That Chang Thang

I am high as a kite.

2012-01-26T20:37:00.004-06:00

I feel like I've been sick since the end of September. That was the last sinus infection that I had before my septoplasty. And, how's that septoplasty working for you, you ask? Did you read the part about feeling like I've been sick since the end of September.

That whole 'you can go back to work in a week' line is misleading. Sure, you can go back to work, but you'll feel like shit because you'll feel like you're sick because you have so much freakin' drainage.

I mean, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Occasionally, during this latest infection that I've had since Christmas, there have been some moments when I take a deep breath, through my nose and say, "Yeah, this is gonna be really good if I ever get well."

But I'm not well. I haven't been since Christmas. I'm on my third round of antibiotics, and I know exactly when I must take the 'special' cough medicine so that I don't feel like shit the next day. That time is 6pm.

Which is why I am high as a kite. And, if this post is a little ee cummings-esque for you, well, now you know why.

Sadly, this is not the first time this week that I've been high as a kite, and not from cough medicine either. Nope, this week, I learned what 'whip-its' is. My husband, who is all street knowledgeable and shit, said my driving was scary enough without sniffing 'whip-its.'

You see, I had a temporary crown put on Wednesday. I'm a little squeamish about dental work, so my wonderful dental hygienist suggested I get the laughing gas. I'd never had it before, and I very much enjoyed my trip.

They started me off with it right away, like 8:05am. They have TVs in their rooms, so I switched it on to the news. I remember seeing the clock at 8:15. And then I see snow. Like on a TV with poor reception. I know there's stuff going on around me, but I couldn't tell you what was happening. I do remember having to fight the urge to giggle.

Next thing I know, it's 8:45 and my dentist is asking me to hold still so she can put some stuff on my tooth.

Turns out that I wasn't the only one sniffing the whip-its this week. When I heard on the news that Demi went to the hospital for OD-ing on the stuff, I had to smile because I knew what that was.

What parenting topic did I Google today? toddler placemats/tablecloths-- something to protect my table from grubby little fingers.

Here's why I stayed single so long....

2012-01-22T20:50:00.002-06:00

You see, this whole making friends for your kids thing is exactly like dating. And I sucked at dating. I was always too shy to make the first move, unless of course I had some Liquid Courage working through the system.

There's this little girl at Gym, let's call her Tinkerbell. She and Buffy seem to get along pretty well, and MGJ and I enjoy joking around with Tink's parents, too. Buffy is about to move on to the next age group, and I'd really like to keep in touch with Tink and her parents, even if we don't move up at the same time or into the same next class.

Tink's parents have asked when we're moving up and have mentioned that Tink is just a month behind Buffy. They've even made comments like "We're going to miss y'all!" and "Awww, we're going to lose a good one!" So, I've been thinking that this is totally my chance. I just need to suggest subtly that we get together outside of class just in case we don't make it into the same next class.

Sounds easy enough, right??

There were so many opportunities this last class for me to ask for the digits. So many chances missed. Finally at the end of class, I turn as I'm hunched over putting on Buffy's shoes and awkwardly choke out,

"So, uh, what Beasts class are y'all gonna move to? I mean, uh, what time?"

There is no Liquid Courage for The Little Gym.

At least now I know that Tink is shooting for the same class time we are. Maybe next week I can put my smooth moves on and get a phone number or email address. Maybe I should practice in the mirror.

In a related note, I know now why this age group is called Beasts at the Little Gym. The Terrible Twos is a misnomer. The 'terrible' starts at 18 months.

What parenting topic did I Google today?
What to do if your toddler thinks 'Time Out' is a fun game.

Change is in the Air... Can you Smell It? Smells Like.....

2011-10-09T05:23:00.002-05:00

Dirty diapers?
No.
Pumpkin spice lattes?
No.
Skunk?

Maybe.... Hold that thought, I'll get to that in a minute.

So, the blog needed a little updating. A lot actually-- it looked as old and tired and outdated as Tammy Faye Bakker. More than half the links I'd posted weren't relevant anymore. Two-thirds of the blogs that I'd linked to as ones that I read weren't even up and running anymore. Those gals had moved on to bigger and better things-- they'd made changes. I've been making changes in my life already. I just needed to apply some of those changes to my blog. We'll see how it goes.

Back to the changes in the air. Let's see: Buffy's in school/day care now. We keep telling ourselves that she loves it even though she has to be peeled off Mr. GreenJeans every day when he drops her off. That's not fair. She does cry in the mornings when dropped off and can be somewhat dramatic, but when Gramma and I sneak back in to pick her up in the afternoons, she's happy as a clam and does truly seem to be enjoying herself. She's learning things and having experiences that she'd never be able to get by herself here in the house with a nanny or even out with Gramma. It's a good thing.

I'm now recovering from my second surgery in about as many months. First was a carpal tunnel release in my right hand at the end of August. I have some weird twinges and the incision is still a little sensitive, but other than that, I'm good as new.

My second surgery seems to be going well so far, though the recovery has not been nearly so easy. Apparently, I've had a deviated septum for some time now which has led to the many colds, sinus infections, headaches, and nosebleeds that I've had over the years. I'm hoping this surgery will lead to much easier breathing for me going forward.

Currently, however, I can't breathe at all through my nose. Can smell nothing. Which leads to the second part of my story that starts out like this: "So Jack went outside Thursday morning and got sprayed by a skunk..... and then he came in the house."

Here are the highlights:

Skunk spray is so potent that it can cause chemical burns on dog's eyes. Fortunately, that didn't happen to Jack.
Skunk spray is also so potent that even a little bit on a very tiny dog can cause one's whole house to smell for days.
If you go over to your mother's house to try to get some rest, she will smell the skunk on you and will treat you like those ladies in the movie Silkwood that had been exposed to the radiation.

And, though I smelled very little of the action, I was so horrified that my child would roll up at school like PigPen with the cloud of dirt and stink around her. All the other moms would stare at me and I'd be all, "WHAT? I don't smell anything. WHAT?"

Mr. GreenJeans couldn't figure out why my nose hurt so bad through all this. Um, the doctor shaved off part of the inside of my nose?? I have two splints/mini-surfboards stuffed three inches up into my nose-- AND THEN SEWN INTO MY SEPTUM???? Oh, and that's not even taking into all the crap that has piled up on said splints since surgery. I know what's come out the bottom of those things. I'm sure they've filtered out the really nice and nasty stuff. Can't wait for that show on Monday.

No, really, I can't. I will be so glad to be able to breathe through my nose again and leave the land of the mouth-breathers.

What's Buffy's Thing Today?
RAIN, GLORIOUS RAIN!!!

I'm not even really sure how to start again.

2011-07-16T15:34:00.004-05:00

It's been so long since I even felt like blogging that sharing now seems a bit unnatural. Rather than thinking about how to start up blogging again, I figure I'll just start and see where it takes me.

So, Buffy's a year old now. And, boy did I have some good ESP mojo working the day that I picked Buffy as our child's codename. She is off-the-charts tall and fearless. She seems to be un-damageable as she bounces off walls, the floor, toys, whatever and gets right back up.

I know all of this about my child, not just from watching her play, but from watching/participating with her in some activities-- like gymnastics and swimming classes. In gym class, she's the Teacher's Pet. Miss C. will pick Buffy up and flip her around this way and that, over bars, onto mats, up on beams-- every which way. And my kid LOVES it. Other kids that Miss C. tries to demo with cry and some won't even leave their parent's arms. Not my kid. Nosirrreee.

In swimming class, it's much the same thing. Buffy always has a smile on her face, even after swallowing some of the pool. Swim class is a little bit different than gym, though. Even though she doesn't seem to mind any of the activities, I wonder. Maybe I'm just projecting my own fears onto her-- I have a terrible phobia of drowning or suffocating. The activity that freaks me out the most is one of the 'safety' drills. It's supposed to encourage kids to hold their breath underwater and seek out the nearest solid object to climb on to get their heads out of the water.

You start with just pulling them into the pool with their head out of the water. Then add one second under water, then two, then three and etc. It didn't really freak me out until Buffy hit three seconds last week. At one or two seconds, you don't have time to think about it because it's just a quick down and up.

But, at three seconds under, you have time to look down and see your arms holding your own child underwater. And, even though she held her breath the entire time and didn't come up coughing, I still had a "WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?" moment. And, since she did ok with three seconds, we move to four next week, and *gulp* I'm supposed to let her go after three seconds so she's just underwater all by herself for that last second.

Just like everything Buffy puts in her mouth at the gym helps her become resistant to getting sick later in life. Learning to swim and water survival is something that is good for her. I just have to keep telling myself that.

It's also interesting to interact with some of the other moms. The gym moms are pretty laid back. I ran into a mom this past week that had been with us in the babies class there, I'll call her Irish. She's pretty atypical of the gym moms. I think I've mentioned her before. She was the one that said her non-crawling, non-walking baby was ready for the toddler class because she was "advanced." Maybe it was because she dropped her daughter on her head that one time, but her kid still isn't walking. She crawls, but is terribly shy and it takes a lot of effort to get the little girl to participate in activities.

We have a swim mom that's like that too. She takes every opportunity to dunk her poor little girl, whether she wants it or not. If Buffy didn't look like she was enjoying the water, we wouldn't be doing it. But she loves it.

What I'm listening to right now: Silence while Daddy takes Buffy for a walk.

Wine-mellowed thoughts at the O'Hare Macaroni Grill

2011-03-08T18:34:00.002-06:00

I arrived early at the airport for my flight home. It's my first site visit in 18 months. It's my habit to eat at the Macaroni Grill there on the way home. The food's not great, with the exception of the bread, which I LOVE. But the view is pretty cool. If you like people watching. It is a long, shallow restaurant that opens out into the main walkway to all the gates so it's a great place to people watch. If I were here with Monkey Chief, we could really get in a good game of Gay or European. But, alas, he's not here, so instead I'm playing "OMG! I can't believe he/she is wearing that!" I'm also marveling at how many folks I see traveling with little ones. I can't imagine traveling with Buffy until she is much older.

During the course of my time at the Mac Grill, I was seated next to a table of two French-speaking women. Two leathery, very masculine women. The one facing me was especially leathery, and wrinkled. Every time I looked up, it seemed that Leather Face was already looking at me. I first noticed this after a particularly large and messy bite of Caesar salad. In the beginning, I would quickly look away so as not to make eye-contact for too long. I continued to find her looking at me, though, so I kept holding her gaze for longer and longer periods of time-- like a game of eye-contact chicken. I found it to be very, very awkward and uncomfortable. Needless to say, I always lost.

Looking forward to getting home tonight and seeing my little, sweet Buffy. I've really missed her. Leaving home was tougher than I thought it would be.

What I'm listening to right now:

Boobs-- It's what's for dinner!

2011-03-04T20:31:00.006-06:00

Ok, so I'm driving down the road, got my tunes cranked up listening to something on Sirius radio. The DJ comes on to intro the next song and mentioned that Alanis Morrisette just had her baby. Which, ok, fine. Then just before the next song he says, "I wonder if she's breastfeeding...."

Even though I was alone in the car, I found myself looking around to give someone that look of "Did you just hear what I heard?"

WTF? So many folks, and by folks I mean guys, dudes, menfolk, people with penises... So many folks I've even mentioned the word 'breastfeeding' in front of give me this look of utter horror, like I just shat myself instead of talking about feeding my baby.

And this guy on the radio wonders about whether or not some new mom is breastfeeding? He acted like it was some kind of turn on or something. Clearly the man has never fathered or nurtured his own child. Because breastfeeding? So not sexy. Like the opposite of sexy.

The whole rest of the day I was completely grossed out by that. I was going to blog about it when I got home, but then I got distracted or something.

And, then I heard something similar on the radio today. Some guy DJ said wistfully, "Alanis is probably breastfeeding her baby right now...." Maybe it was the same DJ, I'm not sure. But, ew. Really, really ew.

What I'm listening to right now: That new Criminal Minds, which I'm not sure I like yet.

Today's Driving Lesson: Bus Stops!

2011-01-20T09:37:00.005-06:00

I'll be the first to admit: I'm not the best driver. I do things I know are wrong (speeding) or not especially safe (holding the wheel with my knee while both hands are otherwise occupied), and I'm just generally pretty inattentive. However, one thing I do feel I have going for me is that I'm pretty confident in knowing when I'm doing something wrong, or not, as was the case this morning.

Let me set the scene: It's 8ish in the morning, and I'm taking Buffy over to the Granny Nanny's for the day. I have a powerful migraine brewing up, and Buffy is starting to 'sing' her favorite song at top volume. I'm heading out of our neighborhood, Rancho El Rancho, on the main street, Rancho El Rancho Blvd. RERB is a divided, four-lane road.

Suddenly, the black Mercedes in front of me stops in the middle of the road. I stop behind her, as did the other half dozen or so cars behind us. I look up to see what would cause Ms. Mercedes to stop-- a child, an animal, some debris in the road? No. It was a school bus with red flashers going-- on the other side of the road. On the other side of a divided road.

Just to summarize our story so far: Impending migraine, Buffy 'singing' loudly, me not getting closer to my destination.

Realizing that Ms. Mercedes was incorrect in stopping, I decided to pass her. Just about the time that I pulled even with her, the school bus flashers went off allowing Ms. Mercedes to move again. Thinking that I was incorrect in passing her, Ms. Mercedes decided it would be a good idea to tell me how unsafe I was being by driving directly beside me for about a quarter mile and yelling at me through our closed windows with her kid in the back seat of her car. Not wanting to further antagonize the crazy lady, I slowed to let her in front of me again.

Now, I know what you may be thinking, "Rena, the law says you only don't have to stop on the opposite side of a divided HIGHWAY. You were just on a divided ROAD. You should have stopped." But, see, that would make me wrong, and I wouldn't be telling you this story if I were wrong. Duh.

Texas law defines a HIGHWAY as any public road, not just a road that is part of the state or interstate highway system. I spent quite a bit of time this morning looking that up, just to make sure I was correct. Here's where I finally found the answer, and corresponding documentation to back it up. http://www.texashighwayman.com/laws.shtml And, yes, I did double check this guy's work by looking at the actual sections of law he cited.

That's it for today. Stay tuned for our next lesson: "Why are you stopping if there's no stop sign there, you idiot!?!?!"

What I'm listening to right now: A cold front coming in..... brrrrrr.

Ow, Just ow.

2011-01-13T12:53:00.003-06:00

So, I decided that I needed to get fit this year. I signed me and Mom up for a fitness class that I like to call Big Girl Boot Camp. I think it's actually called 'Love Your Curves' and it's for women larger than a certain dress size or waist size. Since I'm so very out of shape, I thought that would be a good place to start.

I had three goals for my first class. I wish I could say that my goals were something really positive like 'Finish strong!' or 'Go BIG!' But, no, my goals were the three P's: Not to Puke, not to Pass out, and, most importantly, not to Pee on myself. I'm happy to say I was successful on all three counts. Although the first two were a little dicey during my second or third round of squats.

Every time we took a break, Mom was giving me the stink eye. Like she didn't know that getting in better shape might be a bit taxing. Like I'd told her that we'd be playing with kittens to get fit instead of getting our asses kicked by a 40 year old cheerleader.

And, now I'm sore. Really, really sore. More sore than yesterday and I have another class tonight. Think good thoughts for me. But it does really feel good to be sore as it makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something.

What I'm listening to right now: The heater working it's ass off to keep my office warm on this cold-ass winter day.

Blair Witch Woods and Banjos

2010-12-24T22:43:00.004-06:00

Last week Mom and I took Buffy up to East Texas to visit Mom's aunt in Winnsboro. Buffy did really well, and aside from the usual road trip issues, the trip was great. The first lesson I learned was one that I already know well from my work travel: Arrive before dark to any new or unfamiliar places.

I entered the address of our destination into my GPS, but it didn't find the exact address, and instead substituted something that it felt was close to my desired destination. We were looking for 339 CR SE 4330 and it suggested 299 CR 4330. Close enough, right?

The GPS took us down a narrow dirt road, which, based on my memory of our last trip to Aunt NiNi's, it seemed we were on the right track. However, after crossing some railroad tracks and coming to a dead end, we realized we were not on the correct dirt road. By now it was dark and there was no moon, so there was no light at all.

We returned to town to call for directions from Aunt NiNi's daughter. I was handed the phone, and this is what I got.

"So I don't know what the direction is you should go, North, South, East or West, but you head out of town on the road you came in on..... It should have been 37. Go about 5 or 6 miles and then turn left on 115. Go about 5 or 6 miles on 115 and then you'll turn right on 4310. At least I think it's 4310. Then you'll come to 4315 and you'll turn left on that. Go for a little ways and then there will be a dirt road off to the left and that is 4330 and we live off that. Go down the dirt road and when you come to the chicken house, we're right across from that on the left."

Of course I had no pen or paper to write down all these numbers, and I think my head kind of exploded when she said she lived across from a chicken house. I've lived in the city my entire life, and while I've seen a chicken house before, and might be able to ID one in the light of day. I certainly couldn't find one in the woods in the dark of night..... unless maybe I ran into it with my car.

Fortunately, I was able to use the directions given along with the GPS to get us to the dirt road. I drove down the road asking my mom, "Is that a chicken house? What about that? That?" Finally we found the chicken house and Aunt NiNi's house. Unfortunately, we had to drive around to the back of her house to get in as the front porch hadn't been built yet. So, we went off-roading in the Beemer.

We start to get out of the car and Aunt NiNi comes out yelling about the dog that will bite us. So, Aunt NiNi, an 80-something year old woman who might be 5 feet tall and might weigh 100 pounds soaking wet and holding a 10 pound bag of potatoes, she proceeds to hold back this biting dog that is almost as big as she is. We rush to unload the metric ton of stuff that we brought for Buffy to be comfortable as I'm afraid that the dog might drag Aunt NiNi off.

I texted Mr. GreenJeans about our location, that it reminded me of the Blair Witch Woods. He replied that if I heard any banjos that I should grab Buffy and run.

What I'm listening to right now: Criminal Minds

Hi, I'm a germaphobe.

2010-12-09T23:41:00.004-06:00

After a few recent unsuccessful forays into friend-making for Buffy, I thought it was time to really give her some exposure to other babies. Since she's not going into daycare for a good long while, I looked into some Gymboree-type classes for babies. We opted not to go for the very-well-known Gymboree brand, but rather we went to a class at a smaller, closer-to-home option. Today was our first class.

I'm not sure what I expected, really, but it was an interesting experience. Although, given that our last two of two run-ins with other babies resulted in Buffy screaming and crying in terror, I did expect a similar outcome today. But I was pleasantly surprised. While she did cry a bit, she recovered quickly and was able to participate in just about the entire class.

And, just as I was concerned about Buffy's ability to deal with the babies and class, I was also concerned about how I would do with my child rolling around on a floor where, literally, hundreds of bare feet have shuffled around sloughing off skin and dirt and sweat and germs and general filth. Just walking around on the mats in my own bare feet sent chills up my spine. But, after a few deep breaths of the heady scent of sweat socks and bleach, I dove right in.

We started off with jingle bell bracelet thingies-- jingling them, singing a song or two. Then, I watched in horror as several either inattentive or dim-bulb moms let their little ones put the bells into their mouths. I must have gotten a terrible look on my face because the instructor quickly reassured me that they do sanitize the equipment "frequently" because everything goes into the little ones' mouths. While I just smiled and nodded, my brain screamed, "How 'frequently' is frequently, lady? Like after every class frequently or whenever the bells start to grow hair frequently?" Suffice it to say that the bells did not nor ever will go into Buffy's mouth if I can help it.

We moved from activity to activity very quickly. One mom seemed more interested in watching the other babies play than keeping track of her crawling son. He was half-way across the room and mom was just laughing and singing without him but with the rest of us. One of the babies in the circle spit up, and before I could get that little girl's mom's attention, she had rubbed the mess into the mat with her hands. And her face. I think I vomited a little in my mouth when she started using her face.

We wrapped up with a little slobber-ball. Ok, it's not called slobber-ball. We were just rolling some balls around the circle, but one baby had drooled on one of the balls, and you could see everywhere that ball went as there was a little trail of slobber marking its path.

Despite my germophobia, I'm sure that Buffy had a good time and we will probably do it again. Studies show that babies exposed to more germs early in life build up their own resistance to these germs and tend to be healthier as adults. I'll just have to keep telling myself that next time we attend.

What I'm listening to right now: A snoring dog and a snoring cat.

She's baaaaack!

2010-10-30T21:03:00.002-05:00

Ok, well, I'm not going to make any promises here. This whole having a baby thing has really thrown me for a loop. I mean, who knew that babies took up so much freakin time?

But seriously, I am amazed every day at how much Buffy has changed and grown since coming into our lives. She just had her four month birthday yesterday, and she's gone from a sleeping/eating/pooping machine to a giggly, smiley little person. She can hold her head up by herself. She can grab things in her hands, and most of those things go right into her mouth. She can roll over onto her side. She splashes in the bathtub. She giggles and squeals and smiles when I tickle her neck with kisses and raspberries.

Abso-freakin-lutely amazing.

Today I was looking at Christmas presents for the little Amazing One. On Amazon under Gifts for Kids/Books for Babies and Toddlers. And I found this book: Everyone Poops. And then once I found that book, Amazon was kind enough to suggest others I might like, such as Where's the Poop?, The Gas We Pass, Even Firefighters Poop, and A Potty for Me: A Lift-the-Flap Instruction Manual. I can't imagine what kinds of things are under the flaps in that last book. Then I found the one that was, frankly, a little worrisome: It Hurts When I Poop! Apparently, some kids are afraid to poop. And there's a childrens book about it. Not looking forward to that.

Ok, that's all for now. I'm going to go back to watching Texas lose to Baylor. Fucking Baylor. Unbelievable.

What I'm listening to right now: Texas losing to Baylor.

So, it's been a crazy couple of weeks....

2010-09-12T22:12:00.004-05:00

What can I say, I've been busy. What with a trip to the ER for Buffy and the explosive poo-fest, who has time to blog?

First off, the big news: Yes, Buffy had her first trip to the ER last week. No, we did not document it photographically. I will, however, save her hospital bracelet for her baby book. Buffy is fine; she just had a viral infection. But, the thing with newborns (under 3 months)-- they receive an automatic trip to the ER with a temperature of 100.4 or above. Don't pass go, don't collect $200. Too many very bad things that new, new babies can get that are indicated by a fever. Thus, the ER trip. Again, though, she's fine.

Next, as I mentioned, the poo-fest continues. Just yesterday I walked into my daughter's room and found Mr. GreenJeans stripped down to his shorts and Buffy similarly attired. That's never a good sign. There was a pile of poo covered clothes on the floor beside him. He was laughing though, so it wasn't all bad, right?

At first we thought the explosive poo was a symptom of her infection. After our ER trip, I know that it is not. I found, rather unfortunately, that it really has more to do with pressure against her tush. For example, if she's sitting on your lap, your lap presses against her tush, and just like putting your finger over the end of a running water hose, the poo moves with much greater force. Like up the back of a diaper. In the ER. Onto the only shirt you have. Fortunately, Mr. GreenJeans wears an undershirt, so he could give me one of his.

The countdown till I return to work seems to be ticking down in a hurry. I have just one week left. I had all kinds of plans for things to get done while I was off. Turns out babies are kinda needy. Who knew.

I found this post that describes exactly how I've felt these past couple of months. Word.

Finally, I did something a little crazy. I entered a contest, or applied for a job-- depends on how you look at it. The folks at shine.com are looking for some folks to blog for them. Parenting Gurus is what they call them. Here's my entry, if you're curious.

Here's the pic of the week:
Buffy says Hook 'em Horns!

What I'm listening to right now: Bob Ballou and Texas Sports Nation

Random Shit From the Past Week

2010-08-21T20:40:00.007-05:00

Ok, I give. I've come to the realization that it will be a rare occurrence that I'm able to sit down and really give some thought to a blog post. I suspect you'll be seeing more posts like this where I just sum up some random shit from the past week.

Life without thumbnails is really a bitch. Mine are not completely gone per se. I've gotten some sort of fungus which has left me with very short nails. Painfully short. I keep banging my thumbs into things and without the very long, fake nail that is usually there, my very sensitive thumbs really take a beating.
Buffy is growing like a weed. The "Clothes That Don't Fit" pile is quickly outstripping the pile of clothes that do. At least in the Newborn sizes. When we weighed her yesterday using our not very scientific method of finding the difference between just my weight and my weight with her in my arms, she weighed 12 pounds 3 ounces. To put this in perspective, at her two week check-up she weighed 8 pounds 11 ounces. That's 3.5 pounds in almost six weeks.
The length of time it takes me to rock Buffy to sleep is about 15 minutes longer than the time it takes for my left arm to fall asleep under her big baby bobble head.
We've killed another TV show with the DVR. By 'killed' I mean we've recorded all the episodes in syndication and watched them on DVR and are waiting eagerly for the new season of the show to start for more new episodes. So far we've watched all but a few Bones and NCIS. We're working our way through The Unit, House and Criminal Minds right now.

Some new terms coined this week:

Milk Drunk-- the state Buffy achieves after a full bottle (or more) of milk. Usually indicated by milk and/or drool running down lips and chin, eyes rolling into the back of her head, eyes only slightly open. Soft groaning and the appearance of a food baby are also telltale signs of a milk drunk Buffy.
Milk Junkie-- a milk addict. Those in need of a 'fix' generally express this desperate need by crying, fit-throwing, screaming, and shaking. Once the need is satisfied the junkie becomes 'milk drunk.'
Sneezer-- the amount of poop that flies out of Buffy's hiney when she sneezes-- approximately 1/2 tsp. Closely related to the 'skid mark.'

Here's the photo of the week: Buffy hanging out with her Pappaw.

What I'm listening to right now: Stupid Swiffer commercial on TNT.

Things of note this week to share....

2010-08-17T14:15:00.003-05:00

Ok, so this is now the third time I've returned to this saved post in an effort to finish something I started. Maybe third time's a charm? We'll see.

The diaper rash from hell continues. We've switched from Pampers which has been linked to extreme, chronic rashes in some babies. Not sure if that's our problem, but I'm no longer willing to risk it, so we've switched brands altogether. After trying a variety of different diapers, we've settled on the Huggies Pure and Natural. Their design is the same as the Premium Huggies (Little Snugglers), but are supposed to have a more breathable cover which should help with diaper rashes. So far we've had a couple of rash-free days, but even the rash we have now is nothing like the ugly open sores we had with the Pampers.

A few months ago, my friend, Ana-HOO-ack said she understood why some animals eat their young. I, too, now understand this concept. This past weekend Buffy must have had a growth spurt or something because she was completely out of control. Sometime in the wee hours of Sunday morning, I half expected her head to spin around and see her spew pea soup. She was awake for very nearly 24 hours in a row. She didn't want to be held, but she didn't want to be put down either. She would grunt and cry with the bottle in her mouth, but would scream bloody murder if the bottle was removed. It is late Tuesday afternoon, and I am just now recovering from the experience. It's amazing to me how much easier it is to tolerate a screaming non-sleeping baby when I've had a good night's sleep.

What I'm listening to right now: Last night's The Closer--- thank yewwwwww! : )

Did you hear that baby crying? No? Maybe it was just me...

2010-08-04T00:35:00.005-05:00

Well, obviously the whole 'blog while pumping' experiment was short-lived. While good in theory, it was just too much hassle to move my laptop over to the table each time I pumped. Also, I had to hold the pumps up to my boobs with my elbows to type, which gave me some really short T-rex-ish arms. Surprisingly, you need the ability to move your arms some to type. Who knew.

Things are going well here in Changland. Buffy is growing like a weed. Her tapeworm is doing well, too. My current project is increasing my milk production. I'm on a strict pumping schedule of every two to two and a half hours, and I've never felt more like a cow in all my life. Also, I'm drinking some lovely tea called, what else, Mother's Milk Tea. It's not exactly my favorite beverage, but it is tolerable over ice with a little pink stuff sweetener. And, best of all, it seems to be helping. At least I think it is. Difficult to tell as I've not been able to get through a whole day of tracking my output. At least one pump always gets missed. And, no matter how much I pump, I always seem to be about 8 ounces short as that's the amount of formula we always seem to have to supplement in a day for Buffy.

