A Thought

I'm getting nowhere, and I'm getting there pretty damned fast.
Can you meet me there?

Don't know what we'll do.
Or who we'll see.
Some other failures.
Surely, Like me.

This nowhere place.
A phase in life?
A stage to act it all out on?
Will they serve coffee
for four bucks?

Will they have pen and paper.
And children?
And construction hearts and flowers.

I haven't a clue.
Do you?

This nowhere place.
Is it up or down?
Can you read Dr. Seuss there?
Or Sandra Boynton?

Or even maybe.
This nowhere place
Has
Cool comfy couches
soft chenile blankies
Pillows to soothe tired heads.

Why am I tired?
Will this nowhere place have
at least
a speck of sunshine,
a sliver of light
to let me breathe again.

Because this gloom
and doom
and drear is suffocation
at its best.

(and, I have no idea what I just wrote, I am not going back to read it. I am going upstairs to my woobie, and my cool pillows and my warm hubby and I'm going to sleep. So goodnight. And yes, I am pulling a James Frey because I am going to go back to read it. But, I will not change a thing. No matter what I said just now)

Adendum To Things Post:

1. Diet
2. Exercise
3. Write

If I don't do these three things, my equilibrium goes all to hell and I fall off the Axis of my Mental State of Mind.

And I don't even need a shrink to tell me this.

(Oops, I forgot Sunshine and Love, but those are not Things I Need To Do, those are Things I Need.)

Things: A Series of Lists

Things I Did Today:
--Load of laundry that's not yet out of the dryer
--Cooked up some chicken on the Geo Foreman for dinner tonight
--Swiffed, or is it Swifted, or Swifed?
--Vacuumed. Believe it.
--Got an oil change.
--Played G.I.Joe with Tukey. Man, they make those Barbies HOT! Yum.
--Dieted. So far.
--Set up playdates for each kid.
--Wished for sunshine.
--Wished for an agent.
--Finished When Katie Wakes, a really good memoir, which I believe to be true.
--Brushed my teeth.
--Dusted. Some.
--Watched George of the Jungle II with Tukey (okay, my eyes were closed and my head was under the covers, but I could hear parts of it.
--Checked email.
--Wished for Spring so I can come alive again.

Things I Didn't Do Today:
Shower.
Dishes.
Fold the washed laundry.
Put the washed laundry away.
Walk/Exercise
Feel attractive (and all it would take is a damn shower!)
Feel productive even though I did get some stuff done.

Things I Should Do Today:
Shower.
Dishes. Ah, hell, see above.
Clean my office up so I will be motivated to write.
Write.
Make some phone calls.
Go to bed early.
Be happy.
Get out of this freaking funk I'm in.

Things I Will Do Tomorrow:
Go here, with Diva as a school chaperone.

I Wish I Told You

I am stealing this idea from Tuesday Girl. Please answer this question either as creatively as you can, or write the first thing you think of. You can see what answer I gave over at Tuesday Girl's site.

Anonymous readers, you can post too, and you don't have to have a Blog to do so.

Finish this sentence:

I wish I told you...

It Pays To Be Crabby In My 'Hood

Man, I have the BEST neighborhood! My neighbor across the street brought me flowers today. And my other neighbor just delivered a cinnamon dolce latte to me.

Awwww. I love my neighbors and neighborhood!

Eyebrow Threading, Easy Bake & Other Things

Okay, I really must be bi-polar or seriously Manic because so far today, I have awakened in a gorgeous mood and realized I forgot to share my maiden experience with you on this: Eye Brow Threading.
Okay, it's such an "ancient-Chinese secret" (sorry, couldn't resist that--hopefully you're all old enough to remember that commercial? If not, I may become depressed again!)... Eye Brow Threading is such a secret, that I can't get any of the links to work so if you want to know more than what I am sharing here, Google EYE BROW THREADING.

So, I got my eyebrows threaded. If you haven't done so yet, and if you're an eyebrow waxer, you should really, really, really try this alternative and probably cheaper route to finely arched beautiful eyebrows.

I was at the mall, not feeling depressed or anything, really, and there was this one little booth that sold Indian accessories and Henna tattoos and you could also get your eyebrows threaded for $12.

I sat in the chair, told the woman I didn't want them too thin, and let her have at it. She wound up a long piece of white thread and manipulated it through my eyebrows, and twisted it and then pulled, and yes, it is tiny, fine hairs being ripped out of their folicles, and you do hear a sensation of rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppp as she is pulling the thread, but it was quick and easy and I have newly shaped eyebrows!

So, there you have it: Manic Mom's recommendation to get your eyebrows threaded. It's cool. It's fun. It's something to blog about!

And then there's Easy Bake. I have gotten through my whole parenting life avoiding this toy all little girls love, using the usual, "Hey, G'ma will do Easy Bake with you when she comes to visit!" (Because, come on, G'ma, don't you really just love baking with Diva?--and yes, folks, my dear M-I-L does read this blog--hee hee!)

But yesterday, I couldn't get away from it. Diva's little friend shows up for a playdate with package of Easy Bake mix crap in hand. I literally cringed when I saw it, and thought, "How the hell am I gonna get out of this one? Cuz it's one thing to put it off with your own daughter, but when your daughter has a friend over, and you want to impress the friend so that she will LOVE your daughter, so they will forge a true best friend friendship as they get older, so they will laugh in their teens and say, "Remember when your mom let us do Easy Bake? How cool was that?!?!"... So, I took one for the team you could say, and we got out the Easy Bake.

Yeah, okay, it was a little bit fun. They mixed up the white cake mix. They mixed up the watermelon (?????--totally gross BTW) frosting, and we baked up two miniscule cakes. These cakes also came with a Gummy Mold of a Lifesaver which congealed into a real gummy saver thingamagig, but we all agreed it was too yucky to eat. In the end, minor kitchen cleanup, two cakes smaller than the size of donuts, (both that were NOT completely consumed, and there were five people taste-testing it--we all agreed we should have just eaten the white cake plain), and very, very delighted little girls. Priceless. Right? Well, good news is G'ma's coming tonight to watch the rats while Hubby and I go out in limostyle to this party, and I've kept out the Easy Bake, special just for them!

