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Failed it!

31 Oct

So, I know it’s hard to believe with all of those fabulous forehead lines (*note to self: ask dermatologist “how much is botox?”) that I’m not 16, but nope, I’m 38 and taking my driver’s test… again.  [because remember this]

This is me in line, ready… or not… to go.  I passed the written portion with Jaxon, my 16 year old son, with flying colors a couple of weeks ago and spent a few hours prepping for my 2 point turn.  Maryland no longer requires you to do a 3 point turn or parallel parking, so yay, me… this is cake, right?!  Not so much.  2 point turns aren’t that easy, especially when you don’t have giant cars on either side of you to judge your side mirror distances.  I kinda sucked at it when practicing, but finally became more comfortable and decided it was now or never to take the test.  Of course, I was nervous.  I don’t often drive and when I do, I basically concentrate on the important things like stopping at stop lights/signs, using turn signals, checking my mirrors, not hitting cars or pedestrians and defensive driving tactics, so that I’m prepared for all of the idiot drivers making illegal maneuvers around me.  It’s a lot harder than you think (or remember from 22 years ago) to focus on turn signals (in empty parking lots), proper speeds, making sure to look over your shoulder and in all of the mirrors at all times, counting your trailing distance from the car in front of you, reading signs, following every minute traffic law possible, etc.. etc.. etc…  Though these things do come naturally over years of driving, you get into a comfort zone and stop focusing on 30 things at one time… and for good reason to be honest, because who can focus on 30 details at once and not be missing something critical because your focus is literally everywhere all at once?

Well, apparently it is critical to keep your hands gripped to the steering wheel with your palms facing away from you.  Seconds after the test started the instructor told me to stop and said “watch the position of your hands”.  I assumed that she was trying to tell me that I wasn’t keeping my hands at “10 and 2” and simply replied “ok” and resumed motion focusing on braking, signaling, mirror checking and her instructions on what to do next.  The 2 pt turn was straight out of the gate, as I started backing into the spot I immediately got flustered because those darn flags are just not visible in the mirrors until your turn is in place.  I noticed the instructor nodding in disapproval from the corner of my eye as I was backing up, so I doubted my position and decided to pull forward and reposition myself.  She nodded again.  Clearly, I was screwing up, so I sighed and thought “screw it, just back in”.  I had overcompensated when I pulled forward and readjusted.  Apparently, I was actually good to go on my first attempt and should’ve ignored her nodding.  Though close, I was still inside the cones and just continued on my way backing in.  She asked me to pull out of the space and pullover.  Focusing on blinkers and mirrors and cones and looking over my shoulder all the while, I pulled out knowing that her tone meant I failed even though I cleared the cones.  After I pulled to the side she said, “remember when the test started I asked you to watch the position of your hands?  As you turn your steering wheel, you turn your hands and grip the steering wheel with your palms facing you.  You can’t do that.  I had to give you a point every time you did that and you did it 6 times during the 2 pt turn, so you failed.”  She continued to say that it happens all of the time with drivers with expired licenses.  Us, more experienced drivers, get into a habit of gripping the steering wheel wrong or using palms to turn or letting our grip go of the wheel, so that the steering wheel slides through our hands (palming) as we turn.  Though, I never lost my grip of the wheel and didn’t palm it, I was turning my hand and gripping the steering wheel subconsciously from the wrong side.  She said she even does it all of the time and when she drives she thinks to herself “I would fail my own test”.

So, that was that.  38 years old and Failed it!  Though, I didn’t wreck the car or hit a pedestrian or run a red light… this failure sucked almost more… I mean, that’s a really obscure fucking technicality.  The instructor wished me luck next time and told me to go ahead and schedule a retake tomorrow, but as I drove home Mike and I noticed that this “moving my hand” thing is a pretty bad habit that is going to take a lot more practice to shake.  Poop.  I’m not going to lie, I did cry afterwards because what’s more embarrassing than failing a test that you easily passed 22 years ago… that your 16 year old son is getting ready to take?!  But that’s just it.  I have to take a deep breath and show my son that it happens.  Whatever.  Try, try, again.  I think I’ll try again after a bit more practice this time, though.  And who knows… since I technically didn’t get to drive the course at all, maybe there are a couple of more habits that could fail me that I don’t even know about?  Stay tuned for “Failed it: Part 2“.  In the meantime, watch out for a dangerous white minivan roaming the streets with a seriously old female student driver who dares to turn her grip when she turns risking the lives of anyone who is in and around her vehicle.


