I had 20 minutes for lunch on Friday (none on Saturday, but that is a whole different story). I went to Cafe Latte, but the line was four miles long. So I went across the street to their bastard child, Bread and Chocolate and the line was three people long. Hooray!
Then I realized that two of these people were in the giggly new flush of love. Shit. They were so busy ogling each other they didn't even look at the menu until it was their turn, which, goodness gracious, they thought was so cute! You could tell they were thinking, "the world, it can not intrude on special, wonderful us." After finally tearing their eyes away from each other long enough to order, they meandered to the register. To fondle. Not to pay. Good Lord, why would they do such a thing!?!
I got my food and stood waiting while they finally thought to pay. Then it was a fight of who would pay. Finally, after what seemed like hours, fucking god damn hours, he paid the cash while she dug in her purse for the exact change. After handing the money over, they locked eyes and smiled at their unity in a cash transaction.
It was so sweet I wanted to tear their heads off and dunk them in coffee, hot, scalding coffee.
So yes, my heart is black, but god damn it people, there is a moral here and that is "don't fuck with my lunch."
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
I think I just might be losing it.
"Hmm. . ." I wonder to myself, "do I smell the sharp, pungent aroma of dog pee, or is that just the coffee maker?"
"Do they smell the same?"
"Probably not."
"I think I'm just losing it."
"Do they smell the same?"
"Probably not."
"I think I'm just losing it."
Monday, December 17, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
No wonder he didn't like T-ball.
Noah got glasses today. He wished for them, so he could look like Daddy. I imagine that the evil eye fairy came in the middle of the night and with a swish-swish of her wand, took away some of his vision. Damn fairy.
It's also easier to blame the fairy than myself, especially when he failed the vision part of his pre-K screening almost two years ago. The teacher thought he could see but was just fooling around so I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to it. Bad Lisa. Very, very, bad Lisa.
My consolation? The kid looks damn good in his new glasses.
Hmm . . . I wonder how long I can milk mama's guilt on this one. . .
Damn, baby! I DO look good in glasses!!!
It's also easier to blame the fairy than myself, especially when he failed the vision part of his pre-K screening almost two years ago. The teacher thought he could see but was just fooling around so I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to it. Bad Lisa. Very, very, bad Lisa.
My consolation? The kid looks damn good in his new glasses.
Hmm . . . I wonder how long I can milk mama's guilt on this one. . .
Damn, baby! I DO look good in glasses!!!The bad news? He was diagnosed with nystagmus which is an "involuntary eye movement which usually results in some degree of visual loss." When he focuses on something while looking straight ahead you can see his eyes wiggle back and forth. He will tilt his head to the side and try to look out of the corner of his eye to make the wiggling stop. At this point we don't know what is causing it or what the degree is. They made a referral to a pediatric optomologist so we will know more after that appointment. All I really know is that it is frightening.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Holy Catch-up Batman.
This morning I spent two and a half hours paying bills, making appointments, filling out forms and in general, catching up on all the necessary chores that keep our lives humming along smoothly.
It's surprising how many things I take care of every day. No wonder I love hiding in the bathtub every night. There's bills to pay, appointments to organize, filters to change, animals to have groomed, people to feed. The list could be endless, especially with my vivid imagination.
I however, have prevailed. At least for today. My list of things to do is finished. I did everything on it, no matter how trivial.
Now I am off to clean the living room so Noah and I can put up the Christmas tree.
Yea for feeling accomplished and an evening of Christmas music and my zany child full of quirky antics to look forward to!
It's surprising how many things I take care of every day. No wonder I love hiding in the bathtub every night. There's bills to pay, appointments to organize, filters to change, animals to have groomed, people to feed. The list could be endless, especially with my vivid imagination.
I however, have prevailed. At least for today. My list of things to do is finished. I did everything on it, no matter how trivial.
Now I am off to clean the living room so Noah and I can put up the Christmas tree.
Yea for feeling accomplished and an evening of Christmas music and my zany child full of quirky antics to look forward to!
Friday, November 23, 2007
Crappy Thanksgiving
My week:
MONDAY 7:30 A.M.
