Off to see the wizard

heh Insert your own Viagra joke here.
http://www.courant.com/community/news/hfd/hc-sweetmusic1230.artdec30,0,3653036.story

Woo hoo hoo-ee!!!

Going in tomorrow at 10 to be induced! The BF better update his IMDB. :)

argh whine argh

Argh! Have I turned into a pirate? No, just a frustrated pregnant lady. Granted, my due date isn't until the 31st, but with this gestational diabetes crap, I thought I would have a scheduled induction or C section by now. Technically I do-January fifth, six freaking days after the due date. Granted, I know that it is not unusual to schedule inductions a week or two later-a due date is never 100% accurate, but have I mentioned gestational diabetes? Pricking oneself four times a day? No cookies during the holidays?NOT eating sometimes when you feel hungry? The baby is healthy, and for that I am grateful and relieved, and due to a rigorous diet, I frequently hear, "Oh my God, you still can't tell you're pregnant from the back, but from the side? Holy crap-but you'll get your figure back right away." I want the BABY right away! WHAH!

Eesh. Thank god for the BF, friends, and my supportive family. I hadn't done much complaining until a week ago, but now it's on full force.

Ah, the teeming masses

38 week appt., at receptionist's desk.

KS: "Hi! I'll need to make my next appointment."
Recept: "Sure! When are you due?"
KS: "The 31st."
Recept. takes out calendar wheel and studies it intently.
"So...you're at every two weeks, right?"


KS at Henry and David's, checking out with large box of pears.
Cashier: "So, have you checked your pears today?"

Peace o' my ass!

I bought a small, blue and white cloth bag from Ten Thousand villages containing three stones labeled peace, love and hope. I find blue and white calming, and thought that the smooth stones and/or bag would be a nice focal point during labor.

I'll probably use them to throw at the boyfriend.

To sister, re: 10 month old niece:

KS: What a great Christmas card-she's adorable! Every time I see a Santa I want to buy it for her.

Sister: Now when she sees one, she says "That hohoho". I hope we don't run into any scantily clad bearded ladies.

No, I expect you to die

I SHOULD like James Bond movies-I like action, intrigue and sex, but every time I put one on, it's snoozerama in minutes. I just woke up after missing the last half hour of Goldfinger, and I have no curiosity about the ending.

Honor Schmonor

One or two ego clashes are likely today, so prepare yourself for some disappointing behavior from people you used to respect. You will be thrust into a high stakes situation, and everyone around you will be ready to do whatever it takes to end up on top -- including cheat. This doesn't mean that you have to get down in the dirt with others in order to survive, though. You can rise above the fray. Maintain your honor while you keep your focus on what you need to do.

I don't feel like it. Get me a Kill Bill sword and outfit and lemme at 'em.

Howdyouaspell relief?

Whew! Four college applications done. I wonder who will be more anxious for the results, my son or me. (I? Whatever.) I will be completely unbearable if he gets into his reach school AND I've just had a new baby and am armed with baby pictures. Heh.

Just a few minor inaccuracies

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/us_china_panda
is actually about me in a Boston Market attacking the 50 year old man who kept on stroking my arm and asking me questions about my pregnancy. Fucker.

Gobble gobble

Enjoy your Thanksgiving as I count carbs and test my blood sugar.

(Yes, I am whiny today, and feel guilty because I truly have so much to be thankful for, and usually I am, but I feel like crap.)

Another trip into the personal

KS, on side, a bit sticky, BF with cupped hand above her: "Wow! Oh-there's a towel on the door."

BF: "Towel? I can't wipe this on a towel! I have to pour it down the sink!"

Squeaky squeaky

The shower balloons in the back seat have been driving me nuts for two weeks. I haven't wanted to bring them into the house because there has been mountains of baby stuff to organize, but...what to do with them? I've probably cause every major accident along I84 in CT due to the blocked rear view.

My son took the matter into his own hands yesterday as I was driving him to school and groaning about the helium filled annoyances. He stabbed them with a pencil.

So, we pretended to talk in high voices for the rest of the trip. I hope the son I'm gestating gets me the way this one does.

Wondering...

why a sticker on a banana says, "Pocket size fun".

La da da da da da, feeling stupid

Turns out a bunch of songs that I like are all by Beck. I could have sworn Where It's At was by Sublime. Then again, I thought the lyrics were, "I've got tap-tap-tappers and a microphone".

A-HA!

See-they even stalk celebrities!!!

http://blogs.courant.com/colin_mcenroe_to_wit/

Where in the world is...

For any person thinking of using an on-line people search-HA! I just checked out a few names-including my own. My ex-husband is still listed as a possible relative-at 70 years old. My little brother's age is, apparently, 63 (making me the oldest pregnant lady in the WORLD.) Although I've never lived out of state, to my knowledge, evidently I am quite the mover and shaker and have resided in the south. Sure, there is a period of my life made hazy by alcohol abuse (fortunately, most of my exploits are chronicled in a now defunct blog, so I have SOME clue about the years 2003-2005), but I'm pretty freakin' sure I never packed up and moved all my belongings to Georgia.

I've reached the point in my pregnancy where I can no longer look between my legs to catch a glimpse of the morning dump; nor do I have the flexibility to turn around and look down the back. You always miss the little things...

Doo bee doo bee do

Huh. If I hid my profile many, many months ago on Yahoo, then how did I just get a profile view? Showing up pregnant to meet a guy would be hysterical (if you don't factor in the harm it would do to the relationship with my boyfriend, of course, who rocks.)

One of my girlfriends was unable to attend my shower due to a babysitting glitch. I had her believing a monkey unexpectedly showed up at the restaurant and ruined the cake. Sigh. Sometimes it's too easy.

Oh Yeah-

Go Obama!!! WOO HOO!!!!

Just steps outside suburban CT

Overheard at Walmart...

first grader: "Mommy, there was a cupcake sale and I didn't have any money."
Mom: "Oh, I didn't know there was a cupcake sale, or I would have gave you some money. Did your teacher buy you a cupcake?"
Boy: "No."
Mom: "She didn't buy you no cupcake? That teacher should have bought the kids with no money cupcakes."

And, at the grocery store next door...

Different mom, with two boys, maybe 8 and 9. She's looking at condoms, then notices her son is chewing.
"What the fuck is in your mouth? Throw it the fuck out."

How about a boll weevil?

"Your baby is about 3.75 pounds (pick up a large jicama)."

Jicama? JICAMA??? Does the average New Englander of any ethnic background know what a jicama is? I would bet even children of Mexican/South American descent who were born here don't know what one is.

Unless the web site is actually run by some dirty man who gets off on women picking up exotic produce and will later call you and ask for pictures of you rubbing the fruit...

Slap my ass and call me Sally

I've gone from a few decades of having sick and twisted sexual fantasies to just wishing I could take it missionary style.

Blah

I don't know whether I did just did something liberating, or very stupid.

She has all the right....

Glamour:
Gently blowing on one's make-up brush to remove excess eye shadow before applying the au courant bright or dark colors.
Pytalism:
Production of excess saliva due to an increase of estrogen during pregnancy.

Stupidity:
Do I even need to say it?

Some days...

really suck.

Pauline Mitchel at your service

I finally gave up on trying to blow dry my hair straight, and received many compliments today on my new wavy, flippy look. Here are the steps you can take so that you, too, have bouncy waves.

1. Take a half day from work to go the the OB/GYN.
2. Go to the gym. Walk around and socialize without actually working out.
3. Shower, wash hair.
4. Doze on the couch with wet hair while a West Wing DVD skips in the player.
5. Move to the bed. Take out pink rabbit vibrator, go to town.
6. Awake from post-orgasm nap and realize you're running late.
7. Grab a bottle off dresser. Spray onto hair. Realize goop is sticky and you're not sure what it is. Flip head over, tousle while blow drying for about two minutes.
8. Walk to car on a breezy, New England autumn day.

I'm free to do demonstrations.

Wish I had today off too

Ha Ha HA! SOmething had me laughing at 3:00 in the morning, but I'm not going to tell you what it is (because I can't remember...)

School nurse: How are you feeling?
KS: Great! It's been a good pregnancy.
Nurse: Well, you look absolutely terrific, all baby.
KS: Thank you!
Nurse: So, how many more weeks?
KS: Pardon?
Nurse: How many more weeks until your due date?
KS: uhh...how many more weeks until December 31st?

I must admit, I have a case of cold feet this morning. (I put a pair of smelly shoes in the freezer 'cause the BF says it kills bacteria. We'll see.)

Widespread showers

Have I mentioned how much I miss my shoes? Knee high black boots, retro black heels, a pair of silver stilettos...Forever lost to me since I now have clown feet. I was reduced to buying black, fuzzy, boner-killing merrels at the walking store. Blech.

