaghetti lunch for the microwave, and was walking through the hallway at work when I looked at my one hand thought "Aw shit, my fingernail broke. Dammit!" Eh, no wonder with all of the typing, texting, and crap I have been doing around the house, I reasoned.

But then came the 4th time in a few days in which I inadvertantly caused bodily harm to myself. I was enjoying my spaghetti at my desk, multi-tasking as usual, when suddenly I felt something crunchy in my mouth. Wanna guess when that fingernail broke and wear it landed?

Disgusting. I am a mess, I swear. I should have "crime scene" tape wrapped around me. I am a CSI delight of an episode. Grrrrrr.

Bloody Nose & Busted Lip

Yeppers, I managed to have both of these in 2 days time.

First up, the bloody nose. What's amazing about this is that, well . . . I gave myself the bloody nose. I wish I had some cool story to accompany it, but I don't. Nope, it's just another in a series of utterly ungraceful moves on my part. I was laying bed early Tuesday morning, after unsuccessfully being able to sleep (it was going on 2 hours at this point). I had JUST started to nod off, when my body had one of those sudden spasms that you sometimes get when falling asleep -- ya know, when your whole body jerks suddenly?!

Well, I had been laying on my right side, with my fist sorta loosely curled up near my face, with my right thumb extended. Somehow, somehow, when my body convulsed my right thumb inserted itself up into my right nostril, creating a gash in the process. My nose felt moist all of a sudden, so I reached for my ever present stash of tissues, and wiped my nose. Then I turned on the light. THERE WAS BLOOD ALL OVER THE TISSUE. Huh? WTF?!

I am not exaggerating when I report that it took 7 double-ply tissues before the bleeding subsided. This included me applying pressure, rolling up tissue & shoving inside the nostril like a boxer who had been punched, yadda, yadda. Each tissue was thoroughly soaked. Gross, but true. Eh, it's me, par for the course!

Then we roll to today. I am eating lunch when I suddenly bite down on the inside of my lip. HARD. This happens, right?! I wince, but resume eating. In the next 3 minutes, I manage to repeat this motion FIVE GAWDDAMN TIMES! It was like friggin' Gr.oundhog Day -- over and over I kept biting down in the exact same spot. Yowza!

I was so mad at myself. My lip was growing puffier and puffier by the minute. I have blood on the inside of my lip (under the surface) now. It's like I had dental work done, and I still have the swelling effects. Grrrr. Who knew my chompers were so powerful?!

Clearly, I am a hazard to myself.

And counting . . .

:o)

Happy Birthday America!!!

It's the most important day of the year!

A deeply sincere thank you to our wonderful military, past, present, and those who have been "promoted to Heaven."

I was so inspired by local talk radio yesterday, as they discussed the topic of the 2nd Amendment, that I am feeling moved enough to make a contribution to the N.R.A.

:o)

Peeker

So Dr. J finally "remembered" our wedding song. Only, he peeked at the web site for our pending China trip to figure it out. He says he felt ridiculous when he saw it, for not being able to remember it.

Yeeeeaaaaaah. We'll see. I think I will pretend to be all girly & hurt by this for a while, and see where it gets me.

[Cue sniffling, and commence lower lip pout].

Don't worry, honey, while YOU enjoyed YOUR last pre-parental hurrah last night -- a.k.a. your "BroMance Nite" with "Brother Jay" under the stars, listening to R.ush -- I stayed at home, eating leftovers warmed in the microwave, all by my lonesome.

;o)

Worst Husband Moment

I usually pride myself on the fact that I don't have one of "those husbands" when it comes to remembering the important things. He knows the date of our anniversary (made it easy for him, getting married 11 years to the day of our first date), he never forgets birthdays or holidays, yadda. He does f'in forget every other gawddamn thing, but important dates and dating/marriage details he rocks at!

Which is why it was so shocking this evening, when he completely flubbed on a big one . . . he can not remember what our wedding song is. Oh wait, he remembers something, it's just the incorrect name of the singer, and he is drawing a blank on the song itself.

This was revealed when I casually mentioned some additions I made to the web site we have created for our pending China trip. I told him I put some of the lyrics from our wedding song on it, and teased "You DO know what that song is, right, hee-hee?!"

Dr. J replies, "Oh yeah, it's that one by Marc Cohn."

WRONG!

So now I am NOT telling him the name of the song, nor the singer who crooned it.

NOTE TO DR. J -- it is NOT Marc Cohn. You are thinking of "True Companion," which is a song we both love and considered as our first dance song, but hon, it ain't it!

Lemme know when you figure it out, dumbshit. (Saying that with lots of luv and you know it).

Best Week Ever

Congrats to Dr. J, since last week was your "Best Week Ever"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Of course, this was quite predictable, as you know . . . since THIS one is a holiday weekend. And then in three weeks we are taking off for another freakin' continent. OF COURSE THEN EVERYBODY WILL WANT A PIECE OF YOU!

Very proud of you, Sweetie ;o)

Countdown to Grown-Up Land

I have often thought and remarked that I don't feel like a Grown-Up, certainly not an Adult. I always reasoned that "Grown-Ups have a mortgage and kids." Whew, I was safely not a member of that club!

