Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
My Weekend by Joe Joe
I put on a little show for Mommy. She was surprised to discover that I knew of this song because I always put my hand over her mouth when she tries to sing, roll my eyes and say, "Stoooop!"
[gallery columns="2"]
Click thumbnails to enlarge and view my artistic genius up close.
[gallery columns="2"]
Click thumbnails to enlarge and view my artistic genius up close.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
In search of a Wordpress theme
Hello! I've decided to add some ad space and do a little bit here and there to make a little money off of this clunker. I've been up to all hours trying to find an appropriate theme, and testing them to no avail. Hopefully I'll get it all sorted out today.
I'll be sure to share any tips and tricks I learn along the way because I love you so much. In the meantime, please bask in the glory of the reposted pic of the Dik Dik sign we encountered in San Diego this summer. Huhhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh. :)
I'll be sure to share any tips and tricks I learn along the way because I love you so much. In the meantime, please bask in the glory of the reposted pic of the Dik Dik sign we encountered in San Diego this summer. Huhhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh. :)
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
This morning at the Tommyknocker compound...
I just made a $959.00 payment to Avon. How? I have no clue. I thought I entered $27.41. But when the order went through I looked at the screen and saw a message thanking me for my $959.00 payment. I spent fifteen minutes on the phone with a bright, cheery fellow from India who eventually provided me with an 800 number to call. The 800 number asked for my number and said it would call me back in 5-7 minutes. A recording called me back to say, "What's the matter with you, idiot? Nobody's open until 7 am. Go back to sleep you freak, and call us back then."
I have to sit here for two hours wallowing in the stink of my mistake, hoping and praying I don't accidentally set off "the bomb" or make any more similar bumbles, until the correction can be made.
What if I blow this deal? What if I become so distracted by NaNoWriMo and the Lolcats that I forget?
My poor husband is likely to need gas on his way to work. I'm picturing him standing at the counter of the 7-AM/PM-11 with muffin and Diet Coke in hand, being turned away by a cranky clerk who's been up all night due to our card being locked up. What will happen at that point? Will I get another "Luuuuuuuuucy" phone call?
In my defense, I was roused at 4:11 this morning. One word: Joe. He had turned on the hall light, and was lying dramatically across the threshold of our door sighing and tapping his foot on the wall.
Me: Go back to sleep, sweetheart. It's the middle of the freaking stinking blasted night.
Joe: *pitiful sigh*
Me: Joe, go back to your bed, sweetie, it's too early, sweetheart, go back to bed, it's night, sweetie.
Joe: *hugs his Blue Dog closer*
Me: *gets up and picks up Joe, brings him into bed*
Joe never sleeps in our bed. And this time was no exception. I tried to fall back to sleep, but somehow I knew that wouldn't be happening. I lifted my head to see if Joe had his eyes closed. He didn't. They were as wide as dual moons and were starting straight at me.
I stroked his cheek. He smiled. I tweaked his nose. He giggled and touched mine.
No hope for sleep here. The best I could hope for was a successful relocation of the two of us to the living room, qualified by not awakening my husband Dennis. Unfortunately, my bladder was screaming.
Me: Wait right here, schnicklefritz, I'll be right back.
Joe: *smiles*
I entered the powder room and eased my butt into "go" position. I snatched the recent issue of Country Living off of the cabinet and opened it to a random page and began to concentrate. Then I heard Joe breathing under the bathroom door. *exhale...inhale, exhaleinhale, exhale....inhale*
I squeaked out my #1, put the Country Living back on the cabinet, and opened the door and patted my son on the head. He'd turned on both of the bathroom overhead lights. It was then that I heard a startled yelp and witnessed my husband rocketing into a sitting position whilst yanking the covers to him asthough Joe and I were The Tommyknockers coming to get him.
I turned out the lights and grabbed for Joe's hand. The thought occurred to me that I should have grabbed Joe's hand and then turned out the lights. We made our way to the living room.
A Flintstone vitamin was tossed into a bowl, grapes were dumped on said vitamin in said bowl, milk was poured into a sippy cup, Blues Clues was flicked on, a blanket was pulled over a sweet, chilly little body, a head was patted, and a butt plunked itself in front of a computer. A well-intentioned Avon payment was made.