I've cut down a great deal on masturbating lately. I have regular access to good sex, and I usually crash and burn by 8:30 and don't need the orgasm crutch to relax and fall asleep. The other night, however, I got the "hmm, maybe I'll just pull out the vibrator for a few minutes feeling" and after a bit inserted a pinkie. A PINKIE! I came so freaking hard that if I hadn't had my hand cupped over the vaginal area, the fluid that squirted out of me would have hit the fan and been spewn all over the bedroom in an ejaculatory mist.

Second Grade

KS: Boys and girls, please take out your workbooks for a quick phonics review.

Ramon: Phonics shmonics.

Where are my toes???

Pregnant, naked and eating Nutter Butters. Ahhh...

Keep away from run-around-Sue

Thirty-seven years old, six months pregnant, and still doing the walk of shame.


The BF and I are still commuting to each others' homes for a variety of reasons, though a house purchase is on the horizon. Friday nights we do not usually get together, but it was his birthday, and I happily drove down for dinner. Of course, I ended up staying the night...but without a change of clothes.

Bagel shop, Sat. morning, 8:30 a.m.
"Hey, KS, you can't be going to work! Why are you all dressed up? Wedding or shower?"
And, standing behind him, is his teenaged son, so the glib comment I had prepared died on my lips.
KS, blushing, "Uh, no."
"Aw, come on, why ya look so nice?"
Please, please, boy, go to into the kitchen.
"Uh, well, " (insert lame excuse here.)

It wasn't a hell of a lot better stepping into my driveway...which is across the street from an elementary school with a field packed with soccer and football games.

And right back to work

"...and pancakes the size of manhole covers." mmmmm

Long, busy week. In a free five minutes, threw in an old West Wing DVD.

"The Swedes have a 100% literacy rate. 100%! How do they do it???"
"Maybe they don't, and they can't count either."

Heh heh heh

So...how white trash did I look purchasing a large bottle of wine from the liquor depot? (For the record, it was marsala for cooking!) The cashier asked if I would donate a dollar to St. Jude's, then handed me the cut out. "Write your name..." he paused and looked at my obviously pregnant belly then back at the bottle "...or any name you'd like."

I appreciate humor from cashiers. I would have tipped him if it were allowed.

Hobbit Pubes

Nowhere in ANY of the pregnancy books are there any tips on how to trim the bush after the sixth month. I CAN'T EVEN SEE IT! I went snip, snip and ended up with a half an inch of hair in my hand, but I not not from whence it came, exactly, and fear I may have an accidental, and crooked, Nike swoosh in my nethers.

Bonding

BF: "...And so I injured my arm in a broccoli suit."

Sister of KS: "I can't believe it took the two of you so long to find each other."

Exhausted, please ignore missssspellingss

7:40 Waddle into school, begin work, paranoidly go back outside to check to see if car is locked because of a car break-in last week, up/down stairs for copies, mail. etc.

8:42 Three minutes to pee before time to pick up students.

8:42 and 10 seconds: drop drawers, and begin.

8:43 and 15 seconds Fire alarm goes off.

Guess if I had sh#t a brick, that would have been the place to do it.

Good weird things: kissing son goodbye as he leaves for his first day of his senior year...while I'm six months along.
Planning boyfriend's 50th birthday party...while I'm six months along.

Way cool: A full time teacher's aide in my class.

Mind numbing, blind rage: Ex-boyfriend driving down my street. There is Nothing on my street-no stores, gas stations-it is residential, and does not connect, in any convenient way, two important roads. The only reason to drive down the street is to turn into one's own driveway-or, check/stalk an ex.

And, I think his arrest/conviction was sealed due to successful rehabilitation. Hah. If he had been arrested for every illegal thing he did...

The Luuuuv Shack

Adult store, counter in the lingerie/massage oil area.

KS; "So, do you have a maternity section?"

When I get all steamed up

I'm a little C Cup...woohoo, Boobies!

I seen Beyonce at Burger King

Linen-s and Crap, buying kick ass expensive sheets to replace the BF's $10 Joyeez brand. (I'm a sheet snob, on the rare occasions I can afford it.)

Twelve year old cashier: "So, are you due soon?"
KS, struggling not to lunge over the counter and squeeze her scrawny neck: "No. December 31st."
Cashier, looking at my abdomen: "Oh."

NO brain cells

Either I have a meeting in 20 minutes for which I will be a little late and smell like the BF, or in an hour in 20...in which case, I'll go back to bed for 30 minutes.

Professional, huh.

Ahhh....

Although I'm embarrassed to admit it, I do peruse Yahoo news every morning and check out my horoscope, more through habit than anything else. If I check my forecast at 7:30, chances are I've forgotten it by 8:05, and have done the opposite of every suggestion by 8:30.
Today's:
The work you've been putting in at the gym is starting to pay off, but not everyone has been following your progress as closely as you think -- don't get upset if no one has noticed you lost a pound or gained some muscles. And whatever you do, don't brag about how healthy you are becoming -- especially right in front of a friend of yours who's about to lunge into an ice cream sundae! You have to be sensitive to the fact that not everyone will make the same kinds of choices that you have.

Okay...I'm 20 weeks pregnant, have gained 16 pounds already, and last night had fettuccine Alfredo, Smartfood and chips ahoy for dinner. I don't think that I'm monitoring what anyone else is putting into their mouths, unless I'm contemplating stealing their plates while they're not looking. And the gym? Once a week, squeezed into my non-maternity workout clothes. Can you even build muscle when you're pregnant???

HA!

I'm NOT as crazy as I am.

http://www.courant.com/business/hc-att0808.artaug08,0,2645515.story

We may boast the best high school in the Northeast, but...

We had some rain. Lots of rain. So much rain, in fact, I could probably host a salmon farm in my basement-and have enough water for them to swim upstream. Thunder, lightning, torrents of water cascading from the sky. I live on the corner, and about an hour ago the Public Works department put up two horses (is that what those wooden barriers are called?) so that cars cannot turn right at the corner. Well, I just peeked out the window, and five cars, well two cars and three of the dreaded mini-vans-turned right into the left lane and continued down the street. And, guess what? Every single freakin' vehicle had to turn back because there is two feet of water flooding the far end of the street. Idiots.

Just got a call on the house phone. (No caller i.d.)
Hello?
Hi.
Hello?
Hi, hi, hello.
(Ok, must be a prank.)
May I help you?
We're a remodeling company.
(Long pause.)
Well, good for you, nice to hear it. (click)

Dang it's raining here

Ahhhh, the son made pancakes, and beast within has been quelled.

Despite the fact that on Monday and Tuesday I was not fit for human consumption, Sunday was a great day. The BF, his oldest, her boyfriend (who was on his best behavior, thank God) and my son headed to Rhode Island for the seafood festival. We never made it after stopping in Mystic for a pee break. Although we didn't "do" the seaport or the aquarium (we've all visited those places at different times), we spent hours wandering the shops and restaurants. Around 7 we headed to the Steak Loft, known for its seafood, as well as steak.

The menu was extensive and looked tasty. In my head, I was totalling the cost of dinner for a pregnant woman and a male teenager while considering that six of the twelve weeks I'll be out of work will be unpaid. With two meals and the clam chowder I was craving, I was looking at 60 bucks-without tip.(And the BF and I aren't living together yet-we both own property, have kids in different towns, etc. so we aren't sharing expenses yet.) The two college kids were looking at each other and whispering worriedly, while the BF had a blank expression on his face (considering, I imagine, the child support he pays, the college tuition he helps out with, and the baby on the way.) Luckily, the college boy looked at the two of us and said, "I have 15 bucks in my pocket," breaking our silent "What the hell are we going to do without looking like assholes spell". We threw some ones on the table for the waitress' time and water service and slink, slank, slunk out the side door.

With a snack of almonds, orange slices and some juice, I was fine, so we went exploring for other restaurants. Around 8:10 (after stopping in a town that was full of bars and had a Tarantino movie feel to it-at one point I mumbled to C, "Someone in the audience is yelling at the screen, "Don't go in there!'") we ended up in Niantic. We drove down poorly lit roads following signs claiming a boardwalk was near by (and hopefully the seafood we were all craving-I had ten ounces with my name on it) when we hit one of the most magical places in the world.

"Book Barn". Yes, there was a barn and as we drove into the dirt parking lot, we could see into the brightly lit rooms up on the left on a little hill. But that wasn't all. Set on at least a half acre with woods as a backdrop, there were huts and small open buildings nestled into trees and bushes. Every single hut was filled with books. There was a collective gasp as our group of nerds took in the sight. We wandered off in our own directions, searching out our favorite genres, soon drunk from the sheer magnitude of our find. I was stumbling haphazardly from stall to stall when suddenly I wondered aloud if they had a copy of A Canticle for Liebowtiz, a book that has been out of print for many years. They had TWO copies, both in great shape, and I bought one for four bucks. The kids had their arms full, and though the BF was fascinated, he hadn't picked anything out.