Okay, since I'm in such good spirits today, and not sure how long the feelings will last, hee hee, I'm going to include two links here of stuff I either wrote (you'll have to scroll down to part two, second essay), or said. Use your judgment please if you choose to read.

Here's to the FREAKING SUN SHINING! I am guessing you could go to previous posts and mark them either:
SUN WAS OUT WHEN MANIC WAS BLOGGING
SUN WAS NOT OUT WHEN MANIC WAS BLOGGING

Cheers and happy weekend to you all!
PS--Tukey just puked on the floor. So much for good moods.

Think Outloud

I'm just going to think outloud here, again a crabby alter person is trying to get out of me. I wonder what I should name her? Whoever she is, she is twenty pounds heavier than she should be, she hasn't done squat with her New Year's Resolutions, she's suffering from SAD. She is happy one second, distraught the next, numb after that and then tired. Tired of what? Hubby said "Put your life on paper and everything is great." And Mom, don't start freaking out on me because I'm not going to gas myself in the garage, I am just trying to work through why I am being so crabby and dull lately. And I know why, and it's because I am not getting exercise, enough sleep, I am not controlling what I eat. My pants are tight, nothing looks right or good on my body. I'm telling you, this crabby alter person has a weight problem and she hasn't had it for a while, but the pounds do creep up and then wham! the pants are tight, the mood is crabby, and the immediate fix, which I know is not, NOT, NOT is the Mac 'N' Cheese or any soul-searching, food-soothing comfort snack. And I'm NOT pigging out. I just know I'm not where I should be. This weather blows too. I could be outside swinging my arms to my iPod if it wasn't winter time, and then I would be happier too, because IT WOULDN'T BE WINTER TIME.

I'm just tired and crabby and annoyed and there's nothing really wrong in my life except my pants are just getting too tight. And I have this party thing to go to downtown tomorrow night, in a limo even, and I'm not even looking forward to it because I'm not going to be pleased with how I will look, I will eat too much, I will drink too much (unless I utilize some self-control) and then Saturday will be shot all to hell then too.

So, here's what I'm going to do. I will have fun tomorrow night. I will try to not be so pouty and bitchy and pissy and moody. I will not get blasted drunk so Saturday is a wasted day. On Saturday, I will clean my office, do laundry, and work on BZ stuff for a while. On Sunday, we will go to church, spend time with the kids, and maybe do some more work. I'm not thinking about the novel, or the queries, or the next novel, or how I'm going nowhere with it as of right now and I will just cleanse my mind from the cluttering crap that is unimportant anyway.

Then, Monday morning, I will open my eyes, get my irksy on the treadmill or the walking path outside, kick it into gear, smile. Take an extra dose of Effexor for added measure--ha, just kidding, I'll go for the Xanax... ha, kidding again! And I will start the week off fresh. And happy, and work toward getting thin again. Because, I was so freaking happy when I was thinner. I just was. And I can be again.

I hope. (So does Mom too, I'm sure--hi Mom!)

One Question / One Statement

Question: How many of you actually ate Mac 'N' Cheese yesterday?

Statement: I am an aunt again. Colin Thomas - 7 lbs. 9 ounces. Born Jan. 25, 2006 at 1:44 a.m. Mother and son resting comfortably (ha, I love saying that.) Can't wait to meet the little tyke, which will be a while due to geographical situations.

Bummin' Out

Lucky you. You get to read about how I'm crabby again. You might want to click onto another more cheerful Mommy Blog cuz I am just in the mood to be a bitch right now.

Why is it that anytime a box of Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese is made, whether it be the plain mac, Spiderman mac, Scooby-Doo or Spongebob mac, Blue's Clues mac... why is it that one spoonful leads to the devouration (is that a word?) of all the leftover mac in the pot? Seriously, Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese has a drug-inducing effect on me. I tell myself, "Okay, I'll have just one bite to make sure it's not too hot for Tukey." One bite turns into fifteen.

See, told you I'm crabby.

I haven't showered since Sunday. I know, I know. I am totally gross. I was going to this a.m. but Tukey woke up at midnight last night, came out of his room, crying, burning up, saying he had to puke. And then he did. Fortunately, he managed to do so in the toilet. So, he was in our bed. Then I finally get him back to his room around 3, and a couple hours later, Ajers is in my room with a headache. I'm tired and crabby.

I am going on and on about nothing right now. I got a rejection from another agent. And if you're an agent reading this, please don't think "Oh, then I don't want to represent her and her book" because, really, I would be your best client! I just don't know what to do about this book. Rewrite it all? All 450 pages, 120,000 words? Blood, sweat and tears, and late nights went into this story. Do I ditch it? Do I throw it away, toss it into the drawer. Hold a funeral for the characters? I'm tired of the rejection. God, thank you for not making me single right now, I couldn't take anymore rejection.

So, since the writing thing isn't going as I had hoped, I think I'm going to become Susie Homemaker. All the laundry is done in the house. I went grocery shopping today. I pre-made three meatloaves this a.m. and froze them. I've got some BBQ pork in the crock-pot right now. I've got some ideas for meals for the rest of the week. Maybe I'll just learn how to cook and become a fat, boring, depressed housewife who does laundry all day long, and finally knows how to make a freaking meatloaf.

Maybe I'll go take a shower. Nah. I think I'll go lie down on the couch and continue feeling crabby, crappy, bitchy, whiny. That'll make me feel better.

Sis-in-Law update: no baby yet.

Need to Clarify...

For those of you who know me, and remember six-and-a-half years ago, I did not miscarry that child in the previous post. So, in order to clarify, here is the following entry dated September 30, Wednesday, 1998--(please ignore the typos--there is a lot to type and I plan on making mistakes)...