Y'all know how that went.
Then the urge to go #2, prompted by a quick blast of iced coffee, hit me with the force of 1,000 bad hot dogs. I sprinted to the bathroom, rounding the corner just in the nick of time without a second to waste, and gasped at the vision of my husband sitting on the john in the dark, screeching to a halt at his, "What the He...?!?"
Turning on my heels I sprinted towards the hall bathroom. It was locked! I somehow buried a scream so as not to wake the baby, and ran into the kitchen for a screwdriver. As luck would have it, all I could find was a phillips head, so I grabbed a butter knife out of the silverware drawer and ran back into the hallway towards the bathroom.
Blessedly, I made it in time. Good morning. :)
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I have to sit here for two hours wallowing in the stink of my mistake, hoping and praying I don't accidentally set off "the bomb" or make any more similar bumbles, until the correction can be made.
What if I blow this deal? What if I become so distracted by NaNoWriMo and the Lolcats that I forget?
My poor husband is likely to need gas on his way to work. I'm picturing him standing at the counter of the 7-AM/PM-11 with muffin and Diet Coke in hand, being turned away by a cranky clerk who's been up all night due to our card being locked up. What will happen at that point? Will I get another "Luuuuuuuuucy" phone call?
In my defense, I was roused at 4:11 this morning. One word: Joe. He had turned on the hall light, and was lying dramatically across the threshold of our door sighing and tapping his foot on the wall.
Me: Go back to sleep, sweetheart. It's the middle of the freaking stinking blasted night.
Joe: *pitiful sigh*
Me: Joe, go back to your bed, sweetie, it's too early, sweetheart, go back to bed, it's night, sweetie.
Joe: *hugs his Blue Dog closer*
Me: *gets up and picks up Joe, brings him into bed*
Joe never sleeps in our bed. And this time was no exception. I tried to fall back to sleep, but somehow I knew that wouldn't be happening. I lifted my head to see if Joe had his eyes closed. He didn't. They were as wide as dual moons and were starting straight at me.
I stroked his cheek. He smiled. I tweaked his nose. He giggled and touched mine.
No hope for sleep here. The best I could hope for was a successful relocation of the two of us to the living room, qualified by not awakening my husband Dennis. Unfortunately, my bladder was screaming.
Me: Wait right here, schnicklefritz, I'll be right back.
Joe: *smiles*
I entered the powder room and eased my butt into "go" position. I snatched the recent issue of Country Living off of the cabinet and opened it to a random page and began to concentrate. Then I heard Joe breathing under the bathroom door. *exhale...inhale, exhaleinhale, exhale....inhale*
I squeaked out my #1, put the Country Living back on the cabinet, and opened the door and patted my son on the head. He'd turned on both of the bathroom overhead lights. It was then that I heard a startled yelp and witnessed my husband rocketing into a sitting position whilst yanking the covers to him asthough Joe and I were The Tommyknockers coming to get him.
I turned out the lights and grabbed for Joe's hand. The thought occurred to me that I should have grabbed Joe's hand and then turned out the lights. We made our way to the living room.
A Flintstone vitamin was tossed into a bowl, grapes were dumped on said vitamin in said bowl, milk was poured into a sippy cup, Blues Clues was flicked on, a blanket was pulled over a sweet, chilly little body, a head was patted, and a butt plunked itself in front of a computer. A well-intentioned Avon payment was made.
Y'all know how that went.
Then the urge to go #2, prompted by a quick blast of iced coffee, hit me with the force of 1,000 bad hot dogs. I sprinted to the bathroom, rounding the corner just in the nick of time without a second to waste, and gasped at the vision of my husband sitting on the john in the dark, screeching to a halt at his, "What the He...?!?"
Turning on my heels I sprinted towards the hall bathroom. It was locked! I somehow buried a scream so as not to wake the baby, and ran into the kitchen for a screwdriver. As luck would have it, all I could find was a phillips head, so I grabbed a butter knife out of the silverware drawer and ran back into the hallway towards the bathroom.
Blessedly, I made it in time. Good morning. :)
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Post-Halloween NaNoWriMo Crankfest
Yesterday was a blast. I haven't enjoyed Halloween this much in years. Mid-day I was stressing like I said I wouldn't, chasing perfection, trying to do my kids right, gearing up to totally freak out, and then it happened. I saw the look on my son's face: pure joy.
