My View From The Bell Tower

I will never look at the sky the same way again...

2011-07-11T16:53:00.005-04:00

Note: All pictures were taken by myself the day of the storm via my cellphone.

Some of you who know me in real life know that I live in Western Massachusetts. I have lived in New England my entire life and have always taken comfort in the fact that it's a pretty damn safe place to live. Save for the occasional heavy snowstorm, which we are used to and know of days in advance, it's always calm here.

I love that we don't get earthquakes, hurricanes, extreme temperature fluctuations, tidal waves or tornadoes. It's boring here and I like it that way.

However, June 1st hit and that all changed.

It was unusually hot and muggy outside. I was folding laundry and watching the news while the AC pumped the good stuff. A weather alert came up and warned us that the storm front coming in could produce hail and was favorable conditions for a tornado. I snickered at this because, seriously, it's Massachusetts. That shit rarely happens here.

But then my ears popped. I stretched my jaw and swallowed. Weird.

Then the dogs went nuts. Huh?

Then the power went out. WTF?

Then the back door slammed... Shit...

I ran to the kitchen to shut the door and looked out the window.

Wow. There it was.

A fucking tornado.

Our house is set up on a small hill, which gave me the terrific and terrifying view of the twister touching down behind behind my neighbors and moving quickly (and slowly?!) towards me.

You know those moments where things move in slow motion? This was one of them. I had one calm but direct thought.

"Fuckshitfuck. That's a fucking tornado. Get the dogs and get into the basement."

I grabbed The Monsters and literally threw them down the stairs. I ran to the garage to grab their leashes, snagged my purse off the counter and bolted down after them. I could hear the roar of the wind and debris slamming the house. As I tied the dogs to a support pole that was cemented to the floor, I felt the house vibrating. I cried and screamed and watched the windows pulse.

I don't actively believe in God, but I won't lie and say I didn't pray.

After what felt like an eternity, everything went silent. Scary silent. I waited for a moment and tried to stand up and move.

I opened the bulk head and peered out. My jaw instantly hit the ground and I could not believe what I was seeing. Roof missing. Houses impaled with trees. Trampoline in a pool. Busted windows and disabled cars.

All I could think was "This is Massachusetts..."

Digging my cellphone out of my pocket, I called my husband.

Me: (crying) Honey, you have to come home. We just got hit by a tornado...

Husband: (slightly condescending) Now honey, are you sure it was not just a bad thunder storm?

Me: YES I'M FUCKING SURE. TURN ON THE FUCKING NEWS!

That was the last time I was able to communicate with my husband via phone. Over the next 4 or 5 hours, I would get notice that I had a voicemail and would be able to listen to it, but not able to call out. I could not text out but was able to receive, though they came in large groups. I ended up going to my neighbors house, who fed me beer and kept me sane until my husband could make it home through the wreckage.

Our neighborhood was closed for a week by the National Guard and power was out for about as long. As it turns out, we were lucky. The tornado originated in my town, but grew in size and strength as it moved across the county. It was eventually classified as an EF3 and a total of 3 people lost their lives.

I could likely write for hours about my experience, my neighbors shared stories and how I don't trust New England anymore. However, for now, I think I am just going to try to get through this summer and not beg for a Xanax every time I see a thunderhead over my house.

It's hard to change the way you think about some things, and really, really, really easy for others. For my entire life, tornadoes were just a theme of a movie or something that happened in the Midwest. Now? I have a new found respect (peppered with hysteria) for Mother Nature. I will never, ever look at the sky the same way again.

Gobsmacked

2011-04-03T21:43:00.009-04:00

This weekend, I had lunch with 4 amazing women, 3 adorable babies & 1 sweet husband (not mine).

A little before I got pregnant, I joined a message board centered around pregnancy and babies. I was hoping to learn what I didn't know (everything) and to have a place to confess my insecurities (a lot). The women I lunched with are a few from the board that have befriended me over the past 3 years and they now know me better than most.

What I didn't realize when I found these women was that I had also discovered serendipity.

As quoted by Lawrence Block; "Serendipity. Look for something, find something else, and realize that what you have found is more suited to your needs than what you were looking for."

These women are my Serendipity.

Long story short, I got knocked up, looked for people to tell me what the hell I was supposed to be doing, then suffered a miscarriage and lost my mom in the same week, and totally fell apart. After, I didn't want to leave my house or talk to anyone I knew in real life. I could not talk to anyone in real life. I didn't want my real life and I didn't want to be me. At the same time, I was painfully lonely and had no one to understand me.

Walk in The Women of Serendipity.

They allowed me to speak my truth, consoled me, held my hand, dried my tears and taught me to smile again. So, when I met some of these women for the first time, I was star struck. Gobsmacked. I found myself sitting around a big lunch table and just staring at them, wondering if they even understood what kind of an impact they have had on my life. They saved a part of me that I was afraid I was never going to get back.

Normally, I am a boisterous, loud mouthed, talking nonstop kinda gal. However, I found myself struggling to get sentences together and sweating through my shirt. In what felt like 30 seconds, it was all over and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. As I hugged each of them good bye, one spilled down and I hustled to grab a cab.

It was a true moment of "words can't express how thankful I am..."

So, to these women, the above is some of what I wanted to say. I could write a book about what you all have done for me, but at this point I will be shocked if half of my readers get this far.

Anyway, to put it simple.... Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

And to my readers: You never know the impact you are having on someone. I doubt highly these women know the size of the pedestal I have them on and how I thank God for them daily. Their kindness to me is something I now strive to give back daily.

What's the weight of your world?

2011-03-09T22:37:00.005-05:00

I'm pissed.

Like, WICKED PISSED.

For the past year, I have killed myself at the gym, sacrificed my favorite foods and disciplined my life in every way so that I could meet my weight loss goal.

When my scale finally read those magic numbers, I was psyched. It was like I hit the fucking lottery.

My 25+5 ass managed to get my weight down to what it was in college and it was no easy task. Now the trick is to maintain that goal because, Dude, it's March and bikini season is a heart beat away.

So, I went out and bought one of those fancy scales that give you your BMI, percentage of water weight and records your readings.

All excited, I busted my new toy out of the box and hopped on for the inaugural run.

Excuse me? That can't be right...

Let's try this again.

WHAT THE FUCK!

One more time.!.!.!

THIS IS BULL SHIT!!!

My new "precise scale" has me 5 lbs heavier than my old one. Trust me, I went back and forth like a jackass on the two quite a few times.

5 lbs.

I know it's not much in the grand scheme of things, but I thought I was done. I felt like I had paid off a debt only to get a follow up letter saying I still owed. Or that I worked a 50 hour week and found out I still had one more day to go.

It's brutal and deflating. Devastating even. I'm in mourning and going through stages of grief over this.

Since we all know I am so good with grief and love to sit in the land of denial, I'm pretty sure you can guess what I did next...

I threw the new fucking scale in the garbage can. Clearly it's defective and broken. My old one works just fine, thank you very much.

Problem solved.

Where The Hell Am I?

2011-03-07T23:52:00.005-05:00

This is sooooo not how I left my blog last. I feel like I have been robbed!

Maybe my template got pissed and/or bored and left me. I stopped by to visit myself and to my horror, my whole page was unreadable. There was an annoying sticky note saying something about bandwidth exceeded that I didn't fully understand, but it was clear that the old house of MVFTBT was gone.

While searching for a new home, I came to a sad realization. Good templates that speak to you and really convey the look you want are like the elusive little black dress. LBT. Little Blogger Template? Anyway, I have to see how this little number fits me. So far I'm loving the 3 columns, it's like having an extra bedroom except I have no idea where anything is. The boxes are here, but nothing is unpacked. Ya know?

Sigh.

Anyway, big smooches to Simply Fabulous Blogger Templates and their amazingly creative work. I need to go find my blankie now...

Shot Glasses & Garbage Disposals & Snow... Oh Crap.

2011-02-01T12:32:00.011-05:00

I've been getting hate mail regarding the fact that I have not updated in a loooong time. You all are going to have to excuse me, 'cause my Yankee ass has done nothing but snow blow and shovel for the last month.

The only reason I am blogging right now is because I am bored out of my mind. We are getting hit with yet another monster storm. Wait, I take that back. We are getting hit with 2 storms.
1 today that will drop 8 inches and one tomorrow that will drop 12-16. As it stands, the snow from today's storm is not going to slow down until around 2-4 pm. No sense in blowing or shoveling before that.

::eye twitch::
::cries::
::paces house::

Now, I am a New England girl, born and bred. I can handle snow. I don't even mind giant storms that dump a few feet of the fluffy stuff. What starts to kill me is when it happens every week. We have no where left to put this shit and the dogs are getting lost in the drifts.

Like any normal person with severe cabin fever, I am trying to occupy myself with projects.

Over the weekend, we had a few friends over and were partaking in adult beverages. Sometimes these adult beverages come in super cute shot glasses. Super cute shot glasses are also super small. Small enough to slip into the garbage disposal without my noticing.

Flipping the switch and hearing the blades shatter and grind the glass was epic. While I immediately shut the thing down, all I could do was stare at the sink in utter confusion.

::moment of silence::

::eruption of laughter from friends::

Me: Whoopsies! (don't judge me, I was a tad tipsy)

It was a joke for the rest of the night and I really didn't care all that much about it. The next morning, however, I was PISSED. How could I have been so stupid? A shot glass in the garbage disposal? Really? How cliched. I resigned myself to having to buy a new one and planned on doing so on Friday, when my father got home and could help me install it.

But then yet another snow storm hit. And I got bored. And ran out of things to look at on the Internet. And ran out of trashy tv to watch. Cabin Fever.

So, I googled "Shot Glass In Garbage Disposal", why not? Right?

Well, look at that. I'm not the only asshole who's done this.

Hmmm, Yes, the motor is still running and No, the grindy thingys wont turn. What's this? A Hex Tool? Yes, I think I have one of those... Crank it around until I can do so without resistance? Ok. Give it a try now?

HOLY SHIT!!! I FIXED IT ON MY OWN!!!

HIGH FIVE TO GOOGLE!!!

AND SNOW DAYS!!!

AND SAVING $200 BUCKS!!!

It's so funny how fixing something in your own home without having to call in a professional can make you feel like freeking super woman.

Happy Snow Day!

Divorce and Mashed Potatoes

2010-11-28T23:09:00.007-05:00

Don't y'all love my titles?! 2 Thanksgiving stories in one post, whoo hooo!

First:
It all starts with mashed potatoes. On H's side of the family, there is an ongoing joke about who brings them... 'cause it's never the same person 2 years in a row.

4 Years Ago: BIL's wife had the honors. She made the taters and sent them over, but never made it to dinner. Turns out she was a tad busy packing her bags and filing her divorce papers.

3 Years Ago: BIL's new girlfriend offered to whip them up. She was gone by August.

2 Years Ago: Auntie L took the reins and announced a month later that her and Uncle R were living separately. She found a new man pretty quick and just got remarried last month.

1 Year Ago: Aunt P laughed off the now infamous curse and brought some great spuds to the table. She passed away a few months ago.

This Year...
H's Aunt Biotch (as I like to call her) called and said it was my turn to make the cursed potatoes. She is also known as Passive Aggressive Auntie. It's no secret that we dislike each other.

In the interest of my marriage and self preservation, I flat out refused. H was horrified until I reminded him of the time line and asked if he wanted to start looking for an apartment right now.

I don't give a good god damn, I will NEVER make mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving. Call me silly or superstitious, I don't care. I refuse to poke that bee's nest.

Second:

I can be a SUPER NERD. ::gasp:: I know you all think I am so cool and whateve's, but everyone has their dorky side. My natural love for words and the uber competitor in me makes for a very dangerous combination. And when H and I go head to head at this game, we have a special name for it.

Blogger Buddies, I would like you to meet Divorce....

AKA - SCRABBLE

It's a tradition to bust out the board after Thanksgiving and play a few rounds. Since we all have usually had a glass or 4 of wine, it gets intense pretty quick. We call it divorce because typically loving couples will start hurling f-bombs at each other over the proper spelling of 3 letter words containing only vowels.

You will either pee a little laughing over this or think WTF to yourself. Only true Scrabble players will get it.

Anyway, I am ashamed to admit it, but I became so enraged at H this year that I started flailing my hands at him (intimidation!!!) and literally shattered my wine glass on a candle stick. All would have been fine had I not drenched my 10 year old niece in chardonnay.

She took it like a champ though and even managed to leave us with belly laughs.

Me: Niece K! I am sooo sorry! Let's clean you up!

Niece K: It's OK Auntie, I smell like you and Mommy now!

Yikes...

For my smokin' hot ass...

2010-11-07T21:21:00.007-05:00

November being the thankful month that it is, I have noticed people taking a more positive outlook on life. The cynic in me thinks that they have not started their holiday shopping yet, but whatever.