How about this for an emotional whirlwind: I have gone through the last three weeks dealing with the fact that I've had a miscarriage only to be informed today through an ultrasound that there is an active fetus with a heartbeat growing inisde of me. Amazing, scary, shocking and confusing. Here is the story--

I went for an Ultrasound (U.S.)on Sept 10 when the baby was 6-1/2 weeks. The could not find a heartbeat and told me I could get a D&C or "follow" which means let it happen natural. Thank God Almighty Above in Heaven that I didn't choose a D&C because that would have been terrible. I am angry at the thought and wondered if I could sue for mental anguish.

Anyway, since I chose to "follow" I needed to get a quantitative HCG so the level of hormone inside me could be monitored so I would know when the miscarriage was complete. By the way, medical terminology is "spontaneous abortion"...

So, I go get a blood test on Sept 18, and I explained to the woman drawing my blood that I was there due to a miscarriage (MC). She told me she had two MCs then had healthy babies after, so that was reassuring to me. Here's the kicker: The same woman who drew my blood and knew I was there becuz of a MC called me with the HCG results. She said, "Congratulations, you're pregnant." I was very upset and reminded her that I was the one miscarrying. So that pissed me off.

Anyway, my HCG level was 56,000. When it is below 10, you are no longer pregnant. I continued spotting. After day one, it was no longer bright red but more like brown tar. The past few weeks I have been feeling rotten with headaches and nausea but I just told myself it was psychological. I had totally prepared to face a MC, and dealt with it and just wanted it to be over. I had to get another quantitative HCG 10 days later which was Monday, Sept. 28. I went to a different doctor to get the blood work done becuz the other one upset me so much. The test came back yesterday at 129,000. It was supposed to go down to indicate a MC.

I talked to Dr. P (gyne/OB) and he said the level of 56,000 should jump to 129,000 within 3-4 days, not in ten days so he had some concern. I went for a U.S. today and sure enough there was fetal activity and a heartbeat which Hubby and I could both see! It wasn't even an internal U.S. I was seriously prepared for a bad reading and now it appears (God willing!) that we are still pregnant! With a due date of April 30 (7 mos. exactly from today).

I am in awe and confused and will need to talk to the doctor tomorrow because the level of the HCGs concerns me.

Right now I have a raging headache but I am extremely thrilled and pray that this little trouper inside of me is a fighter, a healthy one. Amen. Please God, make this baby as perfect as Ajers and thank you for this incredible gift of life. I hope all is okay.

Pregnant

No, not me.

Did I scare you?

I've been thinking about pregnancy a lot lately, and part of it is because I'm about to become an aunt for the fourth time! I am very excited - it's my brother's wife and she and I are very close as she has no sisters of her own and I like to keep tabs on how her pregnancy has evolved. They live on the east coast so I don't get to see them all that much. But, as her due date approaches, I've been hounding her about her doc appointments, and she is still over two weeks away from being due, and this is her first child, so of course, she's thinking she's going late.

She had an appointment yesterday so afterward she called to give me the news:

--80 percent effaced
--Three centimeters dilated
--Zero station

When she told me, I started screaming: "YOU'RE LIKE ONE-THIRD OF THE WAY THROUGH LABOR!" I was on the bed begging for Nubane at that point, paging the anesthesiologist, demanding action, screaming that there is no way I can walk the freaking hall in this kind of pain.

Her progress is HUGE for a first-time mom and I was psyched to know she would soon become a mom! And my brother would be a dad--Oh Lord!

So, I was having a dream about her last night, and she was at eight centimeters, and she was telling me she had to push and I was so excited to know she was almost there, and you know how you're having a good dream (this was a good dream because I wanted her to have her baby and I was in the room with her and while I have experienced childbirth, I have never actually viewed a live childbirth)... anyway, you're having a good dream and then just when the good part is about to happen (my sis in law pushing out her baby), you get awakened.

I hear, "Mommy, mommy, mommy."

It's Diva, waking me up from my good sister-in-law-eight-centimeters-and-about-to-give-birth dream.

I went into Diva's room.

"My butt hurts."

I'm thinking she was laying in a strange position and she got a cramp but no, she had to interupt my good dream because she had to go poop in the middle of the night. Who the heck wakes up in a deep sleep because of a bowel 'situation?'

Anyway, bad news was my dream got interupted. Good news was Diva didn't shit the bed.

This a.m. my phone rings at 7:30 a.m. and it's my sis in law calling. I'm thinking, "Oh wow, this is it! Her water broke last night, she's in labor, she's got the epidural, and that's why she's calling so early."

Nope.

This is exactly how the conversation went:

Me: Hello?

Her: Mucus Plug -- OUT!

Like she's giving me a step-by-step account of the progress of her impending labor.

I started screaming again, "Oh my gosh! You are going to be a MOM like before the weekend is out!" I was so psyched for her.

Me: So, tell me!

Her: It fell out when I was in the shower!

She then goes on to tell me that at first she thought a small bloody little frog fell out of her and she almost kicked it into the corner of the shower.

Then, SHE PICKS IT UP TO SHOW IT TO MY BROTHER!

I am laughing hysterically as I relay this story to you, but some of you might find this rather gross, so apologies to you for the nature of the graphicness.

Anyway, I'm on edge all day because SHE WAS GOING TO DRIVE THE HOUR TO WORK TODAY! And I was like, "No way!"

She said my brother was mad at her too for doing that, but today was the day she was going to pitch her "work-from-home" plan to her boss so she had to go in.

This afternoon, I call her to check in and she said she possibly opened up Pandora's Box because not much was happening and everybody's dying to know what's going on.

She said, "My phone will not stop ringing. I am the most popular person in the entire world!"

I said, "Enjoy it now, cuz when that baby pops out, YOU ARE NOTHING, SISTA! Nothing! For the rest of your life!"

I bet she's looking forward to motherhood!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So, that's the news on my sis in law, and that's why I've kind of been thinking about pregnancy, not that I want to have another child because I DON'T, but the possibility does still exist between Hubby and me, and neither of us is willing to do anything permanent other than abstinence at this point to prevent a family.