The cashier (though that word doesn't do her justice- she made a customer mint tea, helped a child find a book, fed the goats and cats, and restocked the cookie jar) asked if she could help the BF.
"Are there any books on movies and cinema?" he inquired.
She responded, "Not here, but if you go downtown, our other bookstore has other genres."
We were stupefied.
"There's more downtown?"
She smiled. "It's not as big, but has many other types of books."

So, of course, off we went.

We didn't get our seafood until after nine-just in time, because the inner grouch that surfaces when a pregnant woman gets hungry was just about to rear its ugly head-and it was worth waiting for.

Horror-scope

Is a parent or coach just not giving you the tough love you're looking for? Wish your boss would give you more positive reinforcement instead of negative? Looking for a little bit more affection from your sweetie? If you want your needs to be met by others, you need to do them a favor -- let them know what it is you need! No matter how much they want to be what you need them to be, people cannot read your mind. You've got the diplomatic skills to say what you want without sounding demanding.

So, then, should I forward yesterday's rant to the people mentioned?

Tired vent

Please, for Christ's sake, leave me the fuck alone today. No, Bf, I do NOT want to have sex for the seventh time this week the morning after we spent 12 hours walking around in Mystic/Niantic/New London-get that unwashed thing out of my fucking face!* Sister, shut the hell up! Do NOT call me three times a day to discuss your baby's poop! Yes, she is beautiful, and I absolutely adore her, but I am tired of hearing abut the minutiae of your day every single freaking day! I do NOT need five minute updates! Mom and partner are spared because they are away on vacation-thank god. Son, I love you, I think you're the best, but we didn't raise you to brag. Do NOT bring up your grades to people outside the family! How about asking other people some questions once in a while? Brother with the evil wife-I left a message four days ago saying how cool it will be that we will have sons 3 months apart. Could you fucking call me and acknowledge it? Why should I expect anything else, though-it took 6 weeks before your c*nt of a wife acknowledged my pregnancy. Little brother-yeah, your roommates in CA moved out on you? Gee, maybe you should have paid your share of the rent, you pot smoking freeloader. Who the fuck gets laid off from the porn industry? I hope dad tells you no-not to protect him, but so that he doesn't call ME to complain that you've moved back in and are mooching off of him. Oh, friend K? The reason I backed out of the weekend at the Cape? Not because I didn't want to drive there myself because you guys were going for the whole week. No, it's because YOU NEED TO FUCKING PARENT YOUR SON AND STOP ABUSING PRESCRIPTION MEDS!!! No, the husband of our friend is NOT picking on him! You should 1. Pay attention to him and 2. If he does do something, give him a freaking consequence! Stop with the fucking video games and bribing him with a fucking iPod!!! BTW, a kid going into second grade should NOT be sleeping in your bed, no matter what he's been through. You've had him for almost 4 years-if he's so troubled, put him in counselling-our insurance covers the whole damn thing! And I am SO sickof playing nice nice to one of the offspring and a boyfriend. GROW THE FUCK UP! Last, but not least...you dog. During the day, you are cute and fun, but I swear to fucking god, you wake me up ONE more time at night and it is the barbecue spit for you.



*To be fair, he's a clean guy, and I was not-so-fresh myself.-we had completely crashed into bed after a very long day.

Like rain through a looking glass

KS would like to thank Eric Hiasen, Christopher Buckley, Terry Pratchett and, most importantly, Tim Dorsey for keeping me in stitches all summer. I began the vacation with some well-written yet maudlin short stories about young immigrants from Russia- not what I was looking for in light summer fare, and I definitely wanted a break from the chick lit my girls recommend. So, Men, Cheers!

Drum roll please!

We're having a boy! Yahoo! A girl would have been fine, of course, but he has three, and so I was hoping for a boy for him-not that he would ever indicate a preference.. Also, I enjoyed raising a son. Wow, making a birth plan while checking my son's college essays...

Overheard in NorthHampton

"...and so the judge said she was too fat and..."

Summer Reading

I'm reading How to Win Friends and Influence People NOT to gain more friends, but rather to get the dirty masses to do my bidding.

And for my next trick

Since my description for making a carrot cake was a resounding success and eventually replaced the original recipe in The Silver Palate, I thought I'd pass along my directions for making a tuna sandwich.

This type of sandwich is really for The Expectant Mom, and I don't mean the mom who is expecting a perfect report card or the newest edition of Martha Stewart: How To Train The Perfect Blond Child That You Can Also Use As a Serving Platter, but rather the bloated, beach ball type mom who is baking yet another human. Tuna becomes special to that type of mom, for, you see, she is limited to only 3 six ounce servings per month due to high mercury levels. Those of you who have not borne children yet may be thinking, "Gee, I'm not that crazy about tuna" or, "I'm a vegetarian who doesn't eat fish, I'll have nothing to worry about." The rest of us smugly laugh at you because one always craves what one can't have. Hairy arm pitted women will crave Captain Crunch with diet Coke, Kiwis will crave braised Polar Bear, Teetotalin Born Again Christians will crave malt liquor, and this carnivore craves fish.

And so, this recipe (told in anecdotal form) begins last Thursday, when I was craving a tuna sandwich something fierce. Actually, the craving had been brewing for a few days, but I had consumed some seafood the week prior, so I had to wait the requisite number of days before mashing fish flesh in a bowl. Red x's decorate my calendar-marking the weeks left in my pregnancy? No! The days between tuna fish sandwiches.

I love tuna salad the way my mom makes it. White albacore, a little mayo, celery, onion, and, most importantly, dill. You have to get the right kind of chips, too, and, preferably, diet cola (pretty much forbidden, as well. You should have seen me in the store in front of the small fridges they have that contain only soda. Took one out...mmm...NO, could hurt the baby, put it back, took another one out, no, don't give into temptation-you get the idea. I never thought I'd be reciting lines from the Lord's Prayer in front of rows of Diet Coke.) I got out a bowl, cutting board, onion, and celery, chopped up the veggies and threw them in with jubilant anticipation. Here comes protein! Here comes omega-3 somethings! Here comes...

absolutely freaking nothing, because my poor cupboards were bereft of tuna. Oatmeal from 1996? Check. Cans and cans of chunk pineapple that I bought in anticipation of Y2K? Check. Anything resembling fish? Nope.

I dejectedly covered the chopped compote while sniffing. While I was dipping granola bars into peanut butter as a poor substitute, I vowed to buy tuna the next day...which I did on Saturday. Instead of buying the white albacore, I bought chunk light, because I had read that it contains less mercury.

Saturday, finally home after standing in line behind ONE couple for twenty minutes while they argued over the swipe machine, I thought I'd be smart and assemble all my ingredients first. Onion/celery? HA! Already chopped. Tuna? BINGO! Dill, right here. Bread? Alri-wait, where the heck is the bread? I left it ON TOP of the fridge? Did I buy rosemary...no, don't tell me, mold. Tearing up, I replaced the ingredients, grabbed a spoon, and just ate the peanut butter right from the jar, weeping, as only a pregnant lady can, with a tablespoon full of smashed nuts.

The recipe ends on a Tuesday, today. First, I grabbed the fresh, wheat, organic no-grains-were-hurt-in-the-making-of-this bread. Got the tuna. Got out the onion and celery (already chopped! blech, old, need to redo it). Looked for the dill. Looked for the dill again. Took all the spices out, put them all back., no dill. Closed the cupboard, closed eyes, opened cupboard- there was dill. Whew.

I was dancing, dancing the victory dance, the butt shaking, I'magonnagetmytunasandwich now dance, when I reached for the UNOPENED jar of may-o-naise...

that expired in December, 2007.

I didn't cry, yell, or slump to the floor in defeat. I grabbed my purse and bought the hell out of some mayo, and I assembled that brownish chunk light tuna, with the fresh mayo, and strong onion, and green celery, and pungent dill and I slapped it on that organic wheat one million grain bread, and as I brought it to my lips, I realized, nothing-not pain of death, bribery or being threatened with a photo of a naked Dick Cheney, nothing could make me take a bite of that absolutely foul smelling monstrosity that I had created.

Just call me Heather and buy me day-glo plastic bracelets

Yeah, so admittedly, with this summer off and the son away at college camp, I've wasted a LOT of time on line, mostly viewing porn and, more recently, on Facebook. I just friended one of my "cousins" (offspring of a close, close friend of my mom's-friend, aunt, step-mother, whatever) who works for ***. I know that he's in regular contact with celebrities (as a matter of fact, his name gets into print or is flashed in the credits for some TV shows), but I'm not easily starstruck, and, though I have fond memories of him and he's a cool guy, we certainly don't hang out or correspond more than a couple of times a year.

Still, when I checked out his friends and comments, I was all (YEAH, I wrote "I was all") Holy Shite! S**** M***** posted on his wall? He knows L*** L**** ? He's having lunch with M**** S******??? Sure, they sniff the milk like everyone else before pouring it on their Captain Crunch, but still, S**** M*****? I LOVE that guy. I'd sniff his milk for him

Oh, and...

Backyard, KS, BF, clippers, shavers and poodle.