Monday, Monday

12 Sep

I had this grand idea to get organized.  The pool season has ended and so it’s time to stop neglecting the house/kids/myself.  As I do with most of my grand ideas, I looked to Pinterest (aka “Carol’s brain” because how did I ever do anything or have an idea on my own without Pinterest).  And with any great idea that can only be completed with the help of Pinterest, I had to spend hours searching and pinning and then clicking on pins and filtering through pins.  I finally decided to do this…


Yep, 147 pages!  Not to be confused with 148 pages which would totally be overboard.

…and then there were all of these checklists that had to be printed out and organized.  (because you have to organize your organization binder to help you organize)


…and then I had to fill in checklists, make menus and plan a whole week of cleaning.

The more lists I completed the more overwhelmed I felt.  *This is already backfiring.  Why do I feel less organized.  What’s that?  What’s happening?  What’s going on?

So I worked and typed and penciled-in this and that in my binder all weekend.  And finally, at 3 AM this morning, I had the week ready to go.  I looked over my Monday morning checklist and thought to myself “Ok, it seems like a lot.  I’m overwhelmed, but wait… some of this I can really knock out in the hour that I have in between dropping Phoebe off at her bus stop and dropping Leila off at her bus stop.  Tess will be asleep.  This may work!  I’ve got this!”

…But then Tess woke up at 4 AM crying and I couldn’t get her back to sleep until after 5 AM and feeling exhausted I started reasoning with reality.  “I have to get up at 6:30 AM to get Jax off to school.  Let’s be real.  I’ll be too tired and want to take a nap after all of the kids are gone.  I’m going to have to add “nap” to my to-do list.  Is that contradictory?  Can you add “nap” to a to-do list that is supposed to keep you organized and timely?  Screw it!  Adding “nap” to my to-do list will be the first thing I “to-do”.”  Zzzzzz…

As predicted, I was exhausted to the point of delirium, but I got Jax up and ready, then I got Phoebe up and ready, and then I opened my binder and set to cross things off quickly, so I could get to “nap”.  I did a load of laundry, took care of the dog, woke Leila up and got her in the shower, realized that most of the things I actually do weren’t even on my to-do list, but thought things were going well… until Leila walked up to me in the hallway mid-“laundry” check-off.  Soaking wet with tears in her eyes she stammered, “Mom, I just remembered, I was supposed to do a project this weekend.”  

“A project?!  Not a worksheet or a chapter to read, but a whole PROJECT?!”

“Yes!  I need to make a poster about something for health class.”  Still dripping under her towel, she shuffled through her binder and handed me a sheet with her project requirements. 7 research bulletin points, to be exact.

“Crap!  Ok, get dressed.  Seriously, Leila?!  You have to be at the bus stop in 20 minutes.  It’ll be fine.  Dry your eyes.  Mommy to the rescue!  Let me see what I can knock out.”  I quickly turned to the computer and tapped away at the keyboard, scrambled for a gnarly piece of leftover posterboard, a glue stick and my paper cutter.  Frantically, I searched, copy and pasted, printed, cut and glued and all the while it was killing me that I couldn’t rephrase most of it and that it wasn’t pretty.  It dawned on me that most people with OCD are probably unorganized because if it’s not perfect then it’s not good enough, so why even try?  I had completed 5 bulletin points before she had to leave for the bus stop.  She walked out of the door without a project and both of us were deflated, but I trudged on and when it was completed I jumped in the van with what is quite possibly the worst looking poster on “Stuttering” the teacher will ever be handed.  I zipped to the bus stop just as the bus was coming down the street to pick her up.  *Yay!  I got to be her hero!  She gave me a giant hug, as I told her to study the poster on the bus and really learn her topic.