But, in thinking about my gestation days, it's amazing to think I was pregnant at least some part during five consecutive years: 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, and 2001; I was "in the family way" 27 or 28 months out of approximately 42 months. Wow.

I kept separate journals for each of my three kids, and thought I would maybe post some entries here, since there is currently not much excitement going on in my life at present, so here is an entry from when I was pregnant with Diva:

September 9, 1998, Wednesday:

Today is your daddy's 30th birthday baby! Last night Ajers woke up in the middle of the night so, of course, I got up to settle him. I could feel the blood rushing through my body working hard to make this baby. It was a pretty uncomfortable feeling as if I had just gone jogging. I felt out of breath and I felt literally my blood circulating through my body, thickening to meet the demands of this baby.

More - 5:50 p.m. --
An hour ago I went potty and when I wiped there was bright pink blood. I thought to myself, "Oh fuck, here we go." I was very nervous and called the doctor. Since that first bit of blood, I've gone to the bathroom four times and there's nothing else. I pray to God that I don't have a miscarriage. This baby is just as important and special as Ajers...Please God, no more blood. I don't have any cramping and I am praying that everything is okay. The doctor said 50 out of 100 pregnancies have some bleeding. Of those 50, 25 are miscarriages. I hope I'm not one of those. We know so many that had miscarriages for their second kid: K, T, L, J --I know there are more. Please God, let me have this baby...Please, please, please. I am going to go pee once more to check and then we're going to dinner for S's birthday I hope there's nothing bad, please God.

September 10--
I am losing you.

A Bear's Life Would Be Nice

Right now, I would take a Bear's life in a second. Throw me into a nice, dark cave and let me sleep until the middle of March. If I were a bear, I wouldn't even need my Woobie because I'd be so furry I'd be nice and warm. It would be quiet. It would be dark. I could sleep. I wouldn't have this damned sinus headache. I wouldn't be feeling so freaking fat because all bears are kind of plump anyway, and I'm sure that none of the other bears would look at me saying, "Wow, Manic-Bear sure could stand to lose a few."

I wouldn't feel guilty that I haven't exercised consistently all year long, and I wouldn't feel guilty that the three small things I wanted to accomplish every day aren't getting done (one load of laundry, treadmill, shower). I wouldn't have to be thinking about where I'm getting my next pizza because I don't think bears crave pizza, just fish or raccoons maybe.

I wouldn't have these stupid PMS symptoms or the onset of my period because ... well, I don't know why--I guess because I never thought of bears having their periods. But just in case, make me a boy bear.

I wouldn't have all these piles of unsorted laundry around my cave. I wouldn't have to clean the toilets, or Swiff the floor. I wouldn't have to go to the dentist today (although I think bear teeth are probably not as nice and white and clean as mine are).

I could just lie there, maybe next to my spouse bear and my three little cubbies and snuggle up with them in a nice, big ball of snoring fur, and sleep.

Yes, that sounds like a nice thing to do right now.

But I'm not a bear, and I am PMSing, and the house is a mess, and I need to go to the dentist and I need to stop craving a pizza and I need to get some work done, and I need to stop thinking about this book and agent thing until something happens. I have to do all of these things because, we all know, I am woman...
HEAR ME ROAR!

Quick Blog

Hey!

Well, the weekend took a turn and was far, far less boring that it had been on Friday when I posted about how bored I was. (Which BTW, I did get my pizza, even though it was Tony's frozen).

There's too much going on now to go into details but will fill you in later. It's some exciting stuff with my agent search -- I tell you, this is harder than writing a freaking 450-paged novel. But fun!

Also my essay, Sex and the Soccer Mom (It's All About the Need for Speed) was published in Mountain Parent's January issue, and it should be on their site for you to read soon. (I'll post the link when it's up.) It was a fun essay to write, and it got me out of sex a few nights too! ("Sorry honey, I can't 'snuggle' right now, I have to write this essay and tell the world about our sex life!")

I also had a dream that Sugar Mama called me on my cell phone and I had to tell her to call me back in 15 minutes because I was driving a car with no brakes and I had to get home. Then, I hung up with her and was screaming, "OH MY GOSH! A blog reader actually called me!" I was so excited in my dream. So, Sugar Mama, call me, we'll do coffee. Ah, better than that, we'll do grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattes!

And if you've never heard this little jingly song kids sing, please, allow me to share:

"I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves
everybody's nerves
everybody's nerves

I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves
and this is how it goes...

I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves
everybody's nerves
EVERYBODY'S NERVES....

and this is how it goes..."

So, hopefully, I've transferred this annoying song that's been playing a constant loop in my head over to some of you, not that I intend to annoy you any more than I already do, but I just wanted to share. How many of you have heard it sung by your grade school children?

More probably later this week. Happy MLK Day.

There's Nothing To Do.

I'm bored. I'm totally, pathetically bored right now. There's nothing to do. It's Friday night and Ajers and Tukey are in the basement playing GameCube. Diva is at a friends. Hubby got home from work early and he suggested some 'cuddling', but come on, I can't just be that quick to cuddle. It takes time.

Plus, it's not really officially the weekend.
Plus, I'm feeling fat and bloaty.
Plus, I haven't had any wine.
Plus, there are children in the house.

And I'm crabby. And whiny. And on the verge of being bitchy. I feel a fight coming on just to spruce things up around here.

I'm bored and crabby and all I am thinking about is a big, fat, large, yummy, extra-sauce cheese pizza. Oh, maybe add some garlic and spinach.

I think it's because I have been querying agents again. And getting practically nowhere. Some are biting, but no one has swallowed that damn hook yet so I can pull him out of the water, get rid of the hook, shake his hand and sign a freaking contract.

I have given myself a new goal. If, after my one-hundred-and-first rejection, there has not been the signing of an agent that I fall in love with and vice versa, then 40 Weeks goes into a drawer for however long it needs to sit there before I decide to do something else.