I'm up a lot at night these days. Can't imagine why, right? Lots of times when I go to bed and am trying to go to sleep, I find myself on edge-- listening for any and all noises that come from the baby monitor. I'm so tense with the expectation that Buffy will wake up that I have a difficult time getting to sleep. I think I get so wound up sometimes that I think I hear things... ok not things, per se, just one thing...... Buffy. Crying. I mentioned that to Mr. GreenJeans the other day, and he said he'd heard the same thing-- babies crying. And, he wasn't kidding either. Weird, huh? And creepy.

Another thing that has me creeped out is the way Buffy stares off into space lately. Makes me wonder what she's staring at. The other day Buffy's drunkle, SSIMN (Steve Spurrier Is My Nemesis) suggested that Buffy might 'see dead people.' Which, BTW, I think about at least once a night now, generally while I'm rocking Buffy to sleep in a nearly dark room just after I've heard something banging around in the living room, until I realize it's just our idiot cat chasing that little dog food nugget that our idiot dogs left on the floor for me to step on in my bare feet. Good times.

What I'm listening to right now: a clock ticking, otherwise, silence.

UPDATE: Mr. GreenJeans claims he is the one that suggested that Buffy might be looking at dead people when she stares off into space. Maybe it was. MGJ and SSIMN are both very clever-- it could really be either one of them. I guess, though, that I should defer to my husband, you know, since I'm married to him and all. Whatever. ; )

Carb Fest, No More TV, and Free Writing

2010-07-27T00:43:00.004-05:00

Carb Fest is over. That's all I have to say about that.

I'm going to have to stop watching crime shows altogether. After my trip to the ER a few years ago, I had to stop watching one of my favorite tv shows, ER, because it frequently reminded me all too well of my own traumatic hospitalization. Now that I have a kid, there are just too many crime dramas where either the 'perp' is a really messed up kid, or more frequently, the kid is the victim. We've recently started watching Criminal Minds, and tonight's episode was one of the kid as victim variety. And of course in my hormonal state, it got me to thinking (crying): I'm not sure I can keep my kid's own pee out of her mouth, how am I going to keep her safe from things in the outside world? Like crazy ladies that want to kidnap 5 year old boys to breastfeed like a baby and then smother? BTW that plot was tonight's episode, not from my crazy, hormonal imagination.

Finally, I'm trying something new today: blogging while pumping. I needed something to do for the 20 odd minutes that I pumped this evening, and it needed to be something that would entertain me for the whole time and NOT be food. Pump-time has come to be synonymous with snack-time for me lately, and I've got to stop lest I undo all the good weight loss work I did while pregnant. So for the next couple of days (maybe longer if it works out well) I'm going to practice that free writing bullshit that my 8th grade Language Arts teach swore would be a useful skill one day. Well, Mrs. B., you were right...... finally.

What I'm listening to right now: The swish swish swish of the breast pump.

So I thought that flying poop was just an urban myth...

2010-07-20T23:57:00.007-05:00

Now, this poop didn't actually fly, but I can see where it could, given more volume and force. After all, Buffy is still very tiny-- a nearly 9 pound Buffy couldn't hit the wall, but I think maybe a 15 pound Buffy definitely has the potential for painting her wall a nice mustardy yellow.

Yes, tonight Mr. GreenJeans and I were inducted into the world of High Velocity Spatter of Bodily Fluids. And, yes, in this case, poop does fall into the category of 'fluids.' I was trying to get Buffy ready for bed-- trying to start a bedtime ritual of feeding, changing diaper, changing into jammies in a nice quiet, darkened room and then bed. I was on the changing diaper portion of the program. She'd been a little fussy on the feeding, and I suspected we'd be in for a rough night, but I really had no idea how bad it would be.

Anyway, I was into the diaper changing portion when she started to pee with her diaper in the 'off' position. The peeing sans diaper had happened before, but this time, her legs were crossed just right and the pee came out with such force that the pee shot up onto her chest AND HER FACE. I'm not sure if any got into her open crying mouth, but that was my first thought, and it was that thought that caused a meltdown in my brain of such proportion that I just simply couldn't function.

So, I called in Mr. GreenJeans to assist. He started on the cleanup with me assisting as I could. And, I kept saying, "It's PEE though. PEE could have gotten in her mouth. She could have swallowed some of her own PEE."

To which he replies, "Well, you know, urine is sterile."

Thank you, Survivorman. IT'S STILL PEE. THAT COULD BE IN OUR DAUGHTER'S MOUTH.

And, then, as I held a washcloth under the faucet in the bathroom to clean up the pee, I hear Mr. GreenJeans exclaim, "Oh, God!" It sounded very much like Mike Rowe says it in the opening credits for his show Dirty Jobs.

As I hurried back to Buffy's room to see what caused him to exclaim, he said that she'd blown poop a foot from her ass. Which was a bit of an exaggeration, but not too much of one. And now our child is covered in her own pee and poop.

We finally got her all cleaned up, diapered and clothed, and I thought I would be able to get her to sleep fairly quickly, so Mr. GreenJeans went on to bed. Two hours later, she and I are both crying, and I wake up MGJ to tap out. He takes her to her room and I curl up in the fetal position in our bed. I'm covered in a heady combination of breast milk, formula, spit up, baby drool, baby tears and snot, and my tears and snot. It's a lovely feeling.

After I lay there crying for what seemed like only 15 minutes (when really it was more like 5 minutes), Mr. GreenJeans comes back to our room to comfort me, and I freak out because Buffy isn't with him. My first thought is that he left her in her room crying, but no, he says, she's asleep.

WHAT?!?!? Are you fucking kidding me?

Nope, apparently Mr. GreenJeans and his magic Ambien finger can put her to sleep in no time. He couldn't find her pacifier, so he offered her his finger, and poof! She's out like a light.

I'm not bitter at all.

What I'm listening to right now: Blessed silence.

So, can babies be born with a tapeworm?

2010-07-19T22:00:00.008-05:00

No, seriously. Can they? No? Hollow leg? Think on that and we'll come back to it later.

Here are some things that I've learned since Buffy came home.

There's no such thing as 'enough' diapers.
While unable to do much of anything at birth, babies are born with an innate sixth sense that allows them to know precisely when you've relaxed for the night and are actually making a genuine attempt at sleeping. It's at that precise moment that they cry.
Once your milk comes in, your breasts can never again be uncovered except in the shower. Or unless you want everything you own to be covered in sticky, gross breast milk.
Many baby girls have the same reaction as baby boys do when their privates see the light of day. However, I've not yet found a 'pee pee teepee' for girls.
I now know why I've seen so many parents in restaurants who are able to ignore their child's cries of 'Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!!!' They've become immune to the noises that their child makes after many, many nights of hearing their child scream bloody murder because the bottle/breast/diaper change/clothes change/etc. didn't come quickly enough.
Baby burps and farts are so cute in the beginning. Once you start smelling like curdled milk or after your third or fourth poopie diaper, though, not so cute anymore.

In general, though, things are going well. Here are some pictures from the last two weeks. This is Buffy getting cleaned up. Notice how she's grabbing the air mask? She gets that assertiveness from her Mama.

Here's Buffy in her going home outfit. See all my lovely armbands? I had like 10 of them by the time I left the hospital. I looked like I'd been out clubbing all night long. One actually said 'FALL RISK.' What I want to know is, who in the hospital isn't a FALL RISK?

Here's Buffy and my Granny. It's such a rarity to catch my Granny smiling on camera that I just had to share.

Here's Buffy having a quiet moment-- right before she gets really pissed that Gramma is snapping up too many flash photos of her.

Finally, Buffy's been on a bit of a feeding frenzy lately, which is the reason for my original question. There were a few nights over this past weekend where I felt she might have turned into a wild animal overnight, like a baby werewolf or something. Only there wasn't a full moon this weekend. I'd been taking the night shift by myself and letting Mr. GreenJeans sleep because our baby was fairly calm and only waking up a few times a night for a feed and diaper change. Then suddenly over the weekend things changed. Gone was our calm baby who quieted quickly when feeding began. She was replaced by a voracious little beastie that literally snorted and snarled at the breast like a wild animal about to feed on a fresh kill. She was fussy and kept me up all night long for several nights in a row. Then, as soon as the sun came up, she was nice quiet normal Buffy-- who suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. I'm told that's what a growth spurt does to babies. And I can expect several more over her first year. Yay.

What I'm listening to right now: Buffy rocking in her Wonder Swing.

Buffy's Here! continued

2010-07-07T14:20:00.007-05:00

Ok, so I'm just going to have to hit the high/low points because, once again, I find myself with too much to say in the little bit of space/time in which to say it. Bottom line: Buffy's here, everyone's healthy.

Contractions: Not so bad before the doctor broke my water-- kind of like really bad menstrual cramps. She did say that breaking my water would cause the contractions to get more intense. She was not kidding about that, and I think she really understated that a bit. You know how they are always asking about your pain level on a scale of 1 to 10? I went from a 1 or 2 to a 5 or 6 in about 5 - 10 minutes time. I have no idea how long I lasted before I asked for drugs and then an epidural; it seemed like forever. I completely lost sense of time. I felt like I was in a bubble and everyone around me was moving much more quickly than I. I'm told it was about 2 hours between water breaking and epidural, but it seemed like much, much longer.

Epidurals: Are wonderful. Abso-freakin-lutely beautiful. I went from a 9 or 10 on the pain scale to a zero, and while the transition on the pain scale wasn't as quick as with the water breaking, it only took about 30 minutes, which I think is pretty quick for such a huge change. Of course, in the moment, it just can't happen quick enough. The end result was great though. I slept through the entire afternoon, which included the rest of my labor.

Delivery: Was so not what I was expecting. You know, you see all these deliveries on TV and in the movies-- mom is all disheveled and sweating, cursing the husband for doing this to her, or screaming as she's pushing. Everyone in the room is very focused on the delivery, especially if it's a drama and there's a possibility something could go wrong. But my delivery room, was very relaxed. It felt almost like a happy hour discussion with the girls. We talked about my nails, my blog. And, since I still felt a little drunk from the drugs, it was just like a happy hour, except for my legs being in the giant stirrups.

The mirror: Ok, so I made fun of the mirror. I really felt that watching your baby's birth in a mirror was something akin to recording the whole spectacle, and was really something for the natural childbirth, hippy/granola crowd. Maybe it was the drugs or the crazy hormones coursing through my body, but it seemed like a good idea at the time, to watch my baby being born in the mirror. What started the whole thing was the nurse exclaiming, "Oooh, look at all that black hair!" And I was curious. I couldn't wait even one more second to get a look at her, even if it was just the top of her head. And then, when the nurse suggested the mirror, I heard myself saying ok. It was amazing to see. I'm so glad I did it now. It was really good motivation, too. Rather than just hearing about the progress I was making as I pushed, I could actually see which of my actions produced positive results. Again, so glad I did that.

Thirty minutes: So, Ana-HOO-ack said I should keep this to myself, but I only had to push for 30 minutes before Buffy was born. The way I see it though, I was due for a little bit of easy in this pregnancy. I attribute my success here to the mirror. Can't say enough good things about that.

Buffy's weight loss: Babies are supposed to lose weight after birth, but no more than 10% of their birth weight. When we went for her 2 day well check, Buffy had lost 12%, which is a lot for an 8 lbs 10 oz baby. Our doctor asked how breastfeeding was going, and both Mr. GreenJeans and I agreed that we thought things were going well. She seemed to be latching on well, eating for good amount of time and etc. And then the doctor asked if she seemed satisfied after feeding.

Huh.

You know, that's a really good question. And one that my husband and I had clearly not thought to ask ourselves. We were both so concerned with my breastfeeding technique that neither of us really thought about the ultimate goal and results of feeding: a full baby. The problem is resolved now, though. My milk has come in and Buffy had returned to her birth weight and then some.

Sounds like it's feeding time, more later.

What I'm listening to right now: We Are Austin Live and Buffy waking up from a nap.

Buffy's Here!

2010-07-03T01:11:00.003-05:00

Of course everyone knows that expression that starts off something like "The best laid plans....blah blah bah"? Mr. GreenJeans and I'd decided what we were going to do on our last Buffy-free day. We'd planned to kick off the morning with some allergy shots and then head over for breakfast at my favorite spot by the allergists' office. Make a UPS drop off. Next, get my nails done at noon and return home around 230 or 3pm with plenty of time to pack final things rest a bit and then meet Mom for dinner before heading over to the hospital.

Now, here's how our Monday really went. And, let me just issue this disclaimer right now. I'm delirious from lack of sleep. This is the fourth night in a row Buffy's had Nightmare/Active Time when Mama and Daddy want Sleepy Time. My eyes are crossing as I try to focus on what I'm typing. I'll have to go back and proofread tomorrow.

So, right, back to our Monday. Which actually started Sunday night. I think we'd decided to go to bed early, around 11pm on Sunday, but my stomach was a little upset. I figured it was nerves or something like that and went to bed with my old friend, Barf Bucket, by my bedside.

However, when I woke up around 2am on Monday morning, I knew something wasn't right. My stomach was very upset and cramping. I decided I needed to shake a leg to the bathroom, and for some reason I thought it would be a good idea to go to the guest bathroom in the middle of the house instead of using the master bath located a mere 10 feet from the bed. I couldn't decide which end of my body would erupt first, so I took BB with me to the guest bath.

Which was a good call. When I finally got cleaned up and back to bed, Mr. GreenJeans and I discussed calling the doctor, but as I was feeling much better after the forced reboot of my digestion system, we decided it was probably just a one time thing and I'd probably be fine now. We started to go back to sleep, but within 10 minutes my stomach started really cramping again, and decided to call the doc.

Another good call, because while the diarrhea and vomiting turned out to be something simple like stomach bug or food poisoning, they could have been something more serious like two fatal conditions: some liver issue or preeclampsia. In order to rule out these more serious conditions, however, I would need to go down to the hospital for a once over.

So, at 3am on Monday morning, MGJ and I packed up all our hospital stuff and made our way down to the hospital. We called Mom on the way and asked her to meet us down there. A full 17 hours before we were scheduled to check in.

More later. Time to feed the Buffy.

What I'm listening to right now: Buffy having some sort of dream or nightmare.

So, whatdya wanna do this weekend?

2010-06-27T17:11:00.002-05:00

Mr. GreenJeans have been talking about this all weekend. What to do while waiting for our appointment Monday night to kick Buffy out of her nice warm Mommy condo. I started a post on Friday on this same topic, but quickly abandoned it because it sounded kinda whiney. I was complaining about how hot it was outside and how easily I get tired. How difficult it was to sit still for long periods and how I couldn't eat anything I wanted to. So, I stopped writing and left it in draft. Turns out all that complaining was just a cover for what I was really going to do this weekend.

Start freaking. The Hell. Out.

I think the freak out started last week, but I had work and nesting and other things to keep my little mind occupied, so I didn't really recognize it for what it was. I mean, really, shouldn't cleaning the nooks and crannies in the top of the washing machine be an indicator that one has something on her mind? And I received a good deal of satisfaction from that too. Why, just this morning I had to physically remove myself from my closet when I wanted to go all Monica Gellar on our linen shelves and label them with what goes where: Washcloths, sheets, people towels, hand towels, dog towels, extra pillowcases and etc.

The weekend freak out escalated this morning while Mr. GreenJeans was playing golf. I was folding some laundry and thinking about what else I needed to do before heading to the hospital tomorrow night. And, my mucus plug came out. And I stood there looking at it. Mind completely blank. I mean, completely blank. Nothing going on in there at all. Probably for the first time in my whole life. I was actually feeling a bit sick to my stomach, and I couldn't decide if it was from the funky thing that just came out of me or the OMG HOLY SHIT moment I was having. Finally I snapped out of my trance and decided I needed to do SOMETHING.

Turns out there isn't much to do. While losing one's mucus plug is an early sign of impending labor, it could be hours, days or even up to two weeks before labor actually begins. However, I decided that I needed to take a quick shower because I sure didn't want to go to the hospital and be stinky and sweaty from working around the house. Another precaution: I'm currently sitting on our newly trash bag covered love seat.

I'm much more calm now that I was this morning. I'm still feeling anxious, especially when I look at the clock and realize it's only 26 hours till we're expected at the hospital. Every little twitch or pain or movement in that area causes me to tense until I'm able to assign the feeling to a category: Buffy moving, one of those sharp stabby ligament pulling pains that I've had all through my pregnancy, or unknown/possible contraction. Frankly, that last category isn't all that comforting.

Ok, enough freak out talk. Here's something that puts a smile on my face every time I see it. Buffy doing her first Hook 'em Horns. Mr. GreenJeans and I are so proud!

What I'm listening to right now: One of the three episodes of NCIS that I've not yet seen.

Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?

2010-06-14T21:25:00.005-05:00

Probably just me. Mr. GreenJeans hasn't broken out the sweats yet, but he does sleep under a doubled up comforter. The dogs kept wanting to go outside to sit on the porch in the sun so we put their heating pads back in their beds that we'd removed since the summer kicked in. I'm sweating through at least an outfit a day, which is tough on the laundry since I have, like, exactly 7 outfits to wear that still cover the belly.

And, I refuse to buy any more clothes. I've also outgrown the bigger size of undies that I'd hoped would last me to the end. They still fit, mostly, except I've noticed in the last two weeks or so that they've really started rolling down on me. Which made me think that Buffy had grown again, and she has.

At our last ultrasound, Buffy had grown to a whopping 7 pounds 2 ounces. Though she's as big as some babies are at 40 weeks gestation, Buffy is still only in the 74th percentile for her 36 weeks of gestation. I'm pretty sure that's a good thing, so I guess I'll have to keep up the low-carb fun for just a little bit longer.

Speaking of our last ultrasound, it was fabulous. In the beginning, the ultrasounds were fascinating to me. You could see Buffy moving around and see lots of details on her anatomy, even down to her heart actually beating. Later, they became kind of boring. She was so folded up inside me that there was a lot over overlapping body parts, so it was difficult to see what was what. Also, too, these more recent ultrasounds were just to check for a few things: 8 items on a biophysical profile, which includes breathing movements. Once every four weeks, they'd estimate her weight. Long story short, these were all very quick, very clinical looks at Buffy.

This last visit was no exception. The technician did the biophysical profile and the weight estimate. And then, as they always do for a few brief minutes at the end of the exam, the tech focused on her face to see if we could get a picture. Buffy's always had her hands in front of her face in prior exams. This time, however, the tech saw something... something that none of the rest of us recognized. Suddenly, the tech flipped a switch to the 3D image, and I'm pretty sure I actually gasped. I don't think I can say I've actually ever gasped before.

Suddenly, she flipped the switch and there was my baby's face on the screen. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. There was so much detail. I was wondering how I'd react when I first saw her when she was born. Would I be crying like all the women on TV? I'm pretty sure I will because I cried when I saw her face on the screen. Which made my mom cry, too. I think Mr. GreenJeans might have gotten a little misty, but he hid it well. Here's the best picture.

Pretty freakin' cool, huh?

Still don't have an official date/time for us to be at the hospital. I'll have to call Perky Nurse tomorrow to see if she's gotten us an appointment yet.

What I'm listening to right now: Modern Marvels-- Library of Congress.

Three Weeks Left Till CarbFest 2010 Begins!

2010-06-09T18:58:00.003-05:00

Ok, so really the important thing here is that my daughter will probably be born three weeks from today, depending on the time I'm induced on 6/29. And we should find that out at tomorrow's exam. However, a very close second to my daughter being born? The return of CARBS to my diet!

Woohoo!

I'm also really looking forward to just ordering off the menu and eating what's served to me. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a scene from When Harry Met Sally....

"Instead of feta, could I get cheddar on that? Unless the feta is pasteurized, and then I would prefer feta. Do you have pasteurized feta? And, I know the recommendation is to have the meat not well done, but could I have mine well done please? Oh, and instead of fries/pasta/lovely carbs/rice, could I get a side salad with no croutons or other lovely carbs? And, I'd like my dressing on the side please. THANKS!"

I think my first post-baby meal will be a deep dish Mangia pepperoni pizza, a pound of extra salty, cooked white rice, a Big Gulp sized cherry Slurpee, topped off with a half dozen cinnamon rolls from Cafe Java. Yep, that about covers it.

But, I am excited about Buffy's arrival. Though, I will miss some things. For a while there I could eat just about whatever I wanted without gaining any weight. I'm going to miss her moving around inside me and trying to guess what it is she's doing in there. During the day, that is, I'll miss her moving during the day. I'll miss not giving a damn that my tummy pokes out past my boobs.

I know it will be a good trade off, though. Being able to see her and interact with her. Seeing how she smiles and laughs. Yeah, I think it will be worth it.

What I'm listening to right now: A Dairy Queen Blizzard commercial which is causing me to think murderous thoughts.

What a week.....

2010-05-30T15:25:00.006-05:00

It seems like it has been much longer than a week since I last blogged, but what a week it was. I think the hot thing these days is 'buzz-worthy' news, so here's my review of the noteworthy news this week.

Jack is doing better. His ear still looks pretty bad, but I think that's just the way ears look during healing after they've gone through a grinder, I mean, my dog's mouth. He's getting around much better, too. He only limps now when he doesn't want to do something we ask.

Bret Michaels: I'm so glad that he's doing better and that he won The Celebrity Apprentice. At the beginning of the season, I didn't really know that much about him, and kinda thought he was an idiot and a douchebag-- I mean, come on, Rock of Love? And three seasons of that no less? But as the season went on, he seemed to morph into a loveable, doofus, horndog, a genuine, nice guy that's had to deal with a serious medical condition (diabetes) his entire life. And, his appearance on American Idol to duet with Casey James was truly inspired.

Speaking of American Idol-- What is up with Janet's hair?? I couldn't believe it was so short! She hasn't been sick, has she? And, DAYUM did she look good! Lots of women would pay good money to look that terrific at that age.

There's been an update to the summer movie schedule: Dirty Girls 2: Double Trouble and Dirtier Than Ever, once set to open July 6, has been moved up to June 29-- or earlier. Some of you may have already seen/heard about the 'preview' at Ana-HOO-ack's house that arrived in March.

That was my 'clever' attempt at telling you that we found out this week that Buffy's coming early. Obviously, I'm using the word clever very loosely here. Apparently, when gestational diabetic women are on insulin, they also have to be induced early. Not sure exactly why-- it has something to do with the lifespan of the placenta and maintaining baby's blood sugar. I think I might have mentioned before how none of this gestational diabetes stuff makes any sort of sense to me. The earlier date is not official yet, I'm supposed to have a full exam on my next visit in two weeks, and at that time my doctor and I will discuss a date for inducing and will get us on their schedule. However, she seemed to think that if everything continues on as it has, then they will want to induce a week early on June 29. YIKES! : )

And that brings me to my final topic for the day: our marathon childbirth class. And by "marathon," I mean the length of the class, not a class about really long deliveries. Our instructor was actually recommended by one of the nurses in our OB's office, and while the instructor was kind of entertaining sometimes, her Saturday class was a full four hours longer than the week day classes. That extra four hours was filled with her plugging her parenting class, talking about her abuse as a child, and some sharing time for each and every person in the class. I thought we might have to sing Kumbayah at some point on that first day.

She had some favorite phrases that, while entertaining the first one or two times she used them, came to wear on my nerves some time around hour number four. Like describing our girl parts as 'juicy' during labor. Or, calling our girl parts our 'wahina.' Which is a word that sounds very much like what the University of Hawaii's women's sports teams are called: The UH Rainbow Warriors (mens) and Wahine (womens). There are so many entertaining words for 'girl parts,' like, I don't know, GIRL PARTS. Or va-jay-jay, hoo ha, down there, and etc.

One of the highlights was near the end of the second day. She had talked so much about parenting and wahinas that we barely had time to do any of the breathing practice. She was showing us a way that our partners could help us loosen up our hips. She got down on her knees in front of one of the seated moms to be, put her hands on the girl's knees and pushed. However, the instructor leaned her head really far over into the girl's lap-- she nearly had her head in the girl's crotch. At about the second push in her demo, the instructor looked up at the girl and said, "Mmmm, you smell good."

Really Nurse K? Your face is in one of your student's crotch and that's a good time to comment on her smell? Or to sniff someone? REALLY? Of course we all got a good laugh out of that, but-- awkward!

Seriously, though, Nurse K's teaching style aside, I'm glad we went. I'm not sure her recommended coaching style will be the one that Mr. GreenJeans will embrace. She suggested brushing or stroking your wife's hair and telling her she's 'magnificent.' I'm betting Mr. GreenJeans will be more of the comedy relief style; providing support with comments like: "Huh, that looks like it really hurts, honey," and "*sniff* You smell good."

Countdown to Buffy-time: 30 days or less

What I'm listening to right now: Some boring shit on Speed TV that Mr. GreenJeans is watching

And, now, a little news from the boxing world.....

2010-05-23T20:16:00.008-05:00

Mr. GreenJeans has decided that I should have codenamed our daughter 'Laila' for all the boxing she's doing inside me right now. You know, like Laila Ali, female boxer. Sometimes it feels like she's hitting my insides like one of those speed bags, where you do the super fast punching.

But, that's not really the boxing news. Some of you may know my sweet little doxie, Jack.

Jack went to the vet on Friday to get his teeth cleaned. He also had a little lump on the top of his head that skeeved out Mr. GreenJeans, so we were going to have it removed at the same time.

This is what my sweet little boy looked like when he came home Friday afternoon.

Or rather, this is his ear, or what's left of it after going a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson...... Oh, wait, no, I mean, uh, going a couple of rounds with himself.

Yeah, so, you know how I've said that I'm sure my veterinarian goes to conventions and vet happy hours and tells his colleagues stories about me and mine? Well, he's going to be the King of All Happy Hour Storytelling now. This is how my vet told me the whole thing went down. I have to say, he really needs to work a bit on his delivery..... though I guess he toned it down a bit for me since I was the Mama of the doggie in question.

Dr. B. called to tell me that Jack had some cracked teeth and he wanted to coat the cracks with some kind of protective coating, which was fine with me. He also said the lump was removed with very little effort and would be sent to biopsy, though he felt that it was likely not cancerous. Finally, he paused, and said, "I just want to start off with Jack is fine, uhm, but there was an incident."

Uhmm??? Incident? Ominous much, Dr. B?

My first thought is: OK, who do I have to apologize to because Jack bit him/her? But, no, apparently, I have only Jack to apologize to as he bit himself. In the ear. And took a big chunk out..... OF HIS OWN FREAKIN' EAR.

It seems that sometime between Jack's initial dose of 'chill-out' dope and his dose of 'unconscious' dope, Jack started flailing around, thrashing his head about and trying to bite anything that got in front of him. Which, on Friday was his ear. Did I mention that it was HIS OWN FREAKIN' EAR?

Yeah, so the chunk of ear that he took off of himself was too small to reattach, though Dr. B. did say he could try to attempt it if I really wanted him to, because he had saved the little nickel-sized piece. However, it probably wouldn't have been successful if he'd tried, and that would lead to additional surgery and possibly more ear-tissue loss, so.... no.

It seems that now Jack is legendary, in Dr. B's words, in our vet's office. He's never, ever in all his year's of veterinary practice seen a dog manage to bite a hunk out of his own ear. Never. And, for that matter, none of the other three doctors in his practice have either. Never, ever ever.

Jack is legendary. *sniff, sniff* I'm so proud.

But that's not all. Nope, after Jack sobered up from surgery Friday night, we realized it wasn't just all the drugs making him walk like a drunkard. Also while flailing around, in addition to biting off part of his own ear, he managed to injure his back leg. While we originally thought that Jack wasn't sobering up very quickly, he was actually very successful in moving around with only three useful legs.

Back to the vet we go early Saturday morning. And, yes, I did have to throw down the Bitchy Dog Mama card to get the receptionist to even attempt to work us in. I'm sure, though, that once she informed the vet on duty that the Cash Cow Changs were displeased, that the on duty vet asked that another vet be paged so we didn't have to wait. Fortunately, the vet didn't seem to think that his leg was broken, so we were sent back home with anti-inflammatories and instructions to rest.