Then one day we decided we wanted to have the latter (the kid). Which, because of the cards Life dealt us, and the path we choose, necessitated the former (the house, which = mortgage).

The house was not something we wanted. For over a year now I have felt like I have let everybody down when they say to us with a happy voice, "Don't you love having a house!" Um, uh, NO, we don't! I love my hardwood floors. I love shouting at the tops of my lungs (could do that at our old funky apartment, though). I love that the house made our adoption possible. I love that the walls in Lil' Pumpkin's nursery are bright green and blue (as opposed to "rental white" or cream). But I most certainly do not love having a house. Sigh. On our best days, I would put us in the "reluctant homeowner" category. I will be forever working towards my dream of three-story townhouse -- I even have it picked out, if anyone wants to buy it for grateful me (try me, I am GREAT at being GRATEFUL!!!)

But now I am less than 3o days (28, if anyone's counting -- oh wait, I AM!) to being a legal parent to somebody. I already feel like her parent, of course. I have filled out endless (and I do mean ENDLESS) paperwork to justify our relationship & responsibility. I have updated my life insurance to name her as a big winner if we croak. We now have wills, which name her as the heir to our estate (LOL -- then SHE can deal with the house, hee hee), and name her Legal Guardians if, again, we croak (seeing her name in our wills gave me such a reality-check rush, but in a good way). Heck, I even have her pediatrician appointment booked! Phuck, I am even tossing out phrases like "Maternity Leave" in emails to colleagues. WTF?!

Part Two of being a Grown-Up, which, by my definition, is what I am on the verge of these last 28 days, is clearly within my grasp. It is just around the corner, and yet painfully far away. I suck at waiting, of course. When I want something, I want it NOW. No, make that YESTERDAY.

But Part Two, as much as it's craved (okay, SHE is craved by us), seems so scary at the same time. I am aware of this about a thousand times a day as I move about my not-loved but toddler-proofed house. I see hazards everywhere. I think about all the things that can go wrong -- my old fears and pessimism never can be fully quelled, I suppose. I take out her photos and glance at it, for just a few quick seconds, and then have to put it away. It's like I am afraid that if I stare at it too long, or dream too much, then POOF, it will all be gone. Because that IS when things typically go to shit in my life -- when I start to get comfortable with a concept or state of being.

(Cue my positive mantras . . . she is ours, she is ours, she is ours).

28 days. Holy Phuck. Should I be doing something wild to mark these last days as a NON-adult?! What is truly crazy and non-kiddie that I can do to commemorate my last fleeting days of life that don't include a toddler? Maybe I need to pull our my "24 things" list again. LOL, if only we had time to do one a day (not).

F' Mick.ey M.ouse. And F' Me, too.

I can not believe this. I received in the mail some piece of paper from some bank or whatever saying that during transfer of paperwork that contained shareholder information of Disney stockholders, a truck lost or misplaced some boxes that contained paperwork with my private information. I think this means IDENTITY THEFT is imminent. Of course it is. They are offering me 90 days of free credit monitoring, but actually I am not too worried because (through an employee benefit) I already have a credit monitoring service that checks my credit reports monthly for anything funky.

All this, because like 20+ years ago somebody in the family (I think my Dad?) bought me two friggin' shares of Disney stock. From which I get dividends yearly that add up to about 78 cents. Really, I am NOT exaggerating. It ranges from 43 to 97 cents in a given year. It costs me more to have this shit noted on my taxes returns and turn it over to the CPA.

So, I say FUCK M.ICKEY MO.USE!!!

And now, for the F' Me portion of the program . . .

I have been waaaaaay M.I.A. from my blog (well, this one at least), and my emails, and my workouts, and just generally absentminded. I don't like that. I miss the subsistence I had created for myself, even if I am moving onward and upward. But part of why I have been so M.I.A. lately is because I have been wrapped up in trying to help someone who has become very dear to me. This friend has been (in my blunt words), been operating in some other alternate reality . . . they weren't keeping aware of just what their situation was and is. I guess because I have/am/are kinda been there/done that, the things I said to this friend was a massive jolt to them, and it snapped them into acknowledging what their reality is, and examining themself and their options.

To put it mildly, I felt like a Dream Crusher. Like I sucked the wind out of someone's sails. I rained on their parade. I stole the rainbow they were painting.

I felt, and still do, feel terrible about all of this. I know I did the right thing by gently enlightening them (yes, stop snickering, I do actually have my gentle moments). It will help them in the long run to know the truth, and maybe they will learn from my own proactivity that burying your head in the sand won't fill an aching hole in your heart.

I want so badly to comfort this friend. And I have spent much free time over the past two weeks trying to do so. And to even help them acquire the mental and physical tools to empower themself. I have done so at risk to my personal well-being, and schluffed off some of my work responsibilities in order to do so. (I don't regret the latter).

I just feel crummy about all of it. I did nothing wrong, I am being uber-helpful to them.

I still feel like "DREAM CRUSHER" should be stamped on my forehead. SIGH.

Did You Get The Memo?