And then, I guess I'll just have to continue working on sucky manuscript No. 2.

I feel like a bratty kid right now waiting for someone to entertain me. To take me somewhere. To do something fun. I'd even settle for a family trip to Chuck E. Cheese right about now. Yes, it's annoying loud. Yes, Hubby refers to it as Kiddy Vegas. Yes, we don't have an extra hundred bucks to take the kids somewhere to toss money in flashing lighted machines.

But...

They do have pizza and beer.

Update to post: Okay, I had my pizza, even if it was Tony's frozen cheese. That made me happy. And then this made me smile and be happy too...

Tukey Talk
Sing-songy voice: "I have to tell you a secret!"

Me: "What?"

Tukey comes over to me, pulls me down to his lips, and whispers: "You are the best mom ever!"

I melt.

Then he goes on to say:
"And you're the best pancaker!" pause... "I mean waffle-er!"

Yep, I can whip up a mean cinnamon-chocolate-chip pancake, that's for dang sure.
So, happy non-manic-depressed mom is back for the time being.
Have a nice weekend, and fill it with lots of love, kisses, thank-you's, hugs, and happy conversations with those you love! That's what I plan to do!

xo

Tagged and... Dolcefied!

Okay, not only was I tagged by Dear Jane I have also been Dolcefied... as in Cinnamon Dolce Latte.

I had my first tallnonfatcinnamon(there'sthatwordIcan'tspellforshitagain)dolcelatteseasywhip today. Oh man. When someone said it's like drinking a Cinnabon, they ain't kidding. Yum! But, I am not falling back into that Starbucks abyss and will use restraint in the future, enjoying possibly just one or two a week, and never upsizing.

Anyway, here is the tag:

Four Jobs You've Had in Your Life:
1. Blow
2. Marketing Director
3. Blogger
4. Mother

Four Movies You Could Watch Over and Over:
1. Sixteen Candles
2. The Breakfast Club
3. Say Anything
4. Pretty In Pink
Yes, I'm from that era, sorry.

Four Places You've Lived:
1. In Sin
2. Tampa
3. Naperville
4. NIU

Four Websites You Visit Daily:
1. Snarkspot
2. Dating Dummy, although he ain't no dummy no more
3. Various Literary Agencies
4. The occasional smut one

Four TV Shows You Love To Watch:
Like Dear Jane, I gave up TV too in order to blog, but, I can tell you four shows I see snippets of daily, or almost daily:
1. Sports Themed Ones
2. That's So Raven
3. Jake and Drosh, oops, Drake and Josh--love that one!
4. Full House, unfortunately

Four of Your Favorite Foods:
1. Pizza
2. McDonald French Fries
3. Pasta
4. Diet Pepsi

Four Albums You Can't Live Without:
First of all, THEY ARE NOT CALLED ALBUMS ANY MORE!
Second of all, I suck at this tag because I don't have anything interesting to say--
So, I am changing THIS tag question to:
Four Albums You Couldn't Live Without when You were a Senior In High School Or Around That Time--
1. Howard Jones' Things Can Only Get Better Tape (yes, they were tapes back then)
2. Anything Phil Collins or Genesis or Peter Gabriel
3. The Outfield
4. Pretty In Pink Soundtrack
5. Violent Femmes and U2 (okay, so I cheated and added more)


Four Places You'd Rather Be:
1. In a NY Publisher's Office signing a two-book, six-figure deal (okay, I'll settle for five figures).
2. Starbucks
3. Beach / Vacation
4. Barnes & Nobles
See, I'm a simple chick, really.

And finally, per tradition,
Four People Who Are Now Obligated To Do This on Their Blog:
I've decided to choose four relatively new readers at my blog, in no particular order! Check out this foursome's foursomes:

1-- Swishy, who's got plenty to Blog about!
2-- WOD Man
3-- Paratrooper Nate Is that politically correct?
and for those of you who like cute babies, I'm tagging
4-- Crazy Mama D, but be warned, she likes to talk about poop and breast pumps!

Dumps

Back on the downslope of the roller coaster. Will be back posting later. Please keep delurking though - your comments are cheering me up.

And, keep praying for my friends. Waiting for news is sometimes the hardest part.

De-Lurk Yourself Baby!

Sounds kind of kinky, doesn't it?

Apparently, this is the first anniversary of De-Lurking Day (created by this Blogger Gal), which has now become De-Lurking Week, in which Bloggers ask their readers to simply leave a comment at the Blogs they read.

It doesn't have to be lengthy, you don't have to share any personal info, just say hi! Or you can tell me how much you hate my blog, or me, or my stupid rants about grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattesnowhipextrahot (BTW, didn't have one yet, folks, and yes, for those who commented, it is a money choice and just because I never drank coffee for 35 years so why did I get on the Starbucks bandwagon in the first place?) I'm trying to find my inner-caffeine-free self.

In other news, maybe this installment of Tukey Talk will get you to post a comment. The latest from the youngest of Manic Mom's brood had this to say:

"I did my first magic trick ever!"

"Really, honey, what was it?"

"I picked-ed my nose, and then I put-ted it in my ear. And then, it came out of my mouth!"

Go ahead, please. Leave a comment!
I'll leave this post at the top of my Blog for the whole week so check down below for more entries on magic boogers later this week.

DARE 2BK

Thanks for all who participated in the first-ever Manic Mom's Progressive Online Blog Story, which is published below --

Erin from Whack-It-Wednesday!
Joel, who I'd love to link you all to, but he has vanished from Blog World.
Sara
secretcave
Ben O., who was an especially eager participant.
Charity, who just had a birthday!
Christa, who started her own chain story at her site so go play there!
Jess(I'm-so-jealous-but-happy-for-you-for-getting-a-book-deal)Riley
goldmoon

Hope I didn't miss anyone, and now, with further adieu --

DARE 2BK

Kay gritted her teeth as she sliced her morning orange. She knew it was going to be a bad day -- the kids missed the bus, the cleaning lady quit, and Brutus came in smelling like skunk.