Yeah, right, Jack resting. Ha. Like this whole situation isn't funny enough already.

I wish I could say that Jack's leg was doing better, but I can't. I see at least one or two more trips to the vet before we're through.

I'll have to tell you later about our first childbirth class. Here's a sneak preview: Upon leaving the class, Mr. GreenJeans says, "If she [our instructor] uses the word 'juicy' to describe your girl parts during labor one more time, I'm gonna punch her."

What I'm listening to right now: Celebrity Apprentice Finale

And now a message from your local gestational diabetes patient....

2010-05-19T20:11:00.002-05:00

So, I finally had my appointment yesterday with my endocrinologist/diabetes doctor. Thus far in my diabetes journey I've only seen the nurse. I was not so impressed with the nurse, and now I'm even less impressed with the doctor. She just seemed a little too laid back for me.

For example, I show her my page full of numbers and she starts doing some figuring and mumbling something about 2 hours. And I can't figure out how 2 hours plays into this. The only time measurement is measuring my blood sugar 1 hour after eating. So I ask her, and she tells me that two hours is when I'm supposed to measure my blood sugar after eating. I move to disagree with her and she quickly corrects herself to say that regular diabetics test after 2 hours, whereas 'gestationals' test 1 hour after.

Okaaaayy.

Next, she tells me all my numbers look good and that she doesn't think I should make any changes. And, I say but look at my morning fasting numbers. I'd recently added more carbs at night to lower my morning ketones, and as a result, my morning fasting numbers have been above 90. Not much above 90, but still over 90. For at least 5 days in a row.

Then she tells me that these personal glucometers are really not that accurate-- to the tune of +/- 15%.

So, let me get this straight, I'm putting my health AND my child's health in the hands of an instrument whose degree of accuracy is only +/- 15%. Um, that's a pretty substantial amount of variance. I'm not sure I would want to drive a car that drove straight, +/- 15%. It would have been better, I think, had someone told me that in the beginning of this little experience so that my expectations were correctly set.

But, anyway, fine. So the meters are not that accurate. Fine. You still have to set a standard by which to determine success, right? And in this case, I was told I needed to be below 90 for the morning, fasting blood sugar and less than 120 one hour after eating a meal. Therefore, if I'm above 90 for 5 days in a row, changes need to be made, right? Apparently not. Apparently, I'm 'close enough.'

Could someone tell me, please, when medicine stopped being a science and fell more into the liberal arts?

I mean, I've got a freaking page full of numbers here. A spreadsheet full of numbers. And what does one do with spreadsheets? Crunch numbers. And you're telling me that the best way to manage my diabetes is by eyeballing the numbers and saying things like 'close enough'???

Really?!? REALLY??

I mean, I get that it's not all about the numbers, and that there are other factors to consider, there's got to be some kind of formula, some kind of rule to help determine what to do here. Something besides just eyeballing it.

Anyway, so finally she starts talking about being under 110, and again, I'm like WTF? Where is 110 coming from?? And, she says "Oh, you know, the numbers change all the time. There's like one woman out in California doing research on gestationals."

Wow. Feeling so much better about this whole thing now.

I'm going to go watch American Idol now to take my mind off this. Go Bosox!!!!

What I'm listening to right now: American Idol

Happy Mother's Day! (continued)

2010-05-16T17:07:00.010-05:00

I never really got around to finishing my Mother's Day tale-- just the yucky part and not the fun part. So, here's the rest.

Since we'd received the last bit of nursery furniture on Saturday (the chair), we were able to finalize where all the furniture would go and could start hanging stuff on the walls. Here's some pictures of the result:

The yellow lamp is not staying, btw. Or at least it's not going to stay yellow. Maybe purple, or back to the pink it was when I had it in my bedroom.

This Holly Hobby wall hanging is also from my childhood bedroom. My mom made it.

Mr. GreenJeans actually did all the hanging of stuff on the wall. While he was busy with that, Mom and I went running around and ended up at JoAnn's Fabrics where we found these cute iron on thingies. I couldn't wait to iron them on once I got home.

This weekend there were more crafties. Mom and I got some wooden letters to spell out Buffy's name. She painted them the purple color from the bedding, and then we added decorations to them, like flowers, ribbon, glitter and rhinestones. Here's a picture I used as inspiration for Buffy's letters:

I'm thinking now, though, that maybe instead of B-U-F-F-Y, I should have decorated the letters: G-I-G-A-N-T-O-R. At our ultrasound this past Thursday, Buffy's estimated size was 5 pounds 5 ounces, which is ok if you're a week or two from your due date, but, at the time, I was 7 weeks 5 days from my due date-- not that I'm counting down or anything.

And, in the category of 'What fresh hell is this?' I offer up this month's new and exciting pregnancy symptom: nightly leg cramps! So far, I've not been awakened from a dead sleep by one of these wonders, so I guess I should count myself lucky. All of mine have occurred in the morning, maybe after the alarm has gone off and I'm totally relaxed but not fully awake. I'm still warm and comfy, snuggled up with all my many pregnancy pillows, maybe feeling the baby moving a little. I'm thinking that maybe I could stay in bed just a little bit longer, and I yawn and I stretch and......

"OH MY FUCKING GOD! THE PAIN! THE HORROR! MAKE IT STOP! MY LEG WON'T MOVE! IT'S FROZEN LIKE THAT! OH MY GOD!" And etc.

And, suddenly the quiet, serene, sleepy bedroom erupts like a clown car at the circus. I'm struggling to get my now useless leg out from under the covers. Then I'm struggling to get it to move from the very uncomfortable position it has cramped into. Mr. GreenJeans has jumped up from his side of the bed to run over to my aid to help me stretch it out. The dogs and cat are totally freaked out by the sudden activity in the bed and are running around either trying to get out of Mr. GreenJeans' way or, as is the case with the cat, trying to trip Mr. GreenJeans en route to my rescue. The dogs, thinking that Mommy and Daddy are 'playing and wrestling about,' decide they want in on the fun and start playing and wrestling about too: barking, jumping and scrubbing around on the floor.

What a great way to start the day, right?

What I'm listening to right now: Mr. GreenJeans frying french fries.

Happy Mother's Day!

2010-05-09T21:06:00.004-05:00

Though I'm not officially a mother yet, I had a pretty good Mother's Day. It did start off a little rocky, however. You may remember some previous posts on children acting badly in restaurants? Well, do I have a doozie to share with you today:

We decided to go to Serrano's today for lunch with Mom and the Lawnmower Man. Since it was Mother's Day, the restaurant was a little more crowded than usual, but not nearly so busy to explain the lengthy waits we had for a server to see to us.

I ordered my usual, Breakfast Quesadilla with bacon on the inside, not on the side. I was enjoying a rare cup of caffeinated coffee, and was trying to enjoy a nice brunch with my family.

Behind me in the next booth was seated a cute-looking, three-year old girl. At first, the girl was just noisy. Her mom (or grandma, she looked a little old) was loudly trying to entertain her, and neither was using their 'inside voices.'

Next, began the jumping. She was easily clearing the booth's seat by about a foot. I'm pretty sure that neither parent chastised her for this behavior because I never heard it and I could certainly hear every other freakin' thing they said.

After that, gymnastics. Mom delivered the color commentary on this one. Apparently, the little girl had one hand on the back of the booth and one hand on the table and was 'walking' her feet backwards up the wall next to the booth-- essentially doing a near handstand. Again, no scolding from either her mom/grandma or dad.

Finally, our food came, and I had no bacon in my quesadilla, nor on the side for that matter. Given that our server was pregnant, she ought to know that you don't mess with a pregnant woman at feeding time. Since it was past time for me to eat on my GD (gestational diabetes) 2-3 hour feeding schedule, I just asked for the bacon on the side. I had to ask for it TWICE before I finally got it.

While I was waiting for the bacon, the little girl decided that it would be fun to play some sort of 'hide and seek.' She tapped me on the shoulder and then ducked down behind the booth seat back. Then several times she tried to get my attention or Mom's by saying 'hi' or 'hello' followed up by more jumping.

And then came the straw that broke the camel's back. My 'That is fucking IT!' moment.

She spat on the back of my head.

Now, it wasn't like she hawked up a loogie. No, this was more like the fine spray you get when you blow a raspberry at someone. But in my hair. And on my sunglasses which were perched on my head.

I snapped. I turned around, and I'm not exactly sure what I said, but I think it ended with, "That is NOT cool!" I'm pretty sure I managed not to swear. I'm comforted a bit by the fact that the little girl looked like she was about to cry by the time I was finished. Although I didn't actually get to see her cry because mom/grandma ushered her outside immediately.

Unfortunately, the spitting pushed me over the edge to the place where I'd had all that I could deal with, and the tears started to flow. Which made me even angrier, because if I weren't pregnant, I certainly wouldn't be crying, I'd be chewing out that girl's parents. But, I'd be damned if I let those people see my crying, so I dried it up as quickly as I could.

And, that was a good thing because the dad was apparently left behind to deal with the bill and to offer a weak apology as he ran out the door. He said, "She's just three years old. I know that she didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry."

Really?!? Seriously? I'm pretty sure that no three year old child 'means' anything they do. They're simply not old enough or mature enough to have complex reasons behind their actions. At three years old, however, I would think that a child would know that spitting in a restaurant, not to mention on a person is not acceptable behavior. In fact, I can't think of a time when spitting in public at all would be acceptable. Given the way the girl's bad behavior escalated in such a short period of time makes it clear to me that her parents are very lax on the discipline. Pretty un-freakin-believable.

But, the rest of my day did get better. I'll have to share that tomorrow, though, as I have to eat a snack before bed, and I'm pooped.

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. And, please, teach your children not to spit on people, k? thx. : )

What I'm listening to right now: The Donald firing Cyndi Lauper's crazy ass.

How do you know what music to like when you're a kid?

2010-05-06T21:52:00.006-05:00

It started last week when I went to CVS to buy some hair color to get rid of my grays before my shower this past weekend. I got back into my car, started it up, and the song that was on the radio was 'Dragula' by Rob Zombie. It's a song that I like, so I cranked it up.

And then I remembered something that I'd read on the internets somewhere that I should start singing and talking to Buffy about now because even though her ears had already developed several months ago, she was just now big enough to hear things outside the womb.

And then I wondered what 'Dragula' by Rob Zombie at an ear-splitting volume might sound like to a 7-month old baby in the womb.

The whole drive home was then filled with questions:

If newborn babies are calmed by lullabies that they hear in utero, what happens with babies who listened to 'Dragula' while still inside Mommy?
If I expose my baby to music that I like, will she, in turn, like music that I like after birth?
And, even after birth, how do I teach my child about good music?
Can I teach her to enjoy Foo Fighters and Beastie Boys like I do?
How can I make her understand that Vanilla Ice and 'Ice Ice Baby' are not cool, no matter how hip a show like Glee makes it sound? And, for that matter, that there was a show called Glee that was pretty freakin' awesome?
How will I make her understand that any song by the Goo Goo Dolls or Counting Crows will make her Daddy shriek like a girl and nearly wreck the car while trying to change the station? I don't even understand that myself.

Since that day, I've been imagining conversations with Buffy as new songs come on the radio.
"Now, Buffy, pay attention: This is Madonna. She is cool. This is a song that Mommy listened to when she was a little girl. Did you know that once for Halloween Mommy dressed up like Madonna? Well, not this Madonna, that was actually Auntie Ana-HOO-ack who was the 'Like a Virgin' era Madonna. Mommy was 'Vogue' Madonna. Wait, what's that? What does 'virgin' mean?................ Huh. You should ask your Daddy that when he gets home from work."

OR

"Yes, I'm listening to that same music that Grams likes. It's called Country Music. Hey, let's play a fun trick on your Daddy! Here's what you do: Next time you're in the car with Daddy, tell him you want to listen to the Country stations that Grams listens to because you love you some Billy Ray Cyrus. I bet he'll scream or twitch or maybe both!"

Oh, the fun we'll have! : )

BTW I've finally decided to invest in a vanity URL. If sometime in the next week or so you try to hit my blog and can't find it, try www. thatchangthang.com.

What I'm listening to right now: Replay of TPC Day 1 because Mr. GJ has the remote.

Happiness is a big shapeless muu muu....

2010-05-02T22:43:00.003-05:00

And a cool, roomy couch where I can put up my feet. We're in the home stretch here, folks-- just under 10 weeks until D Day, or my due date of July 6.

Although I've been closely watching my thebump.com ticker and counting down the days and weeks, the 'days left' that I'd been reading about was more of a concept to me rather than a reality. That's not really the case anymore.

We had another doctor's appointment this week, and at the end, the receptionist asked if we wanted to schedule our remaining appointments.... for the rest of the pregnancy..... till Buffy comes out. It was kind of like when you're young and you want to be older to do this and that, and then suddenly you're nearly forty and you're like, "Holy shit, when did I get OLD?"

There are six more appointments left before I will be the proud parent of a newborn baby girl. Six more appointments before I'm supposed to be a responsible, contributing member of society who acts as an example for her growing, impressionable child. I should be a role model to help my daughter become a strong, smart, independent woman....... Holy shit, when did I become an adult?!?

Ok, seriously though, I've really started focusing on baby stuff again. I'd really used the second trimester as some 'me' time. A lot of the big gifts I'd received, like strollers, car seats, and etc., had been left in boxes to be put together later.

Apparently, now is later. This morning Mr. GreenJeans and I started putting things together. While it was a little comforting to my inner organization freak, I'm still left feeling a little unprepared. I'm hoping that the classes we're taking soon will help out with that.

It's been a big weekend: between receiving a bunch of great gifts yesterday at my shower and playing with all the new thingies we've received, I'm pretty pooped. Time for bed.

What I'm listening to right now: Two and a Half Men

i'm tired of teflon tim. put something else on your blog.

2010-04-26T20:32:00.002-05:00

That's the email I got from my sick mother today. Ok, here ya go, Mom. Feel better soon!

So, I've got the GD: Gestational Diabetes. I think I might have mentioned this before, but I kinda figured I'd end up with it. What I was not prepared for was how overwhelming the training for caring for myself would be. I had two hour-long appointments with a dietitian and a nurse and it was like trying to get a sip of water from a fire hose. There was so much information for them to share with me, and I'm trying to take it all in AND try to figure out how I'm going to apply what they're telling me into the real world of my life.

In between my GD appointments, I had an appointment with my orthopedist for a shot in my right wrist to help out with my carpal tunnel syndrome. Having had several similar injections in my foot, I knew this was going to hurt like a bitch. I was not wrong.

My ortho appointment was early in the morning, and Mr. GreenJeans and I had been shopping the night before for some carb + protein combos that my diet is now made up of. This particular early morning, I'd settled on a piece of whole wheat toast and peanut butter for my carb + protein breakfast. I should probably mention that we'd shopped at Sprouts the night before, which is a natural foods, farmer's market type store, and the peanut butter I'd unknowingly ended up with 'natural' peanut butter.

So, I get up for my ortho appointment a little early so I can make sure to eat before I go. I get ready, I've got my splints on both my wrists, I toast my one slice of bread and sit down to spread on some PB. Since the PB was new, it came with a little plastic wrap seal under the lid which I couldn't get off because of my fingernails, so I used my teeth.

I don't know if you're familiar with 'natural' PB, but it separates into a thick PB paste and oil. The oil sits on top. I'd forgotten about this. So, when I remove the plastic seal, all that oil sloshes out onto my shirt; of which I don't have very many that fit well anymore. I take some deep breaths and decide to try to stir up the PB as I still have time to salvage my breakfast, change shirts and make it to my appointment on time.

I begin to stir, and since I have splints on both wrists limiting my movement, I'm not very smooth at it, so more oil sloshes out-- narrowly missing said splints. I wipe my hands and remove the splints and continue to stir. The PB is like quicksand: every stir just sucks my knife in deeper and deeper, giving me less and less leverage with which to stir.

Finally, I give up and get some cheese to substitute for the PB. As I begin eating my cold toast and cheese with water, I start to cry. And, that's when I realize, "Hey, this is what they mean when they talk about overly emotional pregnant women."

Great.

The good news is that the carpal tunnel syndrome in my left hand is much improved. The bad news is I've developed another condition in my left hand where moving my thumb causes pain in my wrist and arm. Now I've got another cool, black splint that prevents my wrist and thumb from moving on my left hand. I'm starting another collection of orthopedic goodies: I'm well covered with some pretty chic ortho footwear, so I'm moving on to hand wear now.

Finally, I get to further ratchet up the pregnancy needle-stick count because of the GD. Five times a day I test my blood sugar, and once a day I give myself insulin. That's six sticks a day for about 70 more days..... Yeah, I'm not sure I can count that high.

I'm really hoping all the docs are correct when they say all of this should clear up after Miss Buffy's arrival.

What I'm listening to right now: Yet another car show that Mr. GreenJeans is watching...zzzzzzzzzzz......

Teflon Tim Strikes Again!

2010-04-14T22:44:00.003-05:00

I absolutely cannot believe the way the voting has gone this year on American Idol. I thought for sure this was the week that the so-called "Teflon" Tim would be sent home. While his choice of song this week was much improved over previous weeks and his performance was similarly improved, there is still no way he is in any way a competitor for the final show. His stiff, incredibly boring performances aren't even in the same league as my current faves: Crystal Bowersox, Lee Dewyze and Casey James. He's definitely not as entertaining as Siobhan "Freakshow" Magnus, either. While she has a good voice, she's just a little too Glambert for me.

Tonight was yet another example of American Idol voting gone astray. Last week Big Mike was nearly voted off, and were it not for the Judges' Save, he wouldn't have been back this week to wow us with his heartfelt rendition of "In The Ghetto." Tonight, rather than Tim Urban, or my other nemesis, Aaron Kelly, being voted off, the sweet Katie Stevens was sent home. While I do feel that Katie was a long shot to make the final two, I think she still had a shot, unlike Urban.

And, I get it. Urban is not too hard on the eyes, especially with that killer, 'aw-shucks, ma'am' smile.... It's easy to see how he has the crying teenage girl contingent wrapped around his untalented little finger. Combine that with the VoteForTheWorst.com faithful who've chosen Urban for the past several weeks, and I can definitely see how he's still around.

Doesn't mean I'm happy about it.

Maybe I'm just grumpy-- it's been a long day. My morning started off with a 3 hour glucose tolerance test, which I'm fairly certain I did not pass. That means I have gestational diabetes. Not a big surprise, considering I'm older, overweight, diabetes runs in my family, and I was a large birth weight baby. That's four indicators right there that I'm predisposed to this condition. However, it is a relief that with diet and exercise, this can be controlled, just like regular Type 2 diabetes.

No, the reason I'm probably still grumpy is because you have to fast for 10 - 12 hours for this test, so I stopped eating around 7pm last night. I arrived at the testing center to queue up with the other early folks, and although I arrived at 6:30, I will still second in line. I never knew the lab was such a hopping place first thing in the morning until this whole pregnancy experience.

After I had been there a bit, an older woman came in and immediately started complaining about how awful it was that she couldn't even have her coffee this morning. That she had to fast before coming here. I can't imagine that she had to fast as long as I did, nor did she have to have four blood draws over a three hour period, all the while still not eating anything.

Finally, the clinic opened its doors so I didn't have to hear her anymore. When you have to sit for three hours in a busy waiting room, you hear all sorts of things. It is sometimes and interesting place to people watch. You'd be amazed at some of the things people will do or say. I couldn't believe how many people showed up without ID or their health insurance cards. How can you not have your insurance card with you? Especially when going to a doctor or clinic? And these were not people who simply forgot their card at home or at the doctor's office they last visited. These are people that actually said, "Oh, I didn't think you'd need it." They made a conscious decision to leave the card at home.

Or the weird things people will tell you, about their conditions, or sometimes just some random shit. Especially older women. The last time I did my 3 hour tour, an elderly woman saw me crocheting which apparently reminded her of how much she hated her Aunt So-and-so, because her aunt never thanked her properly for some handmade gift the elderly woman had given her.

I'm also amazed/curious at some of the tests I see or hear about. There have been several folks returning these giant orange jugs filled with fluid. Makes me curious about what's in there and what exactly one has to do to collect so much of it. This morning I heard one of the techs explaining how to do a self-collection to a teenage girl and her mom. I didn't exactly hear what was being collected, but I did keep hearing that 'it couldn't hit the water.' The tech suggested that saran wrap be used somehow with the toilet for collection, that all of 'it' could be collected at once, and that, upon completion, the entire sampling should be put in the freezer (EWWW) for return to the lab.

After my lab experience, Mr. GreenJeans and I went to Moonie's for burgers. After 16 hours of fasting with only a super sugary drink and water to hold me over, I was starting to feel a little weak and shaky. And a little crazed. When our burgers finally arrived, I ate all of mine, a bite of MGJ's, and about half my fries. That's a lot at once for me these days. But, since I was out of my mind with hunger, I could not, would not listen to reason and kept gobbling down food. I was lucky, though, as my binging didn't give me horrible indigestion as is sometimes the case when I overindulge.

And, now, since I was up so early and haven't had a nap, I'm going to bed now.

What I'm listening to right now: one of the animals snoring, either Farley or Prissy, probably Prissy

"So, Rena, have you enjoyed being pregnant so far?"

2010-04-10T22:02:00.002-05:00

That's what my OB asked me on Thursday at my latest monthly checkup. And, my answer?

"Uhmmm......" *laughs awkwardly*

I've thought about that question a lot these last couple of days. I felt a little guilty, at first, that I couldn't answer my doctor with an enthusiastic, "YES!" I mean, I am very fortunate to have the resources available to make pregnancy at age 38 a possibility/reality for me and my family. I am also very lucky to be able to feel my baby kick and grow inside of me. And, what a joy it is to have such and abundance of friends and family so excited about our growing family that they are willing to drive from all over Texas to shower me with gifts for our new baby.

So, after giving it more thought, I have enjoyed being pregnant, if I don't look at it from a strictly medical perspective.

Today was a long, exhausting day kicked off with the first of two baby showers that my friends and family are throwing for me. There were lots of presents, good food and great conversation. A great time was had by all, I think.

After getting Buffy's bounty home, all I want to do is look at every single thing so that I can figure out how things work, where they will go and etc. It is a strange thing, however, to have registered for all this baby stuff that I have absolutely no experience with. For example, when Mr. GreenJeans and I got married and I registered for dishes, I knew how to use a plate. In fact, I already had some plates-- had used them, washed them, dropped them. I even already had a place for my new plates, assuming I removed the old ones.

However, with Diaper Genies, car seats and strollers, I don't know where they will go. I can guess, but until Buffy comes home and is around us for a while, I'm not sure where the best place for those items will be. I don't really know how to use them (but I can read instructions). Though, I didn't need an instruction manual to know how to use my new cutlery set when I got married. Also, I could play with all my new stuff right away back then. I can't play with my new baby stuff just yet-- though I have threatened to practice swaddling on Jack and I think some of those onesies would fit him. So, for now I guess I'll just have to satisfy myself with just sitting in Buffy's room, moving her stuff here and there in an attempt at organization.

What I'm listening to right now: Katherine Stolp talking about the recent San Diego area quakes. Is it just me or have there been a lot of earthquakes lately?

Look out! Pregnant lady coming through!

2010-04-05T22:17:00.005-05:00

Ok, so it hasn't gotten quite that bad yet-- where my baby bump enters a room a few minutes before me. However, I am noticing quite a few ways in which my baby bump has become much more noticeable to me.

For example, we have a window in the kitchen over the sink. It's actually quite far for me to reach and even Mr. GreenJeans has difficulty pulling the cord to open the blinds. Last summer while we were on vacation and Mom was staying at the house, she tied some yarn to the cord which made it reachable for me.

Although I could reach the cord, I still had to lean over the sink and the counter would catch me in my tummy. Now when I reach for the cord, the counter doesn't just sink into the squishiness of my middle. No, now it feels like a balloon is in my tummy (and there is, kind of), or something more firm, like a basketball. And when I lean into the counter, I can feel that balloon or ball pressing on the rest of my insides. Such a strange feeling.

Sometimes I feel a shortness of breath. It mostly happened when I bent over to put on my shoes, but now, I've noticed it when I've had an especially large meal or when I'm feeling especially gassy and bloated. The first time it happened was kind of scary-- I wasn't bending over and wasn't exerting myself at all. Finally, after a few minutes of frantic thought about what this could be, I realized some Tums would probably help me out. So, I took some, and it did help.

Others have noticed the bump growing, too. Mom has made several comments along the lines of "You sure look like you're pregnant now!" and "We need to get you some longer shirts for that tummy!" Thanks, Mom!

This weekend, Mom and The Lawnmower Man came over for Easter dinner. Having not seen TLM for a few weeks, he, of course, immediately noticed the bump had grown. After exchanging our greetings he pointed in my direction and said, "Wow, look at that!" Since I'm used to the size of my tummy, I looked behind me to see what he was pointing at. It was me. And my tummy.

Speaking of Easter, I had probably one of the most satisfying meals that I've had in recent memory. We had ribs made by my lovely husband that were so tender and smoky and delicious that I ate way too much. Mom also made a fabulous chocolate cake for dessert. She used to make it all the time when I was a kid. It's a boxed cake mix with cherry pie filling added in-- not as a filling, but actually mixed and baked into the cake batter itself. Makes for a super moist cake. This version had nuts and chocolate frosting. I think I probably ate more than half of it in two days.

And, speaking of Mom, she's going to need a new name soon for her granddaughter to call her. Who, btw, does have a name now: Buffy. Yeah, ok, that's not her real name, that's her code name. Because who wouldn't want her daughter to grow up to be a sexy, strong, funny, confident, ass-kicking, vampire slayer? BTW, Mr. GreenJeans, it's my blog. I can codename our daughter whatever I want. : P

Anyway, back to Mom: she needs a new name. Granny is already taken by my grandmother. Nana has already been vetoed by Mom, and me too. Any thoughts on what she should be called?

Finally, we took a tour of the hospital this weekend. I'd already gotten the highlights from Ana-HOO-ack, and of course, got to witness some of the process first hand when visiting her in the hospital during her baby's delivery.

As expected, there were a few giggle-worthy moments. Like when the nurse mentioned the various attachments that could be added to the bed for delivery: including handlebars and a squat bar, which I just had to Google when I got home. I couldn't figure out how one would use a squat bar: do you put your feet on it? hang your legs on it? put it under your knees? No. Turns out you hold onto it for balance as you squat on the bed.

Now, my veal-like arms have both got pregnancy-related carpal tunnel syndrome. When I get up in the morning, I can barely hold onto the French press for my daily dose of decaf. And, I'm supposed to help support my pregnant, bloated body with these same arms? Not to mention the fact that I have difficulty breathing now when I am bent over too long putting on shoes. In three months, I think I might pass out from lack of oxygen if I had to be folded up like that for too long.

Anyway, I don't expect to need a squat bar for Buffy's debut. Though our tour guide did say that we could provide our own birthing balls. Hmm, must Google that first.

What I'm listening to right now: Duke v. Butler. Go Butler! Go Butler!

Busy, busy Saturday in Houston this weekend

2010-03-29T21:53:00.007-05:00

After a fun and relaxing birthday on Friday, we woke to a very busy Saturday of visiting friends and family. First up was breakfast at Baby Barnaby's with some of Mr. GreenJeans' friends from college. We'd not seen them since they'd been in Austin several years ago while they escaped the aftermath of hurricane Ike with their newborn baby boy.

Their newborn is now a very active toddler. It was great to visit with some folks that had gone through having a baby without being completely obsessive about reading all the baby books and following this theory or that theory about new baby care. I was pleased to see that a kid really could turn out ok with relaxed parents who were not obsessive over every little move a child makes.

Next up was late lunch with my best friend from high school and her husband. While we'd not spoken in nearly 20 years until our reunion this past summer, it was just like old times at lunch. Though some of the topics had changed, I found we had just as much in common as we did in high school. Dr. LD has converted her native-St. Louis husband to a Longhorn football fan, and we had fun thinking about a time when Greg Davis would no longer attempt to kill quarterbacks while trying to jump start a running game. We agreed that we'd need to get together this fall to watch a Horns game together. BTW, Star Pizza is awesome. They have a whole wheat crust that really is tasty. No, really. I was a doubter too, but now I'm a believer.