Anyway, while this is a bit corny, I do appreciate the sentiment of it. Everyone has a card or two in their hand of life that they would like to toss or trade. Everyone thinks someone has it better than they do. Everyone KNOWS that someone has it worse than them. Long story short? Everyone has their own shit to deal with.

How you are prepared in life can shape how you deal with these things. Are you financially secure? Ok, good. That surprise $600 car repair is more annoying than anything. Paycheck to paycheck? That bill can constitute a full blown FML situation.

How are you mentally prepared? Do you think you are strong and able to ride the waves of life? Great. That doctors diagnosis of whatever is scary, but treatable. Prone to panic attacks and fits of hysteria? You are now disease ridden and probably going to die.

I have had some intense curve balls pitched to me in life, thus the birth of My View From The Bell Tower. Those events changed me forever, in good ways and some not so great ways. I own the fact that I am now totally cynical. People used to ask me how I got through it and mostly I would just say that it was a day to day process. Those closer to me know that I developed a little life mantra and it's pretty simple. ::this is the good change::

I choose to be happy. Told you it was simple.

I choose to celebrate the blessings I have in my life instead of wallowing in the hurt.

Don't get me wrong, I have grieved and cried. That's part of healing and moving on. In that, however, I have learned that there are issues in life that really don't require me to flip the fuck out. That saying of "don't sweat the small stuff" is appropriate here.

I hate wasting time feeling sad and depressed. Imagine the world ends tomorrow because a huge meteor slammed into Earth. Dontcha think you would be kicking yourself all the way to Heaven (Hell, whatever...) that you spent your last day on Earth curled up in bed crying because you had a fight with your husband? Or mad at so-and-so for losing your favorite necklace? Or saying "Poor Me!" for not getting that promotion?

I don't have time for that. I'm too busy living and being happy. If I have learned anything in the past two years, it's that life is too short. I consider it Mom's last lesson to me, and I get it. I really, really get it.

So, in the essence of being happy and knowing it could always get worse, here are a few things I am thankful for right now.

1. Having had the most amazing mother ever created, for however short a time it was.

2. My amazing husband.

3. My family that knows me and loves me, just for me. My father and sister being close and

my brother stationed somewhere safe.

4. Roof over my head, food in my belly, clothes on my back, good health, and a tomorrow to

look forward to.

5. Good friends and a glass of wine.

So, what's your happy place? What's your bright spot in the day that gets you through? What's your standby "I'm thankful for..." And now, think of a new one.

I'm thankful for the great pair of jeans I bought that earned me the comment of "She has a smokin' hot ass" from a college kid.

Oh so very thankful.

Where did you expect to be?

2010-10-08T16:43:00.009-04:00

When I was 12, my BFF and I looked in the phone book to see when our 30th birthdays would be. You know, because it was soooo far away and we would be soooo old. We fantasized about what our lives would be like and how we would still be known as "Be Fri" & "St End."

Come on ladies, I know you know what this is. Friendship necklaces ring a bell? Remember how they split down the middle and created the Be Fri - St End halves? Yeah?! The power of those amulets declared to the world that you were a unit and that nothing could come between our devotion to each other. Coveted, those cheap, tacky necklaces were.

Anyway...

I was uber excited because mine landed on the legendary Friday slot. In my mind, I was going to have a kick ass party. I would be surrounded by my friends and family, my super hot husband and beautiful children. I would be a successful veterinarian, own a farm and have a ton of horses. I would wear beautiful clothes, look like a movie star, drink wine from a goblet and nibble on delicate hors d'oeuvres. I'd sashay around the dance floor to classical music from a string band.

Now that I am actually turning 25+5 (I refuse to say the other word) I find myself reflecting back to my 12 year old days. How much of my childhood dreams did I fulfill?

I will be having a kick ass party. Band, food, booze, everything. My hot husband rocks for putting this together for me. My family and friends will be there.

I will not be surrounded by my children, as I have not had any yet. Not according to my plan thus far, but whatever.

I am not a successful vet, I do not own a farm and I do not own a horse. The 12 year old me still wants a pony.

I will wear a nice outfit, but not the pain in the ass evening gown I envisioned. I will drink low calorie beer from a bottle, not vino from a chalice. I refuse to get old AND FAT.

I will eat ribs and grilled BBQ chicken, not tiny pieces of puff pastry and beef.

I will dance my ass off to a great country band in my cowboy boots, screw the violins and harps.

By my rough calculations, I am running about 30% of my desired 30th birthday. Humph.

By any standard, 30% is failing. However, who turns into what they predicted when they were 12? As far as I can tell, I am happy and healthy. I have an amazing husband, a beautiful home and a supportive family. Have I taken my fair share of licks from life? Absolutely. Did it make me stronger? I don't know, but I can say for sure that it didn't kill me.

So, that being said, I feel a wee bit better about turning 25+5. I am not where I expected to be, but I love where I am.

Happy Birthday to my fellow October babies and please kiss your mothers who carried us through those horrible summer months. I love and miss you, Mom. When I blow out my candles, I will be wishing for you.

It's because I'm a Masshole, isn't it?

2010-08-16T00:27:00.004-04:00

Summer has got the better of me, I will be the first to admit it. Whooops.

So a funny story before I get back to the serious business of keeping up with this blog. I am slightly paranoid that you all are going to leave me in the dust for some other cute and snarky writer who actually posts shit.

So Husband and I went to Jackson Hole, Wyoming at the end of July for a week. While a multitude of hysterical and awe inspiring moments occurred, this was the saddest of them all.

Imagine me, sweet and happy little Chatham, oh so excited for her first trip west. She is a country music loving, horse back riding, mountain hiking, meat eating, beer drinking kinda girl. This trip is SO PERFECT for her. She shops for perfect outfits, shines her cowboy boots, highlights trails and researches Yellowstone and Grand Teton. Like a 5 year old on Christmas Eve, she does not sleep the night before.

Upon landing in Jackson Hole, Chatham feels a little off, but assumes it's from flying all day. She and husband drop their bags and head to the nearest watering hole (BAR!!) for food and spirits. The food makes Chatham feel heavy and not exactly full. The beer? She has had 2 and she feels like she has been doing keg stands all night.

Chatham knows she is unwell. Chatham knows that she needs to leave the bar. Pronto.

Chatham gives Husband the look that only husbands and wives have. Husband stays behind to pay the bill and Chatham quickly and unsteadily makes her way to the hotel room. Sadly, this is basically where the story ends because Chatham proceeds to puke her guts out for a solid 2 hours. Even worse is the fact that this condition continues for the next 4 days.

Let's do a poll - Why was Chatham so sick?

Food Poisoning?

Cheap Date Drunk?

Flu?

Pregnant?

I questioned all of these, over and over and over again. I would describe my symptoms as worst stomach flu ever + worst hangover ever + worst vertigo ever.

I had no desire for food and could only keep down diet coke and water.

Somewhere around day 4 I was standing in a convenience store asking if they had something for my above symptoms. The lady behind the counter looked me up and down and quickly deduced that I had altitude sickness.

Having never heard of this affliction, I grilled the lady for a solid 5 minutes while the line behind me grew impatient and hostile. I didn't care, I just wanted to feel better. I could hear the exaggerated eye rolls when I answer her question of where I was from.

Massachusetts.

Yup. Uh Huh, asshat behind me, don't think I didn't hear your little comment about Massholes. Is that the best you got? Puh-lease. If I were on my A-game, you would be toast buddy.

Anyways, the cure? It passes on it's own once your body acclimates. However, until it does, only sleep, water and soup. She described AS to gambling. Sometimes you get it, sometimes you don't and there is nothing you can really do to stop it or treat it. Mostly, it's a suck it up kinda thing.

There is a big No-No List. That would include booze, hard to digest foods like meat, caffeine and carbonated drinks.

My diet while not feeling well? Wine at group dinners (the trip was business related), steaks and diet coke.

Essentially, I screwed myself. I suppose that's what I get for being a Masshole and an avid believer in Murphy's Law. Besides the sickness, the trip was AMAZING... More to come.

CrackBerrys & Cops

2010-06-08T19:03:00.005-04:00

First, an amazing update!

NORMA LIVES!!!!

Apparently H missed a branch of good 'ol Norma and she is thriving! I think she managed to pull through out of sheer spite. That's my girl!

Now, onto a comical short story.

H is addicted to his Crackberry. He is a classic distracted driver and we fight about this every time I get into the car with him. Granted, it is all for work, but it's no excuse.

Anyway, we were running around trying to get things done for our Relay For Life this past weekend. H, of course, was yapping away on his phone.

::Screech of tires, fury of cuss words, sirens and blue lights flashing, cell phone being hurled into our back seat::

Me: WTF?!?!

H: I just cut off a fucking cop.

Me: ::snickers:: Told you not to crack and drive.

The officer walks up to the car and stares hard at H.

Cop: Do you know what a YIELD SIGN means?

H: Yes, I'm sorry.

Cop: License and registration. ::looks at H again:: How's your day going so far?

H: Pretty shitty, to be honest. I cut you off because I was on my phone.

(My jaw hit the floor that he actually said that. Seriously, I am not making this up.)

Cop: ...........

(I am now convinced that H is going to jail)

Cop: ::BELLY LAUGHING:: Cut the crap and drive smarter. ::walks away::

We kinda sat in silence for a few seconds and H smirked a little.

Me: I can't believe you almost killed that cop, then cussed at him, admitted that you were on your cell phone and didn't get a ticket!!!

H: What? He liked my honesty!

Me: Only you.

Had it been me, I would have had to call for bail money. Total bullshit, but funny none the less.

Angry Wife

2010-05-22T21:42:00.005-04:00

The latest installment of The Angry Wife Stories

Husband is pretty miffed that I made him fire our lawn mowerer (is that a word??). After an obscenely high bill from last years services, I had a mini meltdown and put the kibosh on hired grass help.

Husband now grumbles every Saturday that he has better things to be doing then pulling weeds and clipping hedges. I would snicker and tell him to get moving, 'cause the grass sure aint gunna cut itself.

I realized too late that I had made the terrible mistake of underestimating his internal bitter hostility.

2 weeks ago, I found the most perfect Wisteria plant ever created. I loved it. I embarrassed GSIL when I bought it because I named her Norma and talked to her all the way to the checkout counter. I planted Norma in the backyard next to the fence and fed her Miracle Grow. She was beautiful.

Today, Husband came in after mowing and the following convo took place...

Husband: I swear I didn't do it on purpose. I bug flew into my eye and I was temporarily blinded. I'm sorry!

Me: WTF are you talking about?

H: I accidentally ran over your Wisteria plant with the mower. There's nothing left. ::smirking::

Me: *$&#($$&$^^$^#&#)@)$^$^^#*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Needless to say, he denies any actual intent and maintains that it was a freak accident. I think he was getting back at me for making him let the lawn service go. I can almost hear the reasoning in his head:

"Maybe if I kill off enough of her plants, I won't have to do this anymore."

Listen up, fucker. The gloves are off. You killed Norma and for that, you are going to mow that fucking lawn until hell freezes over. And, let me add that you are going to be making this up to me for a very, very, very, long time. And it's going to be really fucking expensive.

Ass.

Undie Appetizers

2010-05-10T09:48:00.006-04:00

Monday 7:15 am

I am deeply and comfortably asleep. I don't have to be up until 8 and that's only to catch a spin class at my gym.

My bedroom is at the ideal sleeping temperature and the ceiling fan is blowing just right. My pillow is positioned in the precise neck to face ratio. My sheets have not become tangled and are aligned with the comforter. All is right with the world.

Vom. Vom. Vom.

I scrunch my eyebrows together and foggily try to place that noise.

No. Too early. Don't care.

Vom. Vom. Vom.

OK. What the fuck IS that?! I am awake and listening intently, but still refusing to open my eyes. Maybe it will stop and go away.

Vom. Vom. Vommmmmit!

I open my eyes just in time to watch Brutus puke his doggie guts out. The noises I refused to acknowledge had been the poor guy dry heaving for 20 minutes.

What did Brutus spew all over his bed? Well, there was the normal grass, stomach juices, bits of dog food, and the like.

Not normal?

A pair of my thong panties. One of my favorites, actually.

You want to talk about a horrible game of "which of these dose not belong with the others?"

So, it is now 7:30 and I am up, stripping dog beds, doing laundry, mourning the loss of my undies, and trying not to get sick myself. The smell of dog vom mixed with partially digested Victoria's Secret underwear is rancid.

You would think the dumbass dog would learn. It's not the first time he has done this and I doubt it will be the last. Husband would ask why I haven't learned to stop leaving my clothes on the bathroom floor.

Whatever.

I got some Xanax

2010-04-28T11:30:00.005-04:00

For my dog. I had no idea that dogs could even take Xanax.