Woke to the two main symptoms of the flu (you know what they are people, no need to get graphic). The neighbor walked Noah to school and picked him up. I spent the day in the bathroom and the closest soft horizontal surface to the toilet. I have never been so sick in my life.
MONDAY 11:45 P.M.
Horrific stomach cramps. So painful. COULD NOT BREATHE. Could not stop shaking. Took an ambulance to the hospital so they could pump me full of fluids and potassium.
TUESDAY
Missed an hour of training. No biggie. Started easting solid foods. Slept 3/4 of the day.
WEDNESDAY
Pushed myself to attend 3 hours of training in the morning. Big mistake. Body called, "Mutiny!' and I was back on the couch for the rest of the day. Oh yeah, and now Stan is sick too. Kind lady Sarah brings us sustenance.
THURSDAY
Sadness ensues. We cannot go to Thanksgiving. We had been looking forward to this day at Reade and John's house for weeks. Instead Stan and I sleep the day away while Jesse and Sarah bring Noah over to the feast. They brought us leftovers, but it wasn't the same.
FRIDAY
I call in sick to my 11 hour shift at work. Have option to cuddle in a corner for the Walker family Thanksgiving. Although I am tempted, since I am missing this, the most glorious of holidays, I am not up for it. Besides, there are two babies with wee immune systems who must be avoided. Noah might go to play with the cousins though.
Add to this that my other sisters are
MONDAY 7:30 A.M.
Woke to the two main symptoms of the flu (you know what they are people, no need to get graphic). The neighbor walked Noah to school and picked him up. I spent the day in the bathroom and the closest soft horizontal surface to the toilet. I have never been so sick in my life.
MONDAY 11:45 P.M.
Horrific stomach cramps. So painful. COULD NOT BREATHE. Could not stop shaking. Took an ambulance to the hospital so they could pump me full of fluids and potassium.
TUESDAY
Missed an hour of training. No biggie. Started easting solid foods. Slept 3/4 of the day.
WEDNESDAY
Pushed myself to attend 3 hours of training in the morning. Big mistake. Body called, "Mutiny!' and I was back on the couch for the rest of the day. Oh yeah, and now Stan is sick too. Kind lady Sarah brings us sustenance.
THURSDAY
Sadness ensues. We cannot go to Thanksgiving. We had been looking forward to this day at Reade and John's house for weeks. Instead Stan and I sleep the day away while Jesse and Sarah bring Noah over to the feast. They brought us leftovers, but it wasn't the same.
FRIDAY
I call in sick to my 11 hour shift at work. Have option to cuddle in a corner for the Walker family Thanksgiving. Although I am tempted, since I am missing this, the most glorious of holidays, I am not up for it. Besides, there are two babies with wee immune systems who must be avoided. Noah might go to play with the cousins though.
Add to this that my other sisters are
- Working on Thanksgiving over 1,000 miles away
- Evicted and also sick
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Having kids is the bestest thing ever to happen. Despite everything I have said to the opposite. Really. I like him very much.
I was reading Noah a story in his bed. He was cuddled up in his blanket, leaning against me.
Suddenly! The child was moving his foot around in the mound of blankets and exclaimed, "Mom! I found a secret tunnel!"
Children are most excellent. Especially mine.
Suddenly! The child was moving his foot around in the mound of blankets and exclaimed, "Mom! I found a secret tunnel!"
Children are most excellent. Especially mine.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Thursday, November 08, 2007
My guy
I just checked on Noah and Stan, who are both cuddled up asleep in bed, snoring. Noah looks like a miniature Stan, whose quiet snores even imitate his Dad. It's one of those warm and fuzzy moments of my life where I realize how lucky I am to have Noah, and most of all, to have Stan.
Stan and Noah the morning after our camping trip from H-E-L-L.
An hour earlier Stan was curled up in the backseat of the car, trying to sleep through a thunderstorm. Tired and sore, he still is up for coloring games with Noah at IHOP.
When I talk about Stan, I smile. I simply can't help it. I met him when I was 17. Seven years later we started dating. A year and 47 days after our first date, we were married.
