Brain / Hand Disconnect

Or, maybe, Confessions of a Worn-Out Assistant:


Revising numerous requests for production this morning.

Most start with the phrase: "Any and all documents related to..."

However, my fingers keep typing "Andy and Al"

wt.....? I've only been typing this phrase, regularly, for (um, wow, it's almost) 20 years now.


Think I'd like a nap please.



[Hey. It's a post. This is one of those lovely days where there is no time until after 8:00 p.m. to be doing anything but scheduled crap. So, if I do unscheduled crap, someone could figure out I was doing something I wasn't supposed to be. . . . See?]

Confessions of a Tired Momma

Sometimes, when my patience is running particularly thin at the end of a very long day, and she's been particularly inventive and successful with her stall tactics, I intentionally won't ask if she has to go to the bathroom before she brushes her teeth (she almost always does, you see).

Because if I don't ask, in the middle of brushing she'll realize she has to go. Like, now.

And, man, you she see how fast that girl can brush when she's gotta pee!

Follow Up . . .

For you who might be interested...

First: Remember Donna? Well, she pulled through with flying colors and is currently "cancer free".

Second: And Sunshine? We think she's over it now, most likely thanks in large part to the oral steroid which the doctor put her on immediately upon seeing that she probably had the swine flu, and which turned her into Hungry Little Ms. Mouthypants for about a week. (Ok... So maybe the mouthy part wasn't entirely due to the steroid -- she comes by that naturally. ...Yes, from both sides, Tallman...)

Just wanted to thank you who thought kind thoughts and/or sent prayers.

Don't Need a Stinkin' Reason

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Boo!

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It's That Time Again

Asian Lady Beetle season, that is.

Do you get these swarms where you live? They look just like ladybugs, but they're not red. They're sort of an orangish-brownish color. They kinda match some of the leaves we're seeing right about now.

See, when the farmers take out their fields, they leave these li'l buggers suddenly homeless.

And then... They. are. everywhere.

They're sorta ingenious little things too. They crawl around any openings they can find in your house. They want warmth. If they can find a way in, they'll move themselves in and get downright cozy.

I'm pretty sure our house had a nest or two when we moved in because we saw them intermittently, throughout each season, for about a year after we moved in.

Can't tell you how many times I had to put the book down at story time in order to capture and kill one of those things so Sunshine would just calm the heck down.

And of course they always hung out on the ceiling, which in our house is very high. And, me being fairly short 'n all, I'd practically have to climb up on top of the dresser to reach them.

She will not go to sleep if she knows one of them is alive in her room. She's always been afraid that they'd crawl on her at night and probably even try taking a nibble now and then.

Here's what she had to say about ladybugs / ladybeetles recently, in her own words:

(My girl rocks!)

And, The Other Shoe?

Friday was scary. All through the afternoon and all night readings were all over the place: 102.7, 103.3, 102.9.

101.3 with fever reducer...

And yesterday was a slow burn, between like 100.2 and 101.7 mostly over the course of the day (...I was pretty surprised that he actually agreed not to give the reducer unless it went over 102).

Yet, mysteriously, no fever yet today.

Still with the funny-looking eyes though.

I'm pretty sure that at least two of the cases I've read or heard about said that when the fever broke they thought all was well, and then suddenly it spiked again, and that that was when it really got dangerous.

So, I dunno.

We kinda feel like we're waiting for the other shoe to drop, yet praying that it doesn't and that the worst is over.


Please...

HERE's a Wart For Ya

I think Bosses' Day is dumb.

Administrative Professionals' Day too.

That's all, for now.

Secret No More

Follow-up post

Ok. Picture it…

I get home from work Friday night and find a minute to log on and check in on one or two of my favorite blogs, and maybe look at my own to see if I have any new comments or anything.