I'll never make it to the appointment in time, she thought, and then looked down suddenly, shocked. Crimson rivers traveled across the cutting board and a terrible sting seized her; blood and citrus mixing. Kay had just amputated the tip of her pinky finger.

She cried out in pain, rushing to the sink to clean her wound. She watched in fascinated horror as her blood mixed with the running water.

It seemed like she had only been standing there a moment when she heard John come in. He wasn't supposed to be home from work yet; his shift wasn't over until 11. Her body tensed as she felt him come up behind her. She lived her life torn between love and fear of the father of her children. John came behind Kay and grabbed her by the hips. She jumped a little as he grabbed her, and both water and thicker blood splashed onto her white shirt.

"Did I scare you?" he whispered, grinning into her ear. "Alice gone already? You're not busy, are you? I've got some news." He spun her around, then took in the blood spattered on her shirt, the blood still streaming down her hand.

"Jesus, what happened to you?"

"I was just chopping up some cucumber and I guess I nicked my finger. Here, give it a kiss." She extended her finger up to his waiting lips. That's when she smelled the perfume wafting out from his collar as he leaned over to kiss her boo-boo.

"What the hell is that? Please tell me that you didn't go back to her. Please tell me all of those sessions were not a complete waste of my time." She was all teeth and nails now, and he felt like he was sliding back from her in slow motion.

"Well? I'm waiting."

John grabbed her wrist hard and he grabbed a towel to wrap her hand in. "Kay now is not the time, and I don't think you should start with me, do you?" John squeezed her hand harder to make his point. "Go to the doctor; you will need stitches, I will be here when you get back. Cucumbers, huh? These look like oranges to me."

Kay's eyes had filled with tears, not for her finger, but for what awaited her return. "I was thinking about getting some cucumbers for the salad tonight, I was a little mixed up when I said that. I'm sorry."

Kay felt the familiar form in her throat that she could only assume was her heart. It seemed to reside there, somewhere in her esophagus, cutting off her precious air supply. Ever since John's affair, ever since the marriage counseling and ever since the makeup became more for bruises than for beauty, she'd felt that lump in her throat whenever he was near.

Tonight, though, she knew it was also there for another reason. She turned her back to John, seemingly to reach into the drawer that housed the Spongebob Squarepants band-aids.

"Seriously, honey, you need stitches, not just Spongebob..." His voice trailed as his eye caught the gleam of a silvery object in her hands.

John's heartbeat began to sprint, but he relaxed when he saw what Kay was holding.

I should have known, he thought, and snorted. "Kay, if you're going to kill me," he said, "at least use the Wusthof. I didn't take you to see Essence of Emeril Live and buy the official Emeril Wusthof so you could go Mommy Dearest on me with that serrated piece of crap from Ikea."

But Kay had a secret: she'd taken knife juggling in 4-H back in 1982. And she was holding more than the econo-knife from Ikea.

As she held the knives, her life with him flashed before her--their first date where he wouldn't buy her dinner, stealing her virginity at prom, getting her pregnant on their honeymoon, the dirty motel rooms, the cheating, the lies, and all she ever did was submit.

This word echoed through her brain. Submit. Submit. Submit.

"I WILL NOT SUBMIT!"

Her first marriage was the picture of submission and she was fed up. This time it would be different.

"No, I think you are going to apologize. I want to hear you say that you are sorry." She elegantly switched the knife to her other hand. "I can't believe that I actually thought that you could stay away from her. I'm such a fool. I want some honesty from you . . . Mister!"

It was all getting to be too much. He knew he had pressed his luck with this one, and just as it was with the others- the 'others' Kay knew nothing about- it was time to get rid of her.

Even though he had been a paper pusher at the precinct for more than a year, he still packed the heat. In a move smoother than silk he swiped a pile of magazines from the island to the floor, and in bending down grabbed his .22 from its home on his left calf.

With nothing more than a cold look and firm grip, he ripped off three rounds in Kay's direction. The "pop-pop-pop" of a gun always amazed him. Amused him. Perhaps even turned him on.

A crack shot for years, he expected pieces of Kay to be all over the marble backsplash and oak cabinets. Instead, almost in a daze, he realized that every shot had missed.

After Kay relaxed from the gun shots, she looked at John. She had recovered in time to see the shocked expression on John's face.

He had shot her? No, there wasn't any blood, she didn't feel any pain...and then her eyes began to glaze over.

It was then Kay realized what it meant to see red.

Kay threw the knife she still had grasped in her had. John screamed. Kay smiled and picked up another knife.

"Its time to play my game now, John."

As John reeled from the pain of the kitchen knife now embedded in his thigh, the truth dawned on him. He had hit her. Twice in the chest, though the third shot had missed and taken out the cow-shaped cookie jar resting on the counter. But she wasn't bleeding. His docile, innocent housewife was wearing a bulletproof vest under that Anne Klein blouse!

Bullet-proof vest? Knife juggling? No submission? Who was this woman whom he thought he'd known all these years?

Had the player been played? John felt a vein in his temple throbbing with anger and confusion. Just then, the door that connected the garage to the kitchen burst open.

She Froze. He Froze. Footsteps rattled the tiny kitchen. After what seemed like an eternity, she came walking in... Kay's identical twin sister (who Kay always thought looked a little bit pudgier through the neck).

"I thought we agreed that you would just take the money and leave her? You still love her don't you . . . that's why you came back during the day. So you could see her one last time."

Kay felt cold and detached, not realizing that the bleeding from her finger had stopped. She had submitted before, but even so, she knew there was about to be a whole lot more blood on her yellow and blue tile.

The End

Coffee Demons?

They're out to get me.

All of a sudden, I announce I'm giving up Starbucks (trying to) and the Coffee Demons are swarming me.

The guy at the bank tells me I can answer a quick survey on loans and I'll get a $25 gift card to Starbucks.