KS..."We should shave a squirrel."
BF "What is it with you and squirrels? They're cute, and you're sick."

Two hours and a shaved dog later, driving down the street...

KS "Look! There it is!"
BF "Huh? Crap, what the ...?" Tires squeal.
BF, pointing to black rodent with a bushy golden tail. "Is that a SQUIRREL?"
KS, smugly, "Yep, I told you."
BF, shaking head, "Someone should capture that thing and study it."
KS weshouldgrabthedamnthingandhanditofftoKS13andmanny...
BF "What?"
KS "Oh, nothing..."

It's hot

And now...I'm on Facebook.

Great.

La dee da

Someone from Washington state ran a search for "squirrel pregnancy hormones" and got my blog. Hee hee. Dammit! I'm supposed to be looking up a museum. Can't keep a thought in my head to save my life.

Libertarians of the world...

At one point during the "in-law" picnic, I thought I was going to go absolutely insane as two chemical engineer/patent lawyers and a lawyer/chemical engineer in training were talking shop, but the conversation turned to politics. I had assumed the the father/son team were right wing Republicans and braced myself for the party line. After a few minutes of give and take between those two, the BF and the other (less conservative) lawyer, I asked the son, "Are you a Libertarian?" He responded in the affirmative, as did the dad, and so I had a ton of questions, having only a rudimentary knowledge of the tenets of the philosophy. Drug laws, public education, gun laws, seat belts, the war in Iraq, personal responsibility, honor and valor, voting/drinking/driving ages, Child and Family protective services, welfare-all were discussed, and I was absolutely fascinated by the responses.

What a couple of foocking fascists, but boy, the chocolate cake couldn't be beat.

It even made the popcorn taste bad

Crap, Life, or two movie studios, owe me a reimbursement of at least three hours. Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason? Why, oh why? At first, I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to see the movie through to the end because I had somewhere to go. That was LONG before the movie started. (It still annoys me that I haven't been able to see the ending to Stephen Chow's soccer movie because it became pixelated near the end and kept cutting to the credits.) After the first five minutes, I comforted myself that I had rented it from the library and it hadn't cost a dime. Then, I kept thinking, well, SOMETHING good has to happen soon.

Nope.

Although I never make fun of people who are overweight (having been heavy myself for a few years, and boy did it suck), all I could think was, Boy, Renee looks terrible. I don't even like really skinny women (Calista Flockhart makes me throw up in my mouth a little whenever I see her. One of the biggest TV disappointments for me was that the kiss on Ally McBeal was between her and Lucy Lui, not Luci and ah, that other blonde who is famous but I don't feel like googling to find her name.)

How Stella Got Her Groove Back wasn't much better, but at least it had Taye (?) Diggs and Angela Bassett. Now SHE is hot, in both the God, I wish I looked like her and Yeah, I'd buy her tequila until she kissed me way.

Off to try to squeeze two humans into one bathing suit.

Sigh

Being pregnant and while not married was not even a blip on my radar screen...until I attended a huge Italian funeral with the BF. I do have to say everyone was very nice (and this Irish gal has never been kissed and hugged so much in one day ever), but there's nothing like a huge event with serious religious overtones to make one feel a bit self conscious about one's...transgressions.

Also, I never thought I'd be in the position of planning a boyfriend's 50th birthday party while decorating a nursery for our baby. I'm happy about it...but it does have a certain "Holy shit" feel to it.

Ah, hello?

Should I tell the two teenaged hoochie mamas preening on the corner that my son is away at a local university earning college credit, or I should I continue to snort at their antics? At first, I wasn't a hundred percent sure it was for his benefit, but the basketball courts are clear, and the only teenagers in a five house radius on every side (including the cross street) are girls. I love the outfits-tight ankle length jeans (it's 92 and humid), black tube top and an orange spandex halter-with a three quarter length sleeve army green jean jacket. What's even funnier is that were he home, and were they able to garner his attention, he would inquire about their course schedule and political party affiliation before giving them the time of day. Oh shit, unless this has something to do with all the "walks" he's been taking since the spring...and I thought he was just increasing endurance...

DON'T GO THERE.

Jigga wha'?

You mean in order to turn on my 13 inch TV 7 or 8 times a year to see if there is a snow day, I'm going to have to PAY? Fascists!!!

Just here to help

I've noticed through all my phone calls to T-Mobile that repeating "Fuck you" over and over again to the automated line actually gets you to a human being much more quickly than going through all of the choices.

You're welcome.

Poseidon does somersaults

Do you know what "pelvic rest" means? Here, I'll translate:

IT MEANS NO SEX FOR TWO WEEKS!!! It's the beginning of the second trimester-do you know how much sex rocks then? And ME? Ms Horny all the time anyway!(This includes self-gratification, but, fortunately for the BF, bj's are fine.)

And, the ER? NOTHING like Scrubs.

(Baby's fine, long story.)

Last time I freaked out

Was the previous post a bit mean, perhaps? Disrespectful? Rude and cutting? Well, be assured, dear readers, that I have paid, and paid dearly, for it.

Yesterday I arose with a wave of nausea that not even the most saltiney of saltines could quell, so I was confined to the couch with cold water and a good book-not the worst thing in the world.

And then I heard a sound a bit like a crow. It didn't start low, but it continued to grow.

Was it the sweet Whos down from Whoville, with their sweet Christmas singing?

Why no! It was the annual outdoor, miked for a Metallica concert, Karaoke talent show held in the schoolyard across the street, with many Mily Cyrus and Rhianna classics, as well as 38 renditions of Hot Cross buns on every squeaky instrument known to man, with KS too sick to drive out of town.

So, elderhostlers*, your great-great-grandchildren have exacted their revenge.

*I once stole an elderhostler sign, but honestly, don't remember the exact meaning.

***Turns out it's not a real word, though elderhostel is. Perhaps one who attends an elderhostel?

Reason 2,368,431 why I'm going to hell

Why didn't SOMEONE tell me that Mondays at 2:00 are when ALL the senior citizens of central CT descend upon ONE Stop and Shop and take over the whole entire goddamn thing with their 8 ton Buicks, three-speed motorized scooters (set to snail, turtle or slug) and broken hearing aids?

Just because

This image may look like I'm trying to be suggestive, but I was really just trying to show off a bruise.

Bawk bawk ribbit

A soft, squishy package arrived in the mail yesterday, and I was completely clueless about its contents and origins.

It turned out to be a T-shirt from my sister:

They say I'm A.D.D., but they just don't understand.
Oh, Look! A Chicken!

I'm off to the gym for the first time in two weeks.

Ah...it's the pregnancy hormones?

Ahem. After moving to the basement from the boyfriend's bedroom in order to avoid the oppressive heat, his snoring, and the poodle walking on my head, I may have said to the poodle that followed me down, "Get the fuck off this couch or I'm going to barbecue you."

Hey, it worked.

Mmm, mmm good

Cube the ciabatta and break out the apple slices-there's a fondue fountain of a cheese-like substance oozing out of my ear. (Serves 4-6.)

I can sit up!

Splish, splash goes something on my shoulder yet again. Oh, is her roof leaking? you wonder. Oh, my, no. Is she outside with a laptop on a rainy day? No, my dears, I do not own a laptop, and even I would know not to use it in the rain. Well, then, what could it possible be?

Well, darlings, it is a combination of earwax, puss and liquid draining from my right ear. Since Monday, I have defiled my usually clean home with dirty tissues, bowls of mostly untouched chicken soup, and thin piles of salt that were left after my tears of pain evaporated. I've lost four pounds (the baby is fine), stopped washing my hair, and I think, I think, I may have worn the same pair of underwear for more than 24 hours.

This was less fun than the Thanksgiving I had to pull the innards out of 30 semi-frozen turkeys.

When was the last time you saw a good, old-fahioned human sacrifice?

It's a great guy who will download episodes of the Muppet Show ...and watch them with you as well. After watching a few episodes, I realized why I'm so weird. It was one of the few programs that we were allowed to watch regularly as children, and boy, is it wacky. Bar scenes, muppets drinking whiskey and smoking, Kenny Rogers singing The Gambler, and, well, the mere presence of John Cleese (tied to a chair and gagged) on the set of a "children's" program is rather nutty.

Oh, I look pale?

Saltines are my friends. Come hither, my little preciouses. Snuggle with me a little. And when all that's left of you are crackly crumbs in the depths of my sheets, I'll pretend I'm a vacuum cleaner and Hoover you up with my lips.

I really thought I'd be one of those women who would continue her workout regime at the same intensity and duration. HA.

Memorial Day snippets

Boyfriend to KS's dad:
"So, when you open the trunk, who do you think is going to be happy to see you, your wife or the dog?"

Teenagers, lined up, using best manners:
"KS, may we have some bleach?"
"For what?"
"The squirt guns?"

Two year old, singing at top of lungs:
"Mommy has hair on her hiney, mommy has hair on her hiney!"

