Is This Wrong?

I feel kinds skeevy about this . . . I have been addicted to working out to the Chri.s Br.own song "With You" lately. I love bopping along to it, eyes closed, on my treadmill. What makes me feel skeevy is that I downloaded the song after he beat the shit outta Rihan.na. Sigh. Damn you, Chris! BAD, BAD, BAD :o(

But ever since I saw Heidi Klum walk down the runway for the televised Vic.toria's Sec.ret show, blowing and wink at her husband S.eal in the audience, I have adored this song. Something about it reminds me of my own husband. Not the smacking-the-shit-outta-your-woman thing, of course, LOL. But the song is sweet, and there is this element of beating the odds and overcoming a bunch of crap that I find implied within the lyrics.

Maybe it's because Dr. J wouldn't laugh at my secret desire to be a VS runway girl, either, even though my dream job is to be Chief of Staff for a Republican President or Vice-President. He isn't threatened by my career success, my lack of a verbal filter, and can make it mentally mesh with my desire to be feminine and girly all at the same time.

And of course he fully supports my pretending to be a VS model, hee hee, by wearing their fashions.

Especially the bras. And especially lately (and if you know us in real life you know what I mean). Gawd, they are looking goooooood ;o)

Grief and Anger

I wish I still had my first blog, and could link to it, and the post I wrote about how among the thousands of innocent lives that were extinguished on September 11, 2001, was that of the extraordinary Father Mychal Judge.

I remain as angry as I was those first hours. I still weep with as much emotion and grief for those who perished, and those who were left behind, both their families, and the first responders and security personnel who lived this so intimately.

I still want thousands of scum, and that's what they are, SCUM, to be rounded up, tortured to within an inch of their lives, and made to suffer. And then I want God to deliver final justice to them.

Thank you, military service members and their families, thank you police officers, fire fighters, and EMS workers. You are always the first people I thank in my prayers, and I teach my little daughter to have the same respect. God Bless You all, and may God continue to Bless America!

Laying in Repose

Yeah, sorry, I have been sucky about updating this blog. So much has been happening in my life (that I won't/can't comment on here) that I didn't trust myself. I was afraid to spout off, truth be told.

Anyhoo, back to the topic at hand . . . Laying in Repose. Okay, so Teddy Kennedy is laying in repose at his brother's library. Anybody else think it should have been in a bar that serves high-end vodka? Shit, that was terrible of me.

But it got me to thinking, WHERE would I want to "lay in repose" so that yinz could come pay your respects to moi? I have narrowed it down to:

• Winery in Northern California (Cakebread, Duckhorn, or Quivara, perhaps?)
• One of the newer Krispy Kreme stores
• A Japanese hibachi restaurant (love 'em)

Based on my choices, I suppose I want my mourners to have a chance to eat or imbibe as they reflect on my life and times. Unfortunately, it's against state law (at least ours) to have food served in a funeral home, hence the need for me to move it off-site. Eh, in the old days they had the body laying in the family house, and the mourners just came there.

I wonder where those I love would chose for their "laying in repose"? Dr. J would probably chose some high end golf course (Torrey Pines? Augusta?)

That's My Guy!

I have been a fan of Congressman Peter King for a while. It's tough enough to be a Republican, let alone one on Long Island. But King is smart, says what he thinks, and means it. Which includes not getting caught up in the MJ-worship, especially as it clouded over the sympbolism of the Independence Day weekend.

Yes, I feel sorry for MJ's kids. Having watched my own daughter be terrified and consumed by grief, my heart aches for them.

However, I am standing by Congressman King and his remarks.

Let's roll the clip . . .

Billy Mays

We were saddened and shocked to hear the news about Bill Mays. With all of the celeb-deaths lately (Farrah, Ed McMahon, Mi.chael Ja.ckson, Fred Travelina), I care most about Billy. Think about it . . . this guy had more impact and effect on the average person's life (or house or possessions) than any of the so-called bona-fide celebrities. And ya gotta admire someone this scrappy, who schills the ol' fashion way, but taking the salesmanship to a new level. My stepfather grew up in the same neighborhood as Mr. Mays and knew him as a youth (which I didn't know until last night).


Dr. J liked Billy Mays, but in the past 6 or so months he has been lured to the dark side, becoming a Vince Shlomi groupie. Vince, you probably know better as the "Sham-WOW" guy on the infomercials. As soon as we learned of Mr. Mays' death, I turned to Dr. J and said "I hope your Vince has an airtight alibi!"

I have to add in a Biden-quip, in our never-ending quest to work Biden into all scenarios . . . had Biden been the paramedic who responded to the Mays' 911 call, Billy would be alive today. But Biden can't do everything (he has to save some things for Chuck Norris, right?!).

Makes me wanna go out and stock up on the products Billy pitched, as a final tribute.

WE "HEART" YOU, BILLY!!!!!!!!!!!!

UPDATE: Thanks to Chrissie, for alerting me to the fact that ol' Vince is a thug! Yep, I'd say this makes him the prime suspect, eh?!

Sanford & Sin (how overused it THAT?!)

Okay, while everyone in the media and political circles is a'busy ridin' high on their proverbial horse about oh-how-wrong or oh-how-the-mighty-have-fallen Governor Sanford is, I am gonna take a slightly different tack.

I should first disclose that I do not give TWO SHITS what someone does in their personal, se.xual life. Seriously. So long as it does not involve children or animals, I. DO. NOT. GIVE. TWO. SHITS! I don't believe in those kind of Litmus Tests when it comes to holding elected office. Now, do I want someone who abuses drugs or alcohol, or is unkind to animals or abuses (physically or mentally) their children serving the public via elected office?! A big, fat, "NO!" But if it has to do with matters of their se.x life, I don't care. Things are scary on the economic front, we are facing giant terro.rism issues (domestic and abroad), and I have my own day-to-day crap to contend with. So, Sanford (or insert whomever else is gettin' play on the side) is having a side of fries with their happ.y meal? Yawn. Next!

But here is what I find intriguing about the Sanford situation . . . have you read the emails?! I am actually impressed at how thoughtful they seem. Whether he is or not, they seem rather heartfelt, with that long-distance/circumstances-preventing quality to it. When I heard the media report there were emails, I was expecting "Oooh baby, your t*ts are so fine, I can't wait to phuck you again," yadda yadda. So, what they did exhange was quite a surprise to me.

Still, it was a dumb ass move on his part to try and keep a trip to Argentina on the ol' down low. DUDE, you are the GOVERNOR of state! You can't be pullin' disappearing acts, ya know?! How can a guy be smart enough to get elected governor, yet dumb enough to drive HIS OWN SUV to the airport, and fly under his own name (I realize, you can't fly under a fake name anymore), and venture to a FOREIGN COUNTRY. Cuckoo, anyone?! I don't think he should resign over this. But I do think his judgement should be questioned for making so many dumb ass moves - this guy is in charge of the S.C. Nat'l Guard?! Shouldn't his Cloak & Dagger skills be just a wee bit better, therefore?!

Biden blogging

I realized that we need a place in which to record all of the amazing things Joe Biden does, that he is not getting credit for in the media. Like landing that plane safely on the Hudson (LOL, it wasn't Sully, that's a coverup!) Or rescuing those sailors taken captive by the pirates (please, Navy seals my ass). It was BIDEN, baby! He rescues kittens from trees repeatedly, he sorts recycling in urban neighborhoods, he shovels the snow of the White House driveways, and so much more. And the media IGNORES all of this!

Remember that plane a few days ago, flying across the Atlantic, in which the pilot died and the co-pilot had to take over? First of all, the co-pilot was "Roger Murdoch," (hullo, Kareem Abdul Jabar), and what you didn't hear was that Biden was dispatched from his bunker, and a cable was hooked up from Air Force Two to the plane. Biden then zip-lined it into the plane, served drinks and passed peanuts to the passengers, and THEN landed that plane safely.