Quick back story: When Brutus was a pup, we had to board him for a weekend so we could go to my brother's wedding. When we picked him up, the asshole who runs the place told us that Brutus had been in a "bit of a scuffle" with another dog, but they had cleaned up the cuts. I was beyond livid, DH actually had to drag me out of there.

As a result, Brutus now has serious anxiety issues around other dogs. He will actually start "dog screaming" and his whole body goes rigid. It's horrible.

Anyway, I had to take him to the vet's for his yearly shots the other day and he started "screaming" in the waiting room. I felt horrible and mortified all at the same time. I couldn't calm him down and people were staring at me with judgy faces. Good times.

We get into the little room and my vet gets right to the point. Brutus, as a result of his boarding trauma, needs a little help learning that the world is not going to eat him alive. She tells me she is going to write a prescription for Xanax to "take the edge off" and to let her know if it helps.

Guess where I have to have the prescription filled? CVS.

Pharmacist: Oh, is this for your son?

Me: No... It's for my dog.

Pharmacist: ::gives me side eye:: Really? I didn't know dogs could take Xanax. I am going to have to talk to my supervisor about this.

Me: Fine, whatever you need to do. Call the vet if you like. I swear I am not trying to scam you for anxiety medication.

Pharmacist: I doubt your insurance is going to cover this...

Me: What else is new.

It all worked out fine, but having the pharmacist look at me like I was a desperate housewife trying to get my pill fix was the cherry on top.

I Almost Poughkeepsied

2010-04-11T01:17:00.004-04:00

I went to dinner at GSIL's house the other night. While she was cooking, we were munching on grilled eggplant. By munching, I mean we ate the whole damn thing.

Fun fact about eggplant? High in fiber.

Fast forward 2 hours and we are all sitting around the dinner table, finishing our meals and drinking wine.

I was involved in a hearty conversation when I felt... well... a rumble. Correction, I felt a friggin' earthquake.

The stomach cramps that followed were the kind that suck the blood out of your face. The kind that give you full body sweats, curled toes and eventually leave you begging for death. All of this while sitting at the dinner table.

We only live a few houses down from GSIL & BIL. I had a general idea of what my future held and bolted for the door. There was no way I was going to endure the humiliation that surely would have followed had I relieved myself in their bathroom.

As I was running down the sidewalk, I realized that I was Charlotte from Sex & The City. Crying and running and praying and holding my butt cheeks together.

Thankfully, my story has a happy ending. Unlike Charlotte, I did not shit my pants. I made it home, tripped over two very confused bulldogs and landed just in time.

But, I was *thisclose* to poughkeepsieing my pants in my own driveway.

Moral of the story? Know thy veggies. Or fruit. Or whatever. What the fuck is an eggplant? Oh, right, it's evil.

Never mind, moral changed. Know thy enemy.

Dear Mom

2010-03-31T17:31:00.005-04:00

Dear Mom,

I am really pissed at Dad. Like, supremely pissed. So pissed, in fact, that I can't even talk to him right now.

I think you were the rose colored glasses of the family. You never really let us know everything that was going on, and now that you are gone, it's like Jenga.

It started when Dad told us that he was dating someone. This was a mere 5 months after you left us. I was angry, of course, and told him that I didn't want to know anything about it.

Time passed and he would drop hints about her, and I would have to remind him again and again that I didn't want to know. We even fought about it when he pushed me to the point of not even wanting to talk to him.

Fast forward to his birthday this year. He guilted me and little sister into dinner with him and her.

Truth? I want nothing to do with her. The thought of her roaming around your house, touching your paintings, moving your nicknacks... It makes me want to vomit.

More Truth? I think I have met her before. I bumped into Dad at the airport a few years ago when I had to pick up my roommate from college. He was there, having a drink with a woman. He said she was just a friend, but even then, I knew better.

I asked him today if she was the same woman. His response?

"NOPE."

That's it.

He then followed with "I can tell you when, where and how I met her. Yes, I have known her for years, but we did not start dating until February of '09."

Oh, funny, last time I asked, you said it was April '09. Glad to see that you have 1) changed your answer and 2) waited a whole 90 days until after you passed away to finish grieving and move on.

He was so lucky to have you. Actually, you were too good for him. I will never use the word "hate" in reference to Dad, but I thoroughly dislike him right now. I am completely disgusted.

Sigh. I love and miss you.

Men & Babies

2010-03-18T12:39:00.005-04:00

Are all men domestically unaware? Or just the men in my family?

Husband and I were having dinner with GSIL and B2 last night and we were discussing how B1 and his fiance are going to handle the arrival of their twins. (B1 = oldest brother, B2 = middle brother, Husband is youngest of 3)

My husband, his 2 brothers and his father own a business. Translation: They work extremely looooooong hours. I am talking 12-14 hour days, sometimes 6-7 days a week. There are days where I don't see Husband at all.

Ideal? No. Fact of life? Yes.

Excerpt from conversation last night:

GSIL: I think B2 and Fiance should think about getting some help, at least a few days a week, once the twins get here.

Chatham: I completely agree, especially if B1 is not going to be able to cut back on hours.

Husband: Why? What's the issue? She can't handle the babies on her own?

GSIL: Are you serious? Do you have any idea how hard it is to have one newborn? Let alone 2?

B2: Snorts and nods in agreement.

Husband: ::incredulous:: How hard could it be?

Chatham: What? You think that they babies come out, automatically sleep through the night, only eat 3x a day, bath themselves and poop in the toilet? Oh, and all at the exact same time?

B2: They have no idea what they are in for.

Husband: How hard could it be?

GSIL: You are crazy. I have never had twins, but I can tell you, even with just having 1, I lost my shit more than once.

Husband: Huh. You guys don't make having children sound like fun at all.

I was surprised that Husband was so spectacularly unaware of the reality of it all. B2 is the only brother who has children and seemingly in touch with reality. I am starting to worry that Fiance is going to completely drown once the twins get here, especially if the perception is that "it's not that hard."

Fuck, I am worried that I will be an epic failure as a new mother if Husband thinks it is so easy and that I can do it alone. Truth? This is what will likely happen since we don't have a living mother between us to give us support.

It's a glass half empty kinda day.

Getting Old and DUI's...

2010-03-12T12:50:00.004-05:00

When did I get old?

I used to live for the weekends. I love beer, I own that. I used to get excited about the thought of going out to a bar with Husband, finding a comfy stool, a good tender and a kick-ass band. Pass me a Grape Bomb, please?

Such an event is planned for tonight. My attitude about it? Blah. Meh. Whatever.

GSIL suggested having the boys go out together and the women staying in. Translation: Make a yummy dinner, crack a few bottles of wine and watch a movie. My attitude about this? YES! Awesome! What can I bring?!

Truth? I don't want to deal with a hangover tomorrow. I just don't recover like I used to. Also, the hundreds (thousands?) of calories don't melt away on their own anymore. They kinda hang around and make base camp on my belly and hips.

I kinda miss being the party hardy, college aged girl of my youth, but I am finding as of late that I love being home, spending time with my family and not being hungover for 2 days.

On that note, in relation to drinking, a more ethical question.

We, as in my family, have an ex-friend. Long, awful story for another day.

X lives one street over, which is kinda awkward. We recently learned that X has just received his 2nd DUI. In MA, mandatory immediate loss of license for 6+ months.

X is still driving. We, as a family, see him doing this.

Would you report him? Would you keep your nose out of it? What would you do? I am leaning towards keeping my nose out of it, it's not my business. However, it is illegal. Slightly conflicted here...

Would you do High School over again?

2010-03-06T11:26:00.003-05:00

I don't know how many of you have heard about the awful ongoings in South Hadley, MA. and the poor girl who was "bullied to death", but it was recently chronicled in Time Magazine. Google "South Hadley Mean Girls" for the full story or click here.

Anyway, the point of this posting is not to rehash the story. What I want to know is how you all felt about High School. I remember it being mostly OK, but I went through terrible rumors, shitty friends, worse boyfriends, stress of homework and a job, and occasionally feeling like I wanted to set the whole building on fire. I also had some great friends, went to legendary parties, did the prom thing, and had the "OMG! He Likes ME?!" moments.

That being said, there is nothing in the world that could get me to go back and do High School over again. Ever.

Am I the only one?

Did you like HS or was it horrid? Were you bullied or a bully? Did you have a teacher that made your life miserable? Did a shockingly bad rumors ever circulate about you?

I will get the ball rolling and share a story. I shall call it "Super Shitty Friend Steals Boyfriend & Defamation Ensues".

Short Version: Senior year, I was dating "The Boy Next Door." You know the kind and I was head over heels. I introduced him to my best friend, lets call her "ShAMY." ShAMY and BND decide they are better together and start dating secretly. Well, not secretly. Secret in the sense that everyone knew but me. I found out on Christmas (Thanks, Santa) and was understandably ruined.

To start, I was given tons of support and sympathy. But then the snickers and whispers started. I could not walk down the hallway without the torture. WTF, Right? After weeks of paranoia, gossip and heart break, I found out what the deal was. ShAMY and BND had told the whole school that we had had a 3-some and that BND had decided that ShAMY had a hotter body and was way better in bed.

I wanted to die. Clearly it was a lie, but how do you get people to believe you? How do you do damage control on something like that. And attacking my body image? It's been **cough10cough** years and thinking back to it still brings on waves of depression and anxiety. I begged to be home schooled.

Life went on though. I went to college, got new friends and rebuilt my self esteem. However, I never forgot it. They tainted my senior year and created an insecurity in me that I vowed never to lower myself to again.

Anyway, that is my story. I'm feeling a little naked and exposed out here, so share yours.

My eyebrows???

2010-02-20T23:39:00.003-05:00

Sorry everyone, I just didn't feel like writing lately! Nothing personal, I pinky swear.

This recent story, however, jarred me back into writing mode. After it happened, I glared at GSIL and whispered through gritted teeth, "I am SO blogging about this!"

Anyway...

I went with GSIL to a doctors appointment. Not a medical appointment, per say. More of the cosmetic variety. My stunningly beautiful SIL was gettin' some Botox. I was not interested at all in getting any myself, I just wanted to see the process. I swear!

Dr. Pusher (you will understand later why I call him Dr. Pusher) comes in and starts to stab GSIL in her barely there crows feet. GSIL is also poking fun at the fact that I am turning 30 in a few months. A shot below the belt? Yes. Will I always be younger then her? Yes. I WIN.

I remind her that I have beautiful Irish/Native American skin and that I take very good care of it.

Dr. Pusher whirls around (literally, he SPUN!) as if someone had just challenged him to a duel.

::cue the tumbleweeds and clinking spurs::

He gets an inch from my face, scrutinizes my forehead for about 30 seconds and then smirks.

Me: WTF?!

Dr. Pusher: ::snorts:: I would watch your eyebrows if I were you.

Me: What the Hell does that mean?

I am now riddled with anxiety about deep, irreversible wrinkles and aging too quickly. In the middle of trying to figure out how to schedule myself some Botox and a little SmartLipo on the side, a thought strikes me.

Let's call it an "ahha moment with a side of youuuusonofabiiitch!"

Dr. Pusher simultaneously had one hand in my purse and the other promising to make me beautiful.

Dr. Pusher has cleverly learned that if he mildly prays on the basic insecurities of every woman, they will become puddy in his capable and pushy hands. Thus ensuring we keep paying him the big bucks and we keep "feeling" beautiful. That is a dirty, dirty way to play, Dr. Pusher.

Watch my eyebrows, you say? Watch my middle finger and let me know how the grooves in my knuckles are working out for you.

P.S. GSIL is going to kick my ass for writing this post.

Cabin Fever & 100

2010-01-28T11:43:00.006-05:00

Day 7:

I can feel Lulu's eyes burning a hole into the back of my head. She wants to go outside and play. And jump on the couch. And not take any more drugs. She also does not like the nicknames we have given her... Frankenass and Stitchybutt are a few.

I think she is plotting a revolt. I see the conspiratorial glances between her and Brutus and I am getting nervous. There are 2 of them and 1 of me. Together, they weigh about as much as I do.

In an effort to know my enemy better, I have attempted to predict their methods in the event of a hostile take over:

Immobilization by slobber

Suffocation by fur

Roofied by doggie pain meds

Becoming a POW in the laundry room

My paranoia may get the best of me. The vet ordered 2 weeks of bully bed rest, instead of one. We are only half way through and the tension is rising.

Must.Stay.Strong.

P.S. This is my 100th post. I think it could be a fitting end if I don't make it through. Pray for me... ::dramatic, yet dignified exit::

This WILL Make You Laugh

2010-01-17T22:34:00.004-05:00

I don't even know where to start with this so I'm just going to jump right in...

Lulu is going in for surgery on Thursday.