Things weren't always roses and sunshine. There were stages. Like:
The life we have built together is a very good one. When we do have trials, we know that there is a loving, caring partner waiting at home to patch our wounds and empathize. I have never loved coming home more than after I married Stan.
Stan channeling Harry Potter through the cheesy glow in the dark Harry Potter glasses I got at the Barnes and Noble release party for the 7th book in the series. Not only does Stan love me, but he puts up with my incessant reading. The man is a saint.
Stan is 38 on Friday. I have gotten material gifts for him, but what I really want to give him is an excellent year full of fun, adventure and, most of all, love.
Happy Birthday to my one and only true love.
Stan and Noah the morning after our camping trip from H-E-L-L.An hour earlier Stan was curled up in the backseat of the car, trying to sleep through a thunderstorm. Tired and sore, he still is up for coloring games with Noah at IHOP.
Things weren't always roses and sunshine. There were stages. Like:
- Getting to know each other
- Yikes, this marriage thing is forever.
- Did I give up my freedom too young?
- Wow, his family is whacked.
- Man, oh man, my family is a freak show.
- Is is time for counseling?
- New baby colic time.
- Gee, it would be nice to have more money.
The life we have built together is a very good one. When we do have trials, we know that there is a loving, caring partner waiting at home to patch our wounds and empathize. I have never loved coming home more than after I married Stan.
Stan channeling Harry Potter through the cheesy glow in the dark Harry Potter glasses I got at the Barnes and Noble release party for the 7th book in the series. Not only does Stan love me, but he puts up with my incessant reading. The man is a saint.Stan is 38 on Friday. I have gotten material gifts for him, but what I really want to give him is an excellent year full of fun, adventure and, most of all, love.
Happy Birthday to my one and only true love.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Monday, November 05, 2007
My three day weekend.
Three days? Really? It seems more like one.
Friday night I was home at the ripe old time of 5:00 PM and I am off until Tuesday morning. This is a taste of what the 9-5, M-F types get. I like it. I don't like making only $8 during my two weeks of training, but whatcha gonna do?
Saturday I whisked Stan away to the Nicollet Island Inn for the night. It wasn't as glamorous or fun as I planned, but three days of taking care of a sick, over-emotional child will do that to you. It was all we could do to keep awake after dinner for the short walk to our room.
We were looking forward to a good night of uninterrupted sleep, but the Sleep Number bed we were trying out was uncomfortable. We hated it. Reade and John said it took some getting used to, but I believe a mattress should be comfy from the start.
Sarah and Jesse came to our rescue when Grandma Reade came down with a cold and babysat Noah for the night. In return for their kindness they got a boy hyped up on cold medicine and ribs for dinner. Not a fair trade in the least, but they still said yes.
In the morning I wanted to take them to Hell's Kitchen for breakfast. We arrived to find a 90 minute wait, so we ate at the Newsroom instead. The food was okay, but the service sucked.
Which brings us to today. A day for errands and hanging with the boy. Then it's back to the grind. No more Saturdays off for me!
Sigh.
Friday night I was home at the ripe old time of 5:00 PM and I am off until Tuesday morning. This is a taste of what the 9-5, M-F types get. I like it. I don't like making only $8 during my two weeks of training, but whatcha gonna do?
Saturday I whisked Stan away to the Nicollet Island Inn for the night. It wasn't as glamorous or fun as I planned, but three days of taking care of a sick, over-emotional child will do that to you. It was all we could do to keep awake after dinner for the short walk to our room.
We were looking forward to a good night of uninterrupted sleep, but the Sleep Number bed we were trying out was uncomfortable. We hated it. Reade and John said it took some getting used to, but I believe a mattress should be comfy from the start.
Sarah and Jesse came to our rescue when Grandma Reade came down with a cold and babysat Noah for the night. In return for their kindness they got a boy hyped up on cold medicine and ribs for dinner. Not a fair trade in the least, but they still said yes.