I left the bus stop smiling, but even more exhausted.  I came home to stare blankly at the mess the haphazard project had left behind in its wake and then look over even more blankly at my “to-do list” with its one… lone… check.  Nope, “do Leila’s weekend project for her” wasn’t on there.  Just then… *crunch* *crunch* “Shit!  What’s the dog into?”  Fabulous, “cleaning up shards of gnawed on colored pencils” isn’t on my to-do list either.  F U, Monday!


When life gives you pink eye, make pink lemonade.

5 Apr

So you know how things never quite pan out how you envisioned them.  Yeah, well that’s the definition of Carol Trader.  I don’t think I’ve pulled anything off quite how I meant for it to be.  And I’m talking the small things, the haphazard moments that make you go “really?!”, not the life-altering atrocities or the as luck would have it happenstances.  Matter of fact, the very definition of haphazard

1. disorganized, unsystematic, careless, slapdash, helter-skelter.

is pretty much the very definition of me.  Most of the time I really do just kinda fumble my way through things and try to just. get it. done.  But even when I try to be careful and meticulous it always backfires and I just end up sitting at the head of a table caving in under a heap of mess.

So my girl, Jan is having her third baby, but first baby girl.  I’m so excited!  I thought to myself, “Carol, you kind of sucked at the Maid of Honor thing for her.  You know, like when you left the bachelorette party that you had planned for her (DC 101 Chili Cookoff concert then bar hopping) to go grab a car to meet up for bar hopping… but then your husband, who picked you and your friend Renee up in his police cruiser to go grab Renee’s car ended up in a haphazard car chase while you and Renee were in the backseat… which was kinda time-consuming and left Renee skittish and no one wanting to drive anywhere afterwards.  (Also, as it turns out, I think one of the girls was roofied while bar hopping without us, later that night.  Though she ended up being fine, it was scary, to say the least.  Yep, that’s me-  Friend of the Year!)  Or like, when the time came for you to give a speech at her wedding reception, but you had to to tell the DJ that you were haphazardly chickening out due to speech anxiety and you had your speech printed and framed for her instead.”  Yeah, I’m that Maid of Honor.  So, I owe her and something like a surprise baby shower might be an awesome way to show her how much I love her.

I sent Jan’s husband a text to see if a baby shower was already in the making, first.  He said that a neighbor threw a tiny neighborhood Baby Sprinkle for their last baby, Baker, so I asked for the neighbor’s name and number and quickly went to work on a surprise shower.  While waiting for a guest list and confirmation from the neighbor, Jan’s mom beat me to the punch and I received a shower invitation in the mail.  Crap!  But all wasn’t lost, Jan’s mom’s shower was being held on the shore an hour and a half away from Jan’s local friends & neighbors, so I thought we could still pull it off.  Jan’s neighbor thought it would be best to ask Jan if she was cool with it first, so no surprise, but the shower was still a go.  Yay!  I set to pinning things to make for the shower and sent out the digital invite.  I made the bunnies for the cupcakes the night before and woke up early to bake.


The cupcakes turned out adorable and we loaded the gifts, cupcakes and girls in the van (they would play with Jan’s boys, while I attended the shower).  Things were going well, until I turned to hand Tess a juicebox to drink during our ride and noticed that the eye that looked a bit irritated when she woke up was looking more like pink eye.  Crap!  Crap!  When we arrived at Jan’s neighbor’s house, I pulled Jan aside and said that it was looking like Tess had pink eye and that I didn’t feel comfortable staying and letting her play with Jan’s boys.  Mike took the girls to the neighborhood park, so that I could unpack the cupcakes, drop off the baby’s gifts and give Jan a hug.  Boo!  And that was that.  The carefully planned – I’m going to make up for being a horrible Maid of Honor – solo- surprise- shower that ended up being a second, non-surprise, Sprinkle that I wasn’t even able to attend.  I don’t mean that quite as negatively as it sounds because everything turned out just perfect, I’m just harping on the somewhat hilarity that it was not quite how I had envisioned it would go down on my end.  Jan’s mother’s shower was fabulous (Thank goodness I was in attendence).  And in the few minutes that I was at the Sprinkle, it looked as though Jan was having a great time and that was all that mattered, whether I was able to stay or not the ultimate goal was achieved.