Ask me what it's for. Come on, beg me. The answer is so hilarious that I can guarantee you will either pee your pants or have to pick your jaw up off the floor. Probably both.

Ready?

She is having a Vagina Face Lift.

Yup. Told you so.

That's what our Vet calls it, anyway.

Explanation: Lulu has reoccurring UTI's. Short legs and bulldog stature prevents her from keeping her vajay-jay clean. Add a "deep set" vulva and you have a factory for bacteria.

End result? Having to remove the deep groves around her lady parts and eliminating the place where the bacteria has been living it up.

For Real.

Post-surgery, She is on Bully Bed Rest for a week. As in she can't leave the house and I can't leave her alone. I am going to be locked in my house for a week. If she pops a stitch "down there" we are in big trouble.

Pro: My house is going to be spotless during recovery

Con: We got a credit card designated only for the vet.

Truth: My bulldogs have had more plastic surgery then I could ever hope for.

In Which Husband Eats Foot

2010-01-04T21:03:00.004-05:00

Husband is getting back on the "Baby Bandwagon" and is discussing TTC again...

He tries to maintain his masculinity by asking for constant reassurance that he will still be able to watch his sports. I am married to one of those guys that is emotionally involved in EVERY aspect of our regional teams.

His current FB status? :

See you next season WW #83. You definitely did not deserve a torn ACL / MCL. What do the Pats do now?

Anyway, he went a step too far this past Saturday while out at our local bar.

Truth? Seinfeld would have cringed.

Husband was telling BIL & SIL about how he still hopes to make it to all of his precious UMass Mens Basketball games, since we are season ticket holders. I was, once again, reassuring him that he could, so long as he remembered to take me to a few.

His response to this?

"I will start taking you again once you lose all of your baby weight."

Music stopped, glasses were dropped, heads snapped and daggers shot out of strangers eyes. It was loud in the bar, but I swear EVERYONE heard him.

While it was offensive, I know my husband. I know his intention was to crack a harmless joke, but it was an EPIC FAIL. I almost felt bad for him.

Needless to say, he came home with flowers tonight.

Boys are so dumb sometimes.

1 Year Ago, Part 2

2009-12-09T18:13:00.006-05:00

Dear Mom,

As I write this post, at exactly this hour, this time last year, I was saying goodbye to you for the last time.

Is it weird to say that I remember the day in snap shots?

It started with waking up with horrible cramps and GSIL bringing me to the ER.

Little Brother calling to say that I had to come upstairs to the ICU.

Standing there blankly as Little Sister told me your heart was giving out.

Being made to go back downstairs to the OB/GYN to get a shot and fluids.

Applying chap stick in the hallway and telling The Aunts that "No, there was nothing more to do."

Husband standing behind me as they asked Daddy if they shut off your monitors, silently crying.

Getting home, cracking a beer and taking two percocet.

That is how I remember the day. How has it been a whole year already?

It feels like it was just yesterday that we were having coffee together, but it also feels like a lifetime ago that we spent those 2 1/2 weeks in the ICU with you.

Your headstone goes in this week. I had them design it after one of your paintings, I hope you will love it.

I don't have to tell you how much I love and miss you, you know that already. I do want you to know that I can now say your name without a hitch in my voice. I can now recall stories without breaking down. I can talk about how much I miss you without feeling the hate and anger that plagued me for so long.

Most importantly, I can almost smile now when I think of our own personal memories together. I'm jumping the hurdles. I'm getting there... Someday.

1 Year Ago

2009-12-02T23:40:00.004-05:00

Today.

I sit here with my eyebrows scrunched, lips pursed and nose wrinkled.

I don't know how I feel; or how to feel.

And I know this next week is going to (or should) bring a flood of emotions, but right now... I've got nothing.

It's like my emotional barometer has it's hands up in the air, saying "I don't know, let me get back to you..."

6 Women, 1 House, Part 1

2009-11-16T14:42:00.005-05:00

I ran away with my girlfriends to Chatham this weekend and had a blast. Life gets so busy sometimes that it is easy to forget or ignore the fact that everyone needs a break from time to time.

My next few posts are going to chronicle the hysterical and jaw dropping moments that occurred during our 48 hour mini-vacation. This post is seriously TAME compared to what I am going to throw at you in the upcoming week so bare with me...

We got into town around 530 and it was already dark. When husband and I were down last, I had given my copy of the house key to him because he did not have his. Out of sheer laziness, I never put it back on my key ring and threw it in the junk drawer. With about 10 other random keys.

Shit.

I grabbed all of them and hit the road. Once at the house, after spending 15 infuriating minutes trying to force each of the keys in to the lock, I gave up. It was pitch black, cold and we all had to pee. My little known secret was about to be outed.

I had to pick the lock. Thankfully the girls were just so happy to be in the house that they didn't much notice or care how I did it. With the exception of Beta Wife. BW is one of my BFF's and we joke that she is Husbands second in command.

She looks me up and down and says;

"You are such a fucking freak."

::gigglesnort::

You ever feel like you are being watched?

2009-11-04T13:57:00.006-05:00

I do. All the time, as a matter of fact.

My psychotic neighbor has installed 3 (3!!!) camera's on his property that are all trained to point directly at my home. He can see my entire driveway, my back yard and my front yard. Not to mention into any of the windows that are included in those areas.

His reasoning? He wants to catch me and Husband plowing snow into his yard. Mind you, we live in a heavily populated neighborhood. The tree belts were designed for placing snow during storms. They are public domain, thus this is where the snow goes when the city plows the streets. He is convinced that the salt from our driveway is ruining his sidewalk. Yeah, we don't use salt.

Also, I don't think this is his only motivation. I think he is a sick and preverted asshole.

Want to know how much more twisted this guy is? He took out a No Trespass Order on a 12 year old because the kids ball was rolling into his yard.

I called the Police Department and complained about invasion of privacy. I was told that there is nothing I can do about it and to get better shades.

I feel like I am being stalked and there is nothing I can do about it. This guy creeps me out so badly that I no longer feel comfortable going outside.

I hate him. HATE HIM. I daydream about bumping into him and telling him what a psycho he is. You know, flipping my shit.

I really just can't believe there are no laws against someone taping my home 24 hours a day, seven days a week, against my will. Furious does not cover it.

be careful what you wish for

2009-11-02T21:50:00.003-05:00

I begged for my boob issues to be resolved. BEGGED.

Whelp, my prayers were answered and the top half of my body is now cooperating. The bottom half? Not so much.

AF seems to have taken a leave of absence. About 2 months missing, to be truthful.

Doctor: Huh, well that is weird. Take a test once a week and keep me posted. I doubt you are pregnant though, your uterus is tiny.

I can't even begin to explain how thankful I am for Dollar Tree tests because I would be broke right now otherwise.

I have taken Murphy hostage and have now dubbed it Chatham's Law.

Dear Vineyard Vines

2009-10-27T23:07:00.003-04:00

Dear Vineyard Vines,

If you need someone to test or review your products, I would like to formally offer my assistance. I promise I would be the bestest tester you have ever had. I would also review the hell out of your amazingly perfect products. Let me know, mkay?

Sincerely and Begging,

Chatham

P.S. Can we start with this bag?

Attack of the Killer Broccoli

2009-10-23T14:56:00.003-04:00

So there I was, minding my own business, cleaning out the fridge.

You know how it goes with this chore. Pulling out cartons, doing the sniff test or staring blankly at a tupperware thinking "What the Hell was that?"

Anyway, waaaaaay in the back, I found such a container housing some broccoli. I couldn't remember that last time I bought broccoli. Scary.

I toss the whole thing into the sink and start scrubbing the shelves. I am in my groove, singing along to Sugarland on the radio, when there is a small explosion behind me.

It actually startled me so badly that I banged my head on the door and the dogs went bananas.

I have NO IDEA where the sound came from, but I can smell it. Holy Hell could I smell it.

For about 3 minutes I walked around the house trying to figure out where the stench was coming from. It was EVERYWHERE. I honestly started thinking that some kids set off a stink bomb outside.

I walked back into the kitchen and noticed a tupperware lid on the floor. I wish I could somehow show you all how bad it reeked. In awe, I peer into the sink and see the broccoli on one side, bowl on the other.

I don't know if the tupperware evicted the broccoli or if the broccoli escaped via explosives, but in any event, there was a definite parting of ways between the two.

I don't think I will ever get this smell out of the house. Husband is not going to be amused.

Some people are all sorts of twisted

2009-10-20T16:27:00.009-04:00

In the definition portion of my exam today: Klismaphilia

Go ahead, Google it. I dare you.

Nothing better then learning about this type of material with a bunch of snickering teenagers. At least I save my giggles for blog material.

Just when I thought we were moving on to the next topic, my favorite Dumb Ass Girl belts out this little gem;

"Like, ohmigaaaaawd! Like, didn't they do that in 2 girls, 1 cup?!""

Seriously, this chick asked my professor, who is an older gentleman, about 2g1c.

Channeling my inner Rachel Zoe... I Die

Am I Being Punk'd?

2009-10-16T22:43:00.007-04:00

I literally had to pick my jaw up off of the floor yesterday. And the I had to force a smile so hard that I likely cracked both my cheek bones.

B1's girlfriend is pregnant. Again.

With twins.

TWINS.

FUCK - ING TWINS!

::walks away in utter disbelief, head shaking, arms flailing, eye twitching::

Complete loss of words. I take that back, I have words. Many, many, many words. They are just coming out is fits and starts. Sputtering. A lot of spit. Nothing coherent.

Awesome birthday present, by the way. Thanks.

Where the fuck are you Ashton? This is SO not funny.

Gravity & Beer

2009-10-12T12:53:00.005-04:00

Husband and I went to a pig roast on Saturday night. I love me a huge bonfire, cold beer and good friends and family.

At least, I thought I had good friends and family.

After grabbing a fresh brew, I went back to my coveted chair next to the fire pit. I had been very selective about where I had placed my chair because it had rained buckets the day before and the ground was mushy.

I sat down, propped my feet up and took a sip. The warmth of the fire and the beat of Zac Brown Band lulled me into my happy place. Sigh...

While dancing in this false sense of security, I felt a very distinct POP. The kind of pop the ground makes when it is penetrated by plastic chair legs.

I was computing this information, mid beer sip, when I felt the slow pull of gravity. My chair was slowly sinking backwards and I was powerless to stop it.

Ass over teakettle I went, with my keg cup to my lips. From what I am told, I did a full on backwards somersault, beer to my mouth the whole time. I did not defy physics, however. I did dump half of my beer directly up my nose and into my hair.

I landed on my feet, (don't ask me how), in a huge puddle of mud, with my beverage dripping down my face. Do you think a single on of my aforementioned friends or family offered to help me?

Not.A.Single.One.

The stood there and LAUGHED at me. I am talking deep from the gut, belly laughing. There were tears, gasps for breath, clenching of sides and pointing. No hands extended to pull me from the mud puddle. No towel to clean to booze off my face. No offer to right my chair. They just laughed.

Really nice group of people I have in my life. Really fucking nice. Lucky for them I was laughing too, otherwise I would have been kicking some serious ass.

Dear Mom

2009-10-05T23:08:00.003-04:00

Hi Mom,
People lie. They say that it gets a little easier every day, but they lie.

I still think of you 100 times a day and would give anything, ANYTHING, to talk to you, see you, smell you, feel you.

My birthday is days away and I ache to think about how I will get through it. You always made it so special and gave so much love.

Dad called today to talk about Thanksgiving. All it did was remind me that Thanksgiving last year was the very last time I got to speak to you. I feel so guilty that I didn't go to see you that night and opted to let Lizzy Tish and Little Brother go see you alone. I just never thought, in a million years, that it would be my last chance.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. If that is the truth, then genuine, straight to the bone, earth shattering heart break is worth a million times that.

More then words can express, I love and miss you more every day, not less.

I feel like a cow, a little graphic

2009-10-01T18:31:00.005-04:00

Ok Ladies, especially my BOTBers, I need some help.

I post back in June that my Ta-Ta's were rebelling. Short version, My bubbies were lactating and my doctor thought that it may have been another early miscarriage. She said to call back if it had not stopped on its own in a month or two. Month or two goes by and I'm still leaking. I make appointment and it gets cancelled because my doctor was going on vacation.

No problem, apparently my dripping nipples can wait.

Fast forward to last Friday and I finally have an appointment. Doctor is completely baffled. My prolactin levels are completely normal and I am not pregnant. She suggested that I do not touch my breasts at all (how will I know the lactation has stopped?!) and she wants me to try Ortho Cyclen. She has a theory that my body thinks it is pregnant, hormonally, but I don't see how adding more hormones is going to help with that.

I just don't understand WTF is going on. I am so completely frustrated. Anyone ever had any issues like this? I feel like my doctor is not all that interested and I have scared the bajeesus out of myself Googling it.