It was one of those a-ha moments. A solid reminder that it's not about the costume. Two year olds don't care what they're wearing on Halloween. They don't care if you have enough candy on hand or that you've not yet taken the time to hide unsightly lawn tools. They just love the show of it. Little eyes delight over bright, shiny miracles, a cookie shoved in a tiny fist with permission to indulge, the sensation of pumpkin guts squishing over the places where little fingers meet little hands.
We had a ton of fun carving pumpkins, baking cookies, trick-or-treating, and exploring candylicious delights. Then, after a good ten minutes spent coaxing Joe to relinquish his pumpkin full of Halloween booty, we managed to get the kids to sleep well before nine.
At this point, Dennis and I were pleased as punch for the opportunity to lounge around with Brian, who gracefully turned 24 on Halloween, and watch a silly Sandra Bullock movie. Brian ate a piece his birthday cake and drank some milk, scratching his fork on a plastic McDonalds Hercules plate as the movie churned on. We pretended to agree that he wasn't doing it on purpose.
I made a point not to drink beer and have adult fun last night because today, after all, is November One; the first of November is the start of National Novel Writing Month, and I knew it would be a long day. We went to bed at a decent hour.
Best laid plans.
I stayed awake in bed until well after midnight simultaneously batting about two possible plots like cat toys with hidden catnip, and beating myself up over not being able to decide on a plot. I had very much wanted to have my plot mapped out by this point, complete with three acts, at least two disasters and full dossiers on my major and minor characters.
I don't have any of this.
I've started and stopped creating what I need nearly a hundred times. I don't know if it's due to lack of experience, or plots and characters that reek, but I keep changing my mind. What I'm left with are incomplete ideas, plot points left unjustified, one stereotypical character that I can't bring myself to fire, and, since I woke up at five a.m. and couldn't fall back to sleep, less than five hours' sleep under my belt.
Why do I do this to myself? I must subconsciously prefer a difficult existence. I get angry at myself when I don't sleep. Baggy, dark eyes gloat their evidence that I wasn't strong enough to battle down the yapper in my head, the worrier who intentionally tries to ruin everything by coaxing my body away from sleep, hobbling my brain, and betraying those who need me.
Stay awake. There is no time for you to rest—not yet.
I know I've mentioned before that I don't do well on fewer than eight solid hours per night. The walls breathe, voices sound lower and slower, my head folds over on itself. Everything's too bright, too loud, and to quote Jim Morrison, "women seem wicked". I should be bright and happy this morning. My family deserves that.
But no. I'm as cranky as I've ever been. My kids are as perky and happy as they've ever been. My husband has never been more trepidatious of the wild look in my eyes. But somehow I'm closing in on 700 words, nonetheless. Only 900 more to go. Today. Not counting this blog post.
Rock on!
Here are some Halloween pics to share with you. I hope you had a wonderful Halloween. I'm already looking forward to next year. :)
[caption id="attachment_1250" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dennis, Dennie, Joe and Brian Friday night at Red Robin for Brian's birthday dinner."]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1251" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Brian laughing at the fart card Joe picked out for him, and Joe feeling happy that Brian liked his card."]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1248" align="alignnone" width="200" caption="Joe's first Halloween pumkin. He drew the face on himself, and I cut it out for him."]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1249" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Joe and Brian and I making short work of our pumpkins."]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1252" align="alignnone" width="199" caption="Lily in her witch hat."]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1254" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dennis and Joe setting up the front yard."]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1255" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Our Halloween display"]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1256" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Brian's Sleepy Hollow masterpiece of a jack-o-lantern"]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1257" align="alignnone" width="200" caption="Joe Joe and Dennis trick or treating"]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1258" align="alignnone" width="199" caption="Joe Joe and Mommy trick or treating"]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1259" align="alignnone" width="200" caption="Joe shows off his Halloween candy haul"]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1261" align="alignnone" width="199" caption="Dennis and Joe relaxing before bed"]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1262" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Lily and Brian were so cute laughing together Halloween night"]
[/caption]
[caption id="attachment_1260" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Brian helps Lily to enjoy one piece of her Halloween candy"]
[/caption]
It was one of those a-ha moments. A solid reminder that it's not about the costume. Two year olds don't care what they're wearing on Halloween. They don't care if you have enough candy on hand or that you've not yet taken the time to hide unsightly lawn tools. They just love the show of it. Little eyes delight over bright, shiny miracles, a cookie shoved in a tiny fist with permission to indulge, the sensation of pumpkin guts squishing over the places where little fingers meet little hands.