WHY DOESN'T BIDEN GET CREDIT FOR THESE DEEDS?! Conservative conspiracy, I tell ya.

Angels (that's my peeps in Cali), please make sure to remind me to record other Biden acts as we become aware of them - if we don't stand up for Biden, who will be left to stand up for us?!

Happy Father's Day (oh bee-have!)

I could take a few minutes to write about how Dr. J is such a wonderful father (he is), and how much Lil Pumpkin loves him (she does). But I don't think either of us will remember his first Father's Day for any of those sentimental reasons.

Instead, Dr. J will remember, for the first time, being thankful for Caill.ou, and how it captures Lil Pumpkin's attention completely.

So that WE could both have a few free minutes be upstairs while she was occupied downstairs. Which prompted us, for the first time ever, to utter the line "Just a minute, sweetheart, Mummy is, uh, helping Daddy with something upstairs. We'll be downstairs in a minute!"

[Cue the adult giggling and mad scramble to put back on our clothes, ("Where are my shorts?!") and return back to the first floor before Lil Pumpkin's inquiries escalated into wails].

Hee hee.

Oh, and here is probably our best verbal exchange of the day:

• Ms. J: "I forgot to get you a card. Hope you don't mind."
• Dr. J: "This is better. It has sound effects."

Get a Grip, SENATOR MA'AM!

What an idiot. Seriously, she is a fruitcake on may issues, but I am aghast that she would feel the need to direct an Army Brigadier General to call her "Senator." And then follow up with "It's just a thing, I worked so hard to get that title, so I'd appreciate it," . . . um, 'cause the Brigadier General didn't work, um, HARDER, to get HIS title?!


Lady, get your thumb out of your ass and wise up. Ever hear of military protocol?! It's not an insult* to be called "ma'am," especially in the military. It's a sign of respect and infinitely good manners.

* For the record, as long as it's being done with respect and/or affection (and especially if said by a man with a southern accent), I enjoy being called "Sweetie," "Honey," or referred to as a "girl".

WWCND?

We have been re-decorating (or trying to, at least) our bedroom. We haven't done squat to it since moving into our house over two years ago (that's sad, huh?!), and well, it's time.

In trying to be resourceful, but creative, I went into a fabric store (cue the scary music) to look for potential fabric for curtains. I ran across this "wall art" appliques and purchased an NYC city skyline for us to potentially put on one wall (looks great with a brightly colored wall behind it). It got me thinking to wall quotes that I have seen on some decorating sites. Now, normally I think these look good, but that people choose dumb ass, hokey, mushy quotes that essentially de-ball any man who portends to live in that abode.

So Dr. J and I got to thinking . . . why not put up an outrageous quote in our bedroom, that makes US laugh, and satisfies US?! Hell, it's OUR BEDROOM, and it's no supposed to be a crowdpleaser, just a WE-pleaser!

Which brought us to Chuck Norris (of course, LOL), and the awesome Chuck Norris Facts site. It's probably been a good year since we were on this web site, and damn, it makes us laugh so hard and loud every time!!! Seriously, it felt like old times as we giggled over them. So, yeah, we're being all low-rent and actually considering putting a Chuck Norris Fact on our bedroom walls. It's OUR room, after all. And if it puts us in a playful mood, and feel connected, then, well, isn't that The Point?!

(Think the Realtor will want us to remove it when it comes time to sell, LMAO?!)

T-6

Well, it's ON. Date Night, or DOUBLE-DATE night, is on!

I am not sure which I am more excited about . . . an actual DATE NIGHT for Dr. J and I, or getting together with our totally awesome cousins, "Dan" and "Nancy" (yes, there is the need to hide their identities, because of their occupations, just like Dr. J and I have to stay semi-anonymous to protect our public identities, too)?!

This will probably be more tame than some of our previous togethers for the simple reason that we are now all parents who, no matter blitzed or blasted we get, no matter how wild the night . . . we are STILL gonna have to be up bright and early the following day with our respective little girls. Sure, both of us couples' could easily get a set of grandparents to take our Little Princesses for the night - but I don't think either couple is yet ready for that (even if our daughters are).

Dr. J and I truly need some grown-up time, away from the bitching and moaning about shit having to do with the house & bills & the other awful responsibilities that come with being an adult. And we both are guaranteed some good laughs and family gossip via Dan, with Nancy there to validate and keep all of us hooligans in check.

Thinking back over the pre-parenthood days with Dan and Nancy inspired me to pull-up and re-post my favorite photo of Dan (which I took, after Dr. J and I duct-taped the dumb ass to his floor when he got smashed at his little sister's wedding reception). I am such a smart ass that the following year I actually framed this photo and made it a Bingo prize at our annual Thankgiving gathering (we play Bingo). How can you not look forward to seeing someone who provides you with this opportunity?! And for the record, Nancy was right there when we duct-taped her husband, shaking her head and saying "it's his own fault for getting this drunk."

Fittingly, we are going to the drive in to see the new movie, "Hangover." LMAO!!!!!!!!!

Back to Political Blogging . . .

It is complete bullshit that O.bama is allowed to get away with this. The double standard, the press corps hypocrisy . . . mind-boggling! Having worked for a quasi-gov't agency that was told by the Governor to use the phucked-up equation of "for every $88,000 in grant money, we count it as one white-collar job, and for every $44,ooo as one blue-collar job," and yet there were no REAL metrics demonstrating this, well, I understand all too well that the spew coming out of the Ob.ama Administration is utter, magical, bullshit.

Cue the unicorns and rainbows!

The Media Fall for Phony 'Jobs' Claims

Surburbia Sunday

My gawd, my husband expanded his yardwork repetoire. Call the media! Hey, I give him loads of credit . . . I was explicit when we bought this house, "I do not do yardwork nor home improvement." And I have stuck to it. Dr. J loathes the yardwork too, having been dispatched to do some of these chores for his mother as a youth (bad memories).

So, I hafta admit, the fact that he DOES do some of these things, well, I find it hot! Sure, I am gonna mock him without mercy, and treat him like the hired help (ooh lah lah), but it is sexy when a man does stuff around the house, especially when it's something outside of their comfort zone.


While Dr. J did the manual labor, I played lifeguard to our Lil Pumpkin, who played in her wading pool on our front lawn. (When she needed additional water added to it, I called for "the poolboy" to come fill it up, hee hee). It was a very white-trash/low-rent moment, as I was laying on our front lawn, sipping Chilean wine from a plastic cup (because I didn't want to risk breaking one of my beautiful Spiegelau bordeaux goblets), wearing my two-piece bathing suit, while monitoring our gorgeous Chinese ball of frenetic energy splash and jump around.

Dr. J managed to capture a relaxed, mellowed smile on my face, while I stiffled a laugh since our Lil Pumpkin had her sunglasses on upside down!

When I reviewed the photos he had taken, I figured out why "the poolboy/landscaper" had been so eager to photograph the Lady of The House . . .

Down boy, down! (But thanks for the flattering photography, nonetheless!)

Frank Discussions Among Family

My first cousin and I are very close, having been raised much like sisters. She has been an amazing source of strength to me, as well as a terrific example as a mother. And that's probably why years ago (15 years?), I took her recommendation when it came to selecting a dentist. Hullo Dr. Hot Brothers!!! One is beefcake hot, the other more preppy hot. When I was younger I was into Dr. Preppy Dentist (Dr. Jay), and she preferred Dr. Beefcake (Dr. Bryan). Now that we are older, we like both equally. Okay, more like COVET both equally.

So I just HAD to torture my cousin with the knowledge that I would see Dr. Beefcake today for a dental appointment.