I pull up my page and find nothing new. So I go look at Bane [link removed, ...RIP] and I see that he's linked me! Of course, I get all embarrassed and my face gets hot and flushed, and I go back to my site right away. (Why do I always feel that way when someone links me? Do you ever get over that?)

And my husband comes up, sorta behind me, and says: "Whatcha readin'? ...Whose blog is that?"

My face gets even redder and I quickly say something, I can't even remember what. I'm sure it included a st-st-stutter. Then I turn around and look at him, and for a split second I get that stupid, oh-I'm-so-guilty smile on my face. I'm thinking: I'm so busted. I say I was just reading one of my favorite blogs.

. . . He actually lets it go!

I soon realize, though, that I have to tell him. I can't handle the guilt anymore. But when? I decide I'll tell him Monday (that way, if he's pissed, at least it won't ruin our weekend ;).

Then, last night, as we were about to get ready for bed I said: "I think I'm going to check in on my favorite blogs before I lie down." See, I've been spending a little more time on the computer lately, and he's taken notice. He wonders why I seem to be so interested all of a sudden.

"I can't help it. I like to see what's happening. Blogs are kinda like my soaps used to be."

Him: "Yeah, sure. You probably have your own blog, don't you?"

I'm stunned. Shit. "No. I don't have a blog." Then – that stupid-ass smile again. I try and deny it at first, feeling like crap the whole time.

He looks into my eyes. That's it. I'm finished. He knows I'm lying (he's just like my mother -- knows when I'm lying by the look in my eyes / on my face). He presses again.

Oh man, he's not buyin' it. I feel like an 8-year-old girl trying to lie to her mama. And mama's havin' none of it.

Looking into my soul, through my eyes. That knowing look: Give it up. Your eyes say it all honey.

"Ok - ok! Yes! I have a blog. I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

We talked a bit, and he's fine with it now. And I feel so much better. No more secret.

(And now we're even, Dear. You can officially consider that one secret you kept from me a long time ago forgotten, for good.)


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How I Love the 'net

So I was thinking about the movie Cars over lunch today. One thought led to another, and I ended up with a song running through my head and I wanted to hear it.

I looked it up, gave it a listen, and now I can let it go (the whole process, maybe 2 minutes).

Enjoy!



Helloooooo Friday!

Bring it.

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Note: Now defunct link removed/updated upon re-posting; e-mail address in comments also non-existent.

New Smoke Break Entertainment

There's a pigeon problem in the city where I work. They're everywhere. I think it was the Tuesday after Memorial Day weekend when we came back to work to find the sidewalks surrounding our building completely covered in pigeon sh!t. Someone must've dropped a trail of food all around building because for some reason those nasty birds just had a big ol' party on the sidewalks. You couldn't get into the building without trudging through the green and white maze of poo.

A few years ago the building maintenance guy installed some kind of speaker on the roof which plays loud, intermittent falcon calls which echo off all the surrounding buildings. Though the sound is a bit annoying, we're all very accustomed to hearing this "canned call" numerous times a day, especially us smokers.

I've noticed a lot of people this spring taking note of the sound as they're walking down the street, stopping and searching the sky for the source of the sound. A few times I've even said to these people: "It's fake. It's just a recording."

Then I started seeing people out with binoculars and remembered that our city has been encouraging peregrine falcons to nest and breed downtown. They've been doing this for a number of years, and I don't think it's been easy because I know at least a few of the birds have been found dead as a result of running into windows and such. I've seen signs over the last 3-4 years on the buildings where they nest asking people to please call a certain number if they encounter one of these birds injured or dead, and telling people how to deal with them if they're found in a life-threatening situation. I gathered from the signs that the program was probably not going so well.

But the other day I stepped out and heard distinct falcon calls. They were definitely not the canned sounds blasted off our roof all day. I looked up and saw two falcons flitting around, one chasing the other. The bird in front obviously had something in its talons. The other appeared to be trying to steal it. I watched them fly over the building across the street, and the one in front dropped down and I saw a small bird drop from its talons just before it landed. The next day I saw a similar scene, including flying feathers as the bird devoured a meal on another nearby roof.