In the morning I wanted to take them to Hell's Kitchen for breakfast. We arrived to find a 90 minute wait, so we ate at the Newsroom instead. The food was okay, but the service sucked.
Which brings us to today. A day for errands and hanging with the boy. Then it's back to the grind. No more Saturdays off for me!
Sigh.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Just in time for Halloween
A creepy pink eye.
I have the exact same symptoms I had last time: painful, swollen eyelid and pus oozing red/pink eyeball. Just like last time, it went into the second eye, but was not as bad.
In the middle of the night I broke out the old antibiotic eye drops in hopes that it would cure me so I could go to work (training) today. It didn't work. So this morning I was off to Urgent Care. I saw the same doctor, told him the same thing as last time and got completely different treatment. Last time he thought it was a bacterial infection. This time he thinks it's allergies.
What. The. Fuck?
Is it because I was struck down with pink eye for a second time? That's like changing treatment because someone got a second cold in their lifetime. He kept alluding to seasonal allergies, even though the last time I got pink eye it was in April. APRIL, Mr. Smarty McDoctorPants, not October.
I am frustrated. I am also still taking the old antibiotics even though it is verboten to do so. I figure it's okay since they don't expire until 2009. I am also grudgingly taking the allergy medicine and drops the doctor prescribed. So if it's bacterial or from allergies I should be covered. If it's viral it will just play itself out.
Damn, I hope I can go to training tomorrow. Today I can afford to miss the training since it was basically a review, but tomorrow I really need to go. Living one more day without knowing how to give an Aveda Carribean Body Wrap treatment is completely unacceptable!
I have the exact same symptoms I had last time: painful, swollen eyelid and pus oozing red/pink eyeball. Just like last time, it went into the second eye, but was not as bad.
In the middle of the night I broke out the old antibiotic eye drops in hopes that it would cure me so I could go to work (training) today. It didn't work. So this morning I was off to Urgent Care. I saw the same doctor, told him the same thing as last time and got completely different treatment. Last time he thought it was a bacterial infection. This time he thinks it's allergies.
What. The. Fuck?
Is it because I was struck down with pink eye for a second time? That's like changing treatment because someone got a second cold in their lifetime. He kept alluding to seasonal allergies, even though the last time I got pink eye it was in April. APRIL, Mr. Smarty McDoctorPants, not October.
I am frustrated. I am also still taking the old antibiotics even though it is verboten to do so. I figure it's okay since they don't expire until 2009. I am also grudgingly taking the allergy medicine and drops the doctor prescribed. So if it's bacterial or from allergies I should be covered. If it's viral it will just play itself out.
Damn, I hope I can go to training tomorrow. Today I can afford to miss the training since it was basically a review, but tomorrow I really need to go. Living one more day without knowing how to give an Aveda Carribean Body Wrap treatment is completely unacceptable!
You know you are a redneck if
You wear old underwear as a shirt. Talk about a commitment to recycling.
(Also my Halloween costume for next year. Aw, yeah.)
(Also my Halloween costume for next year. Aw, yeah.)
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Apple Orchard Pumpkin Time
Last night Stan and I went to a Halloween Party. He was an Executioner and I was the big breasted slut that gets killed in every horror movie.
Today we switched into family mode and took Noah to the apple orchard and then the pumpkin farm.
He saw some big cement structures.
Then he turned into a tiger
and got eaten by a vampire.
Tonight is pumpkin carving and watching "The Littlest Vampire."
Halloween. It rocks.
Today we switched into family mode and took Noah to the apple orchard and then the pumpkin farm.
He saw some big cement structures.
Then he turned into a tiger
and got eaten by a vampire.
Tonight is pumpkin carving and watching "The Littlest Vampire."
Halloween. It rocks.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Jeannie vs. Carmella
Stan: "I just finished watching the Sopranos episode where Tony's girlfriend calls his wife and tells her that she's been shtupping her husband for years and he's now banging the one legged caretaker. Do you know what it reminded me of? It reminded me of watching an old I Dream of Jeannie episode. You know how they were always stepping in the dog poop or doing something uncomfortable to watch. No matter how much you didn't want them to do it, you knew they would and you couldn't stop watching."