Boyfriend's brother, upon arriving, to KS:
"Congratulations? I mean, it's a good congratulations, right?"
"Yes, of course, we're very happy."
"Oh, good! Here's a bottle of wine...that you can't drink..."

Rather Random and Randy

Oh my GOD, the AGONY! An obsessive compulsive bather with a brand new tub/tile/window/ceiling panel installation, and I can't use it until 7:30 tonight. Why not just dangle a margarita and raw white tuna from the shower head to take me completely over the edge?

I did shower at the new, smaller gym owned by my trainer pals. 'Twas only I and one of the trainers when I ducked into the locker room, and I was suddenly struck by the thought of our naked, soapy bodies slipping against each other in a cramped, steamy stall, groping each other, my legs wrapped around his waist...but that fantasy was completely ruined by my practical side, which interrupted to scold, "You can't let your body get above 102* for any length of time." F*cker.

I would have thought I was hallucinating if someone else hadn't seen it too: a black squirrel with a grey/blond tail. It was all alone, shunned by both squirrel communities.

What's a mo-mo?

When you sliding down the pole, no panties, no shirt.

...Leaving a trail of thick slug slime...

Slap that bass

The story is that when my Intermediate tap class and I flap flap ball-changed our way into an X formation that turned clockwise, my son broke out into Springtime for Hitler.

Poseidon Mokimoto, Jr.

Prior to becoming pregnant, I thought the invitations to join the moms' groups on Myspace were dumb. Now I think they're absolutely foocking stupid.

The only person at work that knows that I'm pregnant is the nurse. I love it. Healthy, huh, using a pregnancy to be passive aggressive? I do have a meeting in August so I imagine that it may be obvious by then, but if I could wait until the first day of school, I would. The annoying first grade teacher (who admittedly, comes into my room less often since I stopped acknowledging her when she enters during instructional time, though she still asks me for food) has begun asking me about activities for next year. I smile and agree with each one, while mentally rubbing my hands and laughing maniacally, because my plan is to be out from the December break to the April break.

hehheheheheheheheh

Stoopit

Because I haven't been pregnant in 17 years, I'd forgotten that I get all Flowers for Algernon when I'm expecting. I'd relate some stories, but itss takin mee a our two tipe this.

Sex

Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. That's all I think about. It's all I dream about. And it's not like I don't get it good every Saturday night...and Sunday morning, three or four times. I thought those hormones didn't kick in until the second trimester. At this rate, people will see me drooling on the street and think, "Oh, there goes the pregnant lady, lusting after those cookies in the bakery window," but no, I'll be walking over to hump the knot in an oak tree.

Burping up egg rolls

Three weeks ago, offering to cook salmon for Mother's Day seemed like a really good idea.

Now, I'm not so sure if I'll even be able to look at it through the glass case in the grocery store.

Stark, raving mad

Ah, there's nothing, nothing like having poison ivy on your legs and torso, then wearing stockings on a warm and muggy day.

Try it.

The eyes are the window to your face

My son has a reputation for being a Good, Honest and Kind boy. If he were in an Uncle Wiggly story, he would be known as The Boy Who Always Made His Mother Cookies When She Was On The Rag, or, The Boy Who Meticulously Mowed The Lawn For A Very Long Time When His Mother Was In Her Bedroom Entertaining...well, you get the picture.

He is, however, my son.

He called my friend KJ on Monday, whom I had just told I was expecting.

"Hey, kid! Wow, what's up?"
"Not much KJ, but I'm a little concerned about something."
"Ok, what's going on?"
"Well, mom keeps on talking on the phone for a long time to EVERYBODY."
"Ok, what's wrong with that?"
"She hates the phone. And whenever someone is over, she sends me out of the room to talk to them. What's going on?"
"Hey, kid, you're not going to get anything out of me."
"And, the last time my dad was over, he left smiling, but at the same time he seemed a little weird."
"Well..."
"Come on, I'll bake you cookies, bread, whatever you want, I have some killer recipes."
"NO! Talk to your mom. You're not getting anything out of me!"

This went on for a while, with the son offering bribes and proof that something was afoot, and KJ trying to reassure him without giving any information.

The wicked part is that we had told my son the week before.

Rabbit season

Ah, pregnancy, it truly changes a woman's perspective on life. For example, when I used to see Mr. Bunny in the yard, I used to think, "Aw, Mr. Bunny, you are SO cute!" Yesterday, however, when I saw TWO Mr. Bunnies in the yard, I thought, "Mmmmm, stew!"

He had it comin'

If he sings "You're Having My Baby" ONE MORE TIME...!

Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, where the f*ck are you?

It's cold, it's damp, and my friend had a few glasses of wine last night and has bailed on running this morning with the local women's running group. Should I stay or should I go now? Guess I'll drink the two ounces of weak caffeinated that I haven't been completely weaned off of yet and then make a decision.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hey, 3.1 miles under 31 minutes, not bad for training.

You heard it here first!

The coolest thing about the pre-natal vitamins is that they now make a brand with a laxative, so, for the first time in months, I laid a beautiful, huge, steaming mass of waste that was a wonder to behold.

I'd say we're as happy as clams, but I don't think I'm supposed to touch those either.

Rub eyes and squint

Names on the table:

Poop Vadoop and Flegma Vagine.

No bunnies died in the making of this blog

Alcohol, drug, nicotine, caffeine and nitrate free. Damn good thing I still have sex.

As if it were written for the movies

Romantic kissing...

"Hey, you taste like maple syrup."
"I just went down on Mrs. Butterworth."
"You cheat on me again, I'll cut you."
"I know, baby, I know."

Java the Hut

Started cutting down on caffeine this weekend.

I'll let you know how it's going as soon as I finish biting the head off this kitti..zz.z....zzzz.....

So THAT explains it

I've got one thing to say, and one thing only:

Holy Shit.

Fowlness

Pray tell, besides owls, what type of f*cking birds wake up at 3:00 in the morning and chirp continuously until 4:00??? HUH??? The other night it was so bad I thought that perhaps I had stumbled over the white noise machine that I thought I had lost, and that maybe my crippled toe had hit the volume control and set it to "raging tornado level with melodious sweet forest chirping sounds, CA Redwoods (protected)", and, after groping around in the dark for twenty minutes, that perhaps the white noise machine was possessed and scurrying around mere inches away from my angry fingers, but noooooooo, it was nothing I could smash with a hammer or exorcise with a priest, but rather a family of some urban hybrid of bird, hell bent on chirping out Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of their minuscule-yet-Gladiator-strong lungs.

LDS, not LSD

Late Wednesday afternoon, lounging in the backyard with the guy and the offspring, when two young women, both sporting sunglasses, approach the yard. The males chitchat with them a bit while I finish scrubbing down the grill.

I realize they aren't classmates of the teen aged offspring when I notice they are both sporting long denim dresses on this hot afternoon, and I hear my son say, "You're from Germany? I'm surprised, because Martin Luther...", and even HE knows that's not flirting. The boyfriend wanders over with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. "Mormons. The kid's got it covered."

After a lengthy discussion, my son comes back with a pamphlet and a shit eating grin. "Just tell me you were respectful," is all I say-for a bit.

"Actually," I muse aloud, "you could have a party, and invite the ruffians from your school, who would bring drugs and alcohol, and we could introduce those girls to bikini underwear-it's awfully hot for them to have to wear their traditional undergarments. It's too bad they're not Amish, because then we could put zippers on EVERYTHING-the door, the potato chip bags, the toilet seats, and they would have to walk around like zombies and say things like, 'Prithee, open this Doritos bag, for it is ungodly closed, and I must have some of the delectably goodness,' or, 'Thine outhouse is a work of the Devil,'

...that's when the boyfriend gave me a wedgie to shut me up and I started chasing him around the yard with a pair of tongs, and I lost my train of thought, and my son sank into a lawnchair with the deepest expression of mortification possible.

More Coffee, Mate

Our school district is the only system in the United States to have this week off. Since this has made travelling with the offspring or visiting with most friends impossible, I have decided to do yard work and clean closets. Although I live in a house the size of a postage stamp, the yard is almost two city lots riddled with evil rose bushes and long viney things that reach menacingly toward me whenever they hear the back door slam. (What if enough of them lodged themselves down your throat? You'd choke! What do you think your last thought would be? Mine? I always knew.)

So in the backyard I have a 3' by 5' area sectioned off with wood planks that was installed by the former owners during the Nixon administration. I have no idea what they planted back then, but currently it contains the greenest and most lush grass in the entire neighborhood, of which, I must admit, I am very proud.

A corner of the yard was once hoed, planted and watered by my best friend's husband. I am currently the most scared of that area, because it contains to large "burrows" that either house cute Mr. Bunny or large Norwegian rats. I was very close to poking the holes with sticks, but then remembered some wise words from my Uncle Clem: "Never poke holes with sticks."

What concerns me most, however, is that the hallway closet has the very same holes.