Finally was dinner with the fam in Humble. Though there was drama in getting the whole thing organized, the dinner itself was drama free and full of laughter. There were 13 of us, and it was an amazing feat that all of us managed to get along for over two hours! WOW! ; )

Work this morning started off with a major cleanout of all the birthday wishes from friends and colleagues. Thanks for all those, btw. I wanted to share one in particular that I very thoroughly enjoyed. My friend/manager, Browncoat, sends birthday greetings to all her employees on their birthdays. She usually finds some picture of a cake that's special to the person whose birthday she's recognizing. Rather than sending this one out to the team (my team announcement was a nice flowery cake), she sent this cake pic just to me.

It's a Devil's Trap with a demon trapped in it, and Dean is sitting on the outside of it. Isn't that AWESOME?!?! I'm sure those of you that are not Supernatural fans are going "Huh?" But, trust me, this is pretty freakin' cool! Thanks again, Browncoat!

What I'm listening to right now: A gurgling in my tummy. Maybe that second fajita taco wasn't such a good idea after all.

Happy Birthday to Me, Happy Birthday to Me.....

2010-03-26T22:32:00.006-05:00

You know the rest of that song, right?

So today is the day I turn 39 years young, now and forevermore. We decided to make it a combo birthday/babymoon/family reunion trip to Houston to celebrate.

It's been a fairly good trip so far. New shoes always make a girl happy. Got me some pretty new Tevas sandals this morning, and at a discount no less from REI. The trip down was uneventful, and I was a little disappointed in the wildflowers on Highway 290. I guess we're a little early for them to be in full bloom just yet.

When we got to town and got checked into our hotel, I realized I'd been here before. In the hotel. Many, many moons ago, I lived in Houston. Actually not too far from where I sit typing this post. I worked even closer at the now-defunct Houston Cellular. No, I had nothing to do with its demise. Anyway, while working at Houston Cellular, the company had one of its holiday parties in this very hotel. Fun fact for your Friday: I learned how to do the Electric Slide in the ballroom in the Omni Houston. I call it Dancing Queen: The Early Years.

We were a little hungry, having not eaten since our breakfast a Cracker Barrel in Austin, so we decided to have a snack at a restaurant we'd seen on Triple D, or for the uninitiated: Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. It's a Food Network show hosted by Guy Fieri. The restaurant was Kenny and Ziggy's New York Deli, and boy was it good! Mr. GreenJeans and I shared a Pastrami on Rye and a cup of Matzoh Ball Soup and both were excellent. If you're ever in H-town and have a taste for the deli, I highly recommend this place.

Later, while getting ready for our dinner at Sorrento's this evening, I realized just how big Baby has gotten. Just two weeks ago tomorrow, I'd gone shopping for a dress to wear to a wedding last weekend. I ended up with two dresses: one I wore to last weekend's wedding and one to wear to my special birthday dinner.

So, imagine if you will: My dress is kind of a greenish blue speckled-y number, and the view as I looked down my body was that of a momma turtle leading her two babies away from my head. I couldn't believe how big and rounded my front-side parts have gotten! And how quickly too. I mean, just two weeks ago, I couldn't see my tummy for my boobs. (I've always been very blessed in the boob department, so the baby turtles weren't so surprising as the momma was.)

It suddenly dawned on me: Holy shit! I'm really pregnant!

Like the gas, heartburn, constipation and sore boobs weren't huge clues by themselves.

It still amazes me, though, what a strange thing this whole pregnancy thing is. I mean, there's a little person inside me. INSIDE ME. And, I have absolutely NO control over what this little person does to my body.

Anyway, back to my birthday festivities. We went to dinner at a place called Sorrento's, and it was delicious! Here are some snaps of our chow:
Lobster Risotto for me

Grilled Halibut with Risotto for Mr. GreenJeans

Bread Pudding for us both-- look at the cute little swirly hearts-- awwww!

And, finally, a nice little surprise from the hotel's concierge-- and another reason I like Omni so much:

And, now it's time for bed. Nighty night. : )

What I'm listening to right now: Snoop Dogg on Larry King. Mr. GreenJeans has the remote.

I'm not really even sure where to begin the telling of this tale.....

2010-03-09T21:40:00.003-06:00

We've been working on decorating Baby's room these past couple of weeks. Mr. GreenJeans and I decided on a pale pink paint for the walls and a wallpaper border to go around the walls at the ceiling.

Now, I wouldn't say I'm a pro at hanging wallpaper, but I do have some experience. In the last 10 years or so, I've wallpapered four bathrooms and hung 5 borders. Folks, this is not my first rodeo.

On top of that, I have my trusty sidekick, Sanford, to assist with hanging this border in Baby's room. She's been with me through all of my paper hanging jobs. We work well together. Mostly.

The trouble with me and Mom working together is that we sometimes get overconfident. Mr. GreenJeans has commented on more than one occasion that it's sheer dumb luck that neither of us has been seriously injured or killed during our hijinks (his word, not mine). Many a hijink has started off with one of us saying, "Aww, come on, how hard can it be? If he/she/they can do it, we definitely can!"

Like the time we thought we could easily replace the old, rotten crossties in Mom's garden with brand new (very heavy) ones-- by ourselves.

Like the time when we had to take a very long piece of gutter from North Austin to South Austin, but it was too long for Mom's truck bed so we put one end in the truck bed and angled the other end to sit on the passenger's side view mirror and I hung my arm out the window and held onto it while doing 65 mph down MoPac-- in the rain.

Like the time we were trimming trees and didn't have a ladder so we stood in the back of Mom's truck to reach a branch, not really thinking about the fact that we'd parked the truck directly under the tree branch we were cutting down.

I could go on and on, but let's just get back to our current tale of woe, shall we?

So, Mom and I start putting up this border, and it's been a while since we've done any papering, probably 5 years or more. The room is not that big, just a little over three pieces of border were needed. Things were going well, and by the end of the second piece we had gotten back into the swing of things. And, that, is where our old friend Overconfidence showed up. We started making comments about how good we were at this and how we'd have the rest up in no time at all. The third piece went up relatively easily, too, and we found that we only needed about four feet of the fourth roll to complete the room.

No problemo, right?

The fourth piece actually had quite a bit of overlap to the third piece to get the pattern to line up, which made it a little difficult to manipulate. Rather than trying to slide the fourth piece over, I just pulled it up. Which lifted the end of the third piece. Which continued to lift, and fall, to the next corner. Where it paused. And continued to fall off the wall around the room to where the third piece overlapped the second. Where it paused. And then took the second piece down. Fortunately, the second piece didn't take down the first.

It was like watching a bunch of dominoes set up to fall one by one. Or like watching America's Funniest Home Videos live and in person in my own house.

I was ready to just give up and toss the pieces that fell and start over. But not Sanford. She was determined that we would get this border up tonight. So, laughing our asses off, we hurriedly slapped the paper back up on the wall, and managed to get all the way around the room without further disaster.

And if the border is still up tomorrow, I'm going to buy some lottery tickets.

What I'm listening to right now: the clock ticking

Welcome to Mambo Night at Club Utero!

2010-03-06T22:39:00.009-06:00

Ok, every night is now Mambo Night in ye olde uterus. It's really quite an amazing thing-- feeling this little person wiggling around inside of me.

Another amazing thing to me-- are those shows on TLC or Discovery about women who didn't realize they were pregnant and carried full term babies. I mean, I can see not knowing you're pregnant in the first trimester, but once your little guy starts to move, I don't know how you could possibly not try to figure out what's going on in there.

Further, those Alien movies? Totally debunked for me now. Again, you have an alien growing inside of you that is powerful enough to rip through you to get out and you don't feel it moving around in there? Fat chance.

In all seriousness, however, this baby moving thing is really and truly a fantastic thing. I'm still in awe at how strong the feelings are. I can't believe that such a tiny little girl can make such forceful movements. Now that the kicks and wiggles have gotten so much stronger, I wonder at what she's doing in there. Sometimes, I imagine she's in there doing her best Flashdance moves (think Irene Cara running in place, arms and legs moving rapidly). At other times, it feels like she has some sort of nervous tick and an arm or leg just shoots out for a quick single kick or punch.

Still other times I would swear she's doing somersaults inside my uterus. Not long ways-- or, rather, top to bottom of my uterus. No, it feels like she's turning from one of my hips to the other. And it's a tight fit. I can feel her head/tush brushing against my inside just below my belly button. I can't begin to describe what a strange feeling it is.

I'm very thankful that I've been able to experience such a wonderful feeling! I can't wait till Mr. GreenJeans can feel her moving on the outside!

What I'm listening to right now: Ultimate Recipe Showdown

You have a brain for a reason, people....

2010-02-24T22:31:00.003-06:00

Use it to filter the stupid things in your brain so that they don't come out of your mouth.

Twice in the last few days I've been completely floored by comments made by sports media personalities. The first comments were about American Olympic skater, Johnny Weir. Here's a very short summary story regarding the flap. These guys didn't just make one inappropriate or off-color comment and then move on, they went on and on about how effeminate Johnny Weir is. How anyone who speaks on television these days could think these kinds of statements could possibly be appropriate is beyond me. I'll admit that Weir is not one of my favorite skaters. I find his flamboyance distracting. However, these commentators homophobic comments are appalling to me.

And, then, tonight I read this about Tony Kornheiser. WTF? Really, Tony Kornheiser? Who the fuck are you to critique women's fashion? Did some of your brain exit the building with your hair? When did it become a good idea to bash your peers so publicly? You work on a sports network doing a sports show. Save your Blackwell-esque commentary for something you can relate to, like maybe some of the horrifying color combos of the throwback uniforms that the NFL trots out every year. Oh, wait, maybe you feel compelled to discuss women's fashion BECAUSE YOU NEVER PLAYED SPORTS. Still, why don't you leave the women's fashion commentary to someone who actually knows a little bit about the topic, like, say other women?

*steps down from soapbox*

That is all.

What I'm listening to right now: some Golf channel something that Mr. GreenJeans is watching

The Name Game

2010-02-23T19:14:00.006-06:00

Discussions have begun on what the Niblet will be named after she's born. Our talks of names so far has mainly centered on the names of whatever the waitstaff at our restaurant du jour are sporting on their nametags.

However, now that we know the Niblet is a girl, we've been able to focus our approach a bit more. Always the organizer, I've exported a bunch of names from various baby naming websites and have pared down my original list of hundreds of names to just about 90.

When I went over the list with Mr. GreenJeans, he noticed a disturbing trend: Just about all of the names that made my short list are the names of actresses or their characters in shows I watch. Some examples:

Abigail: character on NCIS
Bella: character on Supernatural
Cordelia: character on Buffy/Angel who is played by
Charisma: actress who plays Cordelia
Jacinda: that girl on Real World that one time
Lorelei: character on Gilmore Girls
Quinn: character on Glee
Veronica: title character on Veronica Mars

Mr. GreenJeans took quite a bit of pleasure in telling me I watched too much TV and trying to guess where all my name choices came from. However, I would argue that when you're trying to decide on names, the names have to come from somewhere. We don't live in a vacuum after all. Generally, I'm not too keen on naming my child after some real person in my life, I think that's just kinda weird. So what if I happen to like some of the names I've been exposed to via TV?

Besides, think of all the fantastically wonderful names I would have missed out on if I just pulled names from people I'd known in my real life. All the names I listed above? I've never known a single person named with any of those names. If I took from my high school, I'd be stuck with Jennifer, Claudia, Kandie, Amy, Sheila, among others. While those are perfectly acceptable names, I think they are a little boring. And, frankly, some of those girls I'd rather forget.

Make fun if you want, Mr. GreenJeans, but I'm not naming our kid after a TV show character. I just happen to like some of their names.

Here's a big fun thing that happened today: SNOW! Apparently it's been 6 years since the last time we've seen this much snow in Austin. Unfortunately, Mr. GreenJeans and I were away that weekend of February 14, 2004. We were enjoying the snow in Steamboat, Colorado, taking a little pre-wedding trip. Here's some pics from today's snow. The first picture was taken just after we got up this morning around 8am.

Just a few short hours later, we had much more snow:

Finally, here's some action of the big snowflakes falling:

What I'm listening to right now: Olympics women's ski cross.

Hi, my name is Rena and I'm an Organizer.

2010-02-19T22:47:00.003-06:00

I think I may have touched on this before-- how I like to organize things. Or, rather, I don't necessarily like to organize, but I really do like the end result of organizing. With organizing come planning, and I do enjoy the feeling of being prepared for an event However, despite my attempts at organizing and planning, I'm still feeling very unprepared for the Niblet's arrival.

I've no experience with babies. I've never changed a diaper. Never dressed a baby. Never bathed a baby. Never fed a baby. Never nursed a baby. Never... well, you get the picture. Sure I could probably practice some of these things with someone else's baby, but it won't be quite the same.

In my job I frequently have to do prep work. That is, if I'm doing a recording, I do a dry run. If I'm sending out instructions to the masses, I make sure a couple other folks can follow the instructions I've put together before I send them out to the masses. Using these methods I can determine if I'm missing something-- a step, a cord, a speaker, an outlet, whatever.

I really can't do a dry run here in my house, with my equipment. How will I know if I'm missing a critical piece of my breast pump if I can't try it out before the baby comes home? How will I know if I'm going to have what I need to change her diaper? How will I know if she will like the clothes, bedding, room, and etc. we've provided for her?

It's really very overwhelming for a planner like me.

One thing I won't have to worry about, however, is the number of clothing options the Niblet will have. I told Sanford she couldn't buy anything until we knew if we were having a boy or a girl. Just four short days after Mom found out that the Niblet was a girl, this is what the Niblet's once-empty closet looks like.

That's fourteen outfits-- there were two that we didn't have hangers for.

Finally, I'd just like to comment on recent Austin events. I'm really pissed. What a selfish bastard this guy was to fly a plane into an office building with 300 innocent people in it. He left his wife and child homeless. And certainly since he was the one that set fire to his own house, his family will never be able to recoup that loss through insurance. Further, I just hate the fact that the act of this cowardly, selfish man brought such ugly notoriety to this wonderful town that I love.

Finally, no really this time, I'm watching the Olympics, specifically this sport called Skeleton. Who was the genius that came up with this sport? Hmm, it's freezing-ass cold outside, I think I'll plunge headfirst down an icy mountain chute on a sled. Oh, oh, and my sled will have no brakes and no steering and I will ride it on my stomach. With just barely enough clearance for my chin. Ok, sometimes my chin doesn't clear and scrapes the ice. When I'm going 90 mph. Seriously??

What I'm listening to right now: Winter Olympics Skeleton: WTF?!?

A guy and a girl walk into a baby superstore....

2010-02-17T23:06:00.000-06:00

Sounds like the beginning of a joke, right? It kind of is a joke.

So, this past weekend, Mr. GreenJeans and I went shopping/test-driving baby gear. I'd done my research and we were going to run through my top three choices in several categories: infant car seats, stroller frames, umbrella strollers, high chairs and play yards.

We strolled into Babies R Us, all full of migas and excitement, ready to choose us some baby stuff. We walked right up to the car seats and....

Couldn't get a one of them out of their bases. I'm again amazed that coursework and/or certification is not required to reproduce.

Finally, after pulling and pushing every one of the twenty odd buttons, latches and handles on the seat and base, I found the magic release at the back of the car seat. Thankful that we didn't have to ask for help and certain that everyone else in the store was pointing and laughing at our n00biness, I ignored the blush creeping up my neck and continued my examination of my list of car seats. We quickly agreed on one seat and moved on to stroller frames.

For those of you not familiar with stroller frames, they are wheeled devices that hold an infant car seat. Some car seats actually lock into the frames if they are of the same brand. Generic frames come with straps to attach all manner of seats to the frame.

Wouldn't you know it? We couldn't figure out how to get our chosen seat into the generic frame and ask for help. We had the seat facing the wrong way.

Again I say, "We gonna be the bestest parents ever!" Fortunately, the rest of our shopping trip passed uneventfully.

Also this past weekend we celebrated Valentine's Day, and with that, I celebrated another anniversary: two years of blogging! I still can't believe I've blogged for that long. I hope you've enjoyed my blog as much as I have!

Yesterday we found out the sex of the Niblet: She's a girl! I'll try to post the video later in another post. Apparently it takes a really, really, really, really long time to post video to Blogger.

Finally, a few comments on my TV viewing of late. I've been a little disappointed with my favorite springtime guilty pleasure: American Idol. I always look forward to the insanity and wackiness that comes with Hollywood Week. This year's installment of the drama filled week was really quite sad. I think the show focused too much on the emotional, sob stories rather than the prima donna, drama queen wackiness that I love about this time in the show. Also, Kara has taken over Paula's spot of Queen Bee Wackadoo. However, at least Paula's crazy could be counterbalanced by her fun interplay with Simon. Kara's crazy is just plain annoying.
Ellen and the guest judges have been the one highlight of the season so far.

What I'm listening to right now: Shaun White going nuts in the halfpipe. Here's what I overheard while typing:
Bob Costas: "We'll try to get an interview with Shaun White before the end of this prime time broadcast."
Mr. GreenJeans: "Aww, come on Bob, he's gonna have too much pussy in his face to give you an interview!"

Cleaning out my closet has been like.....

2010-02-12T21:35:00.014-06:00

Like an archeological dig.

For example, this item, found in the Middle Schooliar layer of sediment is a rudimentary tool used to cause pain and slobbering in the wearer. Side effects of its use include public ridicule, humiliation, red lines on the face, and holes poked in gums and cheeks inside the mouth. Oh yes, and it's also meant to straighten teeth. It's a device called a retractor and is used in combination with braces, in case you were wondering.

There were thousands of pictures, some from trips or events that I'd completely forgotten I'd participated in. Once we get the scanner going, look for those in a future post.

Sometimes there were several different eras in one pocket:

This single box has too many layers to count. The picture on top is of me, probably age 2 or 3. Underneath is a bumper sticker from the famed Dixie Chicken in College Station, Texas. I stayed the weekend with a girlfriend from high school who went to A&M, and the Chicken was one of the stops our our tour of the college town. Underneath all that is bunches of greeting cards from family and friends over the years. Off to the side is all manner of Russian lapel pins, collected on my summer in Russia near the end of my time in college.

I used to collect salt and pepper shakers. I still pick some up every now and again, but they have to be super cute. This is what's left after purging the ugly and mismatched ones.

Lots of memories from my wedding, showers and bachelorette party. This is the veil I wore for my bachelorette party.

Lovely, isn't it? "Lovely" as it is, I think I liked it better than I would have a store-bought veil. This was more original and creative, and most importantly, made especially for me.

I found trivia questions from one of my showers. For ten points, would Mr. GreenJeans choose Pamela Anderson or Heidi Klum? Knowing that Mr. GreenJeans is a confirmed boob man, I chose Pam Anderson. I was wrong. Apparently he goes for classy sexy over ginormous boobs.

And that brings us into the Mr. GreenJeans era where we find souvenirs from the 2006 Rose Bowl.

Even though I have nothing to do with these things, no way to display them, and I actually forgot that I had them, I will probably never get rid of these things as they are part of such a once-in-a-lifetime memory.

That's it for the dig. The baby's room is almost completely clean; all that's left to do is move out all the empty furniture in there and clean the carpet. I'm really looking forward to decorating once we find out what we're having.

While I have my camera out, here are some cute pictures of our four-legged babies. Here's the sick boy enjoying some quality time with Pops on the couch.

Here he's so sad and tired he can't even hold up his head:

Finally, here's a picture of Prissy. She got hot in her bed, but was so tired/lazy that she didn't make it all the way out of bed.

What I'm listening to right now: Terminator 2

Just when I think I've heard it all....

2010-02-07T21:31:00.003-06:00

I come across this.

You want me to do what??? Put my thumbs where?!?

Ummm, no.

Ok, sure, I see how that might be helpful in making room for the Niblet to exit the building. But this says to do this perineum massage thing in my final six weeks of pregnancy. How does one reach that area when one has a near-term baby in one's middle? Oh, right, it says to ask your partner for help.

Again, ummmm, no. Can't you just see it?

"Hey, honey, can I get you to do me a teency weency favor? I need you to help me stretch my cooter so the Niblet will just slide right out. Here's the KY!" *big smile*

I'm not sure if he'd fall down laughing till he cried and gasping for breath or if he'd stand there frozen like a deer in the headlights trying to pretend I didn't just ask him to help me stretch my baby exit.

I'm sure I'll find out what his reaction might be when he reads this. I'll keep you posted.

In other Niblet News, I think we're up to.... umm... 23 weird pregnancy symptoms today. I'd read things about pregnancy making women dumb, but I thought it was just an old wives' tale. Now, I'm not so sure. I think I've noticed it most when blogging. I find that I regularly lose my train of thought or leave out important points (like the whole reason I started a post). Or sometimes I'll re-read what I've written and find I've written something that could pass for an e.e. cummings work. I mentioned it to Mr. GreenJeans this morning at breakfast when during our conversation I lost my train of thought twice in a five or ten minute conversa

This Undercover Boss show that came out after the Super Bowl is actually pretty good. I had my doubts, but it looks like a winner. I may have to keep watching it.

What I'm listening to right now: Undercover Boss

Our first baby gift!

2010-02-05T22:42:00.005-06:00

So, a while back Sanford ran across two big, black trash bags full of burnt orange t-shirts that said: "You can't spell COCKSUCKER without OU."

Charming, right?

After giving out a few of the shirts to friends and family (yes, I had to have one for myself), she was still left with nearly two hundred of these shirts. Last week she was sick. And what does a soon-to-be Grandma do to pass the time while she recovers?

She makes a baby blanket out of t-shirts with the word COCKSUCKER on them.

You should have seen the wicked glee in her eyes as she showed us what she'd made.

That's my mom, always the joker. Her blanket was always intended for an old Post Office buddy, but she definitely took great pleasure in acting as if she'd made it especially for her first and only grandbaby.

In other news, this time of year always makes me a little sad. It's just two short days until the Super Bowl and the end of all things football for a good six months. While I'm not a big fan of pro-football, it does help with the withdrawals after college football is all done for the year.

Another countdown we have going right now is the number of days until we find out what the Niblet is: boy, girl, alien, Skeletor? The last ultrasound had us thinking we might have a Skeletor on our hands come July. We find out a week from Tuesday at our midpoint ultrasound. That's February 16 for those of you marking your calendars.

Once we find out what we're having, the fun can really begin! Ordering the nursery's furniture has held me over for a while. We ended up with the DaVinci Emily collection in espresso: crib, dresser and changer/dresser combo. But I'm really looking forward to picking out colors and sheets and bumpers and clothes!

I've been using the temptation of shopping/registering to keep my mind off other things. For example, I've started reading baby books. I kicked off my reading with Baby 411. Not long after starting, I got that same overwhelmed feeling that I had when I first got pregnant and found out all the things I could and could not do/eat.

Baby 411 goes through all the things that you might possibly need to know when your baby is first born. While I'm certain their list is not all-inclusive, it is very, very thorough. This book covers all kinds of newborn issues from third nipples, the terrifyingly horrible first baby poops (meconium) which is apparently different from the less horrifying later poops, jaundice, SIDS, infected umbilical cord stumps, and many other freaky, freaky things that could happen to your newborn.

I'm on to the breastfeeding chapter now and I've started looking at my boobs from a new perspective. When I was younger and single, they were a means to a free drink or a way of getting a man's attention. I knew that pairing a low-cut shirt with a bat of my eyelashes and a flip of my hair could get me just about whatever I wanted from men.... and even some women.

Now they will be a food source for a living breathing new human being.

In this transition from sexual objects to self-sustaining food makers, I'm having some difficulty. I mean, these things have been 'fun bags' for a really long time. Maybe there will be some advice on how to wrap my brain around this later in the breastfeeding chapter.

Ok, Mom, I've blogged. You have some thing to read now. Enjoy!

What I'm listening to right now: Triple D: Diners Drive Ins and Dives

An update on the Niblet.....

2010-01-25T21:12:00.003-06:00

I haven't talked about the Niblet in a while, what with Jack's back surgery, his recovery, and his penis problems.

While my exhaustion of the first trimester has gone, the Niblet still continues to wreak havoc on my body. My tummy troubles are.... different. In general, I don't feel as nauseous anymore, although I do occasionally have some dicey moments where I look for my old friend, the Barf Bucket. The burpy-hiccuppy thing seems to have passed for the most part too. Those two symptoms have been replaced by some mild heartburn and some other gastro problems that I won't get into.

The fun new thing this trimester is how my body is reacting to this hormone called Relaxin. As you might guess from the name, Relaxin that is produced as a result of pregnancy is thought to help relax the mother's body parts that might prevent baby from exiting during a normal vaginal birth. Sounds like a great idea, right? Well, yes and no. While it might make your hip bones a little stretchy to help squeeze baby through, Relaxin is not a hormone that targets specific areas of the body. Therefore, in addition to your hips getting stretchy, the rest of your body goes all loosey-goosey too.

The result? I had foot surgery three years ago to correct a congenital deformity that got broken when I fell off a step ladder. It's been fine for about two years now, and then just about the time the progesterone kicked in, it started making this freaky popping sound. The plantar faciitis that I took great pains (read: a steroid injection in my heel) to correct before I got pregnant? Back again with a vengeance. The shoulder pains that I went to PT for this summer to also correct before I got pregnant? Also back with a vengeance. And something new: Carpal Tunnel Syndrome symptoms in BOTH my hands. I have some fancy new boxing glove looking splints that I should be wearing right now. But I'm not. Because I like using both caps and lowercase and being able to spell like I've had some schoolin'.

I'm only slightly comforted when told by all my doctors that these things will likely go away once the Niblet is born. In five months. Or 23 weeks. Or 162 days. But who's counting, right?

Another new thing is that my pants don't fit anymore. They have these things called Bella Bands that are supposed to hold up your pre-maternity pants when they're not fastened. Now, I've not taken one of these Bands out the package, but I just don't see how a band of stretchy fabric positioned over my unzipped zipper is going to hold up my britches. They do have these pants extender things, however, that look promising. I could see using that extender thing with the Band as a cover up together to help keep me out of the maternity clothes section.

And, yes, I'm a little hesitant to enter the maternity section. First of all, before I became pregnant, I was a big girl. I've been shopping for clothes in the plus size areas of stores for a while now. However, in looking at maternity clothes, it seems that only super skinny model women get pregnant these days. Most of the clothes only go up to a size 12 or 14, which is definitely not plus-size enough for me.

Additionally, the styles these days are a little frightening for a life-long fat girl like myself. You see, I've spent a good deal of my 38 years working very hard to distract people from my tummy area and any back fat or muffin tops one might find there. I generally don't go for anything form fitting at all, instead choosing tops with a looser cut that doesn't immediately draw attention to my figure flaws. But many of the maternity tops that I've seen, even in the few stores that carry plus size maternity clothing are so form fitting! Just the thought of going out in a top that is pulled taut across my belly, even though it is a belly filled with baby, makes my stomach turn worse than it did my entire first trimester.

I'm very glad that I work from home and can hang out in my PJs for most, if not all, of my day.

But, aside from all my aches and pains, the Niblet is coming along fine. My next appointment is in two weeks, and one week after that is my twenty week sonogram where we'll find out if the Niblet is boy or girl! Yay!

What I'm listening to right now: Anthony Bourdain talking about a "torpedo of joy."

Here's something that I never thought I'd hear myself say...

2010-01-20T22:48:00.003-06:00

Or do for that matter. I bought lube for my dog's penis.

Yep, you read that correctly. Apparently, when a dog's "lipstick" gets stuck in the fully extended position for too long, it can be a pretty serious condition. If it dries out and the tissue starts to die, the "lipstick" or penis will need to be amputated. OUCH!

Sometimes when a dog injures his back, he can lose control of his bladder, his legs, his bowels, and in this case, control of his lipstick retraction.

Mr. GreenJeans has been concerned about his boy's privates for a few days now. I kept encouraging him to call the doctor to discuss it. As you can imagine, he felt a little uncomfortable calling the vet to discuss his dog's penis. I mentioned that we were having a baby soon and that he might need to make some awkward phone calls regarding our baby's health, and that he might just need to man up and make the damn phone call.