I looked it up in the local paper and found out that this year there were four eggs and three hatched in late April, two males and a female. The males left the nest around the 5th, and the female followed soon after (after being rescued from a window box she'd fallen into on her first attempt out of the nest).

I can usually spot at least one of them when I step out. Sometimes I'll see all of them flying high. Yesterday there were two of them who seemed to be playing follow the leader as they soared up over the tops of buildings and then back down, dodging buildings here and there.

I may have to try and get a few pictures this summer. Hope they all make it this year. They're a lot of fun to watch, and it sure beats watching the characters I usually see roaming the streets around here.

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Princess Sunshine

Not long ago I asked my daughter again what she'd like to be when she grows up. Last time I asked, maybe about 8 months ago, the answer was: "A fireman and a mommy" (I think that was just something she'd heard one of her little friends say and she thought that sounded pretty good). This time though her answer was: "A princess." Of course I told her I didn't think there were many princes left in the world, but it would be nice to be a princess huh?

There was a time in my younger days when I might've tried to discourage such ideas because, well, come on, let's get real. But now I like the thought of her being interested in fairy tales and stuff. I think it will help build her imagination. And I do want her to marry her prince someday, not just for her own happiness but also because I want grandchildren! ;)

She's been into the whole princess thing for a while now. She has this flower girl dress that I made 13 years ago for her sister for our wedding. Sunshine started wearing it when it was still way too long for her and she had pick it up on the sides in order to walk without tripping over it. It fits her perfectly now. She loves to put that frilly peach dress on with a pair of Disney Princess shoes, a crown, gloves, her pearl necklace and bracelet, her chrome purse (yes, that says chrome - that's what it looks like anyway) and her Minnie Mouse ring. She also carries her scepter, which is actually a "wand of light" toy that came with her Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus doll.

Speaking of Barbie… We've discovered the Barbie movies. Sunshine LOVES these movies and she watches them over and over again, the way kids so often do. It started with Mermaidia. She'd seen it at daycare and when we came across it in the library she just had to check it out. We had it over a 3-day weekend and she must've watched it at least 10 times. Now we've also checked out Fairytopia (Mermaidia is sort of a sequel to that one) and Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus a few times too.

It takes her a lot longer to watch a movie these days because I made the mistake of introducing her to the rewind and play buttons on the remote. She rewinds all her favorite parts at least 3 or 4 times before she'll let the movie play on.

These movies are actually pretty good. Full of fantasy and magic, and great villains. They aren't annoying to watch like, say, Little People or Barney videos (oh how we despise Barney!).

Last night it was Barbie in The Nutcracker. We really enjoyed it. I never really knew the story because I'd only seen it in dance. Now I can't wait to take her to see the ballet. I think she'll love it because she loves ballet, and she'll know the story first.

I got a little carried away at the end though. There's this music at the end when Prince Eric and the Sugar Plum Princess are dancing (I tried to find a link to the music, or at least the name of it, this morning but no luck. I wonder if anyone knows which one I'm talking about?). The music is so beautiful and powerful. It took me on a little mental journey, and at the end of that journey I'd decided that there's something I'd like to do someday, with that music playing in the background…

Of course, that little fantasy in my head went "Poof !" when my daughter asked: "Can we watch it again Mommy?"

Whoa. Snap back to reality.

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Standing on the Edge

Have you ever reached a point in your life where you felt kinda like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, and like if you didn't change directions or step off the path you were on, you were going to be swept away in a landslide. And there'd be no going back?

That's kinda where I'm at lately. I don't know, maybe there's something to this mid-life crisis crap.

I look at each area of my life, and know that it could (and should) be improved somewhat if I would just stop procrastinating and put forth the effort.

I used to be a real go-getter.