I am getting emails for coffee products.

The smell of roasted coffee beans permeates my every pore when I walk through the grocery store.

Signs flash around me, taunting me, saying, "caffeinecaffeinecaffeineyouknowyouwantone."

They're everywhere.

And tonight, I am going to get my hair cut and colored, and...

there.
is.
a.
starbucks.
right.
across.
the.
street.
from.
the.
salon...

I'm caving...

But so what? If I want a freaking coffee, I'm getting one. So there, you Coffee Demons, you. You don't scare me.

Oh, yah they do.


* * * * * * *


(On the progressive story, there is still one last post to finish it off as of right now, so check it out and maybe you'll be the 15th contributor to end the story)

A Blow Dryer and a Little Sex

Who would have thought that two simple things could start a day out so nicely? Well, certainly not at the same time, that would get just a little bit too hot, but really, I feel like a semi-new woman. That's semi-NEW not NUDE for you perverts out there.

Anyway, from recent posts, you can tell I've been down. I have had every emotion from fear to hatred to confusion to devastation. I have asked all the Why Them questions, I have cried, I have gone into my world-famous Depression Sleep, I have almost become a One-A-Day-Xanax girl, and almost had to up my Effexor intake. Right now, though, you've got me on the high-point of this roller coaster, this unknown spherical globey thing we call life, the earth, the world.

The Blow Dryer. Well, I haven't actually used it all year until this morning, when we got ready for church. Oh yes, and that is another thing. When all the questions and the Whys and the tears come, where do you turn? Yep, The Big Guy. And isn't it great that He never turns ya away. Never says, "Hey, where the heck have you been five out of six Sundays, Missy? Why are you coming to Me now?"

Because I need Him now. I need to feel that He is here to offer love and support and care, that He is going to take care of everyone no matter how bad it gets, no matter how many lives are affected. It will all be good in the end. And we have to just keep believing in it. Heck, I might even get out the Bible and read some prolific stuff to enlighten me on this recent curveball He has thrown. Maybe in some way it will help me understand the things He has planned for us in this life, and what we can expect in the Next Life. There's a book title for ya: "What To Expect When You're Not On Earth Any More."

Back to the Blow Dryer. I do not take a lot of time to do my hair, and those of you who know me, I know you are bobbing your heads up and down right now, saying, "Hello? Do you spend ANY time on that hair of yours?" But, since the New Year, I have not once dried my hair. Not even to just get the wetness out of it straight from the shower. And, perhaps this is part of the extra funk that has been created in my life. But alas, a round brush and the hair dryer this a.m. before church, plus the mandatory three squirts of Rave hairspray, and I tell you, the world didn't seem as terrible as I've been thinking it is. That, and the sex thing, and I was not so much in a funk today.

And, this news will shock the heck out of you all. Ready?

Not.One.Single.Trip.To.Starbucks.ALL.YEAR.LONG.

Nope. I don't know if I've kicked the grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhipextrahot habit, but I sure as hell have already saved twenty-five bucks. Although, I have heard from two people the latest craze is a cinnamon dolce latte.

(Sidenote: seventh grade spelling bee--lost trying to spell cinnamon. Will never forget it. Every time that word is mentioned, I relive the trauma of being in that Catholic school library, palms sweaty, mind swirling, trying to conjure up the image of a cinnamon shaker to project the word onto my mind...)

[In SpongeBob fashion, if you're a SpongeBob viewer, say it with me folks...]


SIX.HOURS.LATER.

Okay, it's like six hours since I first started this post, and I realize it's not really going anywhere. But I'm still going to post it, because if I didn't, then, this would be like something I dreamed I wrote, when I really did write it, and that would just be like taking a piece of paper, writing a bunch of stuff on it, and then throwing it into the trash because it doesn't really make any sense. Kind of like I'm doing right now.

Senseless? Not sure? But my brain is telling me to just put it out there, because in the trash it does no one any good. In Blog World, maybe it will at least help someone learn to spell cinnamon?

P.S... You can still post on the progressive story below...

Something Fun, Maybe?

Not sure if you're interested, but I thought we could 'write' a story. I'll start it with a first line in the comments section, and feel free to continue with it, but with no profanities, and possible humor would be good. Later this weekend, I'll choose a number, and that will be the last poster who will have to end the story.

Rules: You write three to five sentences. No profanity.

Let's see if this'll work.

SAD

So, I guess I deal with sad stuff by withdrawing and avoidance. I don't feel like talking to people or explaining why I'm sad. I choose sleep over anything else as a way to avoid the grief or the sadness. A friend of mine says she cleans like a maniac, and I guess that would be more productive, but it doesn't work for me.

I started this post yesterday but didn't finish. I'm trying to clear my head from the fog. I'm trying to understand why God does the things He does, why He causes pain to good people. Is it so we can be reminded of His suffering? Is it so we can remember to hold our children tighter, to be kinder to one another, to say "I love you" more often?

A friend said she thinks our lives here on earth are just a tiny blip on the screen, like really, we're living in the world but it's only like one second long, and then what happens afterward is a mystery, but far greater than any of the best feelings we feel while we are here. I like to believe that to be true. That we are just right now being tested for the future of things to come, and that none of this stuff will matter so much when it's all said and done. In the end. Or rather, what I like to think, In The Beginning, where there will be no suffering, no sadness, no pain or grief or fear. Just joy and calm and happiness, and unsurmountable love.

I just don't understand why bad stuff happens to good people, and I know there's that book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, that helps to make sense of things, but I've not read it.

I guess we are not meant to understand, and someday, when nothing on earth matters anymore, there'll be this big conference where we'll all be attending, and everything will be explained to us, and we'll be like, "Oh, why didn't we realize that before?"

It's cuz we're not meant to realize whatever the greatness God has in store for us yet. I don't think so anyway. I don't know what I'm saying really, so please forgive this post, it's just something that's been on my mind in light of some new situations some very much loved people are going through right now.