The texting literally went like this ('cause I saved 'em on my phone):

• Ms. J: " I will have a hot man in my mouth later today - Dr. Bryan!"
• Cousin: "Enjoy sloppy seconds. I had him on Saturday morning for an appointment."
• Ms. J: "You are just a fluffer for him. He will be ready for the real thing at 5 pm today."

Ya gotta love family!!!!!!!!!!

By the way . . . I think I primped more in the bathroom just prior to being seen by him that I do before important business meetings, LOL!

And another by the way (since my beloved cousin reads this occasionally) . . . my mouth is ACHY tonight! Oh, Dr. Bryan worked me over good! (Um, that's because I forgot to go last year and he did lots of magic today with his special TOOL, hee hee). That means there was lots of scraping, people!

I could seriously go for ice cream right now (haven't I earned it?!) I would actively whine to my husband, who would dutifully go buy some for me . . . but he is upstairs painting our bedroom, and I don't wanna take him off task (and yeah, I know it's just a clever excuse to watch the game without me bitching about how the hockey season is too phucking long!!!!!!!!!!)

Two Outta Three Ain't Bad

As we drove to the local car dealerships for our Day of Hell, I told Dr. J I had three goals:

1. Drive home a new vehicle at the conclusion
2. Not feel like I had been ass-phucked at the end of the experience
3. Still be speaking to Dr. J afterwards

Two outta of the three goals were achieved. Wanna guess which was not???????

The first one . . . was not. BUT we made progress. And we even have a new dark horse in the mix, thanks to a chance meeting with the sales manager at the Toyo.ta dealership, who recognized us from church. Yippee!!! He gave us an additional option that we had not previously considered, and is on the lookout for end of the month rebates, financing options, and specials since we can wait a couple of weeks (but barely . . . seriously, the sounds being emitted by our shit-mobile on the way to pick up Lil Pumpkin were frightening).

By the way . . . two funny moments happened during the day. The first at the H.onda dealer, who was giving me a hard time bout the numbers n' all that. He asked Dr. J what he did for a living, and he replied "massage therapist" (we knew if he learned what Dr. J did, any leverage Ms. J had gained up to this point would evaporate - I am sure he googl.ed his name the moment we were out the door, though). Second funny moment . . . at the Toy.ota dealer when the sales manager recognized us from church and introduced himself, Dr. J quipped, "hey, does this mean we get the Christian discount?!"

Honey, I love when you are NOT trying to be funny . . . nobody makes me laugh like you do ;o)

P.S. I love you for agreeing to drive the color of that Hon.da F.it we test drove, those I still have doubts about your ability to not get your ass kicked over the color! But it sure was purrrrty!

Just So You Know I am Not a Total Bitch . . .

. . . I just emailed Dr. J (in response to something he sent me), that if he promises that the hockey season is over TONIGHT, I will happily buy Chinese food from our favorite place, sans bitching.

Hee hee. I just loathe the length of the hockey season. It's ridiculous.

Scared But Plugging/Perspective

Two new "hits" (as I call 'em) have once again knocked me back on my ass. One is a change in health insurance at my normally wonderful, big girl job - which could essentially cost me $1,250-$2,500 a year. The other is an out of nowhere (and undeserved) doubling of interest rate on my sole credit card (and I am a good customer, carrying a balance but not too big of one).

I had just started to feel like maybe, just maybe, things were settling down. Like we just might finally treading be adequately treading water. But I don't handle surprises well (okay, I handle them like a trauma victim who has been scared shitless, and I freak out and hyperventilate), and I literally have been on the verge of panic attacks all week. I actually had two in a row yesterday, and the lump that formed in my throat felt like I was being swiftly strangled to death.

Nothing, NOTHING, is more sacred to me than financial stability. Alright, first it's my kid's health and safety (but geez, that's the same for everybody). THEN, it's financial stability. Notice I didn't say financial "security," I have switched to "stability" as my emotional survival plan. I keep thinking I should be comforted by the fact that lots of people are having even harder times right now . . . but gawd, I don't give a shit. I care about MY shit, not their shit!!!

I am tired of the up and down feelings . . . one minute I am minute hopeful, one minute sad. One minute delighted, one minute exasperated. One minute re-charged, one minute rundown. One minute invigorated, one minute resigned. One minute treading, one minute slipping. LOL, if going back on anxiety meds would eliminate the trick I'd do it - but then I'd be bitching about the co-pay and the weight gain (which would in turn cause me to need to buy bigger clothes, and once again I'd have even NEWER shit to be upset about, yippee!!!)

I am trying (trying) to locate my lost balance, and put it back together. I see bits and pieces of it from time to time . . . Lil Pumpkin getting more independent, she is back to her regular self after some regressive weeks post-surgery, and she is much more comfortable with transitions. I am finding that I am doing a better job at working more efficiently within the hours I do have, and even managing (some days) to haul ass outta bed wee early and plunk onto the treadmill. It ain't perfect, but it's better. Dr. J is doing a much better job at keeping up on things around the house, and even semi-power cooking more than half of the time. We are close to resolving 1/2 of our car woes (please, Jesus!), and maybe, just maybe, our meeting with the bank manager will result in some restructuring that will result in: (A) me breathing, (B) Dr. J feeling empowered, and (C) less tension between us. I won't even hope for (D) some excess money to go out to (gasp) dinner on occasion, but if it happens, mazel tov!

The mantra that Deanna (who brought home 11 month old twin girls from China) gave me helps when it comes to Lil Pumpkin -- "think back not to yesterday, but a month ago, and see how things have gotten better, gotten easier, gotten more manageable. "

Now I just need a mantra to help me deal with my financial anxiety. Right now the best I can come up with is "Everybody else feels phucked, too. Please refill my wine glass!"

Speaking of which, we need to restock.

Apparently The Thief Didn't See the Value

I got a phone call from my boss on Mother's Day . . . over the weekend our offices were broken into, and whoever did it kicked open every office door (our individual offices have doors on them), and riffled through stuff, but they didn't take any higher value items (like computers or digital/camera/etc equipment), nor did they steal any credit card receipts/checks. Some loose change on people's desks and in drawers were taken, though.

My boss said he wanted to prepare me because I might have to take some time on Monday to clean up items that were overturned, tossed, messed up, etc. Okay, I am IN my office and, uh, yeah, I can hardly tell a difference. Probably because it was such a mess to begin with, LOL!

There were a few file drawers opened, but I am too cheap to leave loose change laying around that I am sure I disappointed the thief(s). The one thing that has me sorta cracking up (but sorta sad) is what is still in my desk drawer that has been there for, oh, well over a year now and I have never remembered to throw out (or donate to another woman) . . . a set of digital OV kits. LMAO!!!!!!!! I had to keep 'em at work once upon a time cause of the time of day I was testing. I actually remember the day the last time I used them, and had gotten that "Smiley Face" on it, and how that sometime within the next 24 hours we conceived our lost angel, Gabrielle. It has always felt a little wrong to throw out that kit (yes the pee strip was pitched, LOL), since it was something that connected me to "that time, that place."

Let me be clear . . . I never, NEVER, never want to go through that again. I never want to try again. What I have NOW, is sooooo much better than any child I could ever imagine. And infinitely more beautiful.

Mother's Day was yesterday, and it's the first time ever I was able to be a Mummy to what those in my world call a RLB (real live baby). And it was wonderful. SHE is wonderful. Right down to the part in church yesterday when the priest started to go a bit long on his homily and she stood up, spread her arms wide, and exclaimed "ALL DONE", making several rows of parishoners laugh.

Work Woes

I am now firm in my conclusion . . . I could spend the next couple weeks (months?) doing nothing but filing and re-organizing my 3 gazillion friggin' work emails and STILL not be done with it. I hate having to save every gawddamn email I get - but in the era of C.Y.A., and especially when you (1) work for an organization with several dozen folks on the Board of Directors; (2) oversee multiple committees; and (3) don't trust [and with good reason] backstabbing so-called "colleagues" at partner organizations, well, hence the email inbox that rivals the complaint line for the DMV.