Lisa: "You do realize that you just compared the discomfort of watching the Sopranos to the discomfort of the zany antics on I Dream of Jeannie?"
Stan: "Yes."
Lisa: Uncontrollable laughter. "I love you."
Lisa: "You do realize that you just compared the discomfort of watching the Sopranos to the discomfort of the zany antics on I Dream of Jeannie?"
Stan: "Yes."
Lisa: Uncontrollable laughter. "I love you."
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
What up, yo?
Time keeps on tickin' and all that jazz.
Work is still slow, but I am hopeful that if I just hang on until November it will pick up.
I have been reading good books, taking a lot of HOT baths and simply love spending time with my boys.
This week has been hard with the sleeping, but I am resigned to stay up this morning and get some shit done around the house. Like blogging, which is very important.
I also need to get back to the gym, but will leave that until Monday. This week it's just not gonna happen. I hate the idea of going but love working out when I am there and feeling good about it afterwards.
Today I get to have lunch with Noah before I pull the 3 - 8 shift at work. There is nothing more entertaining than having lunch with 26 kindergarten kids. They are a ball of furious energy and they all want to talk to me, sit by me and play with me simultaneously. If you ever feel unwanted, this, my friends, is the cure.
So that's it. A post to catch you up and let you know I am still alive, if not kicking. After all, kicking at my age is indiscreet.
Work is still slow, but I am hopeful that if I just hang on until November it will pick up.
I have been reading good books, taking a lot of HOT baths and simply love spending time with my boys.
This week has been hard with the sleeping, but I am resigned to stay up this morning and get some shit done around the house. Like blogging, which is very important.
I also need to get back to the gym, but will leave that until Monday. This week it's just not gonna happen. I hate the idea of going but love working out when I am there and feeling good about it afterwards.
Today I get to have lunch with Noah before I pull the 3 - 8 shift at work. There is nothing more entertaining than having lunch with 26 kindergarten kids. They are a ball of furious energy and they all want to talk to me, sit by me and play with me simultaneously. If you ever feel unwanted, this, my friends, is the cure.
So that's it. A post to catch you up and let you know I am still alive, if not kicking. After all, kicking at my age is indiscreet.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
OMG The irony. . . the freakin' irony.
Today I worked a five hour shift. I only had one client. Which means I only got paid for one out of five hours. Yes, I get paid a lot. But what I do is strenuous. Seriously. Deep tissue massage hurts me while I make you feel better. Yes, that is irony. I love irony. I love it so much I should get a t-shirt or a tattoo. But in the hard knock reality the fact is that in helping people feel better I am putting myself in jeopardy.
I try to get sleep, eat right, use proper body mechanics, get regular massage myself (Fuck! God damn it! I forgot to call George and schedule my massage this week! FUCK!! GOD DAMN IT!!! SHIT!!!!)
The life of a care giver, healer, what ever you want to fucking call it, is paved with (right of BOOM!) mine fields. Our passion is to help others heal, or patch them up enough to heal themselves and/or others. It is as fucking strenuous as your counselor hearing your deep dark secret memories, because, let's face it mother fucker, if something is buried in your mind, it's buried in your muscle tissue memory and if I release it, you better fucking believe I will be able to help you deal with it.
Otherwise your body wouldn't have felt comfortable to let it go. I have a B.S. (no, it doesn't stand for Bull Shit, although sometimes I feel that might be more adequate of a designation. It stands for a Bachelor of Science in Psychology which I studied four hard, long, years for). I attract criers and I think it's because they know I can handle the emotional deluge they let loose in my therapy room. It's a safe place with an experienced, trained professional who will take what you give as par for the course and be nonjudgmental.
Damn. I love what I do.
This month is slow. It's hard since I started at a company I really love during their slow time (so there's not much payback for my efforts). But I honestly think the owner and the company's vibe match my own. I believe things will work out and I will be very happy with my job. So far, not bad, and the prognoses is excellent. So I'm holding out for the good stuff and loving what I've been able to do and experience so far.