I have a confession to make. I could not be less interested in my job right now. Okay wait, that's not true entirely. I have a great job, have a terrific boss, and enjoy tremendous support (professionally and personally) from my Board of Directors and the general membership. Not to brag, but they all pretty much love me. And that's okay, 'cuz I have most certainly earned it -- not a snow job, I work hard for their interests, and have gotten results where others have not.

But damn, with so much going on in my personal life, I am lacking serious motivation when it comes to work stuff. I am going through the motions, and getting it all done, but I . . . just . . . I dunno . . . wish that tomorrow I could be independently wealthy so I could just pursue my personal life and interests. Which, let's be honest, might be fun for a couple of years, and then I would find myself getting drawn back into politics and the good fight (which I try to make entertaining for myself and those who pay me).

I have been praying for a few things lately, and on Saturday in church I added "be a better employee" to my list. Oi Vey.

Sucking Wind

So much has been going on in my life, and yet I am too stressed or busy or overwhelmed to speak of it.

Okay, so let me at least mark another reluctant weekend of home improvement progress . . . we managed the following:

• Bought more necessary crap for our pending trip to China (me, with help from my Mommy)
  
• Swept the basement (me)
  
• Swept the garage (Dr. J)
  
• Assembled the pressure-mounted baby gate (Me)
• Rust removal and repainting of porch railing (Dr. J, last week -- thank you!!!)
• Assembled the jogging stroller (joint effort)
• Assembled the regular stroller (me, last week)
• Ceiling fan with light mounted in baby's room (friend)
• Mounted the white wooden letters spelling baby's name on the wall above her bed (joint effort -- kee-rist what an ordeal, WHO KNEW?!?!)

Up next:

• Mounting of FOUR pressure-mounted baby gates (I really need to purchase this, I swear)
• More buying of necessary crap for trip
• Put foam bumpers on every conceivable sharp corner in living room, dining room, and baby's room
• Reorganize hall closet
• Rearrange linen closet, making room for baby's stuff and tub essentials
• Wash & soften up her sheets & pillowcases
• Steal lightweight suitcases from friends and family (USA weight limits on luggage are 55 pounds / China's are 44 pounds. Grrrr.)
• 6,413 other things that I keep re-remembering and re-forgetting. And reminding Mr. No-Short-Term-Memory (aka the lovely Dr. J) about them

Eh, at least we finally got our swimsuits for the trip. I can't believe I got a two-piece (top & bottom) AND a coverup skirt for the hotel, and managed to not have a self-loathing moment throughout it. WOW!

Miracles never cease, I guess.

IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!! (And I couldn't be happier!)

Yeah, the Pens lost in game 6 tonight of the Stanley Cups Finals.

I won't have to be bothered by another friggin' hockey game until next season.

Thank you, Jesus.

I love sports. But hockey is my least favorite. I think I would almost rather watch NASCAR or Indy Car racing.

I don't care that the Pittsb.urgh Pe.nguins were in it. At least respect me for not jumping on the bandwagon like so many others. Would have been nice for the true local fans, granted.

YEAH, IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. Kirsten 2.0 tried to blackmail me by stating (in reply to an email I sent her about how glad I would be when all of this was over) that she'd rat me out to Dr. J about this -- LMAO! You think he doesn't KNOW this already?! Sweetie, remember, I HAVE NO FILTER!!!!!!!!!

Wa.l-M.art puts the squeeze on food costs

Yeah, so many people bitch and moan about W.al-Ma.rt, but THEY are doing things to help us with our grocery bill!!! And they are doing it in ways that are energy-conscious and capitalist-themed.

So SCREW YOU, haters!!!

We Own What?

We bit the bullet this weekend.

We known own (gulp), a lawnmower, a weedwhacker, some weed killer, two heavy duty 14 amp extension cords and the coil.

We also bought the one of the four hardware/wall-mounted baby gates we still need to buy and install. We received the soft, removable one as a shower gift. We bought the extra-tall top of the stairs one because it was on sale at L.owe's.

A lawnmower. Phuck.

Frightening, but I am more freaked out by the thought of us owning a lawnmower and weedwhacker than us having a child.

Dr. J, what does this say about us? (Other than "MOVE TO A TOWNHOUSE").

D.C. Recap

It was a whirlwind 5 days in our nation's capital. I am 'zausted, to put it mildly.

My Hill visits went extremely well, and I was proud of my sheep as I sheparded them into meetings with our Senators and assorted members of Congress.

I knew it would be a looooong week, with plenty of partying opportunities (plus, I was rushing back home on Saturday for a "girls nite" that same evening, followed by a family party the next afternoon), so I really put emphasis on pacing myself with the booze. I succeeded. No hangovers (unlike my colleagues), no huggin' The Porcelain God, no showing up late or missing conference sessions entirely. Yea for me!

Definitely, the trip got better as the week went on. The meeting I look forward to most each year is the one with my colleagues (away from our Board of Director types). Being able to bitch and moan in private is always a highlight! Plus, Friday marked two happy hours, the latter was with these very colleagues from across the country. A special shout-out to the gang from Georgia -- gawd, I love Southerners!!!