In other news, anybody else taken part in a Webi.nar? The one I was on today was a bit unique in that we used our computers to pick up the live-video feed of the presenters, and listened to the audio through our phones. At my office I have audio on the computer, so I couldn't figure out why we needed to call in via a phone to get the audio separately?! Oh well. I assumed that, therefore, it was like other large calls in that you were only listening in, and it wasn't a two-way audio thing. Which is why when the presenter praised the name of a person I can't stand [see #3 in prior parapgraph] I said under my breath, "Oh phuck her!" Then about 15 minutes later I heard questions being asked of the presenter, and that was my first inkling that um, no, this wasn't a one-way audio feed. 5 minutes after that, my cell phone started ringing (with a music ringtone, a generic one though that comes with the phone), and people on the call giggled. OH PHUCK!!!!!!!!!

Luckily (gulp, I hope), nobody on the call knew it was my voice, and I will maintain complete deniability if ever asked about it. My reaction will be "What? No, I didn't hear that during the call! Who do you think said it?! Wow, maybe somebody was talking in the background in their office and had the phone on speaker?! WOW!"

It's been nearly two hours since this happened, and I haven't heard anything. In fact, I exchanged emails with one of the presenters, so I am thinking (praying) I am safe.

Changing ALL ringtones on phones, though, just to be safe.

Wha.t Not to Wea.r

Is it possible to watch this show (esp. several episodes in a row) and not feel like your own wardrobe SUCKS?!

Listen, I do NOT have excess money to spend on updating my wardrobe right now. I try my best to have a couple of work suits that flatter my body and look professional, a couple of flirty but professional dresses that can be worn for (work-related) cocktail parties as well as an evening out (LMAO) with my husband and/or friends. And a couple of tops that I can wear when running weekend errands with Lil Pumpkin that I am not too embarrassed to be seen in if (gawd forbid) I run into a high school ex-boyfriend or nemesis.

But watch this show and DAMN, I feel like fashion caca. I think I need to take $100 from our tax return and get thee ass to H&M and pick up a couple of mod tops to put under my work suits to jazz 'em up a bit, and a few blingy necklaces and earrings (now, GASP, if I could only remember to wear the blingy pieces when I fly out of the house to the office?!) I also am in DESPERATE need of a new pair of navy mules for my navy suit.

I think I need to just pick a date, tell Dr. J he is on Daddy Duty that afternoon, and drag either Lori or my own Mummy with me to force me to spend money on ME. Sigh.

I so depserately am trying to avoid that "Mommy Look" that happens to women. I want to be/stay a "Yummy Mummy." SIGH!

R.I.P.

We love you, Jonah baby.

We hurt for his grieving parents, Adrian and Noah, coast to coast. We also are sad for his big brother, Coach.

Wuv you, Jonah, forever.

Hospital Scatter Thoughts

I can't believe it's been this long since I blogged HER. Guess I have been too busy with the other blog?! Oh, I have been just a teency-weency busy with other shit, LOL.


Okay, since we spent 2 days at the hospital with Lil Pumpkin, a series of observations I have made, recorded here:

• Thank God for kick-ass cardiac ICU nurses, who stand up to 4th year residents and advocate (demand?!) that your toddler be given more pain medicine, rather than "wait 30 minutes and see how she is doing."
• Um, WHEN did the nurses get so YOUNG?! Dr. J noted that as Lil Pumpkin was sleeping, her saw her nighttime cardiac ICU nurse (hot Jackie) updating her facebook page, LMAO!
• Why is the word "twitter" so sexually charged?!
• After weeks/months of doing everything possible to make sure Lil Pumpkin didn't contract a surgery-delaying cold/virus prior to her scheduled surgery . . . my famed germ/ick/dirt-OCD sorta melted away in the hospital! I guess I just "let go and let God". Maybe. Probably more like I figured it was out of my hands at this point.
• Speaking of hands, GAWD, the constant hand-scrubbing and hand-santizing measures in place while our daughter was in hospital turned my hands RAW!!!!!!!!! How nurses keep their hands from chapping to the point of being bloody, I have NO friggin' idea!
• It's still VERY humbling to be at a Children's Hospital, and know that 95% of the other parents you see would WISH for your child's health problem . . . sure, it was major surgery, but it was "fixable," with her surgical outcome being that of normal life expectancy, no long-term restrictions on activities or diets, and no longterm medications. Amazing.
• I was so glad my Dr. Father-In-Law was there for LP's surgery - his watchful eye and reassurance kept all of us (including my own parents) more calm and in control.
• And finally . . . I think it's only fair that if your toddler pukes M&.M's on you, M.&M's that her father gave her less than 36 hours after having open heart surgery . . . well, I think it's only fair that MUMMY get to sleep in the reclining sleeper chair in her hospital room all night, while Daddy is forced to sleep in the upright chair. Cheers!

So Far, So Good

So I have managed 2 evening, and 2 bedtimes alone, (that means sans Dr. J) thus far. He left Thursday afternoon on his business trip. Back on Sunday evening!

I have been extremely nervous about him being away . . . partly because I have doubts about my ability to successfully solo parent for that amount of time, and partly 'cause I am a GIANT 'fraidy cat when it comes to staying alone. (And thanks, Adrian, for "The Call Is Coming From Inside Your House!" quips. Little bitch! Kidding, I love you, and your giant mitts that could squash me).

Actually, I could have used ol' ManHands tonight when I was drawing a bath for Lil Pumpkin. As I was testing the water to see if it was the right temp, I spotted A GIANT SPIDER on the wall of the shower. GIANT. (okay, it really wasn't giant, but if it's 2 inches it might as well be a phucking foot). I whimpered, admittedly OUT LOUD, but killed the intruder. And then I whimpered some more, and hurried off a text to three people who I knew would understand.

Why am I so nervous about being sans co-parent for 3.5 days? 'Cause (1) I am not used to spending THAT amount of time alone with Lil Pumpkin. Seriously, I think the max I have spent with her solo uptil now is 5 hours - that's partly because "Adoption Attachment Protocol" (yes, I am self-coining that) dictates that you do as much together as a core family unit as possible; and (2) I am nervous because LP has had like SIX "good days" in a row. She's a friggin' toddler! This means that at any moment she could swing into "Crank Mode" and have a total meltdown. Consider that these past six wonderful days came after a week's worth of I-AM-TODDLER-AND-I-DAMN-WELL-WILL-DISREGARD-THE-RULES-AND-MELTDOWN episodes, which included Lil Pumpkin forgoing her typical 2 hour afternoon naps. [cue the shuddering]. I realize to that (3) the childcare schedule we have with/for LP means that we tend to be with her in 4 hour solo shifts, max.

Why am I so nervous being sans man for 3.5 days? 'Cause (1) I have already admitted I am a 'fraidy cat. A house with hardwood floors does not help matters (hullo creakiness!); (2) My mind LOVES to play tricks on me; (3) the security system does not fully alleviate my fears (the loaded shotgun does more, thank you!); (4) I live in fear of spontaneous electrical fires occuring in my home. Okay, I live in fear of fires and burns in general [I have a smoke detector in EVERY room of our house AND a CO2 detector on each floor]. (5) Bugs and spiders put out an A.P.B. when I am sans man, and love to freak the shit out of me! And (6) my cooking phucking sucks at this point. And my Saturday plans and half of Sunday FELL THROUGH (was gonna be at my Dad & Stepmother's house), so now I gotta figure out WHAT THE PHUCK we are going to eat for three meals therein?! (I can handle breakfast, and probably LP's lunch, though).

Desp.erate Housew.ife? Hardly. I just like having a man around.