On the way home, we passed Great Falls Park and since we had a surprising amount of time to kill that day, I asked Mike to stop.  The weather was perfect to take the girls on a small hike down a Great Falls trail, so we took the time to stop and enjoy our pink-eye-filled life.  And though even the Great Falls hike was a haphazard family outing, sometimes haphazard is… *sigh*… kinda nice.  Not what I envisioned for the day, but still nice.  When life gives you pink eye, make pink lemoade.

IMG_1087IMG_1079 IMG_1079 IMG_1078 IMG_1069 IMG_1054 IMG_1053

P.S. We made the right decision about not letting Tess stay and play.  It turned out that she had viral pink eye, which apparently is more contagious than bacterial and there is no treatment.  You just have to wait it out.  Thankfully, it was short lived.  2 days later, she is well and on the mend.

When life gives you lemons…

13 Mar

… laugh at the little things.

Last week, I started feeling pretty awful.  Lymph nodes began flaring again, chest inflammation, irritability… blah, blah, blah, so I closed down my Etsy shop.  Just in time, as luck would have it!  Leila had also been sick with a virus for over a week.  She was coughing non-stop, but it was productive and her doctor listened to her chest several times and said she had normal breathing sounds, so not to worry.  She began vomiting mucous, but my doctor said again, not to worry, she would be fine.  After 5 days of her vomiting mucous and gasping for air, I had had enough and asked Michael to take her to urgent care.  I would stay behind with the little ones because they had their own congestion issues and I didn’t want the petri dish of a hospital make matters worse.  At urgent care they took xrays and noted something, but they weren’t quite sure what it was, they recommended a ct scan, which would have to be ordered by her doctor the next day, started her on antibiotics, and sent her home.  She had coughing spells and difficulty breathing throughout the night.  After we sent Jax off to school in the morning, I told Mike not to wait for her doctor’s office to open and to just take her to the ER, where they could run a ct scan.  I paced with worry while the little ones slept and when Mike called me a few hours later to ask me if she could have been exposed to TB and I could hear her in a fit to catch her breath in the background, I had had enough!  Still without a license and not wanting to expose my neighbors’ kids to whatever my children had, I asked a dear friend to drive me and the kids to the ER.  Like a scene out of Terms of Endearment, I hovered over her, fussed over her condition at the nursing desk, got her a warm blanket, tissues, more meds, begged for the doctor to come talk to me immediately… I was a mess.  They performed new xrays and though there was a discrepancy, they were sure that her lungs were ok.  They ran a TB test and started her on a stronger antibiotic.  The nursing staff stood by my side and comforted me, while they explained for nearly an hour why she was doing much better than she sounded.  They were so very kind to me.  We went home and 2 days later, I decided to get out of the house for a bit and drove everyone to the local pharmacy to get some more meds for our at home infirmary.

And guess what???  While at the pharmacy (obviously, because it was the only place we had been within 48 hours), Tess picked up the dreaded stomach bug.  Oy vey!  I stayed by her side and woke up with her every 15-30 minutes and washed and rewashed blankets and sheets and pjs.  While doing one load of laundry, I asked Mike if he could watch Tess as I had just put her in the bathtub.  She had an “incident” in the bathtub, which Mike tried to swipe down the drain.  The “incident” resulted in him contracting the stomach bug, himself!  Woo hoo!  And within 24 hours, I came down with it, as well.

As the 3 of us laid in a king sized bed, taking turns in the bathroom and changing runny diapers, I heard faint giggles coming from Tess.  In the quiet of the night, I listened as Mike snored over and over again and with each bear like growl a tiny toddler laugh followed.  Though I had just hovered over the commode and I was destined to return in nearly 30 minutes, and I felt like a bus had hit me, AND had one of the most stressful weeks, since Phoebe’s surgeries… I let out a giggle too each time… after Tess would giggle… after Mike would snore.  It’s the little things, or the little people, rather that just make life spectacular, even when it’s rotten.

Gone are the days…

6 May

…of the funny stay-at-home-mom posts.  Posts about fighting with random people in parking lots, or toddlers locking themselves in the bathroom, or general moanings and groanings that an ‘ordinary’ mom might utter… have been forgotten and replaced with a couple of posts about my health.  I miss those random days.  I feel that they will come back.  Diagnosis or not, feeling good or not, clean house or not… I need to come back.