I love Just Add Water and she has a Time To Wine Thursday, and I am

clearly doing just that.

OMG, Like, Totally!

2009-09-24T14:03:00.003-04:00

The definition of Hell?

Oh Please, let me share mine...

As I stated ages ago (I know, I have been a bad blogger, so spank me) I am going back for my Masters. I have started classes, but the courses I am taking right now are 3 prerequisites that I had not taken when I was completing my BA.

Translation?

The classes I am taking are filled with 18-19 year old children. I don't say adults because they do not behave like adults. I often find myself watching them and wondering if my roommates and I were such utter and complete fucking morons. Actually, I don't have to think about it. I KNOW we were not.

Example: We were discussing personality tests and how employers and businesses will sometimes ask you to take one to see if you are compatible with their methods.

Professor: Has anyone been asked to take a personality test at a job interview before?

Dumb-Ass Girl: Ummm, yeah, like, I did, and it was like, wicked hard. Ummm (giggle) I didn't like, really get it.

Professor: (bless her patience) Oh? Where were you applying?

DAG: Umm, I think it was Big Y, Umm. I don't really remember. I didn't get the job, so I didn't really, like, care, you know?

Don't get me wrong, there are some intelligent and able minded women in my classes, but the majority seem to celebrate their stupidity.

What has changed so drastically in one generation that has caused these girls to think that it is in their best interest to behave like Cher from Clueless?

While I am enjoying the subject matter and being back in school, every bone in my body wants to be hurled against the chalk board, repeatedly.

Yeah, when did I get old and mean?

Smoke Signals

2009-08-26T10:42:00.002-04:00

I am currently on a business trip with Husband. I assumed that any place we would go would have reliable cell phone and Internet.

arn't I cute.

I am in the middle of West Virginia, at the Greenbrier Resort. They celebrate their "grasp on the past." I do not. I need my text messages to come in asap. I also want my laptop to not have a full on hissy fit when I try to connect.

If my adorable pink Sony Vaio could talk, she would probably be uttering "Eff that shit!"

Anyway, I managed to get a strong signal today, so here I am. I am also sending out emails to professors, begging to be overloaded into their classes. I forgot how ridiculous this process can be.

I almost had to send up smoke signals for you all to come find me. Seriously.

I'm not dead...

2009-08-17T19:52:00.003-04:00

I swear!

I promise to give more details tomorrow, but I have spent the last two weeks getting my application together for my Masters! Out of the blue, I just decided to go back to school. So I applied. Whatever happens, happens... Right?

Long story short, I was accepted. I was not expecting to start until January, (at the earliest) but they have a few slots open in the program I applied for and I will be starting in September.

Holy Crap. I thought this was a slow process?!

More to come tomorrow, I pinky swear.

Wait... Is that cheating?

2009-07-27T17:47:00.005-04:00

I am in need of honest opinions here. Brutally honest.

Bluntness that only besties will give each other. "Yes, your ass looks huge in those pants" kinda truth.

::deep breath::

Here is the hypothetical friend story... short version.

Friends husband was seen at a strip club. Not awesome news, but not really the end of the world either. Many o' man have been tempted by the exotic XXX lights and the lure of strange, nameless women with giant fake ta-ta's and seductive looks. It is almost a right of passage for a man-boy to sit at a topless bar and push sweaty dollar bills towards glittery g-strings.

And bachelor parties? I am sure we are all well aware of what goes usually goes on. Hell, I had a stripper at my bachelorette. Officer Johnson, if I remember correctly.

Skeezy, but mostly harmless, correct? Feel free to disagree with me at any point in time.

The story continues, however. Above mentioned husband was not just sitting at the topless bar, horsing around with his buddies. Above mentioned husband was upstairs, in a private room. His hands were all over her breasts, her hands were all over his man parts. It was clearly was way more advanced then a typical lap dance. For sake of argument, lets call it heavy petting.

::excuse me while I vomit a bit::

Friend confronts husband and accuses him of cheating on her. Below is their argument, obviously paraphrased. I simply can't fit all of the "fuck you, you fucking assholes". Plus, it reads better this way.

Wife:

You have your hands on another woman and she has her hands on you, with the goal of being sexually aroused. She is naked, save a 2 pieces of string called underwear and has her hands massaging your crotch. You are massaging her breasts like bread dough and clearly enjoying every moment.

Husband:

It's a lap dance and she is a stripper. She gets paid to do that. It's no big deal, it's just entertainment. If it were so bad, it would be illegal, like prostitution.

I am dying to hear opinions on this. Men and women alike please. Ask your partners too. I am also going to hold my thoughts on the issue until I hear what you all think. I don't want any of you to feel insecure/intimidated/out of line with your thoughts and feelings on the matter.

Fire away.

Pro & Con

2009-07-16T11:18:00.005-04:00

(best pic I could find of Lulu's tail)

Holy Hell, it has been a long 10 days.

About 2 weeks ago, I brought Lulu to the vet to figure out why patches of her fur seemed to be falling out. After Dr. K walked in, it became clear that Lulu's pattern baldness was the least of our issues.

Dr. K. was astonished as to how our Little Miss Lulu's tail had developed as she moved from puppy to adult. To be more specific, how her Cinnamon bun shaped wagger had grown to cover her... ahem... butt hole. For sanitary reasons alone, the tail had to go. ASAP.

I cried. No, seriously. I really cried.

Lulu had the most precious little tail. When she was happy, it would actually vibrate. Hands down, the coolest dog related thing I have ever seen.

Anyway, the legendary tail was chopped off on Tuesday of last week. Picture her little ass, all the hair shaved off, and a Frankenstein-esque strip of stitches. Sniff Sniff...

Fast forward to this Tuesday night, 9pm. Husband left on Monday to spend a week in Boston for business and it was just me and The Monsters at home. I see Little Lu jump up on the couch, followed by a flash of pink.

HOLY SHIT.

Lulu no only managed to rip out half of her stitches, but there is also a huge gaping hole in her backside. I can actually see her muscles moving. Why I didn't pass out and vomit is beyond me. We jump in the car and drive 30 miles to the 24 hour pet ER.

The place is packed. People and animals alike are crying and hysterical. I am told we are not of "urgent need" and to wait in the corner. WHAT?!?! I own it, I got kinda pissy. But in my defence, the ladies behind the counter were a special breed of Nasty Bitches. Needless to say, I still ended up in the corner.

4 hours pass. We are no further along on the list then before. Emergencies (dog v. car, dog v. dog, severe neglect, etc) keep rolling in and Lulu is starting to freek out from the stress of it all. I approach the Nasty Bitches again and ask how much longer. One of them actually starts counting off on her Lee Press On Nail finger tips and smiles.

6am. 6AM!

I can expect to get my poor dog her desperately needed medical attention in roughly 5 hours. Add the four hours we had already been there. Oh, and they would like the $150.00 Emergency Care Consultation Fee. Cash or Credit is fine.

Oh, Fuck That. Fuck that 18 ways from Sunday. I told them to take us off the list and that we were going home. Here was my mental Pro-Con List...

Pro:

1. We are already here

Con:

1. We have been here 4 hours already and won't be seen until at least 6am.

2. This place is worse then an inner city ghetto ER

3. After doing quick mental math, they are going to charge me 6X what my normal vet will.

4. Lulu is stressing out

5. I am stressing out

6. I am about to get arrested for assaulting The Nasty Bitches

Needless to say, we went home. I wrapped her ass up with giant band aids, surgical tape, and ace bandages (thank you, softball first aid kit). We got to Dr. K at 7:05am and they had her fixed up and ready to go by 12pm. Lulu actually had to go back into surgery to put the stitches back in.

And not that money matters in a situation like this, but it is something you consider after the fact. My bill from Dr. K was $95.00. That included antibiotics, anesthesia, new stitches, and whatever else they did. The Animal ER wanted $150.00 just to walk in the door.

So, I drove 60 miles, waiting for 4 hours to hear I was going to wait another 5, got zero medical attention, met the Nasty Bitches, almost parted with a large chunk of my checking account and still ended up back at my own vet in the wee hours of the morning.

It all worked out in the end, but I swear to God, these dogs may be the death of me...

I Pass Judgement

2009-06-30T11:17:00.003-04:00

Doctor Results: No Brain Tumor! I didn't really think that was the issue to begin with, but it is a relief none the less.

Moving on to a more difficult topic.

I am having a hard time liking my Father right now. Don't get me wrong, I love my father with all my heart, but at the moment, I am a little repulsed by him.

Recently, Daddy sat me down and asked how I would feel if he started dating again. What he really meant was "I am already dating."

I was stunned by this, needless to say. Mom has not yet been gone 7 months and I just finished ordering her headstone. While trying not to cry, I told him that I wanted him to be happy but was not ready to hear details.

Fast forward to Sunday. Dad casually lets it slip that he will be going to Woodstock with his friend "Betsy."

I am not going to pretend to understand what it is like to be a widow. I am not going to pretend to understand what it is like to suddenly be alone after 25 years of marriage.

I can, however, describe how it feels think of my father dating someone else, so very soon after the loss of my Mother. Disgusted. I can already hear the whispers and cries among my Mother's side of the family. I dread when they find out.

I have not expressed any of these feelings to my Father because I recognize that my own grief over the situation may be clouding my judgement. But, truth be told, I have judged him. I know Mom would want him to be happy in life, but for the love, couldn't he have at least waited a year? At least let his children get through all the terrible stages of shock before even bringing up the topic? How about this - Let us learn how to live without Mom before we have to live with someone new.

I know, I know. Glass houses, Pot & Kettle, Mile in Shoes.... I can't help it.

Am I crazy?

The Danger Zone

2009-06-23T10:19:00.006-04:00

Many Updates. Some Bittersweet, some funny, some downright fucking awful.

The Bittersweet:

Today is my 2 year anniversary with Husband! 6 years on the 28th! Where does the time go???

Sadly, today is/was also my due date. I am strangely OK with this. I am choosing to put a smile on my face and move forward. That which does not kill me blah blah blah...

The Funny:

Still no test results from the Doc, but as they say, no news is good news. I am not worried about it. I did get a new method of BC (No more psychotic Chatham on the pill) and hilarity does ensue.

I wanted an IUD, but Doc nixed that right away. I was introduced to the NuvaRing. Strange little contraption. It goes where? How? I consult GSIL's college aged sister and she gives me the low down.

"Squeeze the ring into a line and gently insert into vag. "

Sounds simple enough. So, there I am, squeezing and gently inserting when my girly bits get an idea of their own.

Seriously, it was as if my Ute pulled the thing right in. Imagine sucking sounds and my shocked expression with eyes bugging. Also for your viewing pleasure, imagine me with one leg propped on the bathroom counter and me bending forward, yoga style, to try to stare into my own vaginal region.

Well, that was easy. ::shrug::

The Downright Fucking Awful:

B1's girlfriend had her first u/s this morning. No growth past 7 weeks. I am starting to wonder if our family is cursed. I am fully aware that 25% of pregnancies end up in a miscarriage and that is why the first trimester is labeled "The Danger Zone", but really? Seriously? WTF?! I wrote in previous posts that I had reservations about B1's Girlfriend, but I would not wish this experience on my worst enemy. My heart goes out to them. Truth? This is absolute bullshit.

Murphy's Law

2009-06-17T08:53:00.009-04:00

Just when you think things cannot get any worse, they will. ~ Murphy's Law

I had my appointment yesterday and it left me more stressed out then when I went in. I am so thankful that GSIL went with me for support because Husband had to work. She did get a free show of my Barley-B's so she can't complain.

My pregnancy test was negative (no shit)

My bubbies are still lactating, but less then they were this weekend (thank god)

AF is a mean, nasty bitch and I swear she is tearing out my insides (take my ute, I don't want it)

Good ol' Doc gave it to me straight. That lactation is most likely from a recent, early miscarriage. So early, in fact, that I probably would not have even known I was pregnant if my Ta-Ta's had not decided to show up for the party.

I thought we were done and I could go home and drink a bottle of wine. Not so fast, my friend.

My Doctor told me that in conjunction with running my HCG (to confirm that I was indeed pregnant) she wanted to run a test for Galactorrhea. Apparently, having tumor on my pituitary gland would explain why I could be lactating and also explain why I can't keep a pregnancy.

Follow my train of thought

Going In: "Damn, a second miscarriage. This blows. Nothing could suck worse then this right now."

Going Out: "Damn, a second miscarriage. And now I may have a brain tumor. Murphy's Law."

I get my test results on Monday, so we will see what happens. If and when DH and I do manage to get knocked up and stay that way, the kids name may very well end up being Murphy.

My Boobs Have Turned On Me Too...

2009-06-15T11:31:00.005-04:00

Once again, here I am apologizing for my blogging absence. I have been waging a battle with my Ute and I think I have ultimately lost, again.