Thus far . . . LP has been a 9.5 out of 10. Bath & bedtime routine kept consistent, and she was actually asleep a bit earlier than usual! The warmer weather is helping, too (playing outside!)

Now if MUMMY could just relax and get some sleep, too ;o)

It's Not Really About Food, Folks!

All of the other cream puff photos were a little bit too vulgar (even for me). I will stick with this one ;o)

Tiny. Smug. Mine.

Dr. J and I had out first EVENING date sans-baby since becoming parents on July 28th of last year. REALLY. We (or is it me) had some separation anxiety since Lil Pumpkin has not ever had a bedtime without Mummy or Daddy (and 95% of time it's both of us) since we became her Forever Family. But she was with her Nan and her beloved Pap ("Paaaaaap!") and all went smoothly. It's usually a slam dunk when your kid falls asleep in the Dor.a ball pit at her grandparents house, hee hee.

It felt really good to be able to go out, all gussied up, for an evening with my husband. To make smart ass remarks about everything going on around us, and in that blessed "spousal shorthand" that nobody else gets or understands. To like the same things that others would scoff at (hullo, "crumbles"!), and be able to say to Dr. J the phrase "I can't be in that parking lot and you know why" and for him to immediately understand WHY, and not want to be there too. That's something we have learned over the past month -- that the serious grief we have endured has also binded/bonded us, albeit in a very odd way. The shared grief that tears us apart also makes us (still) reach out for the only other person who could possibly understand.

We remembered what it was like pre-baby, but agreed that the mundane chores of life are now the best things in the world, like going to Sam's with Lil Pumpkin . . . suddenly it's an event! And it's as much fun as a night out on the town, but with deeper smiles and far better giggles (though they belong to her).

So what was my favorite moment on Saturday Night? Probably when the hostess (great gal, BTW!) offered me a piece of chocolate cake and I politely declined. I did this because I don't really like chocolate cake, being a vanilla/yellow kind of girl. She assumed otherwise, and said "You are already so tiny anyways!" TINY?! Me?! Oh girl, I am SO lovin' you now for calling me tiny!!! And loving An.n Tayl.or Loft for the dress I purchased there that very afternoon. And even my inlaws for the gift card that allowed me to purchase said dress. And my husband for chasing after The Chinese Ball of Frenetic Energy on the indoor mall playground while Mummy shopped for said dress that made her look (and feel) tiny.

Best part of Sunday? All around another terrific day spent with Lil Pumpkin. But favorite moment came when my 22-month old CONNED me into allowing her a second lollipop while we waited in a long line at the deli counter. I finally gave in because she was being adorably persistent (normally she is stricyly limited to ONE mini-dumdum per day), and the SMUG little look she gave me when I gave in was priceless. Oh, she is SO gonna set the world on fire, no matter what she does in life!

Oh, and it was yet another weekend in which Dr. J and surveyed the other children we saw, and continually whispered to one another "gawd, why are everybody else's kids so UGLY?! Damn, OUR kid is gorgeous!!!"

And smart. And brilliant. And persistent. And funny. And stubborn. And dramatic.

And . . . MINE.

Jesse-time!

I haven't posted a Jesse-story in a while. Today's "Topic du Jour" among us (Dr. J and I) and the CA Crew (Adrian, Noah, Kirsten, Jesse) was bizarre work stories. As always, Jesse wins. So I am honoring by posting his story . . . .

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

I have an employer story too. Not as good as Kirsten's naked-key story...

This was not my lawyer job. I was in Vegas with three guys we worked for the same company at a seminar/trade show type deal.

The boss, (my friend-"Joe") and a crew head "John" were in one room at the tropicana. I basically did sales and paperwork, had a room with another crew chief.

Joe, John, and I played blackjack all night across the street at New York, New York. Joe was talking to one nice girl at the table. We left Joe there with girl late..like 3 am before our 8 am seminar as scheduled. Next morning early (7:30 am) crew chief John calls me. says meet me in lobby...now..

I meet him, he says stay close. I say wtf? Did Joe score last night? He says yes he did. I said at your guys room? He says "Yes". I say with that girl from the blackjack table? He says "no":.

.."With two black hookers and a pile of coke...and now one of them is pissed he didn't pay wwhat he was supposed to pay or whatever and they both blew him and I am fukcin married and I do not need this shite and you are goin in there to help his ass out..."

Fukc

So we go in. Joe is in there unconscious. there are rolled up dollar bills and condoms allover the bed and table... we wake joe. Joe calls his sister (for whatever reason not his girlfriend) in Califonia to get her ass to the supermarket and wire him TWELVE HUNDRED BUCKS I find out there is no Wetern union at our hotel (how dumb for a casino) so we have to walk to NY NY to get it. Joes sister wants to talk to me. Fcuk.

She says what happened? I say we got out of line at a Blackjack table and they put Joe in jail. She goes to wire the money. Me and John and two ghetto ass black hookers walk in scalding heat across a bridge to NY NY . On the walk, the one better looking one is selling still to us "I don't just do this I like to fukc" you guys like to fukc?

i am the only single one and I am not touching it but they kept trying..gott give it to them for persistence...

20 minutes of garbage talk later, the money came. We paid them (too much I'm sure) and we skipped the rest of the seminar and drank.

What happens in Vegas...bullshite..

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

Gawd, I love Jesse. I am gonna have to nag him for my scamming-on-unsuspecting-young-chicks stories. I especially miss the segments on Young Darcy ;o)

Chocolate Thoughts

Spending the night at the "sweetest place on earth," The Hershey Hotel. My first time here. Haven't seen much, and won't, as I am busy with a work-seminar for two long days. Disappointed in my hotel room . . . it's nice n'all, but fussy/formal looking, whereas I prefer modern and contemporary. And after the GIANT room I had at the Hotel Rouge a few weeks ago in D.C., this room feels a bit claustrophobic. I will give props to/for the shower pressure (and detachable head) and super-powered hair dryer - gawd, is my hair super-bouncy from it!

At least I am getting lots of free candy, right?! I have PLENTY to take home with me, and be a hero to Dr. J and my precious Lil Pumpkin.

It's also Dr. J's birthday today! Happy Birthday, Cookie! (Sorry that we have to postpone celebrating the occasion until Saturday).

It strikes me as a bit comical that I am surrounded by so much chocolate on the first day of Lent, since many Catholics give up chocolate for Lent, LOL. I have never given up chocolate, since it's not much of a temptation for me. I like chocolate (esp. white and dark), but in small quantities.

What should I give up for Lent??? Let's consider typical things given up by Catholics . . .

• Diet Coke/Hot Tea (caffiene) -- yeah, as IF! If a warm bottle is a staple for a toddler, then caffiene is Mummy's "must have"
• Swearing -- fuck that, and fuck those who give it up
• Television -- uh uh, a non-starter - I'd rather give up sex
• Sex -- I could probably give it up for 40 days, but c'mon, does The Lord REALLY want me to do that (I think not)?!

I guess I have some more thinking to do on this. In the meantime, I shall ponder the situation as I luxuriously and greedily pop a Hershey's miniature dark chocolate in my mouth, and savor the taste as it melts on my tongue!

State of the Union (live thoughts)

Pretending I have my dream job for a moment - blogging for dollars! Yes, I dream of being a paid political pundit, like my hero Michele Malkin!

But since I want to NOT do work-related things right now, I will us confine my comments on the State of the Union Address to what is TRULY important . . . how everybody looks!

I must say, that eggplant color is FABULOUS on Michelle Obama.

Second, WTF is Nancy Pelosi wearing? I guess it's a suit, but it looks like a sweater-top?! She needs to JUST STOP with the plastic surgery and other touchups.