Last Monday I had an axiallary lymph node, closest to my breast, surgically removed at Hopkins.  It measured 3 cm, which I’m told is really big for a “reactive” node.  In other words, it’s probably not cancer, but you’re pretty damn sick and it’s no flu.  They are currently still biopsying the node because… honestly, they have no idea what they are looking for.  I also, just shelled out nearly $2000, out of pocket, to have extensive blood tests run for Lyme, babesia, and bartonella.  The doctor seems suffice enough that I will test positive for all three, that she started me on meds for them while we wait for the results.  This Wednesday I have my first appt. with a cardiologist to see why the arteries on the left side of my body are so enlarged.  The left carotid is visibly and palpably enlarged and the artery in the left axiallae was so enlarged that the sonographer couldn’t even figure out what it was.  Later that day, I have a consultation with a surgeon regarding a hernia, that has been darn near excruciating at times since I was pregnant with Jax 13 years ago.  To recap:  I still feel bad and no one knows why.

*Sigh*  As I wait for results and a magic pill to make it all go away, I will post about funny things that Tess does… tomorrow…

F you and your postpartum

15 Apr

Where did I leave off? After hemorrhaging with Tess and then going into a super-mega-hyperthyroid phase, I was put on medications to lower my thyroid levels. Months later I never felt any improvement, but my levels had normalized. I was told I was euthyroid, that it was probably just postpartum thyroiditis and that my continued symptoms were due to postpartum depression. I glared at that doctor long and hard and upon her asking me “why does that upset you? Why are you rolling your eyes?”, I stormed out of her office. Now, I know to her that probably only confirmed her postpartum theory, but I knew she was wrong and didn’t want to waste another minute humoring her lazy theory. Many months, many doctors, and thousands of dollars later it would turn out that she was very, very wrong, indeed! I will not bore you with the details of my symptoms and how many tears I cried at the feet of countless doctors, in this post. Maybe when I’m not as weak I will be able to tie in some humor to these stories and blog in flashback mode. Today, I’m just going to go straight to it… The Diagnosis
In October of 2012, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s thyroiditis. Not one of the 3 endocrinologists that I had seen before then even bothered to test me for it. It wasn’t until my ophthalmologist said, in jest, that I sounded like I had an autoimmune disorder and maybe I should see a rheumatologist. The rheumatologist tested my thyroid antibodies and the were quite elevated. TPO antibodies are supposed to be 1000 (fact: they were higher than the testing range, so we actually don’t even know the exact level) and Thyroglobulin Antibodies were 1843, supposed to be <35. Apparently, my immune system had decided to attack my thyroid. Great, let’s treat it! Au contraire! Hashimoto’s remains untreated by most doctors, no matter the extent of the patient’s symptoms. After much research and dozens more doctors, it came to my doctor’s attention that my blood calcium kept coming back high. Some doctors ignored it, but a new endocrinologist wanted to see if my parathyroid was causing the problem. During a lengthy 5 hour radiology scan, they found a small tumor, so yet another diagnosis: hyperparathyroidism. Great, let’s do something about it! Au contraire! The tumor is still small so they want to do more scans in a month. Frustrated I sought the help of a holistic doctor to get a prescription for natural thyroid medication. While reading over my lab results to prepare for the appt, I noticed that my Lyme lab said negative, yet I tested positive for the P23 Bb antibody band. So I researched some more and discovered that because of CDC regulations my test was a false negative! The specific band that I tested positive for would ONLY be present if indeed I was infected with the Lyme virus! Guess what? I did some more digging and it has been documented that Lyme disease can, in fact, cause Hashimoto’s disorder. Holy hell!
Great, let’s do something about it! Au contraire, again! Because of CDC regulations the only way you can get treated for chronic (long time infected) Lyme is by finding a Lyme Literate MD. They are extremely hard to find, as they don’t advertise thanks to CDC and they don’t take insurance for the very same reason. Yay! In the USA it is easier to get a prescription for OxyContin to feed an addition than it is to get a life saving antibiotic! Insane!
I am finally going to see an LLMD today, but I was able to talk the holistic md into prescribing me antibiotics in the meantime. I recently had a mammogram because of my chronic large axiallary lymph nodes. The doctor went over the images with me. She and her assistant stared at the images of my nodes in amazement. She told me that the texture is not indicative of lymphoma or carcinoma of the breasts. I smiled and said “yay, that’s good news!” She didn’t seemed relieved in the slightest though. Her face was rather concerned and said that I have some sort of chronic systemic infection. She requested that my doctors test me for tuberculosis, sarcoidosis, Lyme, bartonella, and other infectious diseases. Great! Here we go again!