I was scheduled to get AF on the 8th. Nothing.

Nothing all week. However, I did have cramping and other typical PMS like symptoms. I was chalking it up to the fact that I had ditched my Pills (they were making me psychotic) and my body was readjusting.

Until I started lactating. My boobies were swollen and aching, but I was totally not expecting that. Express trip to Dollar Tree and 5 pregnancy tests later, they all come up negative. (2 Saturday, 2 Sunday, 1 today)

WTF?

And who just showed up? AF. Hard and fast.

Needless to say, I have left a message with my OB/GYN to figure out what is going on. I don't know what to think other then that I just had another miscarriage. No worries, I am doing fine. I really just want to know what is going on.

Thoughts?

A Mouse In The House

2009-06-09T12:41:00.004-04:00

Husband and I made it down to Chatham this weekend for the first time in 9 months. With everything that went on this fall and winter, I had not really been in the mood to go down and have a good time. What an idiot I was. Going to Chatham this weekend was exactly what I needed all along. I belly laughed the entire time and drank like I was back in college.

There was one notable issue. Husband and I are the ones that mainly use the house in Chatham and since no one had been there in so long, some critters had visited. Critters in the form of mice.
Husband and I went to bed (wasted) around 3am and I woke up about 3 hours later with mouse shit on the side of my face and nut shells in my shirt. SO FUCKING GROSS.

Still drunk, I stripped the bed and threw everything in the washer. After scalding and scrubbing myself in the shower, I passed out again on the couch.

Clearly, we are just going to have to spend more time in Chatham in order to fully evict the vermin. It's a hardship, I know.

Sting

2009-06-06T11:01:00.006-04:00

Husband and I are on a co-ed softball team that plays once a week at a local park. Truth? It's really just an excuse to have a few beers mid week.

Anyway...

One of our teammates slugged one to left field and had to slide into third. When he popped up, his left leg had one of the worst cases of turf burn I had ever seen. Since you can't play when you are bleeding, we put in a substitute runner and I started rooting through the first aid kit for wipes, ointment and giant band aids.

The poor guy is literally picking gravel out of his leg and is begging for something to make it stop stinging. I start rooting through the bag again and I see a little green package with wipes in it that say "Sting Relief." Perfect!

I had my wounded player the wipe and he gives his leg a good scrub. In a flash, the guy is screaming like a bitch and demanding to know what I gave him. Feeling very unappreciated, throw the package at him and say "SEE! STING RELIEF!!!"

He examines the package and erupts "Seriously, Chatham?! Are you fucking serious?! This is a Sting Relief for Bug Bites Wipe! They are like 100% alcohol! WTF?! How did you not see that?"

The whole time he is gesturing to his leg like it is going to fall off or something. He is eyeing me suspiciously, trying to determine if I had done this on purpose. I can't help myself and start laughing. Like, belly laughing. His reaction was genuinely one of the funniest things I had seen in a long time. So it stung a little, it's not like I did it on purpose.

The picture above is the exact product I gave him. In my total defense, the package only says STING RELIEF. It says absolutely nothing about INSECT like the box does. Boys are such babies.

For A Good Cause

2009-06-01T17:52:00.003-04:00

Sorry I have not been posting as of late, it has been a super hectic week preparing for The American Cancer Society Relay For Life!

DH and I have been committee members for the past 5 years, and while we were not super involved this year, it still proved to be extremely busy for us as our teams Co-Captains.

I am also proud to say that we did extremely well in the fund raising department, despite the fact that the economy is so horrible. However, 24 hour charity events are extremely taxing on the body. I slept for about 10 hours last night, but still feel like I could use another 12. Note the lack of my usual snarkiness, too tired.

As some of you know, I lost my mother in December and DH lost his mother in 2003, both to cancer. It was a rugged weekend, as it was my first Relay without Mom, but well worth all the efforts that go into it.

Now that I have made my apologies and excuses, I will bribe you all to come and visit me tomorrow. I have a helluva good story for you and am dying to hear your comments...

Embarrassing

2009-05-26T18:40:00.004-04:00

Embarrassing Moment? I had a doozie this weekend.

DH and I went out to dinner with BIL and when we arrived at the restaurant, things in my shirt were just not feeling right.

Women, you know what I mean.

I was having serious bra issues. For the life of me, I had no idea what the deal was and had to excuse myself to the bathroom to check the situation out.

I was horrified at what I discovered.

I had managed to put my bar on inside out. INSIDE OUT.

Seriously, how the fuck did I do that? Imagine me in a tiny bathroom stall trying to wrestle out of my too cute shirt, cussing myself out for being such a moron and hearing ladies in the neighboring stalls snickering at me.

I am laughing at myself now, but let me tell you, it was not even remotely funny at the time.

DH and BIL enjoyed the story though, as I am sure you all will too.

Sigh.

2009-05-20T08:32:00.003-04:00

I absolutely hate Comcast.

Loath them. Bane of my existence. They are the makers of my eye twitches and constant heart burn.

We get our bill this month and it is $550.00.

WHAT?!?!

Long story short, Comcast has decided that we have an extra HD Cable Box. They decided this randomly and are charging us $320.00 unless we return it. Can you say BULLSHIT?! You should have heard the message I left with the Douche Bag in Customer Service. It was very Greg Focker al la Meet The Parents.

"What? You are charging us for a HD box we don't have and never owned? Can you tell me what date I came in and got this alleged box? No?! Then you think the HD Box Fairy just stopped by here and dropped one off? Or are you accusing me of breaking into your office and stealing one, but I was kind enough to make a note on my own account?"

This is insane. The funny thing is that I kinda hope they push it and let me fight with them more. Angry Female Voice has enjoyed her time in the spotlight this week. If they push me again, she may power surge to Psychotic Bitch for a brief period of time. But let it be known, no one is safe from Psychotic Bitch, NO ONE!

You hear that, DH? Keep your fucking paws out of my purse!

Husband vs. Purse

2009-05-18T13:42:00.006-04:00

Is your purse a sacred vessel in which your husband / SO dare not tread?

DH has always regarded my purse as something like Pandora's Box. Not meant to be touched or opened. As far as he was concerned, my purse held the answers to The Meaning of Life, Area 51 and which came first, The Chicken or The Egg.

He was also convinced that my purse had unlimited space. Apparently my cute little Coach Wristlets could not only hold my possessions, but also his wallet, cellphone and a small SUV.

My purse was my safety zone. I could hide receipts, notes and mad money in there without fear of discovery.

Until this morning.

I went to grab my purse this morning and saw a $20 placed on top. I thought DH left me a little present until I noticed that I was missing a $50. DH had gone into No Man's Land. And had pillaged to treasure chest.

Excuse me?!?! When did he decide to change the rules?? Ok, Mister, two can play this game.

Clearly it is time to bring out the big guns and remind him as to why Men do not belong in a Woman's purse. Pandora's Box will now be outfitted with tampon torpedos and notes regarding large jewelry purchases.

Let's see what he thinks of that.

Go Navy & Love

2009-05-15T21:08:00.007-04:00

Awesome News!!!

My Little Brother is coming home!!! He has been in Iraq since a week after Mom passed away and I am so friggin excited to see him! This has been his 3rd (4th?) tour and while this has been the shortest, it has felt like forever. Words can not express how much I miss him.

1 month to go!

Also, I was tagged by the super hot A H.I.T. with Queen of All Things Awe-summm Award!! Swoon! She is one of my biggest comment supporters and I super squishy heart love her.

As Queen of the day, I must :1. List 7 things that make me awe-summm.2. Pass the award onto 7 bloggers that I love 3. Tag those bloggers to let them know they are now Queens too (and link back to the Queen who tagged you).

1. I make a killer Mac 'N Cheese
2. I can drink with the boys, burp like a trucker and cuss like a sailor.
3. I have roofed a house and build a deck
4. I own my own power tools and have a pink tool belt
5. I am a girly girl who loves hair, nails and make-up
6. I have two kick ass English Bulldogs
7. I have survived multiple tragedies in the past year and have not lost my shit... yet.

Ok, that is more then 7, whatever. I am passing this amazingness onto some of my favorite ladies. Hope it makes your days!

Shalay
JLT
Mrs. G
KDodge
Cyndi
Yellaphant
Kylie

AND THERE IS MORE!!! JLT over at The Ramblings of a Southern Belle sent me more love! If If I were ever to say I had a real blog buddy, she would be it!

Here are the guidelines for this award:1) Put the logo on your blog or post.2) Nominate 5 blogs with great attitude and/or gratitude. Be sure to link to your nominees in your post.3) Let your nominees know they have received the award by leaving them a comment on their blog.4) Be sure to link this post to the person who nominated you for the award.

I am linking the same girls above, with the exception of JLT, 'cause you know, she sent it to me and all ;)

And lastly, I have finally bit the bullet and am hooking up with a blog designer. I NEED MORE SPACE!!! I am super excited to see how it comes out!

Too Big For My Bowl

2009-05-12T10:39:00.005-04:00

I need some help. Noooo, not that kind of help, thank you very much. I don't have anything that beer can't fix. However, I feel as though I am suffering from Goldie Locks Syndrome. I am reluctant to admit this, but I think I have outgrown my template. When we started our journey together, she was sooooo big. Then we jelled together and fit just right. Now I am concerned that she is a bit too small and that she may snap at any moment.

This saddens me. I big time love my template. When I found her, it was like fireworks going off. True love. Kismet. A KY His & Hers commercial. You get the picture.

However, our relationship has run its course. My little fishbowl has me swimming in circles and I need some room to stretch, A 3 column stretch. Could you all help a sister out and leave me a note of your favorite blog sites? I have a few that I love, but I need some fresh ideas.

Don't make me bribe you. I will turn it into blackmail. Smooches!

Just add salt

2009-05-10T18:04:00.005-04:00

Sorry I have not posted this past week, I have been in a foul ass mood. I can't shake the feeling that I was robbed of not only my Mother, but of being a mother.

If things were the way they should be, I would be 34 weeks along and hanging out with my best friend today.

Instead, I sit here and resent this awful fucking day. For the time being, I am renaming it "Salt In The Wound Day."

I need more fucking beer.

Mind That Mouth

2009-05-04T18:30:00.004-04:00

I went to a Derby Party this weekend and had a blast. I even won $200 bucks! However, I had the privilege of enduring one of those embarrassing moments when a well intentioned neighbor stuck not just her foot, but her whole damn leg in her mouth.

Let me paint a picture for you...

Neighbor: (raises her glass to toast the host) I just wanted to thank Mr. & Mrs Johnson for inviting all of us into their homes for a wonderful Kentucky Derby Party! And a big congratulations to Chatham for winning the pot! Lets all toast to Chatham and her husband in hopes that their good luck continues and they get pregnant really soon!

Half of the people at the party: Cheers!

Other half of the people at the party: Shock and Awe. Jaws dropping. Crickets chirping...

Me and DH: Mortified.

Mind you all of our neighbors were at this party. We know a good many of them, but not all. Also, only about half of the ones that we do know knew about the miscarriage and our decision to not try again for the time being.

A-W-K-W-A-R-D.

I just don't understand why people say shit like this. I know it was meant with the best intentions, but seriously, you don't know me. You don't know my life. You have no idea what our decisions are regarding this topic.

Shut.The.Fuck.Up.

I am stoked about my $200 bucks though, lol.

I'm Blushing

2009-04-30T12:42:00.006-04:00

I am so humbled to receive not just one, but two blogger awards!!!

Kylie over at Random Thoughts passed on some amazing love to me. After the week I have had, trust me, I needed it! Big Smooches to Kylie and make sure you check her out!

The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken - excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all…

Sooo, without further adieu...

The Ramblings of a Southern Belle

A NYC Housewife-in-Training

Little Woman, Little Home

Yellaphant

Make Me Blush

The second award:

Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award and his or her blog link.*~* Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you've newly discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

I am going to take Kylie's lead on this one and tag my followers. We all follow each other for a reason, ('cause we are friggin hot!) and I feel like sharing the love today!

So, to my beautiful 32, will you be my "Lovely Bloggers"?! I watched Daisy of Love last night (don't look at me like that) and feel the need to call you my blogger bitches. I think I may have just tainted the pretty award...

Brave Little Duck

2009-04-28T14:36:00.004-04:00

As you all gathered from my last post, it has been wicked friggin hot the last few days. It is actually 93 right now. In April. In New England. This shit does not happen here.

Occurrences like this rarely happen during actual summer months. Elderly folk are busting out memories of when this last happened and cranking up their AC. Us young folk are sprawling out next to pools and slathering on the tanning oil. Hence my current state of affairs.

Anyway, GSIL has a fabu pool. Thank God. But lets be honest, mkay? It's April. Us northern girls are not yet "ready" for bikini season. I am working my winter butt (and belly) off at the gym, but as far as I was concerned, I still had a few months until I had to bare my body to the masses.