That tactic didn't work either. I briefly considered throwing Rock, Paper, Scissors for it, but I can never beat Mr. GreenJeans at RPS. It's like he's a freaking psychic.

So, I called the vet and he encouraged us to bring Jack in for a penis exam. He also mentioned that in the meantime we needed to keep his penis moist and retracted as much as possible. The vet recommended KY or some similar kind of lube.

And that is why I found myself in the "adult" area of the grocery store trying to decide which kind of lube Jacko might prefer.

I went with just the plain KY. While the Warming and the His/Hers looked intriguing, I was afraid those might have the exact opposite effect of what we desired.

We took Jack in for his exam this morning and were relieved to hear that Jacko's penis is perfectly pink and healthy and that no amputation will be necessary. We still have to keep an eye on it for another week or so.

The vet also believes that Jack will make a nearly full recovery and will soon be able to walk with very little problems.

YAY!

What I'm listening to right now: Bobby Flay's Throwdown on Belgian Waffles.

Baby Showers, Baby Furniture, Baby Supplies, Baby, Baby, Baby.....

2010-01-16T22:56:00.002-06:00

Today was Ana-HOO-ack's baby shower. I meant to take a picture of the booties, jacket and bonnet I crocheted for her, but my cameramnesia struck again. Instead I managed to get quite a few good boobie shots of her while she opened her gifts. You're welcome, Brown Woodchuck.

Today has also been a little bit of an overwhelming baby day for me. Between a trip to Pottery Barn Kids, a detailed discussion of bathing babies, and beginning my baby book reading, I'm starting to feel some baby business overload. While I'm confident that I have the tools, resources, and intelligence to figure out what I need, I'm just really ready to get started. Any colleagues that have worked with me before on a big project knows that I always feel unsettled until I can start checking things off my to-do list. This is no different. I've already got my eye on a few cribs/furniture sets and I'm ready to go look and make a selection. However, because we've been unable to leave Jack alone while he recuperates, I've not been able to go out and look.

I also feel like that I have to start getting some stuff done or else I'll get behind on my project timeline. I'm really in full on work mode now. For example, I think I should have my crib and furniture picked out an ordered before week 20. That's when I find out the sex, and that's when the shopping/decorating/registering floodgates really open.

Here's some good news that might help with my baby mini-freakout: outside poops! I'm sure you're familiar with the expression April showers brings May flowers? I think there should be another expression that goes something like: Clearing skies brings outdoor poop... pies? Or maybe Clearing skies makes outdoor poop fly? Anyway, you get the idea even if the rhyming isn't the best.

I'm happy to report that today we had three poops outside by Jack! After three consecutive poops inside the house, likely due to cold, rainy weather, Jack pooped outside! Now, please understand that this isn't really progress in his paralysis as he's always had control of his poop shoot. I'm just really excited that I didn't have to pick up poop at all today.

As for Jack's health progress, he's doing great. We continue to see improvement in his back legs, both in movement and in strength. If we set his feet correctly, Jack can stand indefinitely-- or at least until he decides to move his front feet. He's also able to push himself up partially-- into something like a crouch. Also, if we have his back end lifted-- like when we're doing doggy PT or taking a potty break-- and he really wants to move, we have seen him place his feet correctly and push to pull away from whatever is holding him up. All are very encouraging, positive signs.

One thing I wanted to mention, for anyone that might be reading this who has a male "downer" dog of their own. That's what they call dogs who have full or partial paralysis in the rear, btw, "downer" dogs. I don't really like that name, so I'm not going to use it. A little negative for my taste. But, I digress.....

If you have a dog whose back legs don't move or needs a little support back there to move, here's a tip. I've had experience potty-ing with both male and female dogs with mobility problems. Girls are much easier to work with. You should also keep in mind that both of my dogs are small: mini to standard doxie sized. The main difficulty? Anatomy. Girls don't have pee pee parts on their tummies.

When our female, Prissy, had difficulty walking, we simply slipped a sling under her belly to lift her back side, and since her front legs worked just fine, she could walk around the backyard to the potty spot of her choice and go to town.

With Jack, it's been much more difficult. When he came home I was very confident that we wouldn't have any problems. After all, I've done the sling walk with a dog before and I'm quite proficient at it. We tried a strip of an old towel under his belly behind his winkie, but by the time he was ready to do his business, the towel always had slipped forward onto his winkie. Urine would soak the towel and would sometimes run down his legs and chest.

Next we tried a very thin leash, thinking the narrowness would help keep Willie free. It did, for the most part. Behind the winkie kept most of it free, but it still crept up, causing much concern for Mr. GreenJeans. He was very worried about undue pressure on his boy's privates. The leash in front worked the best, but often the skin in front of the winkie would pull to one side or the other, which in turn, would cause the winkie to list similarly. Imagine my surprise to be walking alongside Jack and feel nice warm pee in my shoe. Mmmm, good times.

However, at last I found a fantastic solution: a cat harness. If you're not familiar with this, it looks like a regular collar except that it is twisted into a sort of figure 8. It's the only thing I've found that can contain a cat's flexi-body. Anyway, we had one around and I tried looping one loop around each back leg and using a leash to support his behind. Voila! Both Willie and the poop shoot are free! Of course this will only work with smaller dogs, but I'm sure something could be rigged up for larger dogs, too.

Tomorrow, I think that Mr. GreenJeans and I are going to try a field trip. Should be interesting to see how that turns out.

What I'm listening to right now: Mythbusters

Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Chang!

2010-01-12T23:25:00.003-06:00

You're having a gas baby!!!

At least that's what my doctor told me this morning in my monthly OB exam. The conversation actually started when she asked me if I was noticing anything different about my belly now that I'm 15 weeks along.

I have noticed that my jeans are getting more snug, and most especially the area between my belly button and my boobs is really getting poochier-- way poochier than you'd think considering I've only gained 3-4 pounds.

My doc said that my top-belly pooch was probably gas as the baby only comes up to my belly button right now. She also said that my gas baby actually grows during the day and shrinks overnight. I've not noticed that trend yet myself. My gas baby seems to be pretty consistent in size; morning, noon and night.

Actually, I knew that my baby wasn't that big yet. I just thought that my growing baby was creating a sort of 'muffin top' situation. While I'm sure that you're probably familiar with the top of a muffin or a cupcake, the term 'muffin top' can also be used to describe when someone is wearing pants that are too tight. This squeezes the person's fat up and out of the top of the pants causing an unsightly bulge around the middle. Very unpleasant.

I thought my baby was growing inside me and pushing my innards up and out, thus causing the pooch above my belly button. But, no, turns out it was just an unknown fraternal twin of my baby: Gas Baby Chang.

Which leads me to a theory that I've been developing. I am convinced that if all the scientists in the world got together and figured out a way to harness the gassy energy of all the pregnant women in the world, I just know that they could solve the world's dependency on foreign oil. Or something else equally productive.

It's been a while since I had any Chemistry classes, but I'm sure that there is some sort of chemical equation that goes like this: 1 mol Progesterone plus 1 mol Food results in 1000 mol of nasty, funky gas. Maybe it's magic. I should write a letter to Congress or the President or someone important alerting them of this fantastic discovery! Perhaps all the belched gas could be burned for pollution free heat. Or maybe all that 'breaking wind' could be utilized to turn wind turbines to create electricity! Hooray! Energy crisis solved!

I'm kinda tired though. Maybe I'll work on solving the energy crisis with progesterone tomorrow.

What I'm listening to right now: Mr. GreenJeans yelling at Farley for getting his stupid cat germs everywhere. Stupid cat.

Ahhh.... It's good to not be a pincushion for a while...

2010-01-11T17:28:00.003-06:00

Some of you may already know how Mr. GreenJeans and I got pregnant. We didn't do it the old-fashioned way. We used IVF. In case you're not up on the fertility ABC's, that's In Vitro Fertilization where my gals and MGJ's guys get mixed together in a test tube to make a baby. Then the embryo (technically blastocyst, for those of you up on your Biology) is transferred to the woman's uterus to continue to grow.

That's the very simplistic view of the whole process. You can't just throw that little embryo into your uterus with some spackle and hope that it sticks. You have to trick your body into thinking it's pregnant for a while until your body, and hormones, realize they need to get busy.

That whole, 'tricking your body' portion of the process results in many, many, MANY needle sticks. By my count, it was 95 for medications alone. Some were small insulin syringes in my tummy or leg. I hardly felt those at all, but boy were they inconvenient as I had to have my injection at the same time every day. Early on in the process I went to NYC for a conference and had to shoot up in a bathroom stall like a junkie because I didn't want any of my coworkers to know what we were trying to do.

The other shots were very unpleasant. It's a daily injection of progesterone that is suspended in oil. You use a 1 and 1/2 inch needle that's at least 22 gauge or bigger because the oil is so thick. Conceptually, an inch and a half doesn't really seem that bad. I even measured it out on a ruler, drew it out on a piece of paper, and it really didn't scare me that much. But when you're in the doctor's office and the nurse is showing your husband the actual needle and how much time it takes to squirt out 50 cc's of this stuff and how long that needle will have to be in MY ass..... well, let's just say that is a HUGE reality check.

The first night that MGJ had to stick me, I was sick with anxiety. I was crying even before he had the injection ready. He was trying to choose the right spot, taking his time, but the waiting was killing me. He kept mumbling about how vein-y my ass was and pinching up this spot and that spot looking for the best spot. Finally, I just yelled, "DO IT ALREADY!" And, he did. And, it wasn't that bad.

That is until the next day. I felt like I'd been kicked in the ass by a horse. I had a knot the size of half a golf ball just under the skin that hurt to touch. Walking was painful. Tight jeans were painful. Laying on my side was painful.

Did I mention that it was painful?

It only went down hill from there. You start to run out of room to give shots, even though you alternate sides every day. If you happen to get too close to one of the existing knots when you give a shot, it would feel like there was an electric current running through the needle. A "zinger" I called them. Only heat would take the pain of those away. As the weather got colder, I found a new, fun side-effect. If one of the 'fresh' knots got too cold, it felt like a zinger all over again, no needle needed. It was fun to be out with friends, maybe at a bar on a patio when a cold front came in. While I'm sure no one noticed my incessant squirming and rubbing of my ass, I felt like everyone would think I'd developed some sort of strange tick.

With all these injections comes hormone level checks. More needle sticks. I've made friends with many of the gals at the blood draw clinic. I know which ones can draw me easily and who will have a hard time. Apparently, I'm a 'tough stick.'

Long story short: I think I've had about 110 - 115 sticks in the last three months or so. My last stick was two weeks ago tomorrow. It's been a very nice rest. Unfortunately, I'm afraid my reprieve may end tomorrow. I go for my monthly OB appointment and I fear that blood work will come with that. I think the worst is over though, for now, and I'm very glad of that.

We took Jack in today to have his stitches removed. He's doing really well, and the doctor is hopeful that he will regain movement of his legs, if not walk again. I think we're finally getting into a routine with Jack, which is a relief as I suspect Jack's recovery will be lengthy.

What I'm listening to right now: NCIS reruns

How do you name a baby if you're Chinese?

2010-01-02T21:41:00.004-06:00

Mr. GreenJeans and I went out for breakfast this morning on our way over to pick up Jack. While we waited for our food, the subject of baby names came up. We tossed around some names, and then MGJ said something like, "I don't care as long as it doesn't sound like you've dropped some silverware." Confused, I asked what he meant. Apparently, there is a joke that goes something like: How do you name a Chinese baby? You drop some silverware.

Ok, ha ha. I get it. It's highly inappropriate, but yeah, it's kinda funny. I mentioned that I'd never heard that before, to which MGJ replied, "Of course not, you're not Chinese." He is.

Then I found this on a baby naming website this evening. And suddenly, MGJ's joke, while still very, very inappropriate, became so SO much funnier.

Whether that name I found is real or not, I can already tell this baby-naming thing is going to be every bit as difficult as I thought. Our paraphrased conversation below should illustrate my point.

"I like Madison for a girl," I said.
"Can't. So and so named their girl that," he said.
"Oh yeah. How about Veronica?"
"Like Veronica Mars? I guess Veronica is not bad."
"I also like Vivienne."
"Vivienne is an old lady's name."
"No it isn't."
"Name me one young person named Vivienne."
"Well, the character that Julia Roberts played in Pretty Woman was named Vivienne."
"Wasn't she a stripper or a hooker or something?"
"A hooker."
"Then no."
"Ok, how about Alexandra? We could call her Alex or Sasha?"
"We know two Alex's already."
"But they're guys."
"Why Sasha?"
"It's a Russian nickname for Alexandra or Alexander. So, you know that girl that played Kate on NCIS? Her stage name is Sasha Alexander. She's named herself twice."
"Huh. I did not know that."
"Or we could go with just Sasha. Or Sofia, I like Sofia, too."
"Those aren't bad. I like those."
"Ok, progress. How about Zoe?"
"Stripper name."
"Daphne?"
"One of the Scooby Doo gang? No. She was the hot one though....."
"Ok, boy's names. Justin?"
"TIMBERLAKE??? NO."
"I was really thinking more of the Mac guy."
"In the commercials? No."
"I like Chase..."
"Chase Chang? No."
"Mason."
"We know a Mason."
"That's his last name."
"So? "

Fortunately our food came.

We picked up Jack after breakfast. He's very happy to be home. He's still not able to move his legs at all, but he does seem to have sensation in his toes and has some bladder control, which are positive signs.

Taking Jack home today was similar to what I imagine it'll be like taking our newborn home in July. Excited to have our little one home finally. Nervous to find out if we'll be able to handle our new responsibilities. Afraid that we won't know how to take care of or comfort our little guy.

Although I've had some experience with back injuries in my other dog, Prissy, this is different because Jack can't move his legs at all and cannot urinate without assistance. As a result of his sometime incontinence, I've had to change out of pee-pee covered clothes three times in the last 36 hours. In an effort to cut down on laundry and showers, I decided to get some small diapers at the store this afternoon to try to cover up his winkie while we're moving him outside to tinkle.

Our first effort with the diapers was similar to what I've heard diapering a boy is like: You have to recover them quickly or they shoot pee all over the place like a geyser. Unfortunately, my attempt at capping the geyser resulted in a redirect of the flow that shot MGJ in the stomach. Fortunately, I was able to cover him and get him outside before too much more collateral damage could be caused.

The plan had been all along to try and affix the diapers to Jack's middle, not like a traditional diaper that covers the whole bottom, but just a wrap around his disco stick. My dear husband and I sat stymied for nearly 15 minutes trying to get to the "sticky" part of the tabby thing on the diaper before sheer dumb luck struck and we figured out they were fastened together with some fancy schmancy velcro.

Folks, we are both reasonably intelligent, college-educated individuals that were completely stumped by diapers. I cannot wait to see how well we fare with more complicated baby doohickees.

What I'm listening to right now: ESPN commentators talking way too much about Mike Leach things that they know absolutely nothing about.

The Decade in Review

2009-12-31T12:15:00.000-06:00

I wrote the following post about a week ago and was saving it for New Year's Eve. Since then, we've had some bad news. Some of you may know that our dog, Jack, injured his back over Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, he took a turn for the worse the weekend after Christmas. We took him in for evaluation and he had back surgery this past Tuesday afternoon. I'm sorry to say that he has not had the success that Prissy had in her two back surgeries. Jack is mostly paralyzed from the waist down and will be hospitalized into the New Year. However, he does seem to be improving, slowly, and there is a chance that he will regain some, if not most, of his previous motor skills.

We do still have additional news to report, however, so here is the original post that I'd saved for today.

All this past week I've seen various news shows doing retrospectives of this past year, and less often of this past decade. This was a pretty big decade for me, so I thought I might join in the fun this New Year's Eve.

This decade started off with me in technical support dealing with panicked IT folks wondering how they should handle Y2K. Not long after that I moved into the position that I'm in currently: account manager. I've supported many accounts in this role over the past ten years: some good and some really, really bad ones. I mean, REALLY bad ones.

The most important thing that came from that job change was that I met my two best friends in that new job. Well, not really met, as I knew them both from their previous roles at the same company. But, in our new roles as account managers, we quickly bonded over dreadful accounts, practical jokes and dirty, low-brow humor. To this day, I consider Monkey Chief and Ana-HOO-ack my very best friends.

Well into the true new Millenium, I met my husband. Again, it wasn't really 'met' per se, but rather 'got to know each other better.' Mr. GreenJeans and I had mutual friends in common, and as a result had seen each other at various happy hours and other drinking opportunities.

It was that year that the first ever Dirty Girls Party was to be held at my house. The date we'd set for our grand event: Saturday, September 15, 2001. Ring any bells? Yep, that was the Saturday after the 9/11 attacks. The other Dirty Girls and I debated about whether to still hold the bash, and riding the wave of post-attack patriotism, we decided not to let the terrorists get to us. We held the party and that night, my dear Mr. GreenJeans asked me out.

It's important to note here that I've recently heard a variation on this story. However, I have a rule when alcohol is involved: If I don't remember it, it didn't happen. There's a corollary to this rule that applies here: If I remember something happening a certain way, then that's the way it happened. Therefore, Mr. GreenJeans asked ME out. And that's that.

It bothers me sometimes that he and I have the 9/11 attacks as a reference point for the starting of our relationship. The attacks made such an indelible mark on our country and on our relationship as well. I will always remember when he asked me out first, when our first date was (8 days after 9/11), when he asked me out for our second date (during the all-star 9/11 telethon that I watched at Ana-HOO-ack's house) and when I found out he was Batman (same night as the previous item). I am so very glad, however, that something so positive and wonderful could come from such a tragic time.

Not even a year after our first date, MGJ moved in with me. It was right before his 30th birthday in May 2002. At the time I was concerned that we'd not been together long, but it seemed like the right thing to do. In January 2003, he proposed to me and we planned a wedding for April 24, 2004.

Our friends, Twin Peaks and BG, married in October of that same year. Ana-HOO-ack and Brown Woodchuck married about a year after us in May 2005. That makes three of four Dirty Girls married.

I'm happy to say that the Dirty Girls are also three of four on the pregnancy/baby front. Twin Peaks has her wonderful three year old (I think) Baby C. Ana-HOO-ack is just months away from meeting her Baby G.

Wondering who the third pregnant Dirty Girl is?

That'd be me.

As of today, I'm thirteen weeks and three days pregnant. So that means that this was also the decade where we first met "The Niblet." Again, not 'met' so much as 'saw very grainy pictures of.'

Although this past decade was a pretty exciting one for me, I'm really looking forward to what the new adventures the next decade brings.

The Niblet and I wish you all a very happy New Year!

What I'm listening to right now: a clock ticking.

Yay! My 101st blog post!

2009-12-05T22:56:00.003-06:00

Which is a much better title than "Holy shit, Texas! What the fuck was going on tonight?"

So, apparently my previous blog post was my 100th blog post, which is truly surprising that I've lasted this long. I really didn't realize that I had that much to say. I logged in to discuss the near-drubbing that Nebraska gave Texas tonight and saw that I'd done 100 posts. Yay me!

And, now, back to Texas.

Are you kidding me? Ana-HOO-ack called me after the game and she was speechless. And, all I could say was, "That was ridiculous! I can't believe it! I know!" I was pretty speechless myself. While I didn't think this game was a gimme by any means, I certainly didn't think Lisa Salters would be interviewing the damn kicker at the end of the game because he saved Texas from a shameful loss to a number 22 Nebraska.

And all the celebrating at the end by Texas? Running around with roses in their teeth? We barely eked out a win over Nebraska's D with only one TD and two FGs. Bama's D? Much better than some damn Blackshirts.

Our O-line needs some serious work. They had absolutely no answer for Suh. Kirkendoll needs to be walking home from Dallas tonight with a football taped to his hands so he can fucking remember how important it is to catch balls thrown right into your chest. And, seriously, Colt? Keep your eye on the fucking clock!

*takes deep breath*

Hook 'em horns.

What I'm listening to right now: Um, is Rhianna wearing chainmail? Huh, yeah, apparently she is.

Let the Festivus Miracles begin!

2009-12-03T22:46:00.002-06:00

Or how my vacation has turned into a helluva lot of work.

If you're a regular reader of my blog, you probably know that one of my dogs, Prissy, has had some back problems over the years, resulting in two back surgeries and many more weeks of containment, also known as crate rest. Fortunately, *knocks wood* Miss Priss has not had any bouts since we've moved into our new home a year and change ago.

Unfortunately, our younger dog, Jack, can now commiserate with Prissy in her back pain experiences.

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving Jack started acting weird-- that is, not his usual hyperactive, spastic self. He's had some problems with blocked anal glands in the past which has resulted in the symptoms that we were seeing: not wanting to jump up, being especially clingy and, most importantly, problems pooping. And, btw, if you're not a dog person and you don't know what anal glands are.... well, you can Google it if you want, but it will probably just gross you out and make you want to never ever own a dog.

Mr. GreenJeans drew the short straw Wednesday morning and took Jack to the vet. This part of the story will have to rely on MGJ's retelling of the events. One thing you should know about Jack: He doesn't like strangers. He tolerates me because I'm a very warm body in his bed at night that he can snuggle up to when his Pops (MGJ) is not warm enough.

MGJ gets Jack in to the exam room and the instant the doctor lays hands on Jack for the exam, he "goes all Matrix on us." You've seen the Matrix movies, right? When Neo gets all Kung Fu and flies around the room defying gravity and kicking ass? Jack's version when touched by any strangers is similar except instead of 'kicking ass' something flies out of Jack's ass. Like the stuff that was in his Anal Glands.

Except this time POOP came out.

Yes, you read that correctly: POOP. My dog's superpower is kung fu moves and flying poop.

And this vet, who is new to the practice and doesn't yet know what a fun veterinary smorgasbord me and mine are, she says, "Oh, look! He pooped!" Then she expressed his anal glands, which made for a very smelly Jack on the ride home.

Despite my suggestion to take Jack in his crate, my husband chose the towel option to contain 12 pounds of excited, wriggling, SMELLY dog. He and Jack both needed baths by the time they got home.

Unfortunately, even though we thought that Jack was fine on Wednesday, it was apparent by that evening that the problem had not been his anal glands. Which lead me to the terrifying thought that it might be his back. This terrifies me because Jack hates his crate. He will cry, bark and claw at the walls of his crate the entire time he's in there to try and get out. He pants, drools and covers himself and the inside of the crate with pools of slobber. If left with a towel or some other blanket-type comfort, he will either pee on it and/or rub his nose on the towel until his nose is raw and bleeding which leads to a scary, bloody discovery for who ever gets home first. And the reason why it's bad if Jack hates his crate if he's hurt his back? The best treatment for back injuries in dogs that still have good motor control? Crate rest. For a month minimum.

Pretty cool, huh?

We go back to the vet on Friday to confirm the diagnosis, and yes, it's his back. Which means Jack only gets out of this crate to potty and eat.

That lasted about an hour.

Fortunately, after our last major back incident with Prissy we'd purchased a dog stroller because we were afraid she wasn't going to be able to walk well, if at all. Fortunately, Prissy can get around fine now and doesn't need it to join the family for a walk. Fortunately, even though Prissy doesn't need the stroller, it didn't get tossed in the Great Purge of '08. And, fortunately, my husband is very creative and clever and made a mobile bed out of the stroller so that Jack can continue to be MGJ's shadow, which is his usual position when he's allowed to walk around on his own steam.

You'll be happy to know that Jack is doing much better now, and while he's still got quite a bit more rest to go, I'm hopeful that we've got everything worked out to accommodate Jack's quirks.

Unfortunately, though, we weren't done visiting the vet yet.

This week on Tuesday, Farley, our cat turned up with crusty 'dirt' on his chin. He's not an outdoor cat, so the dirt was a little puzzling. I wiped it off and underneath some of the hair was gone and where the hair should have been, it looked like a patch of really bad blackheads. On a whim, I Googled 'cat dirty face,' and what do you know? I got bunches of hits on Persian Dirty Face, aka Feline Acne. Now ain't that some shit? Cat zits! Who knew?

Since it wasn't a serious condition, I decided I wasn't quite ready to see the vet again and chose the wait and see path. On Wednesday I checked his face and the blackheads had progressed into a full blown pimple or two. After seeing some of the really extreme pictures on the web, I felt it was time to return to the vet. Again.

So, today, MGJ and I took Farley back to the vet. We also had roofers here today, which meant that Farley was being a scaredy cat and was hiding under our king sized bed. In the very middle of the bed so that neither MGJ or I could reach him. After many pokes with a hockey stick, much swearing, and finally the moving of the bed entirely, Farley was retrieved and crated.

Both MGJ and I were exhausted at this point, but the fun wasn't over yet.

On the way to the vet, Farley begins to pant, which he's never done before. Apparently, we so traumatized him with the bed retrieval that he's just completely freaked out now. And then the panting begets drooling. And let's not forget the meowing. Not just any meowing. Think of the sound a cat might make if you were sawing him in half. Yeah, that's close to the sounds Farley was making.

We get to the vet, and I try to clean Farley up while we wait. Upon opening the crate door and wiping his face, I realize a smell is coming from the crate. If you've ever had cats, the smell is really unmistakable: cat pee is not a smell you ever forget.

The vet tech calls us back pretty quickly and I explain the traumatic-ness of Farley's afternoon and how we may have scared a little pee out of him, so let's be ready with some paper towels, ok? So the vet tech pulls him out, and it's not just a little pee, it was a lot.

And then, I think we might have set a record or something at our vet's office. I would bet money that no one else has had two different animals poop in their office in less than two week's time. Nine days to be exact. In nine day's time, two of our three animals have pooped in our vet's office. We only need to get Prissy in there to do some business for the hat trick. It would be like a Poop Trifecta!

Of course, my Google-diagnosis was correct and Farley does indeed have cat acne. We have to switch from our plastic feeding bowls to stainless or glass/ceramic ones and wipe his face with some Stridex-like pads daily.

But, the fun doesn't stop there folks. Our indoors cat, who likes to sleep on the foot of our bed still smells like pee and poop.

And I'm not sure if it was the ride home or the realization that he was about to get a bath that did it, but we managed to scare some more poop out of the poor guy before we were done.

By the time I'd finished bathing him, I was completely wiped out. I did, however, manage to escape with just one scratch on my left hand.

IT'S A FESTIVUS MIRACLE!

When does the Airing of the Grievances start again?

What I'm listening to right now: Prissy having a dream.

Do you ever feel like the world is going to Hell in a handbasket?

2009-11-15T21:33:00.006-06:00

You'll find that question is especially apropos when I tell you about my Friday morning, this past Friday the 13th. I was at home, working, and counting down the days until my vacation is kicked off by Thanksgiving. It's seven work days, btw, from now. Not soon enough, believe me.

Anyway, so my work for Friday morning was to review some presentations. These are presentations that are to be delivered to very large, important customers of a very large software company. I choose the longest one first and am stopped in my tracks by the first bullet point on the agenda page of the presentation. You'll never guess what it was.

Who the hell are we?

I rub my eyes to make sure I'm reading it right. Yep, it's still there: "Who the hell are we?" I can think of hundreds of other ways to phrase this in a more professional manner. How about "Introductions"? "A bit about us"? Or even "Who are we"?

But, who the HELL are we? Really? REALLY?!? When did it become okay to use obscenities in a professional, customer-facing role? Much less, put them IN WRITING???

And, frankly, I don't know if that's the worst thing about this situation. You see, I failed to mention that I was the fourth and FINAL reviewer of these presentations. Let me break this down for you: including the two speakers and the three reviewers before me, FIVE people thought that using the word Hell in presentation about software was perfectly acceptable.

Now, I'll be the first to admit, I have the pottiest of mouths. I can curse a blue streak, and have been know to, on occasion, say crude and wholly inappropriate things amongst friends. However, I would never purposefully do that in a formal a setting as a customer-facing presentation. What is this world coming to?

On a more entertaining note, I was flipping through the channels this morning and stumbled across a reality show gem that's been hiding from me on VH1. It's called Tough Love, and apparently there's already been one season of this fantastically catty, outrageously insane twist on the 'finding love' niche of reality TV.