Parking Wars

24 Oct

A few of my posts *maybe more* in the past have been about incidents of road rage that I have been involved in.  Yesterday, I sat passenger to one. 

Folks, road rage is a serious disease that must be treated with as much avoidance as you would a rabid dog… or Cujo.

I know, better than most, that sometimes you can avoid brawls on the road and sometimes you can’t.  Mike fell victim to road rage yesterday and not only was it avoidable… it was predictable.

At 1:00 PM, yesterday, I asked Mike if we could go to the local pumpkin patch and get pumpkins, which was precisely at Redskins kickoff, so immediately Mike was in a fabulous mood.  He huffed and we shoved the kids in the car as he remembered that Safeway was having a sale on pumpkins “Buy one, get one!”  Yay, we’ll be in and out and you’ll be watching football in no time!  We pull curbside to Safeway where 5 lonely and rotting pumpkins sat.  Ummm… Pumpkin Patch?  What do you say?  Mike, refusing to miss one more second of football than was absolutely demanded, remembers that “they have huge boxes of pumpkins in the back of the store.  Let’s go check out what they have in there.”  He turns to the parking lot, where as luck would have it a storefront space was available, but blocked by the adjacent car’s shopping cart.  He turns the van to pull in and waits for the cart to be moved.  I predict this is a bad move, maybe because I’m a repeat offender victim and say, “Just find another space because she’s not going to move the cart.”  The stout woman unloading her cart appears to be watching our van out of the corner of her eye, but simply grabs an item from underneath her very full, very stationary, cart and slowly places it in the back of her car.  Again, she appears to see us, but grabs another item and slowly places it in her car.  It’s one thing to not notice someone or to be a little put-off because you have to stop what you’re doing and move your shopping cart a few inches, but to blatantly ignore someone just to be a b*tch is just… well, WTF?!  After a few more items were slowly placed in her car it was very apparent that she was just being a b*tch, so Mike fumes with impatience and honks his horn.  She shouts, “You can wait!”  It was at this precise point when I put my head in my hand as he put the van in park.  I knew things were going to get ugly.  Again, I’m pretty experienced in this department and I knew damn well that I’d put the van in park, too.  He gets out of the van and approaches her.  My head was still in my hands, so I didn’t see the next few events unfold.  I know that you don’t have to testify against your spouse in the court of law, so I’m not sure why I didn’t want to witness the showdown at the not-so-ok corral.  I did hear some very adult words being exchanged and glanced up in time to see Mike grab her cart and shove it to the side himself.  “… 3 goddamn inches, how hard is it?”  He turns to get back in the van and she mutters something about him needing the exercise, to which he properly responded that she was one to talk because, really?!  You’re one big girl.  Don’t go there!  Anywho, anyone who has kids knows that a storefront parking spot is not about a willingness to walk or not… it’s about having 500 less feet to yell, beg, and grab at your child, as they flee towards the store dodging cars along the way.  Mike was right.  All she had to do was move the dang cart a few inches, but she chose to be stubborn first, so she asked for it.

Or… did I ask for it because I wanted pumpkins during Redskins kickoff?

Damn, it always circles back to me.

The spread of PCIV… Update: it’s not coming from me!!!

28 Oct

To update:  I just logged onto Networkedblogs that has shut ITSELF down because Networkedblogs has a facebook originated bug.  It’s not this site!!!! I repeat, it’s NOT this site!!!  If my anti-virus software ever detects a virus, I can assure you that I would not continue to keep posting.  I do not promote the spread of PCIV.

The following is me not knowing what the hell is going on.  Please continue if you are bored today!