I let it go though, since I thought it was just going to be me and GSIL. I know all her secrets and she knows all mine. Whats a little flab between sisters anyway?

Whelp, I get to the pool and BIL's new girlfriend is there. She is young, beautiful and has a body any woman would covet. I can deal. She is a friend. What I could not deal with, however, was her blond bombshell of a friend in a barely-there turquoise bikini. I was intimidated. I actually wanted to cry. I decide to be a brave little duck and introduce myself. We exchange names and pleasantries and we all start talking together. Then I catch a little bit of information that my confidence really didn't need...

Yes, boys and girls, I was stuck at the pool with a fucking playboy model.

What.The.Fuck. Just shoot me and put me out of my misery. I think God keeps doing things like this to me so I have things to write about.

::sigh::

I feel like a piece of toast

2009-04-27T21:56:00.005-04:00

My body is so burned that I can hardly move.

I have been Irish my entire life, you would think I would know better by now.

Oh, and my tan lines? Not cute. No, not cute at all.

::sigh::

All Aboard The Crazy Train!

2009-04-23T12:36:00.004-04:00

It has been almost 5 months since Mom passed away.

It was deep winter when we had the funeral and the ground was frozen and covered with snow. We were advised to wait until Spring to order a headstone because that was the earliest it would be erected anyway.

Whelp. Spring is here.

Truth? Until Mom passed away, I had never been to a funeral before. I had been fortunate enough to never have the need to pass through a funeral parlor. I know, I am a freak of nature. But with that, I also had never made arraignments, never selected a plot, never shopped for a headstone. I am flying blind here.

I took it upon myself to start poking around. Honestly? This seriously blows. However, I would rather suffer through it then have my father do it. I can't imagine how creepy it would be to pick out my own headstone and, at the same time, grieve for my spouse. I found one that reminded me of Mom and Dad loved it too. It is categorized as a "Companion Monument" so that they can spend eternity together. Sweet, right?

Here is my issue...

My mother left us much too early. My father is still young and has a lot left to offer. I recognize that it is not uncommon for widowers to find a new partner to spend their lives with. That being said, while I do know my father is no where near ready to "get back out there", I also know that it is a possibility.

How does this work??? People most often handle situations thinking about the preset. So, of course a "Companion Monument" is perfect for Mom and Dad. However, what happens if Dad finds love again and gets remarried. Then what? Do you say to your new wife "Sorry Hunny, but I am going to be buried with my first. Good luck with your eternal peace!"

I am not bringing this up to my father for obvious reasons, but being a married woman, I have to know. Has anyone experienced this? Clearly this is not a great dinner table conversation and would feel uber uncomfortable letting my mouth form those words.

Don't you all love how my brain works? By my mother passing away, I am already slightly resentful of my husband in the case that I pass away young and he remarries and wants to be buried with her. Yup, I am just a little bit twisted right now.

Man Logic

2009-04-22T12:59:00.005-04:00

DH is in Boston for the week on business. He gets all the way down there and realizes that he forgot the power cord to his laptop.

His solution?

Buy a new laptop.

Not get a new power cord. Not to call me and ask me to FedEx it. Not to suck it up.

Nope. My husband heads straight to Best Buy and gets himself a new toy.

I swear to God, my eye is twitching. If this were not slightly funny and providing me with blog material, I would need to be medicated.

For The Faint Of Heart

2009-04-21T14:47:00.005-04:00

Bulldogs are not.

I walk into the house this afternoon and Brutus has broken out in a huge rash. His little man bits are all inflamed and he look positively miserable. I feel sooooo bad. Actually, I feel like a horrible dog mommy. Why can't my dogs be healthy at the same time, for more then a 1 week span? Bulldogs are the best dogs in the world, but I would not recommend them for everyone. You have to practically be super human to mentally endure all of the madness.

I am now on a first name basis with my vets office. I am thinking that I am going to give them a copy of my check book. Or maybe I will just start sending my paychecks directly to them.

Seriously though, I am getting wicked frustrated. Can I catch a break? Just one?

It's a shove your face in a pillow and scream kind of day. I surrender.

Hey, up there! Whoever is in charge! Do you see me?! I am waving the white flag. I call uncle. I am laying down my arms. I am throwing in the towel. Please take pity on me and show some mercy...

Don't Judge Me

2009-04-20T15:30:00.004-04:00

Facebook strikes again... Dum Dum Dummmmmm

I check my FB a few times a day. Ok, every couple of hours. FINE.. I check it whenever I can get my hands on a computer. If I am home, the page stays open and I keep refreshing it. Don't look at me like that, with your judgey face. You know you do it too. At least I don't have a crackberry, I get points for that.

I am getting off track. Anyway, I sign in for the first time today after I got home from the gym. I start breezing through the Home Page and then shift to my Profile Page. I start to breeze through that too, but something makes me do a double take. If I had been walking, it would have tripped over my own feet. Mentally, I stumbled.

Brother's Wife status message was: "is trying to figure out how to get into a master locked box without the key... any suggestions?"

My father comments: pick the lock. I have taught the girls how to do it. I thought you knew, LOL.

BW: Nope, I'm gonna need that lesson! Next time I come down, we'll have to set that up. Though, knowing Chatham knows how to pick a lock makes me nervous, for some reason...

So, people are reading this and I start getting messages about my lock picking abilities. People start having side conversations about how they once watched me get out of handcuffs with a paper clip. Others start regaling tales of how they are still baffled as to how I got into their college apartments...

Yeah. This was a cute trick when I was in college, but it is not something I really wanted advertised as an adult. I would rank it right up there with being a Beer Pong Champ or Collector of Speeding Tickets. It also puts it right out there that my family is a little... Different...

While most families spent quality time together playing Monopoly, we were studying tactical maneuvers for capture the flag. Being able to pick a lock was not for amusement, it was a matter of survival. When you are a Navy Brat, it's all about the war games. And damn if I don't love me a good war game.

See, you are giving me that judgey face again...

You must be kidding me...

2009-04-19T15:28:00.004-04:00

I have been sitting around feeling pretty sorry for myself lately. This job hunt has sucked out the last of my sanity. I honestly, for the life of me, could not understand how I could send out roughly 50 resumes and not get a single response.

Nada. Nothing. Zilch. Not a whisper. Not a phone call. No one has even looked in my general direction.

And then it hit me. Like a Mac Truck.

My current boss had called asking me for a copy of a spread sheet that I had done at home. I had tried to email it to her, but I have Vista and she does not. She can send me stuff, but she can't open anything I send her.

OH.MY.GOD.

95% of the resumes I have been sending out have been via the internet. Most companies prefer this method... BUT I HAVE VISTA!!! I guaranfuckintee that the companies I am applying to are getting my submission email, can't open my attached resume and send it right to the garbage can thinking that I am a dumb bitch that can't even attach a file properly.

Fuck me and my brand new pink fucking laptop. Had to be pink, didn't it?! Dumb ass.

I can't win for losing. Fucking Vista.

Job Hunting

2009-04-16T14:59:00.005-04:00

Seriously blows.

When did having a college education stop being enough? This is bullshit.

Excuse me for the short post, I need to go have a hissy fit / major melt down now.

Peace or Piece?

2009-04-14T16:29:00.004-04:00

When it comes to family, how do you guys handle disagreements?

Do you come from a family that brushes things under the carpet? Ignore it and it will go away?

Does your family have mature discussions and come to a resolutions?

Or, does your family have huge, knock down dragged out fights and then hold grudges?

In other words, do you feel that it is worth it to give your family a piece of your mind in order to have peace of mind?

We are having a bit of a family squabble right now on DH's side and we seem to be split right down the middle. Half is of the Ignore It Philosophy and half is of the Mature Discussions Theory. Which is pretty much leaving us in the Holding Grudges Zone.

I have written about how partners fight in a post called Angry Wife, but that is one on one, boxing ring style. With family, it becomes almost tactical. Sides are chosen, battle fields are selected and weapons are drawn. Spies are reporting back and alliances are formed. It becomes complicated. And from my point of view, unnecessarily so.

Why is it when a family fights, it becomes a war mentality? Where is Dr. Phil when you need him? He needs a Bat Signal.

Happy Easter... I Think...

2009-04-13T12:09:00.004-04:00

Beat me with the Blogging stick, for I have sinned. It is been 1 week since I last wrote...

Moving on... I have to be honest, what a strange holiday.

I think I pair it right up there with Valentine's Day and Halloween. I understand the whole story in regards to Jesus, but where the hell did the Easter Bunny and Jelly Beans come from?

I know, I know... Google is my friend. I am curious to hear your theories though, so humor me :)

Dear Mom

2009-04-06T10:58:00.007-04:00

Hi Mom,

It was Dad's birthday this week. Another "first" with out you. We met up with him in Charleston since he was doing an inspection in Columbia and had lunch. We also walked around the market and watched the talented people who make grass baskets. It reminded us of when you were there last and bought one. Much to Dad's chagrin, you refused to tell him how much you spent on it. "It's a work of art!" you said.

We also had dinner with The Aunts on Saturday. Brother' Wife was there too, as she and Little Brother just bought your car from dad. It was hard for me to watch her driving it. Probably because I get this little glimmer of hope when I see it. Hope that you will be the one driving it and this nightmare will be over.

Did you know that you were the birthday cake buyer? It's strange how everyone has little roles in their families that never get fully recognized. Not until after that someone is gone, at least. There we were, sitting at dinner, and we all came to the realization at the same time that we didn't have a cake. That's because you always did it. Thank you for always doing that for us. I am not yet a mother, but in losing you I have come to realize how thankless being one can be. I know you did all of it happily, but I still want you to know how thankful I am for you. Thank you. Thank You. THANK YOU.

I love and miss you every minute of the day, with all my heart.

Chatham

J. Lo is a liar

2009-04-04T10:42:00.007-04:00

Children are cheaper then Bulldogs. Don't argue with me, I have the vet bills to prove it.

In the past 6 weeks, we have spent $700 on Lulu alone.

When we returned home from Charleston, I could tell Lulu had another UTI, so off to the vet we went. Sure enough, the antibiotics were not working correctly and they wanted to scope her bladder. ::Shudder:: Of course, do what ever you need to do. Me and my hemorrhaging check book will be in the corner.

$300 bucks later, they have the sample and will call us on Monday with the appropriate medication. Which will likely cost another $150.

I am sure that you are asking why we don't have dog insurance. Oh, trust me, we tried. We were denied by every company we applied to. It usually went down like this...

Chatham: Hello, we would like to insure our dogs.

Insurance Company: Wonderful, what kind of dog do you have?

Chatham: Bulldogs! Aren't they great!

Insurance Company: Long Pause I am sorry Ma'am, but we do not insure Bulldogs. Click.

Sigh. Don't get me wrong, I would pay anything in the world to keep my Bullies happy and healthy. The love for one's dog is unparallel. However, I just want to point out that J. Lo lied when she said love don't cost a thing. My love for my dogs costs quite a bit, thank you very much. When I write out my monthly budget, LOVE is now listed as $100 bucks a week.

What would you do?

2009-04-02T13:13:00.004-04:00

Ok, hypothetical situation... No worries, it is sooooo not me.

Anyway, I have a friend who recently moved in with her boyfriend. She was making the bed the other day and found a wrapped, unused condom on the floor. It was on her side of the bed and not the brand or color that they use.

She confronted The Boyfriend and he said that he had no idea where it came from and that perhaps the cleaning lady dropped it. He then got angry and asked her when he would have the time to cheat on her...

My friend has been working nights lately and does not know what to think. I confess, I do not know what to think either. I know The Boyfriend extremely well and I do not think that he would cheat on her. However, my women's intuition is throwing up red flags all over the place.

What would you tell your friend if you were me?

But... You're A Boy!

2009-04-01T12:09:00.003-04:00

On the 15 hour return drive home yesterday, I better prepared myself with ways to keep from going bat shit crazy. I had a new book, some puzzles, a new game on my laptop and some books on my ipod.

Somewhere around the 4 hour mark, I just didn't feel like working my brain too hard. I wanted something comfortable that I could drift in and out of.

Twilight on my ipod? Perfect.

I started to sink into heavenly bliss when DH starts tugging on my headphone cord.

DH "Whatcha listening to?"

Chatham: "Twilight. Shhhhh. No talking please."

DH "What is the big deal with Twilight?! You have read the books 10 times and seen the movie. It's not like you don't know what is going to happen!"

Chatham "Sweetie, you are a boy. You would not understand."

You would have thought that I thrown down the gauntlet...

DH "Put it on."

Hey, why not? DH will probably get bored with this in about 20 minutes, but at least my head get a break from those annoying ear buds. I plugged my ipod into my car and away we went.