Envy me, I am your Queen

Ahh, here I am at 8:14 a.m., EST, drinking coffee, contemplating the day, which will probably consist of a gym run and a pedicure, and perhaps a visit with my infant niece, and, hopefully, not much else.

Is this a hoax?

http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22556281-661,00.html

The man sent me this. He was, as expected, "right-brained". I expected to be as well, but when I opened the email, I was surprised to discover that I saw the woman spinning counter-clockwise, and that no matter how hard I concentrated, I couldn't get her to spin the other way.

This actually bothered me a bit because I have consoled myself for many years that I am not weird so much as creative, and this rather shot that theory to hell.

Tonight, as I was gorging on pasta while watching Scrubs, I had my Eureka moment: I had taken half of a xanax that morning in order not to kill a co-worker! YES! I MUST be creative and a right brained thinker. I rushed upstairs to this here computer room, and looked at the image again. Sure enough, I saw her spinning clockwise. I made a phone call, looked back at the screen, and then she was spinning...counter-clockwise. She changed almost every time I looked away from the screen, without any concentration on my part, leading me to re conclude that:

1. I am absolutely fucking nuts OR
2. Someone is fucking with me in a big way.

Thank you Y*hoo "News"

Put Bats to Work in Your Garden
http://www.att.net/s/editorial.dll?bfromind=2794&eeid=5441960&

Sounds freakin' awesome to me-I need some hoeing and weeding done.

Or, during the winter months, you could tie a bunch together in front of a verrry tiny sled, and glue a red fuzz ball on the first one, and have them fly around in a circle over your ohsoverytacky blow up nativity scene.

I am SO going there

Forgive me for repeating myself, but it drives me fucking bonkers that the first grade teacher that lives a coatroom away comes into my room as often as 6 times before noon in order to drop off unimportant papers or tell me about some piddly shit. Since our students did a play together last semester, I kind of felt like I had to put up with it, even though when she leaves her room she is not only disturbing my students and me, she is leaving 22 6 year olds unsupervised in her room. She is also racist against blacks, and not in a subtle PC witch hunt kind of way-in a way that continues to surprise me. We ended up doing ANOTHER play together this semester, in part because she alienated her grade level team members through means that are too lengthy to get into here, but it was done purposefully to screw them over and so that she did not have to teach a particular area. When it's all said and done, though, stupid me for not setting limits, because, sure enough, she has tried to live up my ass this semester as well.

Today took the cake. Her third grade son is on vacation this week. Fine. She took off a couple of days to be with him. Fine. (Though I think she has only worked three full weeks this year, and I'm not exaggerating.) Her son has ADHD. OK, that sucks for the kid. She only has him take medicine for school days. Fine, I could actually make the same decision if I had a child who truly had ADHD. She asked if a few weeks ago if he could be the curtain guy for our play, and I said, unsuspectingly, Sure, thinking it would be kind of cute.

DO YOU SEE WHERE I'M GOING WITH THIS????Ya do? Cuz I sure as hell wish I had seen what was coming.

Kudos, you guessed it. She took today off, but came in for the dress rehearsal, which took place in front of a student audience, and sure enough, the little boy was in tow. So...her class had had a sub all day, and there they were, pretty distracted on stage, alongside my class. And there SHE was, on the other side of the stage, and there I was, on the other side, responsible for my class AND AN UNMEDICATED 8 YEAR OLD WITH ADHD (and a water bottle) THAT WAS NEITHER MY STUDENT NOR A RELATIVE. I was also privy to the fact that he has a bladder control problem, so when he began hopping up and down saying "I have to pee NOW", I escorted him down into the audience and chose an older student to bring him to the bathroom, hoping the whole goddam time that I could get back on stage quick enough for the scene change. Before his second trip to the bathroom, he popped on and off the side landing and also managed to piss me off by grabbing the curtain rope, and whining, "I'LL do it, I'LL do it," even though he had been pretty active playing with his water bottle and missing cues. I don't blame him, though, but his f*cking c*nt of a mother, and I gotta tell ya, that's only the second time I've used the "c" word in my life.

Grrrrrr

My hair is juuuuuuuuussst long enough to drive me absolutely fucking bonkers.

(KS, hands on hips, grumpy, blowing spurts of air up into woolly mammoth bangs.)

Who cares where the commas go

The top three reasons I'm almost late for work.

1. Masturbation.
2. Reading blogs.
3. Laying on my bed so that the mirror catches the reflection of my arm and hand, with four fingers laying against my thumb like a beak, while I move my arm back and forth, so that it looks like an ostrich is walking across the room.

a la Bendy Girl

The son and I went to Cirque du Soleil on Thursday night, which was truly an amazing experience. At one point, I found myself staring with my mouth wide open, and at another, I realized I had drawn my knees up to my chest and had squeezed my eyes halfway shut. The highlight for me was hearing my blase, worldly son exclaim, "Holy cow, Mom, did you SEE that?!?"

The woman behind me must have certainly enjoyed the show, because not only was it amazing to watch and listen to, her husband was kind enough to narrate the entire first act.
"Look- see the kite? There's a string going from the top of the kite to the ceiling! THAT'S how they get it to fly."
"Yes, dear."
"Woe ho! See! He's distracting us while the other guy is doing the trick. THAT'S how they fool you!"


Beware David Copperfield! Watch out Penn and Teller! THIS guy is giving away all your trade secrets!

Miss Jackson if...

Names I've been called this week:
"Mama" (Hot bagel shop employee)
"Hon" (Late forty something male librarian)
"Douchebag" (Too many people to list)
"SnooperliciciousGirl" (I made that up)

The one that took me by surprise was the "Hon" from the librarian. I swear I had the letters "WTF" floating over my head for the rest of the conversation.

SNL

I brought a small house plant into school today, then glued googly eyes onto the leaves.

Only one person got it. Everyone else said, "Oooh, how cute."

Babe

I ran into the guy who left me his number at the Bagel Shop on Saturday at ... the Bagel Shop (cripes, I need to get out more) and we chatted briefly. He was always good looking, but he had obviously spent some time hitting the gym because he chest looked broader, and his stomach flatter and his shoulders and arms...let's just say I noticed the changes. I tried my damnedest to just talk and not flirt, but old habits die hard.

He lives nearby and recently built a huge garage that looks like a barn on the back of his property. As I drove home from work on Monday, I could have sworn I saw a pig in his yard. I laughed to myself, because when I had seen him earlier, I had complimented him on the garage, but had mistakenly used the word barn instead.

Sure enough, Monday evening a text came.
"Are you still taken, or can we finally go out and have some fun?"
"Still happily taken, but I must admit I'm intrigued by a man with a pig."
*****
*****
"What pig?"

Mr. Bagel Grid Man

Friday morning, bagel shop, and all I want is a large coffee. Great, only one guy in front of me! I'll make it to work early.

The man is in his forties, short and balding, and he is bouncing a bit from foot to foot with a paper in his hand.

"...oh, wait, guys, I'm so sorry. Those were the alternates. Here-here's the order."
Alternates? I can imagine this guy during the off season playing Fantasy Bagel.
He runs a finger down what I now see to be a grid with the names of all the bagels listed.
"Three sesame-but in a separate bag. Two multi-grain, four honey wheat..."
So I wonder, why put the sesame in a separate bag? The sticky cinnamon ones, I would understand, but sesame?
"...three poppy seed, and three egg."
The cashier says, "For a dollar, I can give you a dozen and a half. Would you like three more?"
The man looks at his grid, looks at the cashier, and says, "I'd have to make a phone call."

They're Grrreaaaa-stupid

Twenty-somethings wearing spandex leopard print shirts with glitter should NOT be in charge of the bank drive-through.

Taserlicious

I am so going to buy a bunch of disposable cameras.

Koko

When I paint a self portrait that looks like an elephant, do I get any publicity? Nooooo. Damn pachyderm.

Getcher freak on

Sometimes I buy condoms at CVS when the front of the store is very busy, just so I can go to the empty pharmacy checkout and get the hell out without waiting with the great unwashed. A little acting is required-down turned eyes and a quick, embarrassed gesture to the basket, but it's well worth the effort.

April

Am I up and ready to go so early because I hit the gym at 5 and an aiming for school to set up a fun project?

Nope. I have all my Christmas decorations out and am set to decorate the office.

Call me Ginger (or Fred)

I have a 16 count solo in my tap recital, and I have to tell you, I'm freakin' tickled pink about it. I only wish we weren't wearing tuxedo shirts so that my jacked arms would show.

Someone pass me a bun

I was a Taco Bell virgin until Saturday night. It really was like bad sex-I could have made it at home more quickly and better, without the bother of putting on makeup first.

EWWW!

After the blood laden, clumpy, scarlet red tampon plopped into the toilet water and gently unfolded in the ripple, I was struck by how much it looked like a jelly fish floating in the sea.