Afterwards, I was treated to dinner at a very chic place with a dee-lish wine list. Yum! I was amazed that we were able to secure a table without a reservation weeks in advance, but good luck was on our side. The whole evening, including the spirited after-party, was just a perfect way to celebrate a successful (albeit fast-paced and stressful) week. It certainly put me in a relaxed, mellow mood on Saturday morning, which I capped off by another indulgence . . . sweet breakfast treats (hullo mini-Belgian waffle!) via room service. Mmmmm mmmmm goooood.

I drove home from D.C. with a smile on my face. How many people get to say that, hee hee?!

Lawn Boy Becomes . . . Home Improvement Guy?!

Good Lord what is happening to my man?! He has also now stained the repaired wood frame around our bedroom and closet doors, AND built the new bed and chest of drawers in the baby's room.

If he starts to drywall I will call a divorce attorney immediately. Or a psychiatrist. Probably both.

Yard Work? WTF?!?!?!

I rushed home from the municipal meeting I had just finished up at because I received a FRIGHTENING text message from my husband . . .

"I AM MOWING THE LAWN."

I was so scared. He has NEVER ever done something like that. Seriously, we have owned this house a year, and he has never done that. Hey, neither have I. I refuse to do yard work or home improvement projects. Really. I said it when we closed on the house and have never waivered.

Last summer we paid my Mom a few bucks here and there to do it (our lawn is not that big). Really. Or would give a few bucks to this guy who is a friend of the family to do it. That's how WE roll. And I like that my husband does NOT do this kind of stuff -- 'cause we agree we suck at it and he doesn't try to deviate from that. Let somebody else do it, somebody who is BETTER at it than us! We will PAY, or trade services somehow.

But our lawn looked soooooo bad, and he couldn't stand it any more. We have an old lady who lives next to us who is a grass-cutting nazi. And the lesbian couple behind us put us to shame (they were outside shoveling asphalt while all of this hoopla was going on, I kid you not).

So Dr. J borrowed the lawnmower from my Mom (she has been too busy to do it) and was mowing when I got home. I took photos. He said to me "I will NEVER do this again." Well thank gawd for that! I would have called a psychiatrist or scheduled an intervention if he LIKED it, LOL!

I am wondering if all of the muffin-baking and flour-sifting tips he gave Kirsten today (via email) inspired him to get in touch with his Manly Man side?
Sniff, sniff, I want my metrosexual back!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously, Dr. J, I am in awe right now. I think in a good way. Lord knows I can't and won't do something like that. Ever.

But please, NEVER again. I can't handle this.

It's like I don't even know YOU anymore!!!!!!!!!

More Hearting

I spent most of Saturday afternoon swooning. I admit it. Freely. My body just felt sooooo good. His touch lingered for hours afterwards. My spirit was uplifted, my skin warm, my energy positive.

He does it to me every time.

Yes, I am referring to "My Howard." To refresh everyone's memory, he is the young massage therapist-in-training I have gone to several times now for an hour of delicious "Me Time."

And damn, does that boy ever deliver :o)

I think he is getting cuter each time I see him, too. I luv how he whispers when he touches my body, giggles with me about how he worries about new clients who have "bAcne," how he asks me if he's using enough pressure, how he rubs my glutes . . . okay, I especially luv how he rubs my glutes.

All people in the service industry have their favorite clients -- hairdressers, manicurists, doctors, chefs, they all do. I like to think that Howard enjoys me as his client, in this regard. I guess our session was running a few minutes long, cause at the end of our alloted time he was rubbing my back with these long, deep strokes and then he whispered, "They're telling me I have to stop."

I wanted to purr "Ohhhhh, don't stop . . . ." Hee-hee!

And yeah, I will see him again in a few weeks ;o)

Mo' Money, Mo' Money

Got our Economic Stimulus Rebate Check today. Yep, spotted in our bank account (I check it everyday online), and I promptly transferred it into savings. That, with our tax return, oughta fund 6-8 weeks of maternity leave.


I'd say "thank you President Bush and Members of Congress" . . . but it was our money in the first place.


So instead I will say "Thank you Dr. J" for having a social security number ending in a number that made us among the first to be eligible for receiving the moohlah.

Your Friday Morning Cup of Coffee

Just an important lil' somethin' for all you men out there to ponder as you settle into your Friday morning . . .

THE TOP 10 SEX MISTAKES THAT MEN MAKE

And my quick thoughts on the article, point by point:

1. AMEN, Dr. Yvonne. Really good foreplay starts days ahead, if you really want to heighten your experience . . . and OUR performance.
2. YES, YES, YES. We have tons of interesting body parts that are waiting, no, begging to be explored. Now go be a pioneering explorer. In fact, let's play Lewis & Clark.
3. Another YES, YES, YES. Look, we ladies know how fascinated you are with your penis. We know you think it's the be all/end all. But listen, come close, cause I'm about to let you in on a little secret that shall serve you well in all future female conquests (ready?) . . . YOUR PENIS MOVING IN AND OUT IS NOT ENOUGH TO MAKE US "O". It's nice, it's helps, we like how it feels (my posse of women are nodding), but we need a lil' more interaction, okay?! Please re-read my response to #2. Thanks!
4. Listen to our heavy breathing, our moans, our purrs. You'll figure it out, if you listen carefully.
5. Your woman will probably "O" more easily if she thinks you're in it just to have some fun. So stop stressing, and so will we.
6. Um, you like us to keep OUR figures and wear cute outfits AND wear sexy lingerie, right? THEN CHECK THYSELF! Lose your own gut (or build some muscles if you're already thin), wear clean clothes, nice boxers, check your breath, shave your face, update your look (that means wardrobe, glasses, hairstyle, etc.), and stop bitching. [Looking at The Posse, and they are nodding so empathetically they're bordering on whiplash].
7. It's true. We have a naughty side. Meow.
8. Porn Star behavior from us? You first, Mr. Pizza Delivery Boy. (yeah, it's as bizarre in reverse to you as the shit you see in most stupid pornos are to us).
9. Listen, really, for the umpteenth time . . . unless you are so tiny we need a microscope, we don't care about your size. Conversely, your size is not enough to keep us around & interested, either. And another thing, having surveyed all members of The Posse, only one guy has been big enough for any of us to admit we were "wowed." But damn, you'd be amazed at all of the guys we have collectively slept with who THINK they are big "down there." LMAO.
10. Another Amen, Dr. Yvonne ;o)

PHUCK, that hurt! (a.k.a. Our Visit to the County Health Department)

Dr. J and I elected to get several shots (on the advice of our G.P.) in advance of our pending summer trip to China. After checking around we learned that one of the shots is ONLY offered by our County Health Department, and they had evening hours one night a week that would accomodate Dr. J's schedule. So off we went, checkbook in hand (check or cash only, please!)

We decided to get the tetanus booster, Hep A, and Hep B vaccines.

This is the sign that greeted us as we walked into the building . . .


Then we saw THIS sign as we waited for the elevator that would take us to the 3rd floor. Immediately, I said to Dr. J, "be careful what you touch while here. And don't touch me at all."

Oh, here's ANOTHER fun sign that had my germ-phobia starting to kick into panic mode . . .

Lemme say, I am NO wimp, okay?! I can, have, and do deal with physical pain just fine, thank you very much.

However, when that nurse put the Hep A & B combo shot into my arm, it hurt! I swear that thing was given intramuscular or something?! And the moment she pulled the needle out I actually winced! YOWZA! Hey, I got allergy shots for years, so I am NOT afraid of needles. And kee-rist after LAST summer's medical follies where my va-jay-jay went through the friggin' wringer I know I am tough enough. But DAMMIT THIS HURT!

We waited the obligatory 5 minutes post-vaccines, and promised to return in one month's time to get the second phase of the Hep shots. And that's when perhaps the "best moment" presented itself out of this whole germy experience. We exited the elevator back on the 1st floor, and I spotted this sign . . .

Immediately, I start cracking up, while making all sorts of highly inappropriate remarks to Dr. J, who is somewhere between wanting to vomit and laugh hysterically. It's at this point that a janitor happens to overhear us, (cue the voice of Nicolas Cage from the movie "Peggy Sue Got Married,"), nods in our direction at the sign and says "THAT'S THE REAL WORLD RIGHT THERE."

LMAO!!!!!!!!! Hullo, are we high right now? Or just dreaming? It was insane. And awesomely bad. Perfect.


A final gross-out photo . . . this, along with other photo examples of highly contagious diseases, were prominently displayed on the walls of the waiting room where we sat for 30 minutes waiting our turn to be jabbed. I made sure to send a copy of it to Jay (Lori's fiance), who promptly replied, "They paid me $100 to pose for that. And $500 for the herpes one -- have you seen it yet?" LMAO!!!!!!!!!!!

Small Steps, Big Leaps of Faith, and Quiet Moments.

A year ago today was thee happiest day of my life. I found out I was pregnant, and despite some tragic history, was feeling really hopeful about this third chance. And for a while, Life was wonderful, and beautiful.

Then something terrible happened -- we got the news that she was too small, and probably not going to make it. And that is what went on to occur, devastating us. So, just as the Due Date for that baby hurt like hell, so does the memory of the date I first learned she was alive inside of me.

Pulling yourself together after such profound grief, and learning to go on, and even contemplating trying again is amazingly difficult. Even still. And its why, even with the pending adoption of our Lil' Pumpkin, I still have moments when I am cynical and scared. I now expect Disappointment in my life. The vulnerability I have acquired often keeps me from preventing it.

But on Saturday I did something that was really difficult for me.

I bought baby clothes for Lil' Pumpkin.

I have avoided doing this ever since we started our "Path to Parenthood," because it felt like I'd be jinxing the whole thing.

With m/c's #2 and #3, it seemed that just when I started to allow myself to dream a little bit, by looking at nursery bedding online (yes, online, not even in-person at the store), our world was shattered shortly thereafter by the loss of our baby.

But Dr. J had to go to the mall to return something anyway, so I shyly asked him if he would accompany me to take those scary steps into the store. I wasn't sure if I'd even be able to buy anything, or if the fear and doubts would take over. He assured me that he would be there to reassure me, and gave me a big hug. And I cried (what else is new, lol?!)

We went into Children's Place, and I bought two pink t-shirts, and one pair of pink shorts for Lil' Pumpkin. I thought they'd be good mix & match items, versatile, and appropriate choices since we'd be picking her up in the high heat of a southern China summer.