The premise, for those of you unfamiliar, is Matchmaker Guy promises to find matches for 8 or so women. The women will live together in one house while Matchmaker Guy makes them over so that they become 'date-able.'

These women are not your average women either. They are especially tough cases. I cringe at the some of their comments and attitudes. Granted this is the first show of the season, but I just cannot see how some of these girls will ever find love given their horrible attitudes. However, I'm definitely interested in watching more of this to see how things turn out.

Another thing that will keep me watching is seeing what Matchmaker Guy says to the girls to whom I relate most: that would be Party Girl and Business Girl with a pinch of Low-Self-Esteem Girl. Or at least those to whom I related most when I was single. I shudder to think what he'd have said to me. I'd like to think that I would be open to his advice, I mean, I would have had to volunteer to be there. Who knows how things would have turned out for me and Mr. GreenJeans had there been a Tough Love on the air 8 years ago?

BTW, just got done doing some yoga. It's a little pose I like to call Fat Woman Painting Her Toenails.

Note to self: When you mess up your toenails just after your pedicure appointment, don't try to redo it yourself. Seek professional help.

Finally, a brain-teaser for you. In yesterday's South Carolina v. Alabama game, who was Steve Spurrier Is My Nemesis, a UT fan, rooting for? Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves.

What I'm listening to right now: The Colts whuppin' the Pats in the last minute of the game.

Ok, so I'm not dead....

2009-10-30T22:19:00.003-05:00

Just feeling a little under the weather lately and thus have not been feeling very entertaining. However, it has come to my attention that my lack of participation on Facebook and my blog has caused some folks to worry. I'm fine. My family is fine. We're all good here. No one is sick and or/dying.

Although I could make a very convincing argument that work is killing me. Slowly. And painfully. With much mirth.

You know that project that I do every year? That yearly event for customers that I help to plan? It usually takes 6 months, tops. Beginning to end. From choosing the leaders to the very last meeting to review lessons learned. SIX MONTHS TOPS.

I was assigned as a project manager for this gig in mid-February of this year. Our lessons learned meeting will be December 16th. I have it marked clearly on my calendar in big red letters with big smileys, stars and hearts all around it.

The work hasn't been overwhelming, in fact, quite the contrary. I've just found that I'm more of a sprinter when it comes to projects rather than a marathon-er. I like to work really, really hard for a short period of time. This year's event(s) has lingered far too long and has encroached on my lazy end of year wrap up time. This is the time of year where I complete those last few things for my goals for the year. And I'm finding the life has been sucked out of me by our event.

I can't wait until Thanksgiving, and the start of many weeks of well-earned vacation.

In cheerier news, Mr. GreenJeans and I watched the game Saturday night with Brown Woodchuck and Ana-HOO-ack. It was a Mexican food bonanza with all flavors of tamales and all the requisite fixin's. The piece de resistance, however, was the ridonculously good Sopapilla Cake that Ana-HOO-ack made. Good lawd, woman! You'd think that was a Paula Deen recipe; it was so rich and delicious.

Oh and one more thing. Do you smell that? Smells like....

Nope, not like Teen Spirit.

It's not one of my dog's farts either.

IT SMELLS LIKE ROSES BABY!!! OH YEAH!!!

Horns are now number two in the usually ineffective and inaccurate BCS ratings. Yep, I see another Rose Bowl in the near future for the Texas Longhorns.

HOOK 'EM!

What I'm listening to right now: New Orleans v. Atlanta-- go Saints!

Happiness is a great veterinarian....

2009-10-05T22:00:00.006-05:00

Or maybe it's a vet with a great sense of humor. I'm willing to bet a fair amount of dough that when my vet hangs out with other vets at vet conventions or whatnot and talks vet shop with his peers, that me and mine are the ones that make up his repertoire of funny anecdotes. I imagine it goes something like this:

"Oh you think that's bad?!? I have these three women: a granny, mom and daughter, and they all have some combination of dogs and cats. This one time, one of them came in and told me.... " Insert humorous anecdote here. I'll even make it multiple choice.

a. "Her daughter's dog escaped his enclosure while she was out, pooped in the floor and then accidentally set off the Roomba which dragged the poop all over the floor."
b. "That she took her dog to the emergency vet because it was bleeding. She didn't realize that was what happened when a dog was in heat."
c. "That something's wrong with her dog's penis and could I please examine it for infection because it's red and puffy."

To be fair, our current vet, the one I like so much, is only aware of the first thing. And, yeah, ok, the Roomba thing was me. And, fine, b was me too. But c I definitely cannot claim. I only witnessed that. I sat in the corner with my head down while my granny talked to a man less than half her age about her dog's penis. And, let me tell you, there is not enough therapy or drugs in the world that can help with that emotional scar.

Anyway, today's trip to the vet is, I'm sure, going to be fodder for Dr. B's next convention or happy hour.

Sanford was taking her herd to the vet today and asked me to assist. There are four of them: Old Man, Meatball, Nut Licker and the newest addition, Gray Stray Cat. They were all in for their yearly checkups. We were quite the spectacle: two harried women, three small, leashed dogs and a cat in a carrier.

Nut Licker doesn't like to be led on a leash as Granny let him go pretty much where ever he wanted when ever he wanted to do it. Of course he doesn't want to go to the vet, so he drags his feet and nearly slips his leash. Meatball also doesn't want to go, and because she's harnessed, she can't slip her leash. But have you ever tried to drag 15 pounds of uncooperative dog while carrying a cat and dodging three perky Pomeranians? Yeah, it's harder than you might think.

Fortunately, the whole crew is healthy, or relatively so. Despite the fact that all of Mom's dogs eat nothing but low-fat everything, two of her dogs still managed to gain weight. I suspect it's something like that phenomenon where people were eating those Snack Wells like crazy and gaining weight. Even though it's low-fat, you still have to monitor how much you eat.

We finally get to the cat, Gray Stray, and we explain that we've finally decided to take ownership of him, and we've brought him in today because he's been very lethargic and hasn't been eating well. Dr. B asks if we've ever had him scanned for a microchip. We hadn't, so we ended up scanning him. After all, if he has a family, we should return him. I would want others to do that for me.

Turns out he's registered to a feral cat catch and return organization. We call them and he'd been adopted out, but the organization can't find the owner in their 'adoption system' (read: stack of index cards).

Now, let me just say that I'm a huge fan of activism, and especially activism for those that don't have the ability to advocate for themselves. And I get that it takes a certain kind of person to lead, organize, advocate for, and support a non-profit organization. A very opinionated person. With very strong opinions.

I also understand that rules are in place for a reason. I agree with rules and policies in the name of the greater good and rules that are there to protect people. However, when the rules and policies that are there to protect and keep order are actually harmful to those we set out to protect? Well, that I really can't abide. No matter the cause.

Like our local animal shelter that won't adopt out bunnies to elementary classes because there's not someone at the school with the bunny 24/7. Even though the bunny is going to be euthanized if not adopted. Because there are hundreds of bunnies at the shelter that will never be adopted. Even though the parent wanting to adopt the bunny for his son's class is actually a vet. And promised to provide the bunny with any sort of health care it needed. For free.

No really. I'm serious. True story.

Anyway, back to today. So, Dr. B is talking with Feral Cat Lady about what to do with Gray Stray. And she says that while she's researching the real owner, that she's ok with mom taking the cat home as long as mom promises she won't let the cat outside. Because this feral cat agency does not allow cats to be adopted unless the new owner signs a document stating that they will not allow their new cat outside. Ever.

And in the course of reassuring Feral Cat Lady that my mom takes excellent care of her animals and that he's sure that mom will promise not to let the cat outside, Feral Cat Lady threatens litigation.

Fo' RILLA? Seriously? Lady you don't even know me. Or my mom. And you're threatening us with a lawyer. Over a cat. REALLY?!?

I gah-rohn-tee you that this cat will get no better care anywhere in the world than at my mom's house. You might be able to make the case that in the course of caring for her animals, that she's goes a little overboard. See above how Meatball and Old Man gained weight while eating low-fat food.

That cat will never want for food, water, comfort, or love; and without even examining the situation this lady is threatening litigation and removal of this animal.

Again, I get the need for rules, but seriously? What a fucking wack-a-doo that lady is.

And, btw, Professor, if you're reading this. The feral cat org that I recommended earlier this year to help you adopt out your kittles is the same org that we worked with today. I hereby rescind that recommendation. They suck. Like a lot. Really.

On a lighter note, I was at my Granny's house this weekend. She gets all these crazy catalogs that have little junky things in them. I actually found a few things that I'm interested in-- like a soda can organizer for my fridge.

So, I'm flipping through the first catalog I picked up, and I come across what I first thought was a toilet bowl cleaner. I thought, "Huh, what a funny looking toilet bowl cleaner." And, because I was curious how one could really get any use out of this strange looking cleaner, I actually stopped to read about it.

Turns out that it's not for cleaning toilet bowls, but hineys. It even has a quick release button for easy disposal of the cleaning medium.

And, yeah, I know it's for people who have some sort of condition that prevents them reaching their privates for whatever reason. So I shouldn't find that funny. But my inner Beavis couldn't resist it. I mean, it's a butt-wiper!

Moving on to the next magazine, which interestingly enough is titled Healthy Living. I start flipping through it, and it seems to be geared toward seniors or the disabled. Hmm, wheelchair accessories, *flips page*, walker accessories, *flips page*, hand braces, back braces, neck supports, *flips page*, life-like purple dildos, vibrators, lube, penis pumps, *flips page*, *sound effect of a record scratching*.....

Whuh?!? Penis pumps? Dildos??? WTF??

After I got my mind wrapped around the concept of sex toys and disability accessories being sold in the same catalog, I was then hit with the realization that my dear, sweet, tee-totaler of a granny gets a catalog that sells sex toys.

I thought Granny was going to pass out from laughter when I asked her if she and her sexy senior neighbors were gettin' it on all hours of the day and night.

Thank goodness Granny doesn't know how to get to the internet because she'd be super pissed that I just told everyone that she gets a catalog with sex toys in it. But I'm sure Mom will tell her. That's how she rolls.

What I'm listening to right now: Brett Farve kickin' some Packer ass.

Ah, New York City in the Fall.....

2009-09-22T15:21:00.005-05:00

So, this is the first time I've been to New York City as an adult person. Here's my childhood memory of visiting the city as a kid.

I'm more than several steps into the long, single-file climb up the inside of the Statue of Liberty. My dad is behind me. Not sure where mom is, somewhere in the massive single-file line of people inching their way to the top. We were on a trip to visit my cousins, who, at the time lived in Connecticut. We naturally decided it'd be fun for the two families to visit a national landmark.

So, as I was saying, me and my mom and dad, and my dad's sister's family are inching our way up the single-file steps to the top of the Statue of Liberty.

And, I'm crying.

Crying and begging to be allowed to make everyone behind us move so that I can go back down. I mentioned the single-file line of people, right?

Not sure why my folks thought the Statue of Liberty would be a good idea for me, the kid who, upon reaching the top of the high dive for the first time in her young life, actually DID make everyone move so she could walk back down instead of just jumping off.

We did end up making it to the top that day, though I'm pretty sure I cried all the way to the top and all the way back down to terra firma.

This visit to the Big Apple has been much, much more interesting.

And, no tears have been shed so far.

So many things have been unexpected in this trip. I've been to many large cities before: Chicago, Rome, Vancouver, LA, San Francisco to name a few. However, for me, New York is different from what I've come to expect of other big cities I've visited.

New York seems to literally buzz with activity. There are the people all over-- going to work, some tourists milling about, homeless, people actually working IN the streets. And even with all the people of other cities, I never got the feeling of such motion, such movement, such nervous energy and excitement.

We have a wonderful view of Times Square from the corner room that we're in. Last night Times Square was lit up brilliantly from top to bottom, corner to corner; with fantastic neon signs and billboards rivalling those of Vegas. Even now, in the hazy daylight, with a larger-than-life billboard of Puffy staring back at me-- all suave and dapper and telling me that He is King. Well, I almost believe that he is king.

Even though the walk to the office was a little longer than what I would have preferred, I walked it gladly. I was amazed at all the places I passed that I recognized, and was even more amazed at how different many of them looked compared to their televised versions.

For example, the Today Show studios? Tiny. Rockefeller Plaza with the ice rink and where they put up the tree at Christmas? Miniscule. The heels that Ann Curry was wearing? Actually, those seemed frighteningly higher than they look on TV.

I passed Trump Tower, replete with doorman. And the brief look I got at the inside, looks just like on The Apprentice. I could almost image Don in there giving out assignments.

I can see the Good Morning America Studios from here, and I passed The Early Show's studios this morning. Again, not what I expected.

Coincidentally, the President is here this week. I'm sure he's still here because of all the police I saw on my walk home this afternoon. There were easily several hundred officers just in a few blocks.

And, given that we're so close to the anniversary of 9/11 and seeing all the police out in force, it makes me think about what things might have been like back then, right after the towers fell.

Even though the city now is vibrant, alive, full of energy-- a stark contrast to how it must have been then-- I'm left with an unsettled feeling after walking through a sea of New York's finest. I wonder how many of them were here back then, on 9/11. How many of them remember that day, and the days that followed and might be thinking about that now as they stand, keeping a watchful eye on the leader of our country.

Definitely puts things in a different perspective as I sit in my corner hotel room looking at a 20-story tall Sean John and a whole store dedicated to color coated, chocolate candies that melt in your mouth, not in your hands.

So, I had to wait for Sanford and Travelling Girl in the hotel after work. They were taking a bus tour of the city and because of the President's visit, were unable to return to the hotel as quickly as I did. While I was working they'd also picked up some tickets to a show, maybe you've heard of it? Hair? Yeah. That one, the one that one the Tony this year for Best Revival?

I had heard how good it was, and of course the award. Travelling Girl had seen a song or two from the show on TV and was really looking forward to seeing them flip their hair and heads around like that.

I also vaguely remember hearing something about nudity in the show, but frankly, I'd forgotten that bit. I knew it was about the '60's and some hippies, probably some drugs, the Vietnam War.

Needless to say there is more than a little bit of nudity in Hair. Like the whole cast gets nude, full-frontal, right before intermission. Like HOLY SHIT, Y'ALL there's a whole bunch of man-junk runnin' loose on stage.

And, now Travelling Girl has earned a new name.

She shall henceforth be called NUDITY SCARES ME.

Nudity aside, however, Hair was amazing. Brilliant. I was completely floored, first, by what a large, talented group of folks had been pulled together in one place. I'm not sure I can find the words to describe how much better the talent was than any other show I've seen, like, ever in my entire life anywhere in Texas.

Second, the story they told was simply brilliant. Yes, on the surface, they were a bunch of drugged out hippies, but, really they were so much more than that. And, with so few words of actual dialog, these wonderfully talented musicians were able to convey a poignant, coming of age tale, that I'm sure every one of us could relate to through only their voices and music.

The tragic central character, Claude, was torn between doing what was expected of him and doing what he wanted to do with his life.

And, unfortunately, now, this trip has had tears shed too.

The imagery of a fallen soldier, laying silently on the stage, alone with a single spotlight on him with snow falling quietly around him.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't stop the tears from falling down. I have never been so moved by a live performance in my entire life. And, now as I sit writing this, I find my cheeks are wet again.

I can really understand how this show has had such a huge revival in these past years given our current war on terror. While I can't relate to the free love, drugs and homelessness, I can completely relate to the plight of trying to figure out what you want to do when there are so many voices telling you what everyone is supposed to do.

And finally, I was floored because well,

I SWEAR TO GOD THAT WAS CONSTANTINE MAROULIS ON STAGE IN ALL HIS GLORY WITH HIS MANJUNK HANGING OUT! OMG HOLY SHIT Y'ALL!

Well, you know me. Couldn't end on such a melancholy note! ; )

What I'm listening to right now: Nudity Scares Me on the phone and the news.

It's almost 10pm CT and, holy shit, y'all, is this game still on???

2009-09-19T21:44:00.003-05:00

So, tonight Texas is playing Texas Tech. A rematch of last year's spoiler of Texas' near-perfect, near-National Championship 2008 season. And that's the thing about Tech and A&M: No matter the season they're having, those two teams are always aching to be spoilers for UT's season, and they always bring their 'A' game to Austin.

Tonight is no exception.

It's been a great game, and at the beginning of the fourth quarter, it has been a very close game. Very much like last year's game. Where UT lost.

But, let's not focus on the game just yet. No, tonight was spectacular for other reasons altogether.

Tonight, while our hubs were at the game, Ana-HOO-ack got together for dinner. And, because of some challenges in finding the very-easy-to-make, no-fail, even-a-monkey-could-make-them-taste-good ribs, I ended up with cooking steak.

Which for most folks, wouldn't be a problem. However, because I didn't learn what a Meat Thermometer was until I was 35, I was concerned.

Apparently, though, I fuckin' rock at cookin' meat.

Granted Mr. GreenJeans picked out the mean. Mr. GreenJeans seasoned the meat. Mr. GreenJeans even instructed me on exactly how to cook the meat.

But I actually cooked the meat.

And it fuckin' rocked.

Ana-HOO-ack even said so.

In other news, look for updates from the Big Apple next week. I'm headed up there on business, but Sanford is coming with me. We will be joined by the lovely Travellin' Girl, who is one of mom's high school buddies. Should be an interesting couple of days for me. ; )

What I'm listening to right now: Brent Musburger talking about USC being upset today. WOOT!

So, a pregnant Ana-HOO-ack is kinda like a drunk Ana-HOO-ack

2009-09-05T21:09:00.006-05:00

Yay, college football is back!

And, we're hanging out with our very best friends, Ana-HOO-ack and Brown Woodchuck. Of course we've gotten bored with the 'Horns game because they are kicking so much ass, so we've switched over to the OU game.

Oh, and it's 9:15pm and OU still sucks.

Anyway, in case I've not mentioned it already, Ana-HOO-ack is pregnant. Yay! But now, after spending an evening with her, my best bud, I've found that a pregnant Ana-HOO-ack is very much like a drunken Ana-HOO-ack. She's so full of random comments and oversharing. Not that I mind, it's freakin' hysterical. Love you, Ana-HOO-ack! And congrats on your little JonBenet! ; )

So, back to the game, we're watching OU and BYU. We flipped over to check the score and saw that BYU was actually making a game of it, and then saw that Sam Bradford hurt his shoulder. His throwing shoulder.

Transfixed, we watched as BYU drove down the field to score at TD. We cheered, moreso for this game than we did our own, UT game. At this point, I think Brown Woodchuck FB'd that he's "not Mormon, but GO BYU!" And then we got a close up of OU's backup quarterback's face, and his facial hair. We've now nicknamed him 'stache-boy.' With the PAT, the score was BYU 14 - OU 13.

And, magically, we watched as Stache Boy tried and failed to answer the BYU touchdown. The clock ran down and number 3 OU was beaten by number 20 BYU.

It's 9:34pm and OU still sucks.

UT won their game, soundly beating the tackling dummies from Louisiana: 59 - 20. And, finally in his senior year, Colt has gotten rid of his cold sores, but he still 'gives it up to God' as much as he can in his post-game interviews. Guess some things will never change.

What I'm listening to right now: Colt McCoy, "givin' it up to God."

A Beer Tour of Alaska

2009-08-28T22:33:00.000-05:00

Another late post....

Friday, August 21, 2009

Today is the day we catch our cruise. I am so glad we don’t have to pack our bags every day anymore. I’ve already lost two fingernails to tragic suitcase stuffing incidents.

Our time in the interior of Alaska has been really nice, old folks circus not withstanding. Old folks take the phrase ‘casual traveler’ to a new extreme. For example, Mr. GreenJeans and I were the last ones off the bus today at Fairbanks International Airport. We’re flying from Fairbanks to Anchorage today and then taking a bus down to Seward to board the ship. We had to claim our luggage, check in, check our luggage and make it through security. Though last off the bus, we were the first ones through security. I’ve been sitting here at our gate, which is right by security, and the metal detector has gone of more times than I can count. The ‘special trouble’ alarm has gone off twice. Not sure what you have to do to set that off.

But, as I was saying, our trip of the interior was really pretty good—daily packing horrors aside. We tasted lots of different beers here. On our first day in Anchorage, we hit the Glacier Brewhouse. The beer was really tasty, but the food and service was mediocre at best. Mr. GreenJeans tried their IPA and loved it. It was too hoppy for me, though. If you check out their site, you’ll see that the IPA label is actually a giant green hop man. I think he might be Mr. GreenJeans’ hero. I had the sampler, but enjoyed the Blonde and the Hefeweizen the best the best. Their Porter was good, but a little too bitter for me.

The next place we had beer was at the lodge in Talkeetna. Again, Mr. GreenJeans went with the Glacier Brewhouse IPA. Again, I chose the sampler. What can I say, we’re a predictable lot. Dinner that night came with a show. We had a window seat to an approaching rainstorm. Watching the cloud progression with the mountains in the background, then watching the clouds envelope the mountains altogether was a spectacular sight. I wish I could tell you which beer I had that I enjoyed the most, but our accommodations are so backwoods that they don’t have their tap beers listed on their website. I want to say it was the Ice Axe Porter, but as my sampler was supposed to be only Alaskan beers, and the Ice Axe Porter comes from Oregon. Whatever it was, it was very smooth, dark brown and tasty.

Next up was the Salmon Bake Restaurant in Denali. Good food, great, kitschy attitude. For example, the floor in one of the dining rooms sloped at close to a 30 degree angle. The waitstaff were wonderfully decorated in piercings, tats and very expressive hair. Reminded me a lot of Austin.

Tonight we changed up things. Mr. GreenJeans had the Morning Sun Arctic Rhino Coffee Porter, which was delectable. Wonderful coffee taste, very filling: like a full meal in a glass. I had the Salmon Bake’s 25^th Anniversary Witbier. Very tasty! I love me some wheat beer! The next time we ate there, as we were in town two nights, Mr. GreenJeans had the Sockeye Red IPA and I had the Baked Blonde Ale. Neither of us enjoyed our choices as much as our first night in Denali, but both beers were still very good and full of craft brewed flavor. All of the beer we had at Salmon Bake was from Midnight Sun Brewery in Anchorage.

Ok, that’s it for now. I’m going to try to call Sanford before we board.

What I’m listening to now: Handy-Capable Sister giving her hubs, Vince, a good dressing-down.

What I'm listening to right now:

More photos from Alaska

2009-08-21T00:46:00.009-05:00

MOOSE!!! In Denali.

Me and Mr. GreenJeans freezing in Denali, with snow.

Itty bitty, teeny tiny, eencie weencie pine cones. That's my thumbnail beside them for perspective.

Bear claw marks in a tree. Or maybe from a Chupacabra. I can never tell.

Ooh, rainbow. Pretty.

Mt. McKinley or Denali. Yay! I made the 30% Club! Three times actually. They say that only 30% of visitors actually get to see Mt. McKinley as it is usually shrouded in clouds. We saw it three times during our visit, so YAY us!

This is a restaurant in Fairbanks where we tried to have lunch but it was too crowded. MGJ and I both thought this was kind of a funny name. heh-heh "She said fudge pot" heh heh. Not sure why that's so funny.

Ok, that should catch us up. Tired now. Must sleep. Catching cruise tomorrow.

What I'm listening to right now: News about ShortsGate. OMG, really? Seriously?

Facebook's Not Cooperating....

2009-08-21T00:28:00.007-05:00

Or maybe it's that Mr. GreenJeans never uses it, so therefore all the stuff that comes with it to upload pictures and such has never been installed.

So, here's a photo of me and Mr. GreenJeans at the very beginning of our death march, I mean Short Hike. I'm freshly fed and coffeed. Note the not-forced smile and genuine pleasure.

This is a picture of the very poisonous Mario Kart Mushrooms that were so abundant in the forest-y area in which we hiked.

This is a mile marker for the marathon that shared our path. Although I don't think we actually hiked 16 miles, it sure felt like we did by the time we finished.

This is some dude walking his REINDEER in a downtown Anchorage city park. Yes, you read that correctly. He was just taking his reindeer for a walk on a Sunday morning in downtown Anchorage.

This is the only excitement we had in Talkeetna. This is Stubbs the cat. He's the mayor of Talkeetna. He has a 'stub' for a tail. Thus, the name.

Ok, more pics in another post.

What I'm listening to right now: More Mr. GreenJeans TV

Life on the Broken Hip Express

2009-08-20T23:41:00.003-05:00

The first two days of our cruise tour were spent on trains. Early Monday morning we boarded the Broken Hip Express train from Anchorage to Talkeetna. Never heard of Talkeetna? Me either until this trip. That’s because only like 12 people live there. Supposedly, the town of Talkeetna is the place that the town in the TV show Northern Exposure was based on. Loosely based, that is.

Talkeetna looks nothing like the town in Northern Exposure. I can’t remember the name now and have no Internet access as I’m writing. Holling’s bar is supposedly based off of a bar in Talkeetna called the West Rib. Doesn’t look like it at all. Where Holling’s place was dark, smoky and bar like, the West Rib is bright and open with patio seating.

On first blush the town looked to have a good amount of shopping. However, just about every shop I went into was about four feet square and sold only one kind of thing. In most cases, the item for sale was the same item over and over again only replicated in different colors. Most of the time it was things I could do myself or looked to be directly from a pattern. Boring!

Then we walked down by the river, and that is where we found our leetle friend Pedro. Pedro looked lonely so we brought him with us. Pedro is a rock, btw. A magic rock. He turns green in water, but when dry is an ugly grey.

So, really the highlight of our time in Talkeetna was the trip on the Broken Hip Express.

The train is actually the Wilderness Express. However, because of the abundance of old folks of hip-breaking age and because the train bounces around like a jumping bean the whole time, I just knew one of those old ladies was going to break something. Fortunately, though, we made it through the train trip without much fanfare.

On the first leg of our journey, that from Anchorage to Talkeetna, we were seated next to Chatty Kathy and her husband, Stu. I know his name was Stu because Kathy was always saying his name:

"Stu, did you get that picture?"

"Stu, look at that cloud."

"Stu, where did I put my purse?"

"Stu, can you make sure that I have my bag with the hairspray tomorrow?"

"Stu, Stu, Stu, Stu, Stu....." And, since poor Stu could barely get a word in edgewise, we still don't know Chatty Kathy's real name.

Kathy has grown on me though. She's a sweet old gal with crazy hair and a breathy, soft voice. She seems very adventurous for her age-- like she might rather go bungee jumping or white water rafting instead of cribbage with the gals.

On the second leg, we sat across from a lady that came with her sister and brother-in-law. I felt kind of bad for her because she's such the third wheel. But, it seems she's there for a reason as her very large very, handy-capable sister is, well, not very capable at all.

Handy-Capable Sister has one arm in a sling, and is a larger-sized gal. Although she has a wheelchair at her disposal, she rarely uses it. Instead she chooses to hobble along with tortoise-like speed and grace at the front of every single line- or at least she's always in front of me. When offered assistance, she refuses, choosing instead to slip and fall making those around her gasp in horror.

One last thing before I go. The first day of the cruisetour I wore my "More Cowbell" tshirt. It's from an SNL skit with Will Farrell. So, I'm standing there, waiting for our bus, barely caffeinated and watching with some amusement and horror at the elderly circus playing out in front of me: that is, nearly 100 seniors wandering about aimlessly trying to figure out where they go. Some are in wheelchairs, some in Rascals, some with walkers, and some are very independently mobile.

In particular, the family I now call the Eight is Enough family wanders out in front of me because Grandpa wants to be first in line for our bus that has not yet arrived. I stand there sucking down my skinny latte like oxygen and I see the Grandma from the Eight is Enough family looking at me with a hint of amusement. I survey the scene around me again and look back. She's still looking at me. I whisper to Mr. GreenJeans that she's looking at me. He naturally says it's all in my head.

Finally, our bus arrives and we all move like cattle towards it. This movement brings me and Grandma closer together, within speaking range. She gets kind of a smile on her face and asks:

"Do you have cows? Or do you just like the bells?"

She's since commented on what an extensive and lovely t-shirt collection I have.

What I'm listening to right now: Some Mr. GreenJeans type show in the background as I get my internet fix.