My GYN appears unconcerned about my heavy periods, a new development within the past year. "We could put you on the pill," she suggested. "Well, it affects my moods," I replied, thinking, huh, do they recommend that women start the pill at 36? "Oh," she continued, "and your HPV test from last year was slightly abnormal." "WHAT?" I exclaimed. I had been tested for EVERYTHING after a calamitous breakup with a guy who would fuck a telephone pole. "How come no one notified me?"
"Your pap was normal," she said reassuringly. "We'll run those tests again, of course."
Two weeks later...
"Your HPV came back normal," the lab tech said.
"Thank God."
"But your pap had some irregularities. The doctor has decided to read it as normal because the HPV is fine, and she'll retest both next year."

Should I get a new GYN?

Lions and tigers and bears

How I long for the days when all I worried about was running into another mouse at school. That was a sweet time, an innocent time, when I was startled by a small rodent in the recycling bin, or came across some droppings in the corner underneath a notebook.

We recently had the basement of our building tested for radon. A few tests came out with readings above 4. "Oh, that kinda stinks," you might say, "but when would you or your students be in the basement anyway?"

Oh, every day, from at least 8:45 to 3:30, longer for teachers, because that's where our "learning community" is housed.

"Well, at least you've only been there for a year and a half."

True, but the one other school with high readings? Not only did I teach there for 8 years, I attended the school as a child. Where was the cafeteria way back when? In the basement.

The up side to all this is that I am now telling myself that radon killed the hermit crabs in November, and not my ineptitude at caring for pets. I should probably clean out the tank...

Deep, burning shame

Since no one reads this, I am going to admit that I like the new Mariah Carey song Touch My Body and that Miley Cyrus one I can't Wait to See You Again (?). I mean really, who can't help but laugh when she calls her sister Stutterbrain?

Toby is the devil

I wish I could remember who told me to watch The Office so that I could kick him.

Twenty-three positions in a one night stand

As I was driving in a nice neighborhood on the way to work a few Fridays ago, I happened to glance over to the houses on my left. An elderly woman using a walker was making her way slowly up to the pathway to a large house with a manicured lawn. The car that had just dropped her off was a brand new Buick that contained an elderly gentleman. Even though the woman was sporting clothing that looked expensive, something was a bit off. Her hair was NOT carefully coiffed, and the orange/red lipstick that most sophisticated ladies of her age and stature wear was noticeably missing.

Then it hit me. She was doing the old lady walk of shame!

Snow day???

Great, I spent 20 minutes yesterday afternoon explaining the difference between a hexagon and an octagon to my friend's first grader and used the example of an octopus to illustrate "8", and now this:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20080303/sc_afp/sciencebritainanimalhexapusoffbeat

I was going to bitch about work, but it's too depressing. Our district's structure is being dismantled and morale is terrible, especially after the emails the staff received about not talking to each other during playground duty, and "gossiping, disrespect and failure to follow directives must cease immediately". This is funny, in a way, because for the most part, teachers are rule- following sheep. Have you ever read old accounts about the duties of teachers from the late 1800's, duties which included cleaning out the fireplace and sweeping the floors? Guess what almost all of us do 4 afternoons out of 5? Sweep out floors, have students bring the recycling to a central location, dust and occasionally spot mop. Glad I got that second degree.*

*And I mean no disrepect to people who have cleaning jobs-work is work, but do you want me to prepare instructional materials for my students at 68K a year, or sweep? 'Cause I'm not staying past 6 to do both.

** I guess I did bitch about work. I love my students, though.

Squat

End of a training session, a sore KS with the beginnings of an ocular migraine, screaming quads and tight hamstrings.

Trainer (31, in shape, handsome, intelligent. Had a short crush on him 5 years ago, which I barely remembered until...): Lie down on the floor. We'll stretch you out. I'm trying to get more therapeutic again.

KS (a rodent into light bondage) lies down on her back, arms outstretched. The trainer has her bend one knee and fold it across the other leg until it almost touches the floor, while he...

uses his right arm to hold down her left arm, his right knee to apply pressure on her knee, and his left leg is stretched out across her right thigh and a bit of torso, his left arm on her right shoulder.

I swear to God, if I were a man, I would have felt something move.

Cereal

So I read Lisa Scottoline's Daddy's Girl last night. Blech. Very disappointing. There was one line that made me chuckle last night (reading a book in less than three hours can make you a little punchy): "She'd been aiming for boho art major, but was settling for nearsighted coke whore." This morning though, eh. Who hasn't had that happen while getting ready on a Saturday night?

I'll never be sane

Even better:
I packed a gym bag so that I would work out at least a little after school. Instead, I picked up a meatball grinder and was halfway through the bag of chips as I passed the fitness center.

It amazes me that, even now, 35 seconds into Father of Mine I am hunched over the steering wheel, sobbing my eyes out. My dad has called at least three times during the past week, just to chat. After the third conversation in which there were a few awkward pauses, it hit me: He probably heard that the Moms have met Mr. C. I'll need to try to set up a lunch date so that they can meet. Dad works second shift-and on his days off, he's sloshed by 2.

Forgot to put a spoon under my pillow

4:40 a.m. No snow, but reset alarm and skip 5 a.m. workout, just in case
5:00 a.m. No snow, but reset alarm in case ConnectEd call comes in, skip 5:30 workout
5:30 a.m. No snow, briefly consider home yoga DVD, but the cramps have started, take Advil, skip 6:00 yoga
6:00 No snow, eat a fiber bar with hopes of pooping before work, reset alarm, skip last possible 6:30 workout
6:50 No snow, son leaves to catch bus, I yell goodbye from bed
7:10 No freakin' snow, jump out of bed, take quickest shower ever, throw on corduroys (yep, corduroys), striped blue blouse with tuxedo ruffle (no iron needed) and red Merrels (no tying-late late late!!!)
7:23 Start car. Snow flakes begin to drop on the windshield.

Freakin' frackin' frookin' cracker

OMG!

And now we have a joint CosCo membership!!!!

A premenstrual mess

All the things I'm wigging out about:

Being in a relationship, that I'm a crappy girlfriend, I get annoyed if he calls more than once when I'm pre-menstrual, then get sad if he calls only once if I'm premenstrual, that my son is such a good kid to compensate for some of the carzy stuff we've been through, that I want more children but I am really emotionally unavailable some of the time (my kid has to ask me for a hug), that I get tense when Mr. C says, "I miss you"-I can feel my whole body tighten up, I have to see my sister-in-law tomorrow-she wants to do background checks on anyone who is introduced to her kid, so in order for Mr. C to spend anytime with my family when that niece is around he would have to be vetted-it's small comfort that he's not being singled out-how the hell am I going to be able to make small talk with her, I want to marry this man but then freak out at the thought of actually sharing a place with another human full time-even my son isn't here all of the time, he sleep at his dad's two weekends a month, that maybe I am a lesbian, my house isn't as clean as I want it to be, I go back to work on Monday with little planned for the week, that I can't talk to my mom about much other than the superficial, my dad seems hurt that I haven't seen him in a while but I just can't deal with him right now, I weigh 150 pounds-sure, I am pretty freaking muscular for a woman, but I am still 8-10 pounds over my goal weight and I'm pissed at myself for not being more focused on nutrition...

...shit, I know, I should go read the news and find out about people with real problems.

Sorry 'bout the weather

Everyone is ok, but I got into a fender bender in this damn stupid weather. I used to think I would never, ever move south, but it sounds pretty damn good today.

Cha-cha

Almost time to hoist the feet up in the ole stirrups and get the cooch checked out. Unbelievably, the va-jay-jay has had only ONE visitor in the last year. Granted, he visits often and stays long, but I never thought I'd see the day when my bajingo got less traffic than my blog.

I SEEE You!

My district is kickin' it old school and is on good ole "February vacation", a break eliminated by most surrounding towns.

And I'm just a sittin' here on the computer with absolutely nothing of interest to write. Sure, I got a great quote on the bathroom yesterday, the son and I are being poked and prodded by various specialists this week, and, WOO HOO! my sister is going to help me with my taxes. Maybe I'll have something after going to the gym for the first time with the beau (I'm a bit of a gym rat and he, well, he's not) and the girls and I are doing something Thursday night, and that usually turns into a story-or stories. If SOMETHING interesting doesn't happen soon (and please, oh most powerful Gods, I don't mean anything bad-or involving the sister-in-law), I may just tie one on, paint my body day-glo-pink and visit the local cultural center and pretend to be a "Body Revealed".

And then

AND THEN! He drove up last night to give me a kiss and a framed picture of us photoshopped into a 5 by 7 copy of the movie poster of Seven Days and Seven Nights.

Sometimes I wonder if he's real. Actually, I have an image of me walking up to a huge door, with clouds swirling about, almost as if it's God's office, and knocking timidly on the door to ask, "Uh, excuse me, is this really for me? I'd hate to keep something that's not mine. I get to keep him and be happy?"

Wow.