Then we went to Target, and picked out just a few more little items, like an adorable hoodie (I seriously LUV this hoodie), a lil' shirt that Dr. J liked, a pair of khaki shorts, and her first pair of jean shorts.

It was truly a leap of faith to do this. A small act, but it required enormous bravery on my part. It meant I had to dig deep and have some faith, and allow Hope to occupy just a tad more room in my heart.

I hope she (Hope) sticks around.

So through my tears, today, I am also looking ahead, and allowing myself little moments to dream. To think about all the things that we were going to do with the baby lost last year . . . and all the things we WILL do with the baby we will welcome home in just a few months.

Fun at The Mall

OMG, I do not know if we ever had such an amazing people-watching opportunity dropped into our lap, before?!

We were headed to the mall (more on that in a subsequent post) and we suddenly noticed that the parking lot was beyond full. Beyond Saturday-before-Christmas FULL. It was insane. Cars everyone, people creating spots where none existed, tons of parking illegally.

Why, we wondered?! I was guessing that Miley Cyrus was making an appearence at the mall. I briefly thought it was tryouts for "America's Next Top Model," but that thought was quickly banished from my mind when I saw all of the ugly people inside the mall.

And there . . . were . . . people . . . EVERY FRIGGIN' WHERE inside. Really. There were lines snaking over every conceivable spot of walking space inside the mall, top and bottom levels. We walked into The Gap to return a birthday present from Dr. J's aunt and I inquired of the sales girl "WTF is going on here?!"

The answer? Tryouts for "Deal or No Deal." ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Nope, she wasn't. Apparently people had been camping out in the parking lot since Thursday, coming from Rhode Island, New Jersey, and a whole slew of other states to try out for the show. Dr. J wanted to go outside and shout "Hey everyone, I just saw Howie Mandel walk into Victoria's Secret" and watch the sheeple run accordingly. LMAO.

We ran into a woman from our church and her two kids, and we all had a good laugh at just how insane people are. There were THOUSANDS (yes, thousands) of people still outside, winding around in a long line, still waiting to get in!

Ever the troublemaker (and never passing up an opportunity to say something outrageous) I actually leaned over the railing from the second floor and shouted down to the people below "Hey, they closed the auditions -- they said they're not interviewing anyone else!" Hee-hee!!!

I think we were most dumbfounded by how U-G-L-Y the overwhelming majority of people in line were. It's one thing to be less than a physical specimen of beauty, but these folks were slovenly on top of it. Seriously, people, what makes you think an old, grubby, t-shirt, carrying around 60 extra pounds, and (ladies) a hairstyle you haven't updated since 1986 is going to make a casting director snap their fingers and say "YES -- THAT is who I want to put on t.v.!!!"

Really, people. Really.

The only thing that would have made this people-watching moment more perfect is if we had booze. Oh, that would have been SO sweet!

I hope another t.v. show comes to town again soon to conduct auditions. We are sooooo going back, and gonna each pack a flask to enhance the experience. Cheers!

Marrying Up. Or Down.

I don't think it's any secret that in most marriages (or couplehoods) there is inevitably some lack of parity. A stroll around the mall makes this readily apparent. How often have you seen a goodlooking guy with a less-goodlooking girl and thought to yourself, "She must be hell in bed!" Or seen a beautiful woman with a so-so looking guy and figured "Either he makes gooooood money" or "Maybe he's a good listener" or something to that effect?!

Turns out that there is scientific proof, or something like that. Okay, maybe not scientific proof exactly, but maybe a "method to the madness" as they say.

I can't think of anyone I know well enough to call a friend (maybe a couple of acquaintanceas) that is in a relationship in which it's the guy who is the better-looking one. I don't know what that says about all of these people, or me (maybe I gravitate toward people who have similar types of expectations in their intimate relationships?!)

I think most of us are generally more comfortable accepting that a beautiful woman can love a less-beautiful (physically) man. But who ever believes the opposite?! Don't we all squint our eyes in suspicion if we see a goodlooking man with a woman who is less attractive, or chubby? Why is that?!

Eh, at least I admit to it, I suppose.

Spring has SPRUNG!

FINALLY, we had a truly beautiful day around here!

Evidence:

• I was treated to lunch at a "soul food" place that has been all the rage, and got to eat outdoors.
• I barely turned on the space heater in my office today (it's a super-cold office most of the time).
• I skipped the gym and jogged outdoors after work.
• I opened the gas bill when I got home, and it was $80 CHEAPER THAN LAST MONTHS!!! WOOOOO-HOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
• The local ball team blew it and lost the home opener.

Next up . . . time to break out the lil' dresses, lose the nylons, and lather on the extra moisturizer to make that skin summery smooth :o)

R.I.P. Old Friend

So saddened to hear that Charlton Heston has passed on to Heaven. What a guy! Me, Dr. J, Noah, Adrian, Kirk, and so many more loved the dude.

It may be for the best, since he was so ill from Alzheimer's over the past few years, but damn the guy had one hell of a resume.

Of course, I hafta wonder . . . when he died, did they finally get the gun out of his "cold dead, hand", or are they just gonna bury him with it?!

WE LOVE YA, DUDE!