Apparently, my website needs to be taken to the free clinic to be evaluated for all kinds of googlexually-transmitted diseases.  This site is, again… apparently, a disease flinging internet whore.  Go on cast your stones, it’s ok… I did!

I received a message from a friend that Networkedblogs had detected a virus and was shutting down.  I, personally, did not receive any message from Networkedblogs directly, so that’s weird.  I’m not sure if it is Networkedblogs (the balloon withholding people) who was temporarily viral or if it was this site.  When I bought my new laptop, I bought and installed top-of-the-line anti-virus software and it has never detected a virus on this site.  So, Networkedblogs, though I don’t doubt that my site is a dirty whore who had PCIV, she is currently testing negative for the disease.  A technological miracle, I tell you, but nonetheless, NEGATIVE!

Did anyone else receive this message from Networkedblogs?

P.S. Dear Free,

F – you!!!!!


Dirty whore

I will be moving this site (Nov. 10th-ish) to via and Fat Cow where they use steel condoms that will give me strong internet security (i.e. wash me clean in holy water and I will be as pure as the virgin Mary again and stay pure.).


things I learned about myself this week

27 Oct
  1. While taking out the trash late one night, I hear a heated argument coming from across the street.  Intrigued, I realize that I am not above
  • walking my trash can, past its usual destination, towards the light post and thus within closer earshot of the fight.
  • listening intently, as muffled profanity gets more and more enraged
  • wondering which house the yelling is coming while hiding behind my truck.
  • upon hearing a woman scream “Who’s the whore?!” I’ve pieced together that the argument involves a girl/woman who has walked-in on/discovered that her lover has another lover.  The fight’s not coming from within the house across the street, it is coming from someone’s front yard.  Probably the next street over?
  • hopping in my truck and driving the next street over to nonchalantly get a peek of the action.  Of course, I did!
  • getting severely disappointed when I can’t find the lover’s quarrel/street fight, drive home, and listen a while longer and contemplate if I should go inside to nuke a bag of popcorn
  1. I have no idea how to get bullets and tabs to number properly when used simultaneously.
  2. I can design, pattern, and make a wedding gown with hundreds of hand sewn beads in 2 days.  (Leila wanted to be a bride for Halloween.  Stay-tuned for upcoming photos.)  Though  designed specifically for a little girl, it turned out pretty decent.  Makes paying $1,500+ for a wedding gown seem idiotic.  I mean, *eh-hem*, Pshh! What dumb*ss would do that, seriously?  *Psst!  Wedding gown?  Over here!   Shh!  Don’t tell anyone because it’s a secret, but I still heart you, wedding gown, even though I feel robbed.*
  3. A chemical peel has the opposite of desired reaction on my face.  I am currently some sort of delayed pubescent joke of a 29ish year-old.  (Do not stay-tuned for photos.)  While bringing Leila her lunch last week, her teacher noticed me peering in the doorway and stared at me awkwardly.  After calling Leila to me to take her lunch, Leila’s teacher said, “Oh, hi!  I didn’t know who you were for a moment.  You look so… uh… young.  I thought you were a former student stopping by to say ‘Hi!'” Yes, I currently look somewhere between haggard teenager and meth addict.
  4. I like serial killers… well… actually just one… who is fictional.  Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not addicted to meth.  Instead, I am addicted to the series Dexter on Showtime.  Unfortunately, I don’t get Showtime, so I’ve only been able to watch very late night marathons of seasons 1 and 2 so far.  So, don’t comment with spoilers from more recent seasons such as, I don’t know…” Dexter killed someone… again!”
  5. Tonight, when I was sitting outside, a giant spider (You guys, I’m talking baby tarantula at the very least.) crawled past me, every muscle in my body tensed and instead of screaming I couldn’t help but think, “Well, what do ‘ya know?!  My kegel muscles are still going strong!  *heraldic* Awesome!”