Call me Douchebag

I AM AN IDIOT. So I had some nude pictures taken by a photographer, picked one that was flattering, showed off my ass (a fav of the beau) and doesn't show my face, had it framed and gave it to him on Sat, thinking that because we don't see each other during the week and we had made plans for a fancy dinner on the weekend, that Sat. would like Valentine's day, not that I've celebrated it in the past or usually give it much thought. I gave the picture to him rather sheepishly, not sure if he would love it or get upset because I was naked for someone else. He said he would open it on Sunday morning, and that he had been hoping we could get together during the week for V day. We had an awesome weekend, and when he opened the pic he wasn't upset, but at the same time, he wasn't like, "oh wow". But, the beau is also a photographer, and from the questions he asked, it felt as if he was questioning the amount of experience the guy had. (A legit question, by the way, because the guy had actually framed the wrong picture.) Oh well, I thought, not as good an idea as I had hoped, but at least it didn't cause any problems. (We won't even get into how it felt to pose nude. As risque as I can be, it's a humbling experience.)

So, are the nude pictures the reason I'm an idiot? Not exactly. I am an idiot because, and I've said this before, I am sooooo guy like. Did I pick up something else for tonight? Noooooooo. I figured since he drove up I'd pay for dinner (if he'd let me) and then hope for sex. Ater getting stuck in traffic in crappy weather, he walked in with a bag of carefully chosen and/or handmade gifts, wrapped, with a terrific card that he made (and not like a crayon drawing, either). I was too stunned to thank him properly. I should just get "stupid" tattooed on my forehead.

Drip drop

Sometimes I feel like John freakin' Henry when I'm out clearing the sidewalk with my orange plastic shovel.

On the plus side, SNOW DAY FOR ME!!!! Celebrated by spending $94 at Borders before 9:30 a.m. And tonight, it's sushi for the Valentine's dinner with the beau. Woo hoo hoo!

Self-amusement

As I was driving to work, I noticed a small truck that said, "AAA batteries delivered and installed" on the back, and my giggles turned into hysterical laughter at the thought of uniformed men arriving at houses to change the batteries in calculators or remotes.

Yesterday was squat and lunge day, and today I became acutely aware that I slap my thighs for emphasis while explaining things to the students.

My slippers are trying to kill me

Reasons I Love Bally Total Fitness

1. The "Does this machine work?" game

2. You don't feel self conscious around the out-of-shape trainers

3. Black men in sunglasses, Latino men in jeans and work boots, Italian men in gold

4. No need to hit the showers-just stand under one of the leaks in the ceiling

5. Short wait time for free weights- full range of motion? Bah!

6. Wide variety of choices for music-just stand next to someone singing along with an iPod

7. A grunt and a clang of metal will signal when a set is finished

8. Environmentally conscious- the same towel is used to clean sinks, mirrors, spills and equipment

9. Extra cardio walking around gym looking for matching set of dumbbells

10. Uninhibited overweight seniors in the locker room-you go girl!

Bored on Lincoln's Birthday

Squirrel Away! To keep squirrels from eating your plants sprinkle your plants with cayenne pepper . The cayenne pepper doesn't hurt the plant and the squirrels won't come near it.

What if the squirrels are from Mexico? Now Manny, don't get your tail feathers in a tizzy-the only "plants" I grow are dandelions and skunk cabbage, so you're not missing out on anything. And the wacky tabaccy is still yours for the usual rate.

S'mores?

One of the greatest compliments in recent memory:
KS: walking into school in a long black jacket with the hood on, and high heeled black boots
Butch gym teacher: Hey, you look all Tomb Raider today.

This weekend was amazing, amazing enough that we titled it The Weekend of Food and Sex, '08. Fine, not the snazziest title in the world, but living it was awesome. We finally rolled out of bed to grab something to eat at 1:30 PM. The restaurant owner recognized the beau and complimented him on his show. I'm not someone who is impressed with celebrity (annoyed, usually), but I must admit it's cool that Mr. C is known in his city and surrounding towns. He dubs it "slightly famous"-he's done just enough stuff to be recognized by the locals, but not anything major enough to cause a fan rush. When we first met, I didn't even think about it, but today I got a kick out of the owner shaking his hand and chatting, and the pleasure it brought Mr. C. Admittedly, after this weekend, someone could have kicked me in the knee, and I would have smiled serenely. (We even, like, communicated and stuff-initiated by him, of course.)

Back when I started a blog, I thought I could post freely, then made the mistake of letting the boyfriend at the time "find" it. I've given no such clues or hints to the beau on this new space (quite ahamed of the shit I post, actually), but when I was rambling yesterday, he interrupted and asked, "Did you say 'bowza'?" I hadn't, but became paranoid that he had somehow found this because I had written "bowza" in a recent post. I'm not concerned about anything I've written about him in particular, just that any suspicion he has that I'm loony will be confirmed.

I like pleasure spiked with pain

A Buddhist biker took pictures of my bare ass. Bowzah!

Kappa Delta Pie

Figuring, what the hell, I just read my Yahoo horoscope. They offer one's Chinese horoscope as well, and again, I figured what the hell. Turns out it's basically the same, just r's where the l's should be.

Ah, an approved personal day in order to attend a meeting on my son's post-high school planning. He gave me a run down of where he would like to apply. He mentioned a local college as a safe school, the one I ended up attending after, ahem, having him rather young. "If you really want to apply there, go ahead, but it doesn't have the major you want, and, quite frankly, you can still attend even without applying during your senior year. Where do you really want to go?"
Georgetown, Tufts, Yale...
"YALE??? Why???" "I have a better chance of getting into Yale than Harvard."
"Honey, if you want to go to Harvard, apply to Harvard! Don't hold yourself back! Dream big! If it's Harvard you want, go for it!"

Damn, I still party occasionally in New Haven, and Good Lord, I wouldn't want to run into him when I'm all drunk and trying to pick up college girls.

Stuck Up American Bitch

I guess I've always been sort of a food snob. My dad's a chef and my mom is an excellent cook. My pediatrician once asked me what my favorite food was when I was 5 or 6, and was quite taken aback when I responded with broccoli quiche. Even though we were poor for quite a few years when my siblings and I were children, when my mom made macaroni and cheese with velveeta, she still started with a buerre blanc and added a pinch of dill before serving. And when my son was a toddler and we were on food stamps for a few months, I somehow managed to add freshly ground black pepper to the Ramen noodles.

Which brings me to chain restaurants. I secretly loathe them, but go along with family and friends for the social aspect of dining out. My son and I ate at Chili's last night, and I thought I would branch out from my ususal chicken tacos (no cheese or sour cream-not due to snobbery, but rather for the safety of family and friends) to chili and a salad. Holy crap. If I wanted a plate of white iceberg and a bowl of upchucked dogfood, I would go visit Great Aunt Matilda. Granted, I probably haven't noticed the poor food quality there in the past because I'm usually blind drunk by the time the entree arrives, but due to the company I was keeping, I was stone cold sober when the goo and cabbage stalks arrived.

Lesson learned: Drink more. A LOT more.

I'll walk right out into a brand new day

While watching Uma crying and laughing in a fetal postion on the floor of the bathroom, I realized it had been just a year since I had seen him last, and the emotions conveyed ran through my body, leaving me as exhausted as she must have felt after that scene.

I wish I had known the five point palm exploding heart technique.

Naked and eating yogurt

Just you WAIT until you see what I do next. HA!
HAhaha! HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!

Will you PLEASE go home!

Staff development was so bad today that I contemplated going to the bathroom, removing my tampon then returning to the meeting to bleed through so that I could get the hell out.

The teacher next door is driving me bonkers. Stay the fuck out of my room! Maybe some would be surprised to hear this, but I actually teach during the school day; *hence, my title: Teacher. I don't know how the hell she leaves first graders unattended, even for five minutes.


* too cranky to care about punctuation

Back to the Street for a Lesson

Scene: Urban elementary school, cafagymatorium

Rehearsal for Rosa Parks/bus boycott reenactment

45 grade schoolers, KS and first grade teacher

FGT: Do you know what's interesting that I didn't know? One of the arresting officers was Rosa Parks nephew.

KS: (blank stare, thinking: no, you are not going to say what I think you are going to say)

FGT: I think I read it in one of the books. The officer called her "Auntie".

KS stares unblinkingly for a full minute, then says very, very slowly...
"I believe that term was used in a manner akin to 'boy'-a replacement for Mrs., Miss or any other title of respect usually reserved for a white woman."

Ducking Wooden Projectiles

Blissed out on sex, but I still find the whole communicating part hard. "So do you consider yourself bisexual?" Eesh, honestly and truly, I am not sure, but my answer leaned toward no. I've never been in a relationship with a woman. And, I need to start, like, picking up the freaking phone and calling people. He would have been justified to have been pissed about last night and my, uh, lack of promised calls. When I say I act like a guy, I'm not kidding-I just didn't call. Not because I didn't want to, not to play a game, but just because I didn't. Kinda inconsiderate on my part.

I hope I'm conveying to him how much I love him and enjoy his company, but my guess would be I need to work on it some.

Does not compute

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