Bad Blogger

I have been a bad, bad, blogger lately.

I have LOTS to say, just too little time to type it out. Busy with a sudden project in my personal life.

Work also has me waaaaay busy, since it's Primary Season in my state, and a lot of my job involves the political realm.

So I am going to cheat and do a "Random Musings" list of unflitered thoughts that have popped into my mind recently:

• J.Lo -- honey, please stop pretending those twins are "just completely natural." We all KNOW you had fertility help. That's okay, we love you anyway! We know you have suffered m/c's, and we're happy for you. But please, stop kidding us, okay?!


• Dammit, I need to get a new purse. My shit don't fit -- evidenced by the apparent disappearing act of my blessed Ray-Bans. (Cue me pouting and tearing up). I can't not live without sunglasses. I have SUPER-sensitive eyes, the kind that blink in pain if I get near a light bulb, I swear. I never even turn on the lights in my office. PLEASE RAY-BANS, FIND YOUR WAY BACK TO ME! I swear I will invest in a bigger, more fashionable purse if you come back to mama!!!


• Where can I find an inexpensive throw rug for a bedroom? Other than Target, I have no clue. Eh, maybe IKEA, if they aren't too funky.


• WHY THE PHUCK DOESN'T IKEA HAVE WEDDING AND BABY REGISTRIES?! Seriously, this is ridiculous!!!!!!! TONS of people furnish their homes and nurseries via IKEA -- I just can't understand this?!


• It sucks that 2.0 and MH live thousands of miles away. I need them here, to make The Posse complete.


• There are waaaaaay too many children's sippy cups on the market. People, it's a sippy cup, not technology that launches the space shuttle. Designers, get a friggin' life and find something new to re-invent for gawd's sake!

Okay, time to go stalk the blogs of the strangers whose world's I am fascinated by.

Still Hearting Howard

Had another massage from Howard. Ahhhhhh.

The funny part was just prior to the massage when I was in the bathroom getting changed. Another woman was in there, with her friend, and they both had just received massages. One woman was raving to the other about the masterful fingers of the young man who has just rubbed her.

I looked at her and said "You must be talking about Howard." She replied "Ohhhh, yes!"

I then triumpiantly said to her, "I had him two weeks ago. And I have another appointment with him in 5 minutes!"

The woman looked at me like I had just stolen her date for the Prom. It was awesome!

I relayed all of this to Howard, and added "It was like two high school girls having a near verbal catfight over you, hee hee!" I know he got a kick out of this tale :o)

The massage was divine. He even rubbed my, um, well, bum. I love a good bum rub. Mmmmmm. He even tucked the sheet into the tops of my low-slung panties when he was working his way down my back. If he hadn't been 23, and if it hadn't been a professional setting, I might have moaned "take me now, boy!" LMAO!!!!!!!!!!!

I am such a sucker for a good massage, and the bum rub is just the icing on the cake.

If I was ever taken as a P.O.W. my captors wouldn't have to torture me. I would sing like a canary if they gave me a massage and plied me with good wine ;o)

Jesse, Jesse, Jesse

We haven't had a good ol' Jesse story in a while. Which is why I was delighted when I woke up this morning and found he had sent us ("FireCracker"/me, his sister-in-law "ManHands"/Adrian, and "Chrissie"/Kirsten) this lil' gem late last night.

I love Jesse. It's like glimpsing in upon my Dad, 20 years ago. He's such a cad, ya can't help but loving him. He makes me wish I could be a guy once in a while, just to pull off such wickedly masterful sexual chess moves. Well played, Jesse, as always! We bow in your princely presence ;o)

Without further ado, Jesse, in his own words . . . .

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

I am getting old.

Well...okay one story...

This week ... Monday... well ... you may recall I told you about a girl named Morgan. I wrote you about a time maybe 6 months ago, when she invited me over to her place where she lived with her boyfriend. For a BBQ. She is HOT girl from Indiana. 25 years old, free spirit. etc. Looks like the girl next door... well ... really she looks like the girl that was in the Eastwood movie about the boxer. Hillary Swank I think. Yes. Exactly like her but dark hair.

I was so happy to go because she has a handful of hot 20-something friends.

Well, I did not score any friends. But I kept friends with her, knowing full well her Indiana boyfirend was nice, but wasn't gonna be able to hold up against the guys like me out here for long. She is just too hot and friendly. A nightmare to have for a girlfriend for sure, flirtatious, drinks a lot, sexual ... bad news for any boyfriend.

Sure enough, they break up a month or so ago. She calls for help getting her stuff back, I arrange it, I don't call her afterwards.

She texts, "We should get a beer", we do. I'm cool, no hitting on her at all, just gettin her drunk and making her laugh. (I am buying drinks). I take her home, I am cool ... she sits next to me ... we make out, she is saying stuff like, 'This isn't gonna make it weird if I'm out with other guys, etc. I mean, you gotta promise me to be cool" etc. I'm like, "yeah don't be calling me all the time and shit" I pull part one of the move of all time. Sensing she is worried about my age and if I'm gonna get too attached and she doesn't want to go all the way yet, I mean she does, I know, but she doesn't want to be too slutty. So ... I just leave. I say hey thanks so much for spending your time with me, I gotta go, hope I see you soon.