Thank you for your previous comments and for your prayers. I did have to laugh thinking that some of you who have no clue who I am would be saying, "Dear God, help Manic Mom's friends." But I am so thankful for your thoughts, prayers and kind words, and when or if I feel ready to discuss this, maybe some of you have answers, or a relative or friend who, God forbid, has undergone the same, and maybe you can help. But for now, prayers are very, very good, so thank you.

New Year Blah

There's a lot on my mind, much I won't discuss here, but so far, this has not been such a favorable year. There has been illness, death and fights already. I don't want this stuff to be happening with and to the people I love.

So, please, if you are a praying type of a person, send some prayers to some very close friends of mine, okay? Thanks.

All I Need Is Food And Creative Love

If you would have told me 12 hours ago that I would be alive and functioning enough to be blogging in the New Year, I would have told you to get your ass to the convenient store to buy yourself a lottery ticket cuz your chance of winning would have been better than me moving.

A quick glimpse into Manic Mom's life in 2006 so far:

3 a.m. -- Tuck children into bed, including two others I have no idea from whence they came.

3:30 a.m. -- Made good on one of my resolutions, if you know what I mean, then pass out until 8:00 a.m.

8:00 a.m. - 8:40 a.m. -- Spend time with my porcelain god.

8:41 -- get back in bed, pray for sleep or death. Get neither.

9:56 -- Hear the soft beckonings from Tukey, calling from the bathroom... "I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! Come wipe my butt."

Wipe butt.

The rest of the day is a blur, in and out of sleep that doesn't count, being hot, being cold, worshiping the porcelain god again, showering, then getting back into bed soaking wet and haphazardly clothed.

3:30 p.m. -- chilren come visit. It's nice to see them. I ask Diva if she wants to play a game. She does! I tell her she gets to play nurse and could she please get me an ice water and a cold cloth for my head. She's awesome at this game.

3:45 p.m. -- children now bored with nursing game and want to watch Wizard of Oz in my bedroom. I agree, if only to make good on another resolution to be a better parent.

This better parenting thing lasts through about the first verse of Somewhere Over The Rainbow and I leave my bedroom and crawl into Tukey's bunk for more attempts at sleep.

Note: Still have not attempted to even sip water at this point. It would be too risky.

4:00 -- Hear that darling, most wonderful husband in the world is taking the kids to a friends to watch football. I sleep.

7:30 p.m. -- Wake to a dull banging noise, that sounds like rhythmic thunder and am confused as to whether it is coming from my head or outdoors.

7:31 p.m. -- Crawl out of bed and make my way downstairs for the first time all year! (I love saying that. Like if you see a friend on Dec. 31 or talk to someone on the phone and you say, "See you next year!" That never ceases to amuse me.)

Open the back door, inhale fresh cool air. Wonder what it would be like to lay on the ground. Wonder what it would be like to lay on the ground in a snowstorm with snow falling all over my body. Wonder if I would be able to eat all the snow falling onto my face in order not to be buried alive in snowstorm. Please note, there is no snowstorm.

Still hear that banging noise, and wonder who is doing construction work at this hour on the first day of the year. Wonder if there's some bomb scare or freak accident about to happen. Wonder if this is what it sounded like/felt like during Jurrasic Park when the loud, booming footsteps of the dinosaur was arriving and made the glass of water shake in the car. Or, maybe this is the sound of King Kong coming to get his woman.

Take out the phone book, wonder if I should call the non-emergency fire department, but decide against it. Because if there is a bomb scare coming, what can they do about it, and also, I know from past experience with the non-emergency fire department (and if I wasn't in the frame of mind I'm in right now, I'd try to find that post from last winter to link you to, when the firefighters, the HOT firefighters came to the house because I smelled rubber burning, only for them to discover a burning rubber toy dart stuck to the boys' lamp and lightbulb).... Anyway, from past experience, they send someone out to the house of the person who calls, and I was in no shape or form to be seen by cute, hot firefighters, so I bagged that idea, and just decided if the world is coming to an end, then at least I had a nice time.

Drink three sips of diet 7 Up. Eat six honey teddy grahams. Open back door again, still hear the rhythmic booming noises that sound closer and louder now, then hear it happen boomboomboomboomboobooobooooom!

And realize it's some freaking fireworks show.

Call hubby at friends house. Pretend to be fine and tell him I've been up for a while (pseudo-truth) and that I was going back to bed but if he were coming home now, I'd stay up to help put the rats to bed. And, shouldn't he be coming home soon seeing as the kids were up until THREE A.M. in the FREAKING MORNING! (But I guess the A.M. I just typed was an indication that it was in the morning, duh!)

Free reign to go back to bed. Family comes home around 8:30 p.m. I seize Diva and tell her to cuddle with me, to hold my hand, to snuggle. Ahhh. Tell her as I always do, that she is my most favorite little girl in the entire world. And she asks, "Who's your favorite big girl" and I tell her it's her too! Feel good for the first time all day. Fall asleep comfortably with a cold compress on my neck and an eye pillow scented soother on my face. Ah.

10:30 -- Hub comes to bed, removes Diva from our room. We talk about the party we had, but I tell him I can't talk too much because reliving the party will make me think about how sick I was and I don't want to feel sick again.

11:00 -- Hubby snores. I start thinking of McDonald french fries and a vanilla milk shake. I'm thinking of Needing Food and Creative Love (which, by the way, is a song from Rusted Root, for those of you who don't know. Who did know? Anyone hear it before?) So, I'm thinking of Food and Creative Love. I'm hungry AND horny. (Sorry, Mom, don't read if you don't want to know that your daughter gets a little horny from time to time! ahahahhaahahah!)

I come downstairs. I eat some food. I think, I should maybe blog about my day. So, there's my first post of the New Year, and had I typed a bit faster, I could have made it under the deadline and would have had this posted by January 1, but as I said, at that point, all I needed was Food And Creative Love.

Happy 2006! (And Robyn, I LOVE my pillow! And you!)

So, Happy New Year!