Ahh... Free Internet! How I've missed you!

2009-08-20T23:36:00.003-05:00

I wrote this on our first night of the cruisetour but because we've not had any reasonbly priced interent in a while, I'm just now posting it. I was astonished at the rates: as much as 7 cents per minute in Talkeetna.

A Short Hike in Alaska

I actually wrote this on Sunday, August 16. Not sure when I’ll get to posting it.

Today was officially the first day of our vacation, and because of the time zone difference, I got to sleep until a very ‘late’ 6am. It was fabulous.

Even more fabulous was the great breakfast spot we found: Snow City Café. Their coffee was awesome and more importantly, plentiful. As was the food—also delicious and very plentiful.

After stuffing our gullets completely full, we started off on what Mr. GreenJeans termed a ‘short hike’ on the Coastal Trail down to Earthquake Park. On the walk over to the restaurant, we noticed lots of runners with numbers, and upon asking, found that there was a marathon going on today.

Most of this marathon was being run on the same Coastal Trail that led down to Earthquake Park.

So here we are, Mr. GreenJeans and I, waddling down this trail with giant, breakfast food babies in our tummies passing all manner of people much, much fitter than us.

That’s exactly how I want to kick off my vacation. Being reminded of how fat and out of shape I am.

That painful reminder aside, the walk was beautiful. Very, very long, but beautiful. The weather was cool and overcast, and a nice breeze was coming in off the water.

It was great until all that coffee kicked in, and there was nary a public bathroom to be found in all the miles of that god forsaken trail.

And that, friends, is the beginning of the story of How Rena Ended Up Peeing in the Woods in Earthquake Park or How Mr. GreenJeans Is Never Allowed to Be Lookout Again.

I thought for sure that such a highly-touted, public trail system would have some public restrooms along with it. This is why, when we finally made it to Earthquake Park, I just couldn’t wait any longer. I mean, we’d been on this ‘short hike’ for like two hours. I’d been holding in all that coffee for two hours!

So, I found myself an off the path with good cover and a nice sturdy tree trunk to help me balance. It’s not like I’ve not done this before after all. I copped a squat and went to work.

No sooner had I gotten started, when I hear Mr. GreenJeans gasping out, “Someone’s coming! Someone’s coming!”

That fucker is laughing at me!

Here I am, holding onto a tree trunk with one hand and my pants with another, bare ass hanging out in the very cool 50ish degree air (which is great if you’re clothed, but not so much if it’s your nekkid ass), trying not to fall ass over teakettle down the steep ravine behind me, and my loving husband thinks it’s funny.

Fortunately, I was able to nearly finish and was able to make the return trip to our hotel without further incident.

And I don’t think anyone saw my hiney.

Pictures of the hike tomorrow—did you know that Mario Kart Mushrooms grow here in Alaska?

What I’m listening to right now: SNL’s Presidential Bash

Mr. GreenJeans and His Disco Stick Are Ready to Be On Vacation

2009-08-14T21:47:00.007-05:00

I've been listening to the radio today, and you know that can only lead to trouble. Ok, it was yesterday too. I heard that Lady Gaga song, Love Game. Very catchy tune, but "I want to take a ride on your disco stick?" Really? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

And then today there was some song on, I can't remember what the name or artist was, that was talking about ho's. For some reason the word 'ho' was edited out of the song though. I couldn't understand that. You can say 'disco stick' on the air, but not 'ho'? I'm not really seeing how one is better than the other.

In other news, Mr. GreenJeans and I are officially ON VACATION! WOOT! Our plane leaves tomorrow for Anchorage, Alaska, where the high temperature will be a heavenly 55 degrees. I can't wait to snuggle my feet up in my fuzzy crocs!

We're all packed up and ready to go, and my mom is staying the night with us in order to prepare for her tour of duty with the 5 dogs and one cat that need watching while we're gone. For those of you who lost count that's our two dogs: Jack and Prissy and our cat, Farley. Then there's my mom's three dogs: Jesse (The Old Man), Lucy (The Meatball) and Kit (The Nut Licker).

Should be an interesting week for mom as Nut Licker is really turning into quite the sexual predator. You know how when you watch one of the Laws and Orders or other crime drama and they talk about how a peeping tom turns into a flasher who turns into a rapist and then a murderer? Well, Nut Licker has progressed from the nut licking to humping the other dogs in the group. I expect that any day now we'll come home to find Nut Licker standing over one of the other dogs, knife in hand with an expression of "What? I got bored."

Finally, I just finished reading a series of three books by my new favorite author, Jen Lancaster. Ana-HOO-ack turned me onto my first book of Jen's, Such a Pretty Fat, which details her efforts to become a healthier person and lose weight. I tried starting the book a couple of times, but never really got into it. However, since it had come so highly recommended by Ana-HOO-ack, I perservered and took the book on a business trip with me. Picture this: Me, a big girl, in the middle seat sandwiched in between two other people laughing my ass off, tears running down my face, trying to be quiet and not snort, and shaking the entire row of seats. Suffice it to say I enjoyed it.

So much so that for my trip home on that same trip I purchased my second Jen Lancaster book, Bright Lights, Big Ass. Enjoyed it equally well. When I returned home I called Ana-HOO-ack and found that she'd purchased the third Jen Lancaster book that was in paperback, Bitter is the New Black. We traded and I just finished Bitter on my last business trip. While I thoroughly enjoyed that book, it was a tough read at first. I think that if I'd started with that book, I probably wouldn't have finished it, nor would I have read any of Jen's other books. However, after reading the first two, I felt compelled to finish the third and was rewarded by a very honest story about a very difficult time in her family's life. Definitely worth the read, but again, start with her other two books. Can't wait till Pretty in Plaid hits paperback! For a taste of Jen Lancaster's work, check out her blog Jennsylvania.

Ok, that's it for now. I hope to be able to blog on our trip, but I'm not making any promises. Off to bed now-- or soon anyway!

What I'm listening to right now: The Old Man, whining.

Ok, I'm on a roll with the blogging tonight...

2009-08-11T20:30:00.004-05:00

I've been meaning to post some pictures of my finished dressers. Keep in mind you're not getting the up close view of them, so they look much better than they would if you saw them up close and personal. If you recall, this is what they looked like. Or looked like after I'd worked on them a bit and then remembered to take a picture so you could see an ugly before and fa-boo after comparison.

Drum roll, please......

TA-DAH!

I'm ecstatic over how these turned out. Unfortunately, the coffee table that I also refinished did not turn out so well. You will not be seeing pics of it here. It's just too sad looking.

What I'm listening to right now: blissful silence, or as silent as you can get in a popular downtown Chicago hotel

Hello from Chi-Town

2009-08-11T19:23:00.011-05:00

I'm visiting my favorite customer this week in Chicago. I'm feeling like I'm already on vacation. I thought that I was going to have another week of hot weather, but this afternoon's temps were just PERFECT! I stay in a hotel just outside Millennium Park, so I get to walk through the park to my customer's building. This morning, while cool was also quite muggy. Any perspiration had no where to go, so I felt warmer than the temperature indicated.

This afternoon, however, the air was nice and dry and COOL. After work, I couldn't resist taking a nice long walk around the park. I love how there is always something going on there, especially in the summer.

First off was the water walls:

You can see my customer's building just to the left of the water wall. See the big gap-looking thing in the middle? It actually is a gap in the building. When they originally had this built, it was engineered such that when they were ready to expand the could just double their space by putting a whole 'nother building on top of the original. The gap is where the original building stopped and the new one begins. Pretty neat, huh?

Next up, sculptures behind the water wall.

The dino has a big Made In China written on the front. Couldn't figure out what that meant.

Another thing I couldn't figure out? Why a big golden sow was hanging upside down with a baby holding onto it's leg from some sort of truck looking thing.

The final "sculpture" was obviously some trash left behind by a giant. A Freebirds-eating giant. Get it? Its the foil wrapping on his burrito?

Continuing on my path toward the lakefront and the breeze that goes with it, I followed behind the Mad Hatter who was on a date. They were looking for a place to 'park nap.' Is that hippy-code for doin' it I wonder?

These kind of geese give me the creeps. I think its their black faces and black dead eyes. There were like 50 of these things along the lake front walk. I kept my eye on them and made no sudden movements.

In the elevator on the way back down for my walk this afternoon, a woman I shared the ride with told her companion that she refused to look at the little screens in elevators anymore because she was tired of always being sold something. "There are commercials and ads everywhere now," she said, "Gas pumps, movies, and even elevators." I thought of her when I saw this on my lakefront walk.

And, then I was really pissed at Geico, because for the remainder of my pleasant walk, all I could hear in my head was duh-nuh-nuh-nuh "I always feel like... somebody's watching meeee. And I have no privacy. Whoa-oh-oh-oh."

And, no, I will probably never choose Geico for my insurance needs, regardless of how much money I could be saving because I simply cannot reward bad behavior (or commercials/ads in this case) with my business.

Finally, after a lung-collapsing sprint while holding my breath as I passed a row of Lollapalooza port-a-potties left from this past weekend, I came to Buckingham Fountain. Then, instead of the Geico commercial in my head, I had the Married With Children theme in my head-- "Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage... dah dah dah dah like a horse and carriage..." I'm too lazy to look up song lyrics for a second time in one night.

And, with an extra cool, extra strong breeze to blow the Lollapa-potty stink off me, it was the perfect way to wrap up my walk. Feeling nice and relaxed with a clear head, I'm ready to return to my room to do some work and turn in for a good night's....

duh-nuh-nuh-nuh I always feel like... somebody's watching meeee. And I have no privacy. Whoa-oh-oh-oh.

*shakes fist* Stupid Geico!!!! Your stupid commercial is stuck in my head again! And I used to really like that song. Shame on you, Rockwell, for selling your soul (song) to the devil!

What I'm listening to right now: Bones on TNT.

Well, it had to happen sooner or later......

2009-07-28T01:09:00.002-05:00

For the first time in about a month, I've got insomnia.

About a month ago I mentioned that I'd had a sleep study done to determine if I had something called Restless Leg Syndrome. Apparently, I do. I've been taking a medication called Mirapex for almost a whole month now, and boy, let me tell you.... that is the best stuff in the world!

I've slept REALLY well since taking it. And, while I wouldn't say I wake up feeling refreshed, I do feel like I have more energy during the day and I feel like I have more focus. Additionally, I've been dreaming. Which is really weird for me, because in just the last month, I've dreamed more than I have in the last year.

I always thought my lack of dreaming was just because I didn't remember the dreams when I'd wake up. But now, I really think that I wasn't dreaming-- a fact that was confirmed by my sleep study.

My dreams have ranged from pretty mundane to totally freaky, which I would assume is the norm for most folks. One memorable one involved Mr. GreenJeans. In my dream, or rather nightmare, he just decided that he was going to cut off his hand. He just casually mentioned it over dinner one night, "So, I'm going to the doctor in the morning to have my hand removed. It's just a small procedure so I should be back at work in the afternoon."

Excuse me?!?

Of course, I make with the freaking out, as any sane person would. But everyone else in my life seems to be ok with MGJ cutting off his hand and so, he goes through with it. He comes home from the doctor's office already fully prosthetic-ized. His new hand moves. Like Thing from the Adams Family. Only attached to my husband's left arm.

The last thing I remember was dream me in bed with MGJ and Thing. Dream me wakes up to MGJ, or rather, Thing putting the moves on me. Thing is on my boob. And moving. Imagine you're entertaining a small child with a sock puppet. Your hand's movements? That's what Thing was doing to my boob.

Just about the time that dream me wakes up and realizes that she's being molested by Thing, real me wakes up. In a cold sweat.

And, now that I've recalled this lovely dream, I'm pretty sure I won't be able to go to sleep for at least another hour or so.

Oh well, MGJ always did say that I did my best blogging when sleep-starved, slightly drunk or highly stressed.

What I'm listening to right now: Nothing.

Eighteen days and counting.....

2009-07-27T21:40:00.002-05:00

That's eighteen days until I don't have to think about how much my company gets charged for catering by it's 'preferred' vendor.

Eighteen days until I can sleep 'till damn good and ready to get out of bed.

Eighteen days 'till I can wear long sleeves without sweating. For that matter, eighteen days until I can FREAKIN' GO OUTSIDE without breaking a sweat.

Eighteen long days until I can get the hell out of Texas and the unseasonable, unbearable, El Nino heat that has taken up residence in my wonderful home town.

Eighteen days until I'm on vacation! Woot!

I can't wait. I'm already having trouble working because my mind drifts to my very exciting to do list of packing for vacation. Being from Texas, I will probably take every single article of clothing in my 'winter' wardrobe.

Something else I'll be taking on my trip? That'd be my fancy new Invisilign braces. Yep, I've got braces, and for the second time, too. My maiden voyage started in the fourth grade. Fortunately, I was done with the whole thing by the time I'd gotten to high school.

Unfortunately, when one gets older, if one does not wear one's retainer forever, then one's teeth start regressing back to their former spacing.

Since I've spent more than 20 years of my life with perfectly spaced teeth, I kinda don't want that space back in between my two front teeth.

You might think that there'd be lots of differences between regular braces and Invisilign, but you'd be wrong. The first three days of wearing the Invisilign felt like all of the regular braces "tightenings" I'd ever experienced. And, while most of the time your teeth are encased in smooth clear plastic, when you eat and you have to take out your Invisilign 'trays,' your cheeks are constantly rubbed, pinched and poked by these little nubbins attached to your teeth. They are as rough and scratchy as the brackets on regular braces. The good news is with Invisilign, I only have 6 nubbins in my mouth, whereas with braces, I had a bracket on every tooth.

And, just like my old regular braces, I can't wait to be done with the Invisilign braces!

Finally, I just about wrapped up one of my summer projects. I spray painted the chest of drawers and dresser this weekend. I was covered head to toe with paint. And, although I was wearing a facemask while spraying, I'm pretty sure the inside of my nose was covered in paint too.

I'll post pictures of my purty new furniture when I remember to bring my camera with me when I sit down to type, when I'm not too lazy to get up and get my camera to upload the pictures, or when the technology is invented that will telepathically float the pictures from my camera in my office over to my laptop on my lap in the family room.

Well, it's been a long day of thinking about where in this house my ski jacket is located. Nighty night!

What I'm listening to right now: "WE LOVE ZAMIR!"

Go Ahead, Punk, Make My Day

2009-07-12T21:08:00.002-05:00

Many years ago, probably close to 25 years now, one of my dad's sisters moved to Austin for a bit. She stayed with us for a short time, and then she moved into a trailer park not far from our house. I suppose she felt unsafe living there alone, so one night she came back over to the house so that my dad could give her a gun and show her how to use it.

Even then, at 12, 13, 14-- whatever age I was then, I was very afraid of being in the same room with the thing. They were in the kitchen, and my dog was in there with them. I didn't want them to accidentally hurt her, so I scooped her up and took her and me away from them.

Fast forward 20 or so years. Mr. GreenJeans has been on about going to the shooting range for several months now. He felt that shooting his gun would help relieve some of his work stress. He thought it might be something that we could do together.

So, yesterday, for the first time in my life, I touched a gun. More than that, I actually fired the thing.

And, I have to say, it did not suck.

In fact, I rather enjoyed it.

Once I got past the completely irrational fear I had that the thing would spontaneously combust/explode/begin firing by itself-- once I got past that, I actually started getting into it. I found myself trying to hit the target. And, once I realized that I'd hit the target before Mr. GreenJeans, well... I was completely won over.

Granted, Mr. GreenJeans hit the target more often than I did, but I was still first. Here's a picture of my first two hits.

Pretty good, huh?

I expect I'll go back next time Mr. GreenJeans wants to go shootin. I have no desire to hunt or protect myself with a gun, but it sure is fun to shoot little holes in a big red target.

What I'm listening to right now: Texas Parks and Wildlife storry about Fort Parker State Park.

Why I Love Our New House: Reason Number 134

2009-07-03T23:57:00.005-05:00

I guess I can't really call our house 'new' anymore-- in just two short months, we'll have been here a year. However, I'm still discovering reasons that I really love this house!

For example, tonight they had a fireworks show over The Reservation Golf Course, and I felt confident that we might be able to see some, if not all, of the show from our front yard.

Even though there was a tree between me and the show, it was still pretty freakin' cool. The fireworks seemed to go on for more than 15 or 20 minutes, and I'd bet that if we'd moved from the front walk to somewhere else in the yard, we might have had an even clearer view. However, I think we'll have to make this a yearly event like the seafood boil.

Sanford, The Lawnmower Man, Ana-HOO-ack, and Brown Woodchuck joined us for dinner. It was great catching up with Ana-HOO-ack and BW as it had literally been months since we'd gotten together-- in fact, it might have even been before Christmas! What a terrific evening!

Earlier today I had my first orthodontist appointment to take molds of my teeth. I had very vivid memories of the first time I'd had this done in the fourth grade for my first round of braces. The material they used back then to capture the shape of my teeth was so runny and gooey that it felt like it was running down the back of my throat. I remember gagging and thinking that I was going to hurl the whole time the molds were in my mouth. I also remember it took so long to complete the process: it felt like the molds were in my mouth forever.

Expecting the worst this morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find that either the process has changed greatly or I have changed greatly. Because I'm going with Invisilign this time and not standard braces, two sets of molds had to be taken. The first set was in my mouth for 30 seconds and the material was more like a paste than the runny material I remembered. The second set had to stay in for about three minutes, but nothing felt like it was running down my throat.

Or maybe my 38-year-old gag reflex is a little better now than when I was only ten. ; )

Happy Independence Day!

What I'm listening to right now: Some douchebag ghost hunter guy talking shit to a bunch of spirits in a haunted brothel. He seems a little too excited to me, like maybe he's expecting a ghostly BJ or something.

EEG Paste + Hair = Bad Idea

2009-07-01T21:15:00.004-05:00

Ok, maybe not a bad idea, per se, but definitely not a good idea.

I had my sleep study last night. Terrible experience. I recommend avoiding having one if possible.

I stayed up late the night before and got up extra early the day of so I'd be ready to sleep when the time came. Unfortunately, I was not successful.

I always have problems getting to sleep when I'm away from home, and this overnight stay was no exception. However, my discomfort was compounded by the fact that I was hooked up to nearly twenty wires. Every time I moved I either got more tangled up, or the ones that were just snapped on, snapped off. I couldn't brush the hair out of my eyes because my fingers would get caught on some wires. Every time I moved my face, this wiry thing that ran across my upper lip would poke me in the nose or my bottom lip.

Imagine your worst night of insomnia-- how you toss and turn and can't quite get comfortable? Then imagine that same feeling PLUS being stuck in the middle of a giant strand of tangled Christmas lights. Yeah, that about covers it.

And I've not even mentioned the sticky residue left on you the next day-- the EEG paste in my hair, the tacky tape backing. And btw, despite its oiliness, Goo Be Gone does not moisturize your skin very well.

At least I should be able to sleep well tonight. I hope!

They asked me to go online to fill out a survey today, basic stuff about my experience and about my sleep habits and symptoms. Most of the questions were very obviously asking about a symptom specific to one of the many sleep disorders mentioned in a video they made me watch while wiring me up last night.

But some, left me a little puzzled, and slightly amused:

Do you often sleep for more than 10 hours at a time for extended periods? Ok so this isn't a weird one.

Do you often sleep for more than 10 hours at a time for extended periods AND, upon waking, have an insatiable or uncontrollable desire to eat? Uh, yeah, dude. Ever heard of PMS??!? Just kiddin', really I answered No to this one, too.

Do you often sleep for more than 10 hours at a time for extended periods AND, upon waking, have an insatiable or uncontrollable desire for sex? Uh, WTF?!? What the hell kind of sleeping disorder is THAT? A sleep disorder that makes you horny? Wow. I am without words.

Nighty night!

What I'm listening to right now: nothing

Holy Shit, Y'all!

2009-06-26T22:46:00.004-05:00

What a crazy couple of days!

Tonight was the first of two nights of high school reunion fun. And, the title of this post pretty much sums up my feelings right now.

Despite my efforts to the contrary, I was very nervous this afternoon. The nerves really weren't too bad until I started getting dressed. I knew once I got there and saw some folks that I knew I would be fine. However, the getting there was killing me. I don't think I was as nervous for my wedding five years ago!

Tonight's event was held at a bar in Pflugerville called Hannover's. It wasn't there when we graduated. Rather, the building was, but it was probably something else back then. When I arrived I was immediately greeted by two girls and a guy, and I remembered all three of them. I wasn't close with any of them in high school, but they all three greeted me like we had been and currently were best friends.

I quickly made my way to the bar and we were finally served. As we got our beers, two girls across the bar waved at me excitedly. I didn't recognize them at first, but waved back anyway, and then it hit me. I DID know them!

Eventually, I ran into the three people that actually drove me to attend this shindig. At least one of this group had missed all the other reunions we'd had over the years. Here we are all together again though, finally, after twenty years... (Incidentally, Brown Shirt Girl is the girlfriend of the bearded guy.)

It was great to see them, and it was almost like we'd not been apart at all. I won't bore you with our oh-so-not-cool high school escapades. We were tragically not hip. But we always had fun, just like we did tonight. Between the four of us, I think we managed to come up with the names of most folks there that we went to school with.

We voted for who was most changed and who'd not changed at all. One guy had changed so much he was unrecognizable. All the girls were shocked when we found out who he was. Back in school, he was one of those guys that all the girls drooled over. He's definitely not that guy anymore.

But really, are any of us the same person we were twenty years ago?

What I'm listening to right now: Guy Fieri talking about pupusas. Pupusa. Pupusa. Heh heh. Sounds funny. Pupusa. Heh heh heh.

Stunned...

2009-06-25T21:55:00.004-05:00

A theme recently in my blog has been my past. Everything these days reminds me of something in my history. I think because my 20 year high school reunion is this weekend, I am thinking more frequently about all things that have come before.

Today, with the death of both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson, I'm again thinking about my past, but this time from a different perspective of my partying days.

For example, I remember desperately wanting to have Farrah's hair growing up. Unfortunately, my thin, fine, straight hair had no chance of sporting the famous Farrah 'wings.' However, I did have a Farrah Barbie doll whose hair was always styled with the wings I wanted.

Michael Jackson also was a great influence in my younger years. One of the first albums I owned was Thriller. We didn't have MTV till I was in high school, so the way I saw the video for Thriller for the first time was at the Playland skating rink while rollerskating. On skates with four wheels. And a stopper in the front. They looked like tennis shoes, and had a blue pom-pom on each skate's toe. Those were some really sweet skates.

In addition to the usual sleepover fare of Light as a Feather and Truth or Dare, I can also remember mimicking the Thriller dance moves with my girlfriends. I would be willing to bet that every single person I see at my reunion this weekend attempted the Moonwalk at one time or another in their younger days. I know I did.

Its such a shame that Jackson's legacy won't be just his great music or hip dance moves, but that he will also be remembered for the craziness of his later years. Perhaps I'll just try to remember the Michael Jackson of my youth.

What I'm listening to right now: A Michael Jackson/Farrah Fawcett tribute

June is Retro Month.... Or as I like to call it: My Life, Recently

2009-06-19T15:14:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about my past this month. I've met up with old friends that I've reconnected with on Facebook. I've run into old friends at various restaurants around town. And, now, as I'm preparing for my 20 year high school reunion, well, I can't help but think about what used to be.

Today was no exception. Today I met my Dad for lunch downtown and then walked the 5 or so blocks from his shop to the hair salon for my pre-reunion haircut. It was a trip down Memory Lane, or, 4th street, as was the case for me.

You see, Austin has two 'entertainment' districts. The better known of the two is the world famous Sixth Street, where most of the kids in town spend their college years drinking cheap, festively colored shooters of foulness. The other is called the Warehouse District and is focused around the intersection of 4th Street and Colorado. The Warehouse District is where the older or gayer in Austin go to party.

Today's walk was more like an historical tour of my Era of Debauchery.

And, it kinda made me feel really old.

It was good to see that most of my 'regular' haunts are still around: Fado's, Gingerman, Speakeasy, Cedar Street.... but, many places I occasioned have gone the way of the Dodo.

For example, one of my first forays into the Austin bar scene was at a place called The Lizard Lounge. I saw Adam Ant there-- on what was probably his first comeback tour.

Later, Lizard Lounge became Polly Esters. I loved wrapping up an evening of drinking there.... dancing my way to a relatively sober state before figuring out how I was to get home. I remember a girlfriend of mine and I flashed our boobs there once to get free drinks one night. It's now a gay bar called Kiss Fly. There's a joke there, I just know it.

And, speaking of gay bars, it's good to know that drunken, straight girls still have a place to go in Austin to dance their asses off with hot, albeit entirely unavailable men. I'd heard a rumor a while back that Oil Can Harry's had closed down, which was my gay dance club of choice. It made me sad to think that future generations of party girls would be unable to have such an experience, as gay dance clubs ALWAYS have the best dance music with the added bonus of not being groped by that short, hairy, sweaty or generally unattractive guy. However, as I walked further, I saw that Oil Can's was still there. So, hooray! Two choices for awesome dancing fun! The tradition will live on!

As I walked I reminisced about this place or that. Many of the names of places are different now, and some I couldn't even remember the name that each place used to be.

However, I found I could still remember what I drank there. For example, at the aforementioned Polly Esters, it was Lemon Drops and Miller Light. There was this other place further down that had the best Cosmo's, calimari, and it had the bonus of being a microbrewery. At Fado's, it was Boddington and Oatmeal Cookie shots-- we made friends with a bartender there that made the best Oatmeal Cookie shots.

One night for Twin Peaks birthday, we wore name tags that said, "Hi, my name is Twin Peaks and I've had {blank} Oatmeal Cookie shots!" We always lost track of how many shots we'd had, so, that night, every time we had a shot, we made a little tic mark on our nametag. Those nametags were quite the conversation starter that evening!

There are other memories, less drunken ones, of Twin Peak's farewell dinner at Kenichi, where my now-husband, Mr. GreenJeans did a shooter of the remaining wasabi to win a bet.

Or, I remember watching as Ana-HOO-ack and Brown Woodchuck FINALLY did the courtship dance in the courtyard behind Polly Esters.

I even passed the place where LaBurnsie lifted my skirt as we walked from one bar to the next. Fortunately, I'd chosen full coverage panties that night. And, yeah, that isn't one of the less drunken memories.

As I approached my hair salon, I was feeling a bit nostalgic for my old partying days, and mentioned as much to my hairdresser. She's about ten years younger than me and single. As we caught up with each others lives since we last spoke, and she described her life, much of that nostalgia left me as I remembered some of the lowlights of my single, partying days. The main lowlight being that I was, in fact, single. It really put my nostalgia in perspective.

After all that, I'm left with a lot of good memories, but with a great deal of appreciation for what I have now.

Happy Friday!

What I'm listening to right now: A bird chirping away outside.

Never have I had a more unsatisfying meal....

2009-06-17T21:24:00.002-05:00

Mr. GreenJeans and I are trying to eat at home more often. We selected Wednesday evenings as a good night to go grocery shopping as it's not too crowded, after about 8ish, and the store has been replenished from the weekend's plundering.

Of the two grocery stores nearest us, we actually prefer the one that's further away as it is bigger and has a better selection. We've been going out to eat before hand, choosing some of the restaurants in the little town north of us. Today's choice was a new Buffalo Wild Wings.

I can't remember having a worse dining experience! We ordered the corn dog bites for an appetizer, and we were glad we did as the wings took forever to come out. We ordered 24 wings with three different sauces-- for those of you that are mathematically challenged, that's 8 wings in each sauce. We also ordered the sour cream, onion and cheese potato wedges.

We received 6 wings in each of three sauces-- for a total of 18 wings. Our server didn't notice that our order was shorted wings or that we were missing potatoes altogether. Once we pointed that out to him, he was quick to correct the issue however.

Now on to the food quality. It was terrible. I told Mr. GreenJeans that if this had been my first wing experience when he and I met, I would never have tried wings again. While the wings seemed to be thoroughly cooked, the skin was not crispy. I'm not sure there's much else in the world worse than eating non-crispy chicken skin. It's all rubbery and has the consistency of biting into fat. After a few bites of that, I started focussing on the potatoes.