Not long ago my mom sent me a card out of the blue. It was perfect timing because I was feeling sort of down after losing my grandmother and dealing with some old emotions that brought up. The card said:

Daughter,

You are life's greatest gift to me.

Memories come flooding back to me as I look back over the years. I want to hold on to you and at the same time watch you fly high and free...

...you have such spirit and a character all your own. You are a doer and an achiever of what you believe in. I'm so proud of the dreams you have and the conviction you have to make those dreams come true. Your world is bright, new, and bursting with possibilities.

It's so easy to remember your very first steps and how I held out my hand for you to hold. As each year passes, you take more steps, and some of these will eventually lead you away from me -- but always remember that my hand and my heart are forever here for you.

You will always be my daughter, but I have also discovered in you a rare and precious friend. You have been life's great gift to me, and I love you so much.

-- Vickie M. Worsham

Her handwritten note: You have taken many steps already but this still expresses my heart. Love, Mom

Oh yeah. I bawled after reading that. It was just what I needed to hear at a time when I was feeling lost and small.

I should tell you that I was really surprised at that first line. Mom always went out of her way to never show favoritism with my brothers and me. There were times when they thought she was showing favoritism but since I was the only girl and I didn't often do the types of things little boys do I didn't get into trouble as much, I didn't get yelled at or spanked nearly as much. And sometimes she would step in and say things like: "You let your sister watch Sesame Street now. You boys have had the TV all day. Now you let her watch something she wants to watch. Besides, it's educational."

Maybe at the time she picked out the card she was feeling particularly annoyed with my brothers, seein' as how some were in jail at the time, as well as one of their wives, and Mom was caring for their children at the time.

She's right. I've worked hard to get where I am today. I used to have the drive to do what it took to achieve whatever I wanted to. I had to make a lot of tough decisions to pull myself up into a better life, some of which were incredibly stupid and will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I've been in a rut the last few years and I spend a lot of time thinking or talking about things I want to do, but not much time actually doing them. I won't bore you with a list.

I'm just sick and tired of being sick and tired of feeling like this. Guess I'm trying to start gearing myself up to actually DO something about it.

Time's a wastin'!

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Today...

I've got nothin'… 'cept maybe the following questions:

1. Why were my feet submersed in a puddle of piddle when I looked down in the washroom a bit ago?

Possible Answer: Because there was a 3-year-old boy being held up there by his mama while he did his business (in a building full of offices that receive little to no visitors)? Yeah. That's gotta be it. Surely no grown WOMAN misses by that much!

2. Ladies, how difficult would it be to, like, close the lid on that little receptacle thingy hanging on the wall in the stall? There's a reason there's a lid on it. Use it!

That is all.

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I Have a Secret

Yes, I do.

It's that old familiar feeling: I've screwed up, and how am I going to get out of this one?

You see, no one I know knows about my blog. Not my best friend, not my mother, not even my husband. And the guilt is starting to gnaw at my conscience.

My idea when I started this was to just toy around with writing a little, maybe make a few e-friends and have a sort of journal for myself (and for some who might be interested in the future – I know I would've loved to read something like this written by my father). I didn't tell anyone about it because I wanted to feel free to write whatever (though that's much more difficult than it sounds – I'm finding so many potential little booby traps when I start to write and I reign myself in because there are so many factors to consider).

I've reviewed everything I've written here so far and I don't think there's anything that would tick any of my loved ones off, but I'm starting to feel sorta like I'm cheating or something, because my husband's not aware. He knows I've been reading blogs for a about a year and half and he's heard me say things like: "I was reading [Acidman] today…" and he'll usually just sorta feign interest in what I'm saying. He even jokingly suggested recently that I start a blog, as an outlet for my occasional ranting. I wish now that I would've seized that moment.

It's a situation where the longer I go on not sharing, the more difficult it becomes. I really hate it when I get myself into these situations.

I see bloggers talking about a blogmeet. That's not an option from where I stand, even though I think my husband and I would likely enjoy it.