And Joe Biden keeps looking down . . . is he checking his blackberry? Maybe he has a hand mirror and is seeing if his teeth are shiny enough? Biden could use a few facial touchups all of a sudden. Must be because The Prez appointed him "Stimulus Czar" to oversee it. Does this mean we should now refer to him as "Czar Biden"?!

I see "Sully" is in the crowd. Okay, the guy did an amazing thing! But DAMN, can we move along already?!

Obama's tie is nice. His hair looks a bit lighter . . . is it greying on sides or is he not coloring it s much?

Pelosi not blinking her eyes a thousand times a minute like she did every time Bush gave a State of the Union Address . . . guess she finally started listening to her focus group reports that commented on it. (Believe you and me, people at the top have these things done, and adjust their behavior on tv accordingly). Wonder how long before The First Lady's focus group moderator works up the nerve to tell her to stop licking her teeth like an old lady readjusting her dentures?!
Just saw John Kerry . . . eek, he still gives me the creeps (visually).

Did Obama just say " Cause nobody messes with Joe" (meaning Biden)?!?!? LMAO! Dude, that's because they are afraid he will BLIND them with his super-white teeth!!!

Wake up, Carl Levin!!! That guy always reminded me of a sloth - he just has that look about him - I swear I saw him in an illustrated childhood fable or something. Or maybe that character that Danny DeVito played inone of the Batman movies.

I loathe watching so many members of Congress f'in PRETEND to support the troops, cheering and clapping for those in the galley. Phuck you assholes, you treat the troops and their efforts like shit.

Gawd, wouldn't it be great if Nancy Pelosi fell off her chair one of these times she popped up to clap? That chair must have Crisco on it, that's how fast she is popping up and down.

Wait, what's that sound? Oh yeah, it's the terrorists laughing their phucking asses off as The Prez proclaims that the U.S. does not and will not torture. Can I force every member of Congress to read a Vince Flynn novel? Have they never seen an episode of "24"? Who votes for these stupid, ignorant motherfuckers?!

Shit, just realized I am off my stated purpose - to mock the clothes and appearences of our "leaders," but when they begin to make a mockery of our troops I get mightily pissed off.

UPDATE/EDIT: I had no idea my political crush, Bobby Jindal, was giving the Republican response?!?! Wheeeeeee!

So Ashamed

We had our second "sans baby" date since becoming parents on Saturday afternoon. Had a pretty good time, highlight of which was having a mojito (me) and martini (he), while doing some silly people-watching.

We came home, Lil Pumpkin was still alive and well, and our dear friends Kelli and Matt had tuckered her out to the point that she fell asleep nearly 3 hours early, LOL! (We paid for this the following morning, when she woke up 2 hours early).

Kelli & Matt had brought a pizza, so we popped in the oven, and opened a couple bottles of wine. One of which was a gift we acquired from a patient of Dr. J's somewhere along the way. It was something we would NEVER drink, but thought Kelli & Matt might like since they like fruitier things than we. And well, we thought we wouldn't like it because we are wine snobs.

And then it happened. We tried a sip. And, um, it was good. Actually, it tasted pretty darn good. Made me think giddy, youthful thoughts, and want more.

We were both ashamed of drinking it. And even more so for enjoying it. I was more ashamed that it was Be.ringer, and Dr. J more ashamed because it was white zin.


Shhhh, don't tell anyone!!!

Bar Babe

So we don't get out much anymore (okay, we didn't get out all that much before, either, or at least since we moved back from Kal-ee-forn-yah). Thus, it's quite possible that I have forgotten a lot of things about going out in general.

Add Lil Pumpkin into the mix and I guess I have forgotten A LOT of my pre-baby life.

Case in point . . . a few days ago Dr. J mentions that a patient of his has invited us to a party she is having for her boyfriend on an upcoming Saturday night. I immediately grill him for details, yadda yadda. We agree to go. Have never been to this place before, which kinda stresses me out (I like the familiar, what can I say), but okay, we will go.

A few days later, I am organizing the clothes in Lil Pumpkin's closet as Dr. J is getting our frenetic ball of Chinese energy ready for her evening bath. I pull two dresses out of her closest and the conversation goes something like this . . .

• MS. J: "Which one do you think I should put on her for that party?"
• DR. J: "What party?"
• MS. J: (rolling my eyes), "Hullo?! The party your patient is having for her boyfriend on the 28th?!"
• DR. J: "Um, I didn't think we would be taking the baby with us."
• MS. J: "Why wouldn't we? We are not ready to leave her with anyone other than my Mom yet during evening hours, and I think my Mom does enough childcare already, she doesn't need her on a Saturday night on top of it! So why not take the baby with us?!?!?!"
• DR. J: "Uh, because the party is at a BAR?!"
• MS. J: "Oh. [long pause]. Kee-rist, I guess I missed that fact. Damn, I need to get out more. I was going to take the baby to a bar with us!!! WHAT is wrong with me?!?!?! LOL!"

I got kinda panicky at thought of leaving Lil Pumpkin on a Saturday evening when it's so close to her bedtime . . . but taking a leap and going to try and go out at night, with husband, sans baby.

Inhale. Exhale.

ThreePeat and F'in Frosting

For three blissful nights in a row . . . I have been able to squeeze in working out on the treadmill while Dr. J gave Lil Pumpkin her bath. It has been heavenly. I am so amazingly thrilled that he assembled the treadmill I agonized over whether to buy . . . and not only does it work perfectly, it suits my needs to a "T".

I never suspected that working out from the privacy of my basement could be so satisfying! But there I was, 3 nights in a row, sweating my ass off in my grubbiest t-shirts that I should have stopped pitched in the trash about 30 pounds ago (heavier), but still keep around cause they are so big and roomy and perfect for sleeping in (and they hold lots of memories). On my new treadmill I am singing while I work out, gesturing wildly, and bopping around like only a white girl can (that means I look like a freak who should be institutionalized -- think Elaine from "Se.infeld" doing her patented dance move, LOL). But I am SO LOVING IT!!! (Thank you, Cookie, for building it!!!)

Which brings me to frosting . . . because we have leftover frosting from V-Day baking, the past three nights prior to bed I have taken to secretly swiping a spoonful and greedily licking it off. And for three nights now, I have had completely phucked up dreams, ranging from the enlightened . . . I selected my seat in church via the intenret much like you pre-select your plane seat . . . to the twisted . . . I am wearing a bikini top in which the bra cups are made out of the toy cymbals from my daughter's "band in a box." I am blaming ALL of this on THE VANILLA FROSTING! [Surely it has nothing to do with my own inner-weirdness, eh?!]

Lust Cookies . . . now Lil Pumpkin Cookies

So, it would probably be in poor taste (figuratively, not literally) to carryout our annual V-Day tradition of baking cookies with our porno cookie cutters and decorating them in all sorts of nasty ways. Probably.

So instead we baked cookies with our Lil Pumpkin, as she was strapped into her highchair. It was great! And capped off by her successful pee-pee on the potty!

We also had a great time letting her run around the Auto Show.

What a difference a year makes.

Roundabout Getaway

Just a few journal-ly thoughts on my second biz trip sans baby . .

• Being a Mummy still means I am phucking incapable of getting to a destination with getting incredibly lost (though, miraculously, I still can make it on time, WTF?!
  
• Roundabouts. Sigh. AARRRGGGHHHH. Another SIGH!


• I was not nearly as nervous on this trip that the baby would freak out that I was away from her, but this is probably because it was only for one night


• I do love D.C., despite the idiots running/ruining it. I really should have gone there my junior year of college liked I had always planned, and interned on Capitol Hill. Sigh. Oh well, love takes you in different directions, I guess!

My hotel stay deserves it's own little set of notations, too . . .

• It was my third time staying in a Kimpton Hotel, and I was blown away for a third time!