So random…

21 Oct

Phew! Busy, busy, busy…  Like, for example:

1)  This morning I had to take the kids to school because Michael had a search warrant.  Getting 3 clothed children out of the door by myself in the morning is no small task.  (Especially, when one is a toddler who is currently possessed by the devil.  Me:  Phoebe, it’s time to get up.  Phoebe:  Hiss!  *glare, whine, cry* Hisssssssss!!!!  Die, Woman!)  I had to hold up the carpool lane at school because I noticed that Leila got out of the truck without her book bag on.  We searched the truck and of course, it was nowhere to be found.  “It’s ok, Leila!  It must be home!  I’ll go get it and bring it right to you!” You see, today, Leila has a field trip.  Departure time? Just after morning announcements and they must have a packed lunch in tote before they board the bus.  Where was Leila’s lunch? At home in her book bag!  That meant I had 10 minutes to get home, grab her lunch, and get it to the school.  To top it off, Leila was already disappointed about the field trip because I just had to break it to her that I wouldn’t be able to chaperone, as Mike had to frantically schedule a search warrant last-minute.  Poor Leila!!!  So, I’m rushing back home and forgot that there were 2 officers making traffic stops along the way.  “Sh*t!” *brake brake* I pass the officers and they pull out behind me.  “Sh*t!  Sh*t!  Sh*t!” My hands start to feel numb.  Why, you ask? Hmm… in case you haven’t read previous posts:  I’m currently without a license.  I forgot to renew my license a year and 1/2 ago or something ridiculous like that and now I have to retake the licensing tests… which, I really haven’t had time to do.  Also, the tags on the truck are expired.  Usually, it’s not a big deal because we don’t take it out often, but the van is out of gas and the bank account is out of money, so I drove the truck today.  So anyway, no license, no proof of ID (I lost my expired license), driving with expired tags, and speeding a tad to bring my poor little daughter her forgotten lunchbox before she has to leave for the field trip!  Ahh!!!  Go away, cop cars!!!  Shew!!!  Go on now, shew!!! Surprisingly, shewing them off didn’t work!  They followed me going the snail’s pace 30 mph speed limit for 5 miles.  All I could think about was:  will I go to jail for this?  and… how can I get Leila’s lunch to her from jail?  and… is that really what I want to use my one phone call for?  Leila’s lunch?  hmm…..

When I turned onto the street where I live, the police officers continued going straight.  I was free!!!!  I couldn’t help but notice the faint taste of vomit in the back of my mouth though.  Leila got her lunch and all is fine.

[Interesting detail that I forgot to add: We had to ride to school with the windows down because 2 days ago Phoebe’s “spill-proof” sippy cup leaked some milk in the truck and the odor was icky, to say the least.  I guess this could also explain the faint taste of vomit in my mouth.  That’s what I get for asking Leila to quickly wipe it up.  When will I learn that 5-year-olds aren’t the tidiest of human beings?  Also, do you think Erin Brockovich would take on my lawsuit against sippy cup makers that claim their product is “spill-proof”?]

2)  My nemesis returns! This:

has been at my back door every night for 2 weeks now and sprayed in my and my neighbor’s yard twice.  (I made the unfortunate decision to allow Phoebe to take her snack size bag of Cheetos outside to play one day.  As it turns out, Cheetos are aka “Skunk Crack”.)  I have dared to shew it away twice.  It turns out that skunks are as easily shewed away as cop cars.  When it finally does run walk-quickly away it darts for a corner of my backyard that has a 12″ gap between fencing.  That gap runs the full length of another neighbor’s yard and towards, the neighbor that I call, “cat lady”‘s yard.  So, I’m thinking that “cat lady” not only has 12 un-collared, un-vaccinated, and un-spayed/un-neutered cats, but she also has skunks.

Dear “Cat Lady”:  I’ve called City Ordinance dozens of times now about your constant tendency to be a public nuisance/health hazard.  Please move!  There are several houses on the market across town.  Go and take your cats with you!

Thank you,

The neighbor that you once handed a bag with a dead bird in it

P.S. One of your cats is a skunk, you blind old fool!

3.  Oh yeah, I found this:

in Leila’s book bag yesterday.  It appears that Leila decided to take one of our pot-holders to school and gift it to her teacher.

Dear Mrs. Van:

Thank you for pleasantly accepting a pot-holder from Leila that I’m not even sure was clean or in decent condition.  I will be sure to pat her down each morning from now on to ensure that you no longer receive random items from around my house.


Leila’s mommy

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