We had a ton of fun carving pumpkins, baking cookies, trick-or-treating, and exploring candylicious delights. Then, after a good ten minutes spent coaxing Joe to relinquish his pumpkin full of Halloween booty, we managed to get the kids to sleep well before nine.
At this point, Dennis and I were pleased as punch for the opportunity to lounge around with Brian, who gracefully turned 24 on Halloween, and watch a silly Sandra Bullock movie. Brian ate a piece his birthday cake and drank some milk, scratching his fork on a plastic McDonalds Hercules plate as the movie churned on. We pretended to agree that he wasn't doing it on purpose.
I made a point not to drink beer and have adult fun last night because today, after all, is November One; the first of November is the start of National Novel Writing Month, and I knew it would be a long day. We went to bed at a decent hour.
Best laid plans.
I stayed awake in bed until well after midnight simultaneously batting about two possible plots like cat toys with hidden catnip, and beating myself up over not being able to decide on a plot. I had very much wanted to have my plot mapped out by this point, complete with three acts, at least two disasters and full dossiers on my major and minor characters.
I don't have any of this.
I've started and stopped creating what I need nearly a hundred times. I don't know if it's due to lack of experience, or plots and characters that reek, but I keep changing my mind. What I'm left with are incomplete ideas, plot points left unjustified, one stereotypical character that I can't bring myself to fire, and, since I woke up at five a.m. and couldn't fall back to sleep, less than five hours' sleep under my belt.
Why do I do this to myself? I must subconsciously prefer a difficult existence. I get angry at myself when I don't sleep. Baggy, dark eyes gloat their evidence that I wasn't strong enough to battle down the yapper in my head, the worrier who intentionally tries to ruin everything by coaxing my body away from sleep, hobbling my brain, and betraying those who need me.
Stay awake. There is no time for you to rest—not yet.
I know I've mentioned before that I don't do well on fewer than eight solid hours per night. The walls breathe, voices sound lower and slower, my head folds over on itself. Everything's too bright, too loud, and to quote Jim Morrison, "women seem wicked". I should be bright and happy this morning. My family deserves that.
But no. I'm as cranky as I've ever been. My kids are as perky and happy as they've ever been. My husband has never been more trepidatious of the wild look in my eyes. But somehow I'm closing in on 700 words, nonetheless. Only 900 more to go. Today. Not counting this blog post.
Rock on!
Here are some Halloween pics to share with you. I hope you had a wonderful Halloween. I'm already looking forward to next year. :)
[caption id="attachment_1250" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dennis, Dennie, Joe and Brian Friday night at Red Robin for Brian's birthday dinner."]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1251" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Brian laughing at the fart card Joe picked out for him, and Joe feeling happy that Brian liked his card."]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1248" align="alignnone" width="200" caption="Joe's first Halloween pumkin. He drew the face on himself, and I cut it out for him."]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1249" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Joe and Brian and I making short work of our pumpkins."]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1252" align="alignnone" width="199" caption="Lily in her witch hat."]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1254" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Dennis and Joe setting up the front yard."]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1255" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Our Halloween display"]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1256" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Brian's Sleepy Hollow masterpiece of a jack-o-lantern"]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1257" align="alignnone" width="200" caption="Joe Joe and Dennis trick or treating"]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1258" align="alignnone" width="199" caption="Joe Joe and Mommy trick or treating"]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1259" align="alignnone" width="200" caption="Joe shows off his Halloween candy haul"]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1261" align="alignnone" width="199" caption="Dennis and Joe relaxing before bed"]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1262" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Lily and Brian were so cute laughing together Halloween night"]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_1260" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Brian helps Lily to enjoy one piece of her Halloween candy"]
[/caption]
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