• The Hotel Rouge was a challenge to find, but thanks to their sympathetic front desk I did eventually


• The room was even bigger than I had imagined (yee haw, bigger isn't always better, but when it comes to room size it sure sways me when there is plenty o' room to move)


• I felt all shiny and new having an evening (despite being work-dictated) in which my only responsibilities were to take care of myself


• It felt luxurious to be able to roll around in a bed so comfy, with super-plump pillows that seemed made just for me


• Though I didn't get a whole lot of sleep, I felt strangely refreshed and relaxed as I sat in meetings on Day Two of the conference

So, to sum, I battled some Being-Away-From-Baby Guilt, but I still can firmly pronounce the biz trip a success, even if for selfish reasons.

Packing Tips (bumping Cheesy Pilaf from the top spot)

I previously admitted my cooking faux pas that resulted in Cheesy Pilaf (ick). I should share that since then I have successfully cooked Ric.e-A-Ron.i and Scallo.ped Potato.es and both tasted delicious (though I did not cook them at the same time, LOL).

But something even ranked higher on the F'up Scale. And it belongs to Dr. J.

Two weekends ago we went on our annual outing to Ohio with my wild and wonderful second cousins. It was probably not as fun this time around, because it was the first time we made such a trip with Lil Pumpkin (traveling ANYWHERE with a toddler is stressful!), and it meant we couldn't stay up as late, had to get up earlier, and couldn't chance a hangover via excess drinking. Also, the cabins were SUPER-dry and thus myself and Lil Pumpkin were rather congested (and our humidifier went on strike the second night, grrr).

After we came back on Sunday, I went to shower later that evening. I was pleasantly surprised as I searched for my hairbrush that Dr. J had taken it upon himself to put away ALL of our toiletries! THANK YOU! Big help, and I appreciated it! Everything was magically put in it's place, and it was one less thing on my "to do" list, down to my Amb.ien sleeping pills on my nightstand (in a child-proof bottle and out of little arms reach, of course). I popped one sleeping pill and drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, I got up with the baby, got her a bottle, and passed her off to Dr. J as I got ready. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and took my vitamins. This included the Rx of 2 foli.c a.cid tablets I take because of a hereditary disorder I have. As I was sitting at my vanity doing my makeup I thought "WOW, am I ever tired today, must be the whirlwind weekend!" At one point I was so disoriented that I swore I was watching myself from outside my body as I tried to apply my eyeliner straight, LOL. Damn, I need caffiene!

I went about my day, tired, but surprisingly productive. Came home, went through our evening routine, got the baby to bed on time, and a few hours later laid down in our bed. And being the lifetime insomniac that I am, I reached for my trusty Ambi.en on the nightstand. Only this time I looked at the bottle . . . FOLI.C ACI.D?!?!? WHAT THE PHUCK?!?!? My fol.ic a.cid is on the nightstand? Then what is in the bathroom medicine cabinet that I took 2 tablets of this morning?! I raced to the bathroom, and YEP, the Amb.ien was sitting where my f.olic ac.id normally rests. OH MY PHUCKIN GAWD!!! So, this means that last night I took one foli.c a.cid tablet and fell asleep, and this morning I gulped down TWO A.mbien (you should ONLY take one) and somehow managed to not kill myself operating heavy machinery like my car?!

So THAT would explain my morning fog as I tried to apply my makeup! And it would explain why I felt like I was in a coma at work.

I screamed for Dr. J, and explained what I had just figured out! I think he felt bad, and confused himself, as he knows the Amb.ien usually knocks me out.

So here is my lesson learned/packing tip: unpack your own MEDS!!

Cheesy Pilaf, anyone?!

6 months today

I am shaking my head thinking that 6 months ago today, at precisely 3:45 p.m. (okay, China time, which is actually 12 hours behind us, whatever), I became Mummy to the feisty, spirited, incredibly smart, funny, and breathtakingly beautiful baby who it stretched out on her "Dor.a Couch" a few feet from me, intently receiving her morning dose of "Sesam.e Str.eet."

How did I luck out like this?! I scrutinize other people's kids wherever I go, and NONE come close to being as gorgeous as mine. That's not bias . . . . it's a certifiable fact.

Thank you people of China, thank you birth parents who gave her Life, thank you foster family for loving and nurturing her until she was united with her Forever Family.

And here is what I will probably be doing later with "Suzie Snowflake" . . . . I am so lucky!

Happy Spring Festival to all!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nah Nah Nah Nah! (I Still Fit, Do YOU, Bee-yotch?!)

I love a good tradition, especially when it's mine.

So, let's recap . . .

I did it in 2005. And 2006.

I recorded it on this blog in 2007.

Again in 2008.

And now I give you 2009 . . . !!!

YEP, IT STILL FITS!!!!

Only this year I have the best accessory possible . . .

(I have a very stubborn daughter - she would only agree

to be in the photo if her froggie was included, LOL).

We celebrated over dinner tonight with champagne and our favorite cupcakes. And our Lil Pumpkin, of course.

By the way, I have thee funniest and charming story to tell about one of Dr. J's gifts to me . . . coming soon!!!

Thank YOU, Mr. President

I love Dennis Miller. Have seen him in concert, and just love, love, LOVE him every time I see his mug on t.v.

And he has summed up exactly what I am feeling to a "T," so I will leave it to him . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DdiKiMcpV2U

Thank you, also, Mr. President, for your appointments to the Supreme Court, especially that cutie Chief Justice Roberts! Thank you for your deep commitment to the protection of innocent human life, in this regard.I did not vote for President-Elect Obama, for multiple reasons. But I fervently hope that he does a terrific job as our new President! I remain very concerned about the nominations he will make to the Supreme Court ('cause there will be 1-3 retirements, I am sure).

I am not a single issue voter. I am someone who used to be pro-choice, but in 2003 found myself being changed to a pro-life philosophy when it came to unborn children. It's an issue that a President has unique power over via his nominations to the courts. I know people like to wave the big ol' "oh, but rape and incest and and save the life of the mother" exceptions, but the truth is that every state law on abortion HAS those exemptions already, and they account for less than .01% of all abortions in this country (of which there have been something like 40 million since Ro.e v. Wad.e). I can understand why those exemptions exist.

As an adoptive parent, I think about this alot . . . all of those children, being extinguished. Then I think about the millions of couples in this country, so desperate to cradle a child in their arms, not caring where or whom or how it came about . . . just wanting to love it, wholly, completely, fully, forever.

I have held back many times on my other blog, as well as refrained from commenting on others, about this issue. I have comforted women who have had abortions. I have supported (with my own time and money) women facing unplanned pregnancies who chose to give life to their baby, and raise it. And I have moved heaven and earth (and crossed continents) to bring home a baby from another country whose birth parents could not care for her, but gave her Life, and then gave her up so she could potentially have (as they prayed) a better life.

So Mr. President-Elect, here is my hope for your term . . . while being so busy keeping us safe, and addressing the economic problems many people are facing, among other issues, please take time to always start with the foundation of what is truly important . . . caring for and protecting our most innocent citizens of this earth, and that is our babies. Both the born, and the unborn. Help cultivate a culture of Life. Encourage adoption domestically and abroad. Send the message to judges (even the local ones, through your leadership and pulpit) that as*hole parents who F'up even one time do not deserve to get their children back. Increase the adoption tax credit immediately (it's about $11,000 if anyone's interested - foreign or domestic). Triple the adoption tax credit if the adopted child is over the age of 3 years old, or if the child (at any age) has a medical issue (mental or physical or emotional). Double the yearly deduction allowed for children who were adopted, to demonstrate the ongoing commitment to having all children placed in loving and stable homes. Build Ta.j Maha.l type buildings where pregnant women can live if they need a place to stay, help them find the right adoptive family, and then offer them COLLEGE TUITION MONEY (or some other form of assistance) for giving birth instead of getting an abortion!