I try to get sleep, eat right, use proper body mechanics, get regular massage myself (Fuck! God damn it! I forgot to call George and schedule my massage this week! FUCK!! GOD DAMN IT!!! SHIT!!!!)
The life of a care giver, healer, what ever you want to fucking call it, is paved with (right of BOOM!) mine fields. Our passion is to help others heal, or patch them up enough to heal themselves and/or others. It is as fucking strenuous as your counselor hearing your deep dark secret memories, because, let's face it mother fucker, if something is buried in your mind, it's buried in your muscle tissue memory and if I release it, you better fucking believe I will be able to help you deal with it.
Otherwise your body wouldn't have felt comfortable to let it go. I have a B.S. (no, it doesn't stand for Bull Shit, although sometimes I feel that might be more adequate of a designation. It stands for a Bachelor of Science in Psychology which I studied four hard, long, years for). I attract criers and I think it's because they know I can handle the emotional deluge they let loose in my therapy room. It's a safe place with an experienced, trained professional who will take what you give as par for the course and be nonjudgmental.
Damn. I love what I do.
This month is slow. It's hard since I started at a company I really love during their slow time (so there's not much payback for my efforts). But I honestly think the owner and the company's vibe match my own. I believe things will work out and I will be very happy with my job. So far, not bad, and the prognoses is excellent. So I'm holding out for the good stuff and loving what I've been able to do and experience so far.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Because they hate me.
Stan is playing with Noah in the only room in the house I occupy. He is currently blasting him with his "chocolate rain" ray. You can guess where that came from, right? I just showed Stan the original chocolate rain video because he read Jesse's post and was stumped about who Tay Zonday was.
Oh, thank the blessed universe, Stan realized his error and took the boy downstairs to watch some Woody Woodpecker cartoons. Yesterday at Target I bought the boy the complete collection for a mere $35. Three disks to rot his healthy little boy brain. 75 cartoons to occupy him so I don't have to parent and can crash with some alcohol and my own brain rotting activity. Like TV, ooh, I love TV. Or the internets. If the internets had a mouth I would kiss it. Hard, but not too hard.
Anyhow, to continue with this stream of consciousness post, wanna know what it's like having a job that pays commission? Some days you are booked solid with clients and make an obscene amount of money. Then the Fall season hits and for some reason the salon spa is dead. Serious tumbleweed time. I had one 90 minute massage today during my 8 hour shift. That's right. $69 for 8 hours of work. Blech.
I was bored. I finished a sweater I was crocheting for baby T (or "cube" as he is affectionately called), helped put stock away, read some magazines, got my legs waxed (YIKES) and wandered aimlessly through the chilly day.
No clients have booked with me for tomorrow. Yet. I am sending positive vibes to remedy the situation. Those rich Summit avenue types will all be getting mysteriously tense this evening and calling the salon spa for massage! Yes. It will happen.
I hope.
Oh, thank the blessed universe, Stan realized his error and took the boy downstairs to watch some Woody Woodpecker cartoons. Yesterday at Target I bought the boy the complete collection for a mere $35. Three disks to rot his healthy little boy brain. 75 cartoons to occupy him so I don't have to parent and can crash with some alcohol and my own brain rotting activity. Like TV, ooh, I love TV. Or the internets. If the internets had a mouth I would kiss it. Hard, but not too hard.
Anyhow, to continue with this stream of consciousness post, wanna know what it's like having a job that pays commission? Some days you are booked solid with clients and make an obscene amount of money. Then the Fall season hits and for some reason the salon spa is dead. Serious tumbleweed time. I had one 90 minute massage today during my 8 hour shift. That's right. $69 for 8 hours of work. Blech.
I was bored. I finished a sweater I was crocheting for baby T (or "cube" as he is affectionately called), helped put stock away, read some magazines, got my legs waxed (YIKES) and wandered aimlessly through the chilly day.
No clients have booked with me for tomorrow. Yet. I am sending positive vibes to remedy the situation. Those rich Summit avenue types will all be getting mysteriously tense this evening and calling the salon spa for massage! Yes. It will happen.
I hope.
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