I'd never mess around. We agreed to two rules before we got married. And so far they've served us well. The first was that we'd never cross the line (mess around) without telling the other person about the temptation first. The second was that we'd never let any family live with us, unless it was absolutely necessary (like, for health reasons, only - and even then they'd better be damned good health reasons).

Is it a really bad thing to keep this all to myself? How would a guy feel if he found out his wife had been blogging for months without his knowledge?

Anyway, like I said, I have a secret. And now you're in on it too!


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What IS That Thing?

Yes. The time has arrived. The age where little boys discover that their... equipment isn't the same as what little girls have, and vice versa.

Our daycare puts out a sort of monthly newsletter at the beginning of each month. Included with the newsletter is a calendar of events for the upcoming month, and a little summary from each class about what's been going on in their class.

In the last newsletter my daughter's teacher included a blurb on the sheet for her class – something like: "Recently a friend [what they call all of the kids at the daycare] came up with the idea to put "Stop" and "Go" signs on the washroom door to help ensure privacy while using the washroom." My thought was: Awww. I'll bet some little boy or girl has become very curious, and it's getting on someone else's nerves.

Sunshine sort of went through this a few months back. I'll just say that she now knows that when she grows up she's going to have "bumps" on her chest, and that Daddy likes his privacy when he goes potty and, no, she can't come in – she can wait a minute. (For a while there he was asking me to distract her each time so he could slip in and pee.)

When I picked Sunshine up from daycare yesterday, the teacher and one of the older girls were sitting at the table. The girl had a baby doll and had just removed the diaper.

"Well, hello, Ms. Freddie. How are you this evening?" Ms L. said cheerfully.

"Great. How 'bout you?" I reply as I scan the room for my little carrot top and spot her on the floor.

"Hey, Sweetums!" I flash her a big smile. "You ready to go?"

"Just a minute, Mudder. I have to help Timmy pick up the Rescue Heroes. We were both playing with them."

"Ok."

I hear Ms. L. talking to the little girl: "That baby doesn't have a diaper on! That baby needs a diaper. Oh, and that's a boy baby. . . . And he's wearing a dress?"

I looked over at the baby doll, and saw a tiny little, umm, tallywhacker on it.

The little girls says, "Yeah. It's not ok to show our private parts in class."

"That's right. It's not ok." Ms. L notices me looking at the baby. "Do you like our new babies? I just got them last week."

"Yeah... I see they're anatomically correct."

"Yep. I got them that way on purpose. The kids are at that age. They're curious. We've had some issues come up lately."

I agreed. "Oh yeah. Sunshine's been noticing all kinds of stuff lately. I imagine they're pretty curious when it comes to the opposite sex."

She laughed. "Yeah. I didn't tell them about the baby dolls at first. You should've seen them when they discovered it. One of the girls took the diaper off the boy, and she was like: 'Ms. L! Come look at this baby!'"

She said she gathered the class together to see what the little girl was talking about. And then they went and got the little girl doll and had a little show & tell with her too. They were all very interested, said Ms. L. (I can just picture it: Hey, that's what I have! ...But THAT's what she / he has?).

I would've loved to have seen that. I'm sure it was quite entertaining.


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Medical Advances, Great Grandpa and Cough Drops

I was listening to my daughter cough and wheeze in her sleep as I was in the shower this morning. I was thinking how thankful I am that my husband and I have the necessary tools to help her breathe when she feels like her air supply is being shut off.

My mother didn't have those tools. Sure there were times when it would get so bad she'd take me to the clinic and we'd get a prescription for pills, which helped me breathe but also made me shake, inside and out, and feel like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. But it was never a situation where I had medications I could use at the onset of symptoms that would help keep the situation from getting out of hand. The triggers for me were pollution (which made life difficult during the years we lived in the vicinity of the big friggin' steel mill), cats, some dogs, physical exertion, and cold air.