Oh, and just to head off any other comments on this, please be aware that Dr. J and I most certainly DID try to adopt locally through an agency, and were willing to bring home a baby that was born addicted to drugs, too (we were in the running for a 4 month old boy born with opiates in his system, but he was ultimately placed with another couple - so don't EVEN tell me that nobody wants babies born addicted to drugs. NOT TRUE!). In fact, AFTER we were matched with our Lil Pumpkin we were actually matched with two other children locally . . a 15 month old boy, and a 2 year old boy . . . but because we had already committed to Lil Pumpkin (and the caseworkers for these additional little boys were not yet aware of that), we were legally not allowed to bring either home (most agencies will only place one child per year in your home). But we HAPPILY brought home Lil Pumpkin, who was considered a "Child of Promise" (meaning she has a medical issue in need of some fixin'). And of course, Lil Pumpkin is an answered prayer. [Someone remind me of this today at 6 p.m. when she is workin' my last nerve].

Are my ideas going to magically make abortions disappear? Hell no. Might it be a start? Yes. Will it encourage adoption? I think so. Will I get flamed for expressing these views on my other blog? Probably. Do I care? Yes - I hope I don't, and that people will speak out in favor of my ideas and views. I have "walked the walk" via being an adoptive parent, and have the street creds, IMHO.

Good luck, President-Elect Obama. And listen to your Joint Chiefs.

Cheesy Pilaf

I am a gawddamn idiot. Really.

When Dr. J and I moved in together back in Summer of 1996, I took it upon myself to teach him how to cook. I wasn't gourmet, but I could make several chicken dishes, and breaded pork chops. And anything that had instructions on a box.

I was thrilled when Dr. J wound up enjoying cooking, finding it relaxing. He began to take on more and more of it. At this point, I'd say he does 98% of it, truth be told. I confine my contributions to side dishes, namely those with instructions on a box. I can't even remember how to cook much of anything at this point.

So today, while Dr. J was outside tending to our snowy sidewalks and entertaining our daughter in the process (she loves ice and snow), I decided to "help" by cooking rice pilaf and scalloped potatoes. I have cooked both (closely following the directions each time) at least a thousand times since I was 15 years old.

And yet, as I was stirring both I couldn't figure out what was going wrong?! The rice pilaf was clumping funny, and the scalloped potatoes didn't have their usual cheesy color to them. Hmmm.

Then it occurred to me . . . I had mixed up the seasoning packets for both, putting the pilaf one into the potatoes, and vice versa.

I flung open the window, called out to Dr. J, and . . . confessed. He told me to "step away from the stove."

The rice pilaf tastes like a cheesy risotto. Or at least I think it does (I have never eaten risotto as far as I know). The potatoes are a total wash. Eh, the pilaf probably is, too.

I am a gawddamn idiot. I am thinking that I should further confine my culinary contributions to pouring the wine.

Wants & Needs

For the past decade I have used the logic of separating "Wants" from "Needs" in order to make decisions, prioritize, communicate, and so on. I find it to be quite useful, on a lot of fronts. Now that 2009 is here, and many of the blogs I frequent are stating their New Years Resolutions, I thought a "Wants & Needs" list might help me expeditiously move (or muddle) through the following year, and maybe make it a bright and shiny one in the process.


Here goes:

• I want to work out 5x's a week, including lifting weights 3x's per week.
• I need to spend a combined 5 full hours a week exercising, on a conveniently located treadmill (i.e. at home).

• I want to go away on a spa vacation.
• I need to have two pedicures a year, and quarterly nights away from home all to myself.

• I want to put more hours into my fabulous job.
• I need to work as efficiently as possible with the time I have, and embrace my existing ability to multi-task as a gift.



• I want to have a great time at my company's big Gala, and look fabulous while doing so.
• I need to sober up befor driving home, and look fabulous at the big Gala.

• I want to have a big spa-like bathtub in my house to escape to whenever I need respite.
• I need to bathe every other day, without feeling guilty for taking time away from _______ (fill in the blank with: Lil Pumpkin, chores, workstuff, sleep, Dr. J, emails, photo editing).

• I want to hike every weekend this coming spring and summer.
• I need to do something weekly that is very active and sweaty, outdoors, this coming spring and summer.

• I want to have no debts, be setting aside money for my kid's future, and my own (LOL) retirement.
• I need to feel financial secure, or at least on manageable ground.

• I want to be a Trophy Wife.
• I need to be the envy of bona fide trophy wifes. Okay, I want to be the envy of every woman - I freely admit it. I am competitive like that. It's residual chafe from years of NOT being the prettiest, smartest, funnest (I know it's not a word).

• I want to be able to sit through mass each week, listening and breathing and contemplating.
• I need for my daughter to get with MumMa's dream of timing her naps for during mass.

• I want to be a stylish and fashionable person again.
• I need to occasionally have a new dress. And shoes (and neither have to be expensive nor designer).

• I want a deep-tissue massage twice a month.
• I need to have somebody with strong hands rub my neck and back, for 10 minutes, once a week.

• I want to have crazy, fun, slightly buzzed, sex regularly.
• I need to have the urge to want crazy, fun, slightly buzzed, sex regularly.

• I want to tell my husband that I still think he is very attractive. And that when it wears cologne on the weekends (job prevents him from doing so during the week), it really turns me on.
• I need to do a better job of letting my fear prevent me from doing so.

• I want to have two new, reliable, Japanese crossover vehicles that get good gas mileage.
• I need to feel that I am driving a reliable vehicle, and not burst into tears nor rage when one of our vehicles breaks down or has some other mechanical issue beyond our control.

• I want to have a new kitchen for Dr. J to cook in.
• I need to pay for a bunch of other shit in our lives first.

• I want to be able to turn up the heat in our house without worrying about the bill next month.
• I need to feel warm without consequence.
  

• I want to rotate weekly meetups up with Lori, Hamster, Kelli, and Sandi for drinks and gossip and venting.
• I need to have standing dates with all of these people, and not feel so isolated and out of touch. And not feel guilty about being away from the baby when I do so.

Long Island redux

Let me cover the more memorable moments/lines of the trip:

• Visit to aquarium - my kid was not interested. Which was fine with me, since I do NOT like the smell of aquariums. Add in my nose being completely inflammed from sleeping in a super-duper dry guest house and, well, it was NOT a good mix for my poor little nose. Sniff!


• Air Mattresses - fine for one night. But not four nights. Don't get me wrong, I was thankful for the free place to sleep, and an entire guest house/cottage so we could have some private space to escape to each day. But I loathe air mattresses.


• Tie-Dyed Clothing - sigh, my BIL and SIL are still going out in public dressed in this shit. They are NOT giant hippies, either (though my SIL's ass was lookin' mighty giant, thank you very much, Santa!) But they have continued to wear their tie-dyed clothing as long as I have known them (entering the 16th year), and long before that they sported it too, I am told. Thank YOU, Dr. J, for being just-this-side of "Acceptable Metrosexual" when it comes to clothing - and never wearing: tie-dyed, flannel, beer t-shirts, a jean jacket, or ratty leather. Oh, and having stylish glasses (no matter how rarely you wear them).


• My FIL gave me a lecture on the wines indigenious [sp?] to North America. By genus and species. Yes, there were plenty of Latin words. Hullo 20 minutes of My Life that I can not reclaim!


• Our first night back home . . . I had this amazingly phucked up dream in which I am munching cookies while walking through a tunnel, all the while pissed off that Dr. J has joined a rock band that wants him to join them on tour. In London. And he wants me to okay him spending $5,500 on a last-minute plane ticket to meet up with the band. In London. LESSON TO BE LEARNED: Do NOT combine late-night Spanish champagne with "scoob.y snacks," no matter how well they seemingly pair together at the time.