She thinks I'm 35. So got that lie workin, But I think lying about your age is okay.

The following week. I do not call her, but then I have cause to go to a place where her hot friend Brittney works. I talk business with Brittney (both these girls are really cool and smart actually). Brit is not as hot as Morgan. But hot.

Part two of the move: I text Morgan, that " I just did some work with Brittney, she is pretty hot. Sneaky hot. Didn't realize it at first." She texts back "yeah, I know".

I don't let go because I'mplaying with her insecurities now ... text back: "Her heat is not right away like yours, You were hot when I first saw you she is a later hot". I know she talks to Brittney every ten minutes.

The next day she texts that I should get sushi with her that night. I say no. but I'd do beers after, and I'll call her at 8.

I text. she is done eating, went home, I text ... do you want to get a beer?

And I wait. I know that if she wants to see me right now ... it's on. If she says no ... it will never happen but it will happen with Brittney.

She says ok. I go to get condoms.

I pick her up, take her to the local bar. get her drunk as hell. take her home, we go in and her shirt is off in about 4 minutes (bra I removed in one minute). She says "you gotta promise me it's not gonna get weird with you, guys change" -- she meant like I'd want to be her boyfriend. I laughed. "No worries there beauty".

Got her naked and she went WILD. Crazy good sex. Great ... But I am old, and after once I was done and wanting to go (still had my undershirt, and socks on) . I put on drawers and one leg of jeans and she is curling up in my lap all naked with the "doon't goooo ... I want you to stayyy"... " Gotta go, sorry, had enough beer to snore all night and you won't sleep anyway" "So its just fuck me and leave" ..."well....yeah, but no reflection on you, you know I'm busy and I got shit I gotta do".

So I just left her ass. Wednesday, my buddy I own horses with had a food/wine pairing thing at his resteraunt, I failed to get Kia to come, so then, I hit Morgan last minute ... (one hour prior) ... she says I'll be ready in 15 minutes ... We did have a Blast.

Life is pretty good.

Liz wants me over at her sister's party tonight, but I'm kinda poor, and tired, so I'm going to bed. And dream about Britney. or Kia, but not Morgan ... If I do that I'll lose my edge.

Please forward this to Doc J.

I Heart Being Touched

Last Saturday I had a divine massage from that young buck, Howard.

This week I had another one, by another young guy, named Jamie. I was the recipient of Jamie's magic touch at a chic spa in my city.

Normally I would not indulge in a masage at someplace so upscale, of course. But this was a gift, courtesy of a friend who is very dear to me. It was given to me, no strings attached, on a day when I was at a very low moment (really, the lowness factor was bottoming out). I was so surprised when I received the gift card for it (okay, blown away is more like it). And even more touched by the thoughtfulness. I was, like, speechless (which, if you know me, is kind of an impossible situation to imagine -- but trust me, I was). I will never forget that moment . . . like someone had tossed me a life preserver as I was drowning, and said "hey, I see you out there in the ocean, hold on!"

Yesterday afternoon, in between attending the a.m. & p.m. church services with my brother for his RCIA process into the Catholic Church (I am his Sponsor), I hustled to have my much anticipated massage. Jamie was young, sweet, and specialized in deep tissue massage. Perfect. He even turned on the steam machine and aimed it towards my back as he worked on other parts of my body -- the warm, moist heat felt amazing (oh crap, this sounds like total porn right now, LOL). After he was done kneading my legs he took a large, hot, wet washcloth and pressed it into my back, while applying firm pressure onto the knots he found. I would have groaned out loud (in pleasure) if I weren't afraid of being judged a perv, hee hee!

I was so relaxed by the end of the hour I wished I had the money to book the room for the rest of the afternoon, just to nap. It would have been divine if I could have just layed there for a while longer, all Zen-ed out, and slipped off into DreamLand. My body felt like it was in a mediatative trance. I hated to leave this "Den of Zen," but finally mustered up the energy to get dressed (boo!) and go home. The good feeling lasted though, and I managed to sleep better last night than I have in weeks.

If only I could somehow end every day with a massage . . . . Mmmmmm!

I Heart Howard

There's a new man in my life. His name is "Howard," and I heart him (ya know, like one of those t-shirts with the big red heart instead of the word "love"?!)

Let me explain.

About two weeks ago I saw an ad in a local community magazine advertising that a local technical school was offering massages, performed by their massage students-in-training, at a discounted rate. Well, I know how useful an experience this is for the students, as Dr. J's school had a student-clinic (under the watchful supervision of the professor-doctors), and the students get sooooo much out of it. Add into this that the massages were being offered at a steeply discounted rate and I was jazzed about the opportunity!

And yesterday was my appointment. I was assigned to Howard. He was about 23 years old, dark curly hair, warm personality, cute, and . . . had . . . great . . . hands. Ahhhhhhhhh! Seriously, in a non-sexual way, he made me a VERY happy woman!

When I got in the car to drive home I checked out my face in the mirror, and DAMN, if I didn't have thee most sated, fulfilled, blissful expression on it ;o)

Immediately afterwards, I booked another appointment with Howard for two weeks from now.

I HEART HOWARD!!!!!!!!!!!