We spent a lot of time at Gramma's (Mom's mom) house when we were small. I hated that. I loved my Gramma and Grampa, but I hated staying at their house. They always had a "Blackie" in the house. Blackie was always a little black scottish terrior-looking dog with a nasty wet nose, and a slobber-covered toy. A toy that he wanted you to, like, touch, and toss around for him [shudder].

First of all, I don't like many dogs. Never have. I don't like 'em jumpin' on me. I don't like 'em wiping their slimy faces on me. And most of 'em smell.

And second of all, I was allergic to that damned dog, and as soon as I walked into Gramma's house, my air tubes would start to close. I'd start wheezing and coughing and struggling for air. The longer I was there the worse it would get. I can remember coughing and sputtering through many a Cubs game at Gramma's house.

When we spent the night, Gramma would lay out a big hide-a-bed cushion on the kitchen floor and I'd sleep there. Well, I'd try to sleep anyway. Gramma and Grampa's room was in the back of the house so they weren't disturbed at all by my coughing. But Great Grampa's room was fairly close, and the noisy breathing difficulties irked him no doubt. He would get up and ask if there was anything he could do – get me some water, another pillow? There was really nothing that would help.

Eventually he got it into his head that cough drops should do the trick. No. Cough drops did not help, at all. But he would bring them to me, one after another. One night he was bringing me a cough drop about every hour, and at about 2 or 3 in the morning I'd had all I could take.

I'm NOT taking any more of these stupid cough drops, I thought. If I eat one more I'm gonna barf. (I still won't take them today – I'd rather suffer.) But, what to do with them? If I put them in the trash compactor he's likely to see them. And he'll probably hear me opening and closing it too. I don't want to hurt his feelings. He's only trying to help.

I finally started just licking them and sticking them under Gramma's cabinets. From that point on, they accumulated there. There had to be tons of them under there. I feel kinda bad about it now. I wonder… Do you think a cough drop would stay stuck under a cabinet for 30 years?

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Has Anyone Seen My Work Ethic?

I used to have one. A good one. Really.

Up until about a year and a half ago I worked for 3 busy litigators. It was an extremely demanding position to be in – constant incoming e-mails, voicemails and drive-bys at my cubicle, piling up assignment after assignment. The nearly unmanageable to-do list, drop-dead deadlines, "to be filed" piles growing week to week. Things were getting way out of hand. I was always exhausted from being stressed out and trying to maintain a 90 mph pace over the work day, coming home and tending to meals, the house, the husband and the baby in the evenings and on weekends, and being up nearly every night dealing with the baby's health issues.

I learned a lot about priority in those years. I had little to no patience for anyone wasting my precious time. And a few times I even made my feelings known to co-workers I felt were being especially dim. Let's just say my supervisor had to smooth more than a few ruffled feathers back then.

I realized something had to give. I finally caved and requested that one of those 3 bosses be reassigned. My supervisor agreed and made it happen. Things instantly started to improve. The workload became manageable and, over time, I became much more relaxed and happy.

Then the partner I'd worked with for years announced that he was moving to another state (and I admit being a little tempted when he asked if I'd be willing to move too, and work for him). When he left I was left with only 1 boss. That was awesome, but it also sort of made me a target. Having only one, I had to fill in a lot when people were sick and stuff. Still it was better than being under the load I had been.

Soon they assigned me another partner and things are still very manageable.

Sometimes I miss the challenge and the adrenaline, but then again, I have trouble getting motivated these days.

What's that old saying? Feast or famine? Yeah, I think I'm still at a point where I'm happy to starve.


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First Bloom

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Update: 9/24/09

Damn, I miss my rose bushes. . . . Think maybe I need to remedy that situation next year.

Hey, Norfolk!

Don't know who you are but I wanted to let you know I appreciate you. I do believe you were my first regular reader (well, besides Og). I missed you for a few days recently but was really relieved when you returned.

Hope you stick around.


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