And, speaking of the potatoes: They were labelled as Sour Cream and Onion, with added cheese. I assumed we'd get fried potato wedges topped with real sour cream, or something similar, some sort of green onion type thing, and cheese-- like you'd get on a baked potato. We received some sad, maybe-fried potato wedges that were coated in some sort of flavored powder which, I guess, was supposed to represent the Sour Cream and Onion component. The whole thing was covered in grated cheddar cheese, which clearly had been microwaved to death. Had it not been for the Ranch dressing left over from my wings, even those 'taters would have been a tough sell.

Bottom line: Buffalo Wild Wings = Bad Dining Experience

What I'm listening to right now: Ice Road Truckers. Mr. GreenJeans has control of the remote.

It was a dark and stormy night....

2009-06-11T22:41:00.010-05:00

Me and the family hit the 'storm shelter'/pantry.

Scared babies.

This is our emergency radio. It's supposed to run for 30 minutes if you crank it for 2 -3 minutes. That was not our experience. It was a free gift, though.

After the storm. Will probably have more pics once the sun comes up.

And, of course, the cameramnesia struck again as I didn't get any pics at the HH. So, I didn't get any pics of Country Girl, Country Mom, Naturopathic Girl, Poker Wife, La Burnsie, La Loca or Content Keeper. That list was for you, Country Girl! ; )

What I'm listening to right now: Mr. GreenJeans comforting the babies after their traumatic evening.

Could I get some salt with this crow, please?

2009-06-11T21:53:00.003-05:00

Let's start with a little background for you.

Let's go back 10-11 years. My mom and I are on the last leg of our flight to BC Canada, which was the leg from Vancouver to a little town called Kamloops. The plane was tiny: only three seats across, two on one side, and only one on the other. We'd rented a houseboat in Salmon Arm, BC.

Mom cannot sit still. She is fidgetting like crazy and kicking her legs this way and that. I gave her such a hard time about not being able to keep herself still. Turns out Mom has Restless Leg Syndrome, which, btw I also thought was kind of a goofy, made up illness.

That is, until two nights ago.

I was up most of the night, and even came close to getting Mr. GreenJeans to take me to the ER because my legs hurt so much everytime I tried to stay still. I ended up pacing for hours to relieve the discomfort.

It was so bad, I went to the doctor for it. I just couldn't imagine spending another night like this.

Some of you may recall my blogging about Mr. GreenJeans having to do a sleep study for his apnea? Well, I teased him a little bit about that, and his Darth Vader mask that he received upon completion of the study.

Well, guess how you diagnose, conclusively, that a person has RLS?

Oh, yeah. You see where I'm going with this, right? A sleep study.

Now, I'm getting grief from both Mr. GreenJeans AND Sanford. Damn, I LOVE me some crow!

In other news, we finally got some rain here. And some hail. I'd scheduled a Girl's Night Out, which was a big success, btw. The late arrivals had just gotten there when we started getting husband calls with weather updates. We ended up calling it an early night and bugging out.

And, this is not the first time this has happened. Another GNO got rained out, and both Naturopathic Girl and I were at that one too. I think there might be a trend forming!

I made it home well before the storm hit in earnest. I had time to change clothes and move my porch plants up by the house before it started to rain. I was out on the front porch watching the storm come in when I saw something in the street moving. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a SNAKE! *gasp*

The snake was moving from our side of the street to the park side. I ran inside to tell Mr. GreenJeans, and when we came back out, the snake was gone. Mr. GreenJeans was ok with that, and I guess I was too, but what bothered me most was wondering where the HELL did that snake come from? It had to have been somewhere in our yard, which really freaks me the fuck out. And this snake, was much bigger than the one that Mr. "Snake Killah" GreenJeans dispatched with the Snake Wedge after we'd moved into this house last year.

Long story short, we spent a sweaty 20 minutes in the pantry with the dogs and cat. We're all fine, but it looks like my flowerbed plants got the beat down. : (

What I'm listening to right now: Susan Vessell telling us that we're in the clear for the night on the north side.

Hysteria, my friend, I've missed you!

2009-06-08T21:24:00.005-05:00

Last week my workload went from zero to 60 in 2 seconds flat. The Seminar that I was supposed to co-project manage this year with my pal, CAC, was changed from one 4 day event in one city to a 2 day event in at least 6 different cities across the US. Maybe even 8 cities, just depends on how things work out.

Now, instead of having a plan and a process that we've developed over a decade or more's time, we're winging it. And, today, I realized just what an obsessive planning freak I am. Once the enormity of this new project finally set in, I could not think of another thing until I got some sort of a start on a plan.

Now that I've gotten a draft of a plan, I'm feeling better about being able to accomplish this feat.

Ask me how I'm feeling about this project in six weeks.

Here's some pics of my latest project: refinishing a bedroom set of a bureau and chest of drawers.

Obviously, I've already started on it a bit, but this is essentially the before. Damn, cameramnesia again. I forgot to take a picture before I started at all. Let's hope I don't forget to take an after.

What I'm listening to right now: listening to Guy Fieri talk about how good the pizza is at a place called Louie's in Dallas. Q-- We may have to check that out next time I'm up your way.

First Tomato and Other Photos

2009-05-31T21:59:00.008-05:00

Yesterday I found that one of my tomatoes was ripe enough to pick! I think it needs a little more time to ripen up a bit more, but I was afraid a deer/squirrel/rabbit/varmit would beat me to it. Can't wait to eat it! I think fresh tomatoes from my own garden are just about the tastiest things in the whole world!

Here's a picture of Mom at the garage sale last weekend. Unfortunately, you're missing the stink-eye she gave me right after taking this pic.

Another view of the sale. I really wish I had an 'after' photo so you could see how much we got rid of. But, I guess the fact that we made almost $1000 tells the same story a pic would have.

Here's a pic of a sleepy little girl that had too much fun at the garage sale looking cute for all the shoppers.

What I'm listening to right now: Bobby Flay thowin' down.

The Week in Review-- Ok, It's Really Two Weeks

2009-05-28T20:43:00.004-05:00

It's been a busy couple of weeks since I last posted. I'm exhausted. Between playing nursemaid to Mr. GreenJeans and a full holiday weekend, I've hardly had time for anything. Oh, and then there's that new addiction I have-- Virtual Villagers 3. MGJ says the only reason I like that game is because I like bossing the little people around. I don't think he's far off on that as I find myself muttering from time to time, "Get back to work, bitches!"

MGJ's knee is healing up well, at least that's what the doc says. Both MGJ and I, however, are a little impatient. We both remember his last knee surgery, in 2001, and how quickly he recovered from that one. However, this surgery was a little more involved, and he is older now, so his knee is still swelling up and he can't bend it well on most days. He goes back to work on Monday, which is the same day I head to my favorite (always delayed) airport: Newark. I can only hope I'll have cooler weather to enjoy while I'm visiting customers up yonder.

This past weekend Sanford held another of her garage sale extravaganza's. It's official, we have 'regulars.' This year we had several folks come up to us and say how excited they are to see that we're having a sale. I'm not really sure how to feel about that. Just call me "Grady," I guess.

This sale certainly didn't let any of our regular shoppers down. She's been stockpiling stuff since Mr. GreenJeans and I moved into the Dim Bulb Apartments last summer. We're now calling that event the Great Purge of '08. Between that, purging Granny's place so she could move back home after her hip incident, and Mom's spring cleaning, we had a full storage unit of stuff to sell. Mom's garage was also full, as was her living room.

It was a busy sale, too. We usually have breaks in between waves of people, but this year, the crowds were steady all day long. We had no time for rest. The good news-- we made almost $1000 in two days and got rid of a bunch of junk. It never ceases to amaze me what a fabulous saleswoman Sanford is. I've never seen anyone quite so capable of talking folks into paying us for junk that they don't really need.

After the sale, I met up with some current and former coworkers that were in town for the weekend. It was a mini-Lotus reunion. As a result, I discovered a new cool website: vrbo.com. It stands for Vacation Rentals By Owner. One of the gals in town rented a cute little house down by Zilker Park for just $200 per night. I've got a week's vacation that is, as yet, unaccounted for, so my mom and I are going to do something together that week. Right now, the front-runner is a houseboat in Boston at the Charleston Navy Yard in Boston Harbor. A close second is a little Brownstone apartment in the Back Bay area that's a block off Newbury Street. Both under $200 per night. Vrbo.com may be my new favorite website! Thanks, KK!

Today I had some bloodwork done. Never a fun thing for me as, apparently, my veins are invisible. And, since my stay in the hospital several years ago, where it seemed that I was poked hourly, I've had a pretty big phobia of having someone take my blood. In fact, since then, if I don't have confidence in the tech's abilities, I ask for someone that at least looks as if they know what they're doing. The lady today seemed to know what she was doing, but damn was she rough, and as a result I'm bruised on my right arm.

Thanks to Mr. GreenJeans, I have a matching bruise on my left arm in almost the same place as the right. I swear the man is covered in sharp, pointy angles.

He gets into the car after pumping gas and inadvertently elbows me in the arm. As I am laughing and cursing him, he says, "I thought, 'What a weird place to put a marshmallow, until I ran into your arm bone.'" Thanks so much, my dear, loving husband. You're a peach, really.

What I'm listening to right now: Duff Goldman talking about how he met Mary Alice.

It's Darth, Lord Vader if you're nasty....

2009-05-15T21:04:00.004-05:00

I recently mentioned that Mr. GreenJeans was going to do a sleep study to see if he has sleep apnea. It was an itty, bitty mention, but some folks picked up on it and have asked how that went for him.

Turns out MGJ has mild sleep apnea. He's been prescribed one of those face mask breathing machine thingies which he received yesterday. I had my doubts about his ability to even get to sleep with this thing on his face, much less get a full, restful night's sleep. But, once he got himself situated, he said he slept like a rock the whole night. Didn't even notice when I got up to sleep in the guest room.

Because you see, while he slept well, I did not. Sure, part of it was my own insomnia, but the rest of it was my brain's inability to shut off the internal giggles that were desperately trying to escape my body. I'd been laughing since I first saw him wearing the mask earlier in the day. And, even once the lights were out I still couldn't keep myself from amusement.

On top of that was the antipation. Will this work for him? Once I finally get over my admittedly adolescent reactions to seeing him in the mask, will we both sleep better? I can already tell that I've posted my last 'What I'm Listening To" update of "Mr. GreenJeans snoring." It was so quiet and his breathing so uniform that I couldn't tell if he'd fallen asleep yet.

Which begs the question: Since I can't tell if he's alseep or not, how am I going to know when it's safe to start messing with him like I used to? Now most of his face is covered by the mask. And, I doubt he'd hear me screaming over the Vader-esque hissing of the machine. Let's just hope the good sleep we're both going to get will compensate for the fun I'm missing out on.

Now, since I've not slept much in the last two days, I'm going for some Sominex.

Lady Vader out.

What I'm listening to right now: one of those Bourne movies on TNT.

And the prize winner for King of the Douchebags is.....

2009-05-14T22:50:00.006-05:00

I'm watching Survivor right now, and unfortunately, I spoiled it for myself by reading too many tweets before watching what I'd DVRd tonight. However, even knowing the outcome of tonight's episode, listening to Coach's bombastic, martyr-speak when he learned that he would be sent to Exile Island-- well, shit. I vomited a little in my mouth. Ok, it was a lot. I vomited a lot in my mouth.

Seriously, Coach? You're going to take the 'monastic approach' in exile and make it as hard on yourself as possible? Really? After your exhaustive laundry list of, umm, "ailments"? Fo' rilla? (I'm channelling Mr. GreanJeans here. Fo' rilla? That's all MGJ.) And let's not forget how he spoke of himself in the third person once he got there. "Coach Wade blah blah blah...." Dude, the reason you're not going to eat or have fire? That's because you've relied on everyone else in the damn tribe to make fire for you! Such an experienced adventurer as yourself surely shouldn't be so scared to go to exile!

And that, Coach Wade, the self-proclaimed Dragon Slayer? That's why you win the King of the Douchebags for tonight. Congrats!

On a less stomach-churning note, what about that Supernatural finale tonight, huh? I won't ruin it for anyone that hasn't watched yet, but wow-wee! Very exciting! I'm going to have a tough time waiting till fall to see what happens.

Another reason to be excited about the fall, and something that I learned with my new Twitter addiction: NBC's going to have a primetime version of SNL's Weekend Update, hosted by my favorite anchors of all time: Amy Poehler and the funniest fucking woman on the planet, Tina Fey. WOOT! CAN. NOT. WAIT!!!!!!

What I'm listening to right now: Coach running his mouth, AGAIN, at tribal council. A poem, Coach? OMG, really? Gggh.. cah... ghkak... must. find. bathroom. feel. the. sickness. creeping. up......

Guess this is what happens when you sleep for three days straight....

2009-05-14T03:53:00.004-05:00

Glee Club here. I'm still awake. It's four in the morning, and I'm still awake. Stupid migraine fucked up my sleeping schedule. Stupid animals sleeping next to me. I want to poke them. I want to poke them both so that they will be as awake as I am.

The good news is that today I woke up migraine free for the first time in a week. The last three days were really tough. None of the pain medicine I usually take was working. I've found the best thing to do in those really bad cases is to take the 'knock out' drugs that I've been given and just sleep off the migraine. Of course now I ache all over from laying in the bed too long.

Yeah, I know, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch. And, I had no idea it would be so hard to quickly type BITCH five times in a row. I think it was the commas that threw me.

So what have I been doing with this recent bout of insomnia? I have addicted myself to Twitter! After making a futile attempt at sleeping earlier, I just logged back into Twitter and was sad that I didn't have any new updates from the people that I was following. WTF people!?! I'm jonesing here! I need something to read. Surely not everyone I'm following has gone to sleep?

Sadly, that seems to be the case.

And, I've almost gotten to the point where I can quickly read a Tweet that has a bunch of @'s and #'s and RT's and whatnot in it. Right now Twitter is satisfying that need I have that makes me buy People and Us and Ok! magazines when I have a long flight and no reports to write. I found a bunch of celebrities to follow and I feel 'in the know' about them now. Almost as if I've watched one of those 30 minute celebrity shows like TMZ or Entertainment Tonight. You know, those shows that Mr. GreenJeans makes gagging noises when they come on the tube and I'm in control of the remote? Yeah, those.

But, I have to say that my first night of really getting into this Twitter thing was a raging success. Twice tonight I was reduced to squeaky, sniffly noises as I laughed myself to tears. Yes, tears. I was crying so hard from the laughing that I couldn't read the Tweets to Mr. GreenJeans. Which given the large quantities of beef and pork consumed for supper this evening--- laughing's not a good idea folks.

I think maybe I'll see who's still out there right now that I'm not yet following.

Glee Club out.

What I'm listening to right now: Farley, the cat, chasing something in his dreams.

The definition of Meat Drunk and my new name is Glee Club

2009-05-13T20:33:00.006-05:00

So, today is Mr. GreenJeans' birthday. I was a bad wife and didn't do anything for him yet. I say that taking care of him while he's recuperating from knee surgery should be present enough.

We went to the Salt Lick tonight with Sanford and the Lawnmower Man to celebrate. And, again, we consumed an obscene amount of food. Which brings me to our new phrase for the evening... Meat Drunk. This condition occurs when you've consumed a large (obscenely large) quantity of meat such that all the blood in your body immediately rushes to your stomach, and thus leaves no blood in your head to function properly. This results in a giddy, almost euphoric feeling, and can lead to fits of laughter so uncontrollable and violent that you think you might hurl.

After the Salt Lick, we were Meat Drunk. Unfortunately, I was Meat Drunk Driving.

I'm so bummed. Y'all know I watch Idol. Two of my faves have now been voted off. First Allison Iruheta and this week Danny Gokey. My nemesis, Adam Lambert, is going to be in the finale with the Melba toast of contestants, Kris 'with a K' Allen. I guess I shouldn't really complain, I didn't vote.

And, good lord, was that really Jordin Sparks on Idol tonight? The last time I saw her, on Good Morning America or some other morning show, she was still a sweet, curly haired, girl-next-door-type who dressed very modestly and age appropriate for a girl in her teens. Now she looks so grown up with her form fitting little black dress and blown out, layered coif. She didn't look bad, quite the contrary, but holy cow what a contrast!

And another thing: I saw a commercial where the Deen brothers were endorsing I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. You know the Deen brothers, sons of Paula Deen-- the Queen of Butter? Boys, does your mama know what you're doing?

Finally, my new name is Glee Club. Mr. GreenJeans said so. After I said that new show Glee Club looked interesting. It was really funny at the time. Perhaps we were still Meat Drunk then.

What I'm listening to right now: Big Break

New things.....

2009-05-07T21:15:00.004-05:00

So, I added a few things to the old blog tonight. First, Mr. GreenJeans and I are actually taking a vacation this year. WOOT!

Given that the mercury has been hitting the mid 90s this week and its only the beginning of May, we're really looking forward to our trip to Alaska at the end of August. We're doing a half cruise half tour deal. It will be a great time to break from work, and a really great respite from the Texas summer heat.

Also, I've added a widget for Twitter. I'm pretty sure that my updates will be the most boring ones on the planet, but if its as much of an enjoyable time waster as Facebook has been then it will provide some entertainment for me for the next month.

What I'm listening to right now: Southland

April Showers Really Do Bring May Flowers!

2009-05-07T19:15:00.008-05:00

Finally the hours of back-breaking labor have paid off!
Mini-roses and ice plant.

A larger rose that Sanford grew from a cutting.

And, although I didn't actually have anything to do with these blooming, they're awfully pretty, aren't they?

I'm watching Parks and Recreation right now, and I have to say that I'm kinda disappointed in it. You can tell its by the same folks that do The Office. Amy Poehler's portrayal of Leslie Knope is way too much like Steve Carrell's, except I think she just comes off as really pathetic. Somehow Carrell's character doesn't seem pathetic. Maybe P&R hasn't been on long enough for me to see the non-pathetic version of Leslie Knope. It makes me sad that Poehler left SNL for this.

What I'm listening to right now: Amy Poehler as Leslie Knope on Parks and Recreation.

Not just another Tuesday night....

2009-05-05T23:19:00.005-05:00

Mr. GreenJeans and I were out of the house tonight... on a school night... having drinks with friends. Mr. GreenJeans is having knee surgery tomorrow morning bright and early. I had a terrible migraine today and was all doped up on Tramadol. There are very few people in this world that could get us out on a night like this. Nurse Man is one of those people.

Nurse Man was the Best Man at our wedding. I have him to thank for educating my husband in all kinds of dirtiness. For example, I don't remember how it came up exactly, maybe we were watching a movie or something where it was mentioned, but Mr. GreenJeans was laughing about "tea-bagging." I didn't know what that was, and he explained it to me. To which I responded, "How do you know all this crazy shit?" He looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Nurse Man." Oh yeah. Duh. Of course.

Tonight was no exception. Learned a new word tonight. Granted it was a word that he'd made up when he was in nursing school, but still. Stomasexual. And, trust me, you SO don't want to know what that is because eww. Seriously, just eww.

It was good to see folks that I'd not seen in a while though. It's been a long time since I laughed that hard. Also tonight I learned that you don't sit on the tables at C Hunt. I don't know how many times I've been there over the years, but somehow I missed that. And, of course, everyone else there, inlcuding my lovely husband, knew this, but no one told me when I sat on the table tonight. Instead they waited for Chester, the owner, to come over and tell me that table top sitting wasn't allowed. Thanks for looking out for your wife, honey!

Now, I need to go to bed and at least try to get some sleep before I have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.

What I'm listening to right now: DVR'd American Idol. Kris-with-a K is getting trashed by Simon for his rendition of 'Come Together.' And, still it seems that Adam Lambert is the front-runner. Ick. Go Allison!

Happy Anniversary to Us!

2009-04-28T22:40:00.020-05:00

This past weekend Mr. GreenJeans and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary. We were both a little burned out from work/life, and since our vacation in August is a little too far off to help with any stress right now, we decided to take a weekend trip to San Antonio. We really enjoy our trips to San Antonio. It's only about an hour drive, but yet, it feels almost as if we've left the state because everything is so different there than most other Texas cities. We enjoy staying downtown as everything you'd want to see is within a short walking distance and is well marked. And, if you should get off track, you can have stumble upon some pretty interesting things.

For example, take our trip there a few years ago... for our third anniversary, I believe. We'd had a fantastic, romantic dinner at the ultra-intimate Le Reve. Being such a tiny place, we had to settle for early reservations, and therefore we were out on the town (fat, happy and full o' wine) and looking for something to do by 9ish. We eventually ended up walking across from the hotel to a place that, I think, was called the Oyster Bar. It looked fairly laid back: couches, tables and chairs all around. Since it was so early, the bar was pretty empty. We started a tab, and our waitress kept bringing us cocktails.

Several rounds later, we realized that the bar had gotten much more crowded. Much to my husband's great amusement, they started playing DMX. You've heard of him-- the rapper? We've wandered into what I would categorize as a hip-hop club. Or is it a rap club? I don't know. I have limited exposure to this sort of thing.

But, since I'm on my way to being three sheets, or more, to the wind, I try to fit in as best I can. Because I love to dance, well, naturally, I begin to move to the music. It doesn't matter that I don't know DMX from Vanilla Ice-- it's got a beat, so I can shake my thang to it. Mr. GreenJeans spies me moving around with my White Girl Shuffle, and immediately chastises me under his breath to "Be cool!"

I look at him incredulously. I am the only white girl in this place. I have never been in a club that plays rap. There has been only one song in the last 45 minutes that I even came close to recognizing. Could I BE more out of my element? This is as freakin' COOL as it gets tonight.

Finally, we had to make the waitress stop bringing drinks or we would not make it back across the street to our hotel. The place was packed by that time. As we left, we saw that there was a line to get into this place.

Huh.

Who'da thunk it.

Me and Mr. GreenJeans in a club so popular and cool that there was a line to get in. Almost made up for the horrible hangovers we had the next day.

On this trip we didn't have anything that cool happen to us. I knew we were going to catch the tail end of Fiesta, but I had no idea it would be so crazy down there. On Friday night we checked into our hotel right around suppertime. I'd thought we would enjoy a night of shopping, food and drink at NIOSA, a Night In Old San Antonio. Turns out it was just food and drink, though. All the shops were closed.

NIOSA was pretty fun, but eventually the crowds and the icky beer got to us, and even corny dogs dressed as basketball players couldn't hold our attention.

I was jealous of some of the other guests at our hotel. Apparently, the Gunter Sheraton was hosting many of the Fiesta events, as well as actually hosting Fiesta's royalty. All the special Fiesta folks had beautiful floral wreaths on their room doors. Wonder if this was the Fiesta Queen?

After running around town on Saturday, we had a great dinner at Biga on the Banks. Delicious dinner. Exceptional and personal service. One of the single best dining experiences I've ever had.

Oh look! They're holding a parade to celebrate our anniversary, honey!

Nope, still Fiesta. This is the Queen's float with her court. I'll bet one of those biyatches has a better room than me with a wreath on her door.

Finally, on Sunday morning, we visited the Japanese Tea Garden. I remember visiting this place when I was younger when we'd visit the zoo which is right next door. Over the years it had fallen into dis-repair so that when MGJ and I were there last time, the ponds were empty and the landscape was weedy and barren.

After a few years of revitalization, however, the Tea Garden is back and looking beautiful. My pictures don't really do it justice... and the battery of my camera died shortly after taking this photo. If you're ever in SA though, I encourage you to check it out yourself.

What I'm listening to right now: Andrew Zimmern eating wood pulp worms. Mr. GreenJeans loves grossing out the white girl.

He glares, he yowls... he is... CAT WITH COLLAR!!

2009-04-18T21:37:00.007-05:00

After more than a year indoors, our directionally challenged feline, Farley, has decided that our old couch is a better place to relieve himself than our fancy-pants litter box that will wash away his urine auto-magically. He doesn't mind taking a poo in it, but for some reason, he just can't seem to tinkle in there anymore.

I'm going to try a few more things in the house to get him back in his litter box, but if that doesn't work, he may have to become an outdoor cat again, directionally challenged or not. We are going to try a leash first to get him used to his surroundings. Funny as it may sound, I'm sure I'll also try this old wives tale I've heard: Rub lard on the bottom of a cat's feet and then drop him onto the floor in your house and he'll never leave. Can't hurt, right?

Also this week, I was in Chicago visiting my customer. On my last day, I was getting ready and had the Today show on when they began running a segment on how the bedbug has become immune to all the pesticides that most hotels currently use against it. They kept showing beds just working alive with these things, and they are pretty good sized bugs too! They looked to be about the size of a #2 pencil eraser-- maybe a little smaller.

Now, I'm in one of the older hotels in Chicago. I love staying there because of its turn-of-the-century charm. I've just slept in their beds for two nights, and I'm standing there... in my hotel room... hair in hot rollers... very nearly buck-ass-nekkid... transfixed by this report on bed bugs. My mouth agape... mascara wand hanging useless in mid-air, I watch as they detail how sometimes the only way to get rid of these pests is to heat the entire room to near 200 degrees, and even then they can hide in the electrical sockets to re-infest the room at a later date. Suddenly, my skin starts to crawl. Once I get this feeling it takes forever to get rid of. I can just imagine myself onsite with my customer and something brushes my neck or my ear and jump up-- thrashing and flailing about, screaming and squealing, swatting at some imaginary bug that no one can see. Smooth, very smooth. Way to impress. I actually have done that in public before.

Fortunately, I was way too busy to even think about creepy crawlies. But, GEAWH! *shivers* Just thinking about that again gives me the willies!

Finally, *big sigh* I did it. I went to Twitter and signed up. I need to get the hang of it a bit before I give out my handle or whatever you call it. Need to get the lingo down first. Not sure what all the @'s and #'s are for. At first blush, I find it a little confusing. I find something that interests me. Then I drill down to find out more, and then I find I'm into someone else's conversation. And, how do I know if I really am "Following" Oprah and not some white woman in Paducah with too much free time on her hands?

I'll keep you posted on my Twitter adventures, though I just don't see myself being much of a Tweeter. At least for now, I'll stick to the 'Following' and see where that gets me.

And now, since I did too much stooping and kneeling in the flower bed today, it's Vicodin time! Nighty night!

What I'm listening to right now: Farley trying to lick his new collar off. The licking part is actually pretty quiet: We could call him Stealth Licker. It's the rhythmic clicking sound his collar makes every time he licks it. Hmm... Now we have a Stealth Licker and a Nut Licker, maybe everyone needs a 'Licker' name! ROFL! And, no, I've not taken the Vicodin yet! : )

Oh the carnage! The butchery! Nom! Nom! Nom! Yummy!

2009-04-12T19:00:00.008-05:00

In recent years, Rena Fest has been brought to a close with a little fete we've started calling Seafood Saturday Night. It's also known as Country Girl's Favorite Holiday. We throw some shrimp, crab legs, sausage, potatoes, and corns-on-the-cob into a big pot of boiling water with some (alot) of cajun seasoning. When everything in the pot is done, we dump everything out on a newspaper covered table and everyone gets their grub on.

We have a few rules of course. One foot must stay on the floor at all times. Any disagreements are settled in the ring drawn outside in the street: "Two men enter! One man leaves!" (Extra points if you get that movie reference, btw.) And, while not officially a rule, it is frowned upon if you are caught stealing from someone else's discard pile.

Here are some of the pictures of the carnage.

Here's the winner's pile. Well, done Poker Man!

While picking through the leftovers, an errant crableg decided to put up a fight. I was injured in the fracas.

It actually took me so long to post this because I was dreading working with the pictures. But, seems that my new camera uploads pics pretty easily. Still having problems with my phone pics, though it's not as slow as before. Check out this snap of today's adventures:

This is Mr. GreenJeans driving us in the ragtop to lunch/dinner today at our local TexMex place to meet Sanford and the LawnMower Man. And, that's part of what I love about Austin... the fabulous springtime weather!

What I'm listening to right now: Some really bad celebrities trying to play business people on TV on Celebrity Apprentice. Clint Black, love the music man, but you SUCK at business. You should be FIRED!