Well, damn if I was not wrong. 11 hours later when we pulled into our driveway, DH demanded to watch the movie. RIGHT NOW. It was 10:30pm, we had just driven 15 hours straight and we were both exhausted. I was in awe. I had yet to meet a boy who had read Twilight, let alone one who would voluntarily want to watch the movie. The entire ride home, he was asking questions about the plot line, the characters and was 100% invested in it. I tried pause it around NY when things got a little stressful driving and he SLAPPED MY HAND!

So, we stayed up and watched the movie. He didn't say a word the whole way through. I was worried that he was bored and was trying to stick it out, but he shocked me again. Once the closing scene hit and Victoria starts to walk down the stairs, DH's jaw drops

"When does the sequel come out?!"

He went to bed ruined that he has to wait to find out what happens next. I refused to ruin it for him. I, however, went to bed laughing at myself. Silly me for thinking that Twilight was only for women.

PTSD

2009-03-27T12:40:00.007-04:00

We made it to Charleston...

That being said, 15 hours in a car is wrong. Right around 12, I started to freak out a little bit.

13 brought on eye twitches.

14 I started to cry.

15... I went into shock.

We left the house at 730am and got to Charleston around 1030pm. Tucker Max uploaded to my ipod didn't last long enough and my lap top speakers blew donkey balls when I tried to watch a movie. I remember cussing out Pennsylvania for being so damn big.

It took me a solid 24 hours to come out of my funk. I seriously think I have driving PTSD. Anyone ever take a trip down 95? Notice all of those billboards for South Of The Boarder? Fuck you and your fireworks, Pedro.

DH and I have decided, for the sake of our marriage, to break the drive into 2 days on the way home. That is if I don't have a complete mental break down and refuse to leave all together...

Just so you know...

2009-03-24T16:47:00.007-04:00

Dear Susie,

Thank you so much for coming and taking care of Brutus and Lulu while we are on vacation. They are a ton of fun to be around and I know you guys will have a great time! The following is a list of things to be aware of while you are with The Monsters.

~Brutus eats underwear. And then poops it out. I suggest that you keep all clothing off of the floor.

~Lulu eats poop. Wipe her mouth when she comes in or she will rub shit all over your pants.

~Try not to let them wrestle. I have discovered tiny puncture holes in the walls from their tusks.

~They will go bananas if the door bell rings or someone knocks. This also includes on TV. I would encourage your guests to call before they stop by.

~If they are mad at you, they will eat the plants. You may have to place them on the table until you establish Alpha dominance.

~There is nothing neat about how they eat. Try to clean up after them. Apparently dog food stains base boards.

~They both have horrendous gas and snore like grizzy bears.

~ When outside, watch them closely. Brutus has already ripped a 6 foot birch tree out of the ground, roots and all. Lulu is cutting her teeth on an arborvitae. You may think that we are trying our hand at topiaries, but it's just The Monsters.

~ Do not leave them home alone, uncrated. Brutus ate my dried wedding bouquet once and it took us 2 weeks to get the hydrangea petals out of the dining room.

~Keep the shade down on the kitchen door. Lulu just discovered squirrels but has not yet figured out that her body can not pass through glass.

~Do not, under any circumstances, bring sunglasses into this house. They both hate them and will destroy them immediately. Don't cut your nails either, apparently that is also offensive to them.

I hope you have a great week and feel free to call and leave a message on my voice mail if you need anything!

Best of Luck,

Chatham

Hello, My Name Is...

2009-03-23T09:21:00.006-04:00

How do you fight with your partner?

Do you communicate openly with each other? Do you resolve it before going to bed? Do you both fight fair? Or, are like 90% of the rest of us who hurl insults like scud missiles, refuse to apologize and then build a pink elephant to place in the middle of the room?

I would like to run over DH with a dump truck right now. Repeatedly. We have not spoken to each other since Saturday night. I flat refuse to even be in the same room with him right now. We could be juvenile and let it go on for much longer, but in 36 hours we are going to be locked in a car together for about 13 hours. So, at least I know it will be resolved by Wednesday morning. Good times.

But in all seriousness, I am uber curious as to how other couples "fight."

DH gets Brick Wall Syndrome (in which he has zero words and I could more effectively have a conversation with a brick wall) and I get Tornado Crazy (insert Irish temper and a women's prerogative to discuss feelings). Our two styles are completely counter-productive and I recognize that. However, I get super irritated when couples make statements like "We never fight!" Bullshit. For that to happen, one of you has either had a lobotomy or is a mute.

Be honest with me though, because misery loves company, right? Are you a button pusher? A bringer upper of the past? A knack for revenge? Thrower of clothes out window?

I'll go first...

Hello, I am Queen of Silent Treatments and Chronic Guilt Tripper... And you are?

Cleaning ADD

2009-03-20T17:02:00.005-04:00

I got up this morning all excited for the repair man to come and fix my fridge. I shuffled into the kitchen to make some coffee and habitually reached for the milk. Except I don't have any milk, because the farking fridge does not work. I surveyed the empty shelves that once held food and noticed that it could do with a good cleaning. Hey, what the Hell, it's empty. I might as well, right?

I start scrubbing away and feel little crumbs falling on the floor. The Monsters are all over this.
Fvck, where is the floor vac? I run to the laundry room and grab my Swiffer and start sucking up all the little bits of debris. I really get into it and start dancing while vacuuming and manage to knock over a my half completed coffee all over the counter. Shit! I grab the paper towels and mop up the mess. Coffee mug banished to the sink...

Well, crap, the sink is full of dishes. I open the dish washer to load it and, of course, there is a clean load in there! Must empty it. Now. I open all cabinets and start to return dishes and pots to their rightful homes. What is that beeping? The fridge?! I left the damn door open, not that it mattered anyway, but still.

I look around my kitchen and realize that I have a half cleaned refrigerator, a running Swiffer vac, sopping wet paper towels on the counter, a wide open dish washer and every cabinet open.
WTF is wrong with me? Oh, right, I have cleaning ADD. I clearly can not finish one project without jumping head first into the next. Holy Hell, I have issues, lol.

Oh, and the kicker? The repair man called and cancelled. He can't make it out until Monday.
::slams head on counter::

Oh, My Hair

2009-03-19T11:09:00.005-04:00

Dear Mom,

I really, really missed you on Tuesday. GSIL and I decided to highlight my hair, like you used to do. Except we assumed that it was easier then it was. In the end, I looked like one of the girls on Brett Michaels, Rock of Love. No biggie, easy fix. We just dye part of it back, right? Negative. The lady at Sally Beauty Supply suggested I color all of my hair to get the yellow out. Sigh. My hair is now a dirty strawberry blonde. I can not go on vacation like this. I really miss you.

So, today, we are going back to my original plan of low lighting it back to normal. Please, please give us a hand, we need it. I feel really bad for GSIL, too. I lead her to believe that any monkey could highlight hair, and then we screwed it up. I know she reads this, so I hope she smiles and knows that we have 50 years to perfect this process.

I left you a green carnation on St. Patty's Day and sat with you for awhile. People say that they feel lost loved ones around them all the time, but I am scared because I am unsure. I guess I would just rather have you back all together. Selfish me.

We are taking Brutus and Lulu to the parade on Sunday and I am nervous to go without you. What if Uncle Dave starts acting like a big baby? Uncle Pat starts yelling at the kids again? Aunt Barb starts acting like a giant biotch? Uncle Jeff gets shnockered? Aunt Midge and Diane getting all weepy? You were the glue and kept things balanced. Our family is not exactly functional on our best days, but losing you drop kicked us to a whole new level.

Who is going to sit in camp fire chairs and pass judgement on total strangers with me? This still feels like a horrible, horrible dream. I miss you and love you and would love to know you are there.

Love, Me

P.S. I would be a million dollars you are bull kaka that BSIL bought your car. I guess it passed her judgemental hypocritical standards. ::gigglesnort::

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!

2009-03-17T09:33:00.005-04:00

I looooooooove St. Patrick's Day.

I love being Irish. I love green beer. I love huge parade days. I love that this unofficial holiday gets a weeks worth of attention. I simply melt over a sexy brogue. And, just so we all get a little reminder of who St. Patrick was...

Legend of Saint Patrick
Good St. Patrick travelled far, to teach God's Holy Word and when he came to Erin's sod, a wondrous thing occurred. He plucked a shamrock from the earth and held it in his hand, to symbolise the Trinity that all might understand. The first leaf for the Father and the second for the Son, The third leaf for the Holy Spirit, all three of them in one.

Don't you feel all educated now? Feel free to share that little tid-bit at the bars tonight, you will look like a genius.

Have a great day everyone, Éirinn go Brách and sláinte!

Bulldogs, Wine and a New Fridge

2009-03-16T14:33:00.010-04:00

So, I basically had a full on panic attack at my girls dinner. Everyone was super sweet, but I was fielding a lot of "How are you doing?" and "How is your family holding up?" questions. Normally this does not bother me much, I can handle it. However, I usually have DH with me to redirect the conversation when I hit my max. With no DH at dinner, I felt completely naked. Without my shield. Exposed.

I clammed up and instead focused on my wine.

Have you ever had home made wine? This particular batch was amazing. And potent. 2 glasses in and I felt like I had consumed the whole bottle. GSIL, the BFF that she is, offered to take us home early. Clearly, I still have some kinks to work out.

On the upside, I am getting a new fridge. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, right? Especially when I complain southern style. Voice dripping with honey but extremely assertive. DH claims that I can tell someone to go fuck themselves and actually make them believe that it will be an enjoyable experience.

Also, for your reading pleasure, a new update in The Adventures of Brutus & Lulu...

I went outside yesterday to see how my plants fared the winter and made a horrifying discovery. The two Monsters apparently did not approve of where a particular arborvitae was planted and took it upon themselves to remedy the situation. They stripped off every.single. branch they could reach. The damn bush looks like someone tried to make a topiary out of it and an epic failure was produced. Bulldogs are supposed to be mellow, someone lied to me.

Bends Over

2009-03-13T12:57:00.006-04:00

God does not want me to work out. Simple as that.

I have a "Girls Dinner" tonight and I am slated to bring dessert. I went to my freezer last night to get started on my Cheesecake Cupcakes and noticed that it was a bit too warm in there. I thought, perhaps, that I had left the door open earlier. No such luck. I get up this morning and ice cream is literally dripping down the shelves. Fucking fantastic.

Thankfully, our appliances are new and are still covered by the warranty. I call the service line and am told to expect the repair man between 10am and 6pm. Seriously?! Fine, whatever. Beggars can't be choosers. However, no spin class for me. To my surprise, the repair man actually came out around 12:30pm and informed me that I need a new compressor. OK, whatever. I have no idea what that is.

Me: So you can fix it then?

Repair Man: Sure thing. Let me call and get the part and I will be back out later today to replace it. ::gets on phone to call shop:: Oh, it's back ordered? How long? Oh. OK. Bye.

Repair Man: Sorry Mrs. Chatham, but we don't have your part and I have no ETA on when we are getting a new one.

Me: Figures. I can survive, I have a beer fridge in the garage, I will just use the freezer in that for the time being. Who do I call about the $200 worth of food that I just had to toss?

Repair Man: Oh, I dunno Ma'am. I think you are SOL on that one. Here is the number to my boss.

Needless to say, after numerous phone calls between the manufacturer and supplier, I truly am shit out of luck on all the meat I had to throw away. The kicker? The part that needs to be replaced and is covered by our warranty is $130.00. In the end, I will wind up paying more to replace the food then the repair company will in fixing their faulty freezer.

::Bends over to assume the position::

Working It Out

2009-03-12T11:52:00.004-04:00

Before my life was turned upside down by The Worst Week Ever (see 12/9/08 posts), I used to hit the gym at least 4 times a week. I was in the groove from my pre-wedding boot camp and felt great. Looked good too. I have since abandoned my workout schedule and would rather sit in the house, doing nothing. The funny thing is that I have lost more weight NOT working out then I ever did killing myself in classes and on the elliptical. I know, I know, I have lost all my muscle mass. I don't miss it.

You would think that I would be motivated to go back by the simple fact that I still pay for the damn membership. Monthly. But I am not. It is just a mild irritation. Or maybe by the fact that my GSIL, who works at said gym, has 8 pack abs and 2 kids, makes classes so much fun that you hardly notice that you are working out... Nothing motivates me to leave the warm comforts of my house. It is my safety zone. If I don't leave, then nothing bad can happen.

I know I have been withdrawn and funky lately, who wouldn't be? But I felt simply AWFUL last night when DH asked me (half jokingly) if I still love him. OhMyGod. My poor husband. I need to get out of my funk and release some endorphins. So, tonight I am laying out my clothes and setting my alarm clock. I am giving myself zero excuse to pass on spin class tomorrow.

Emotional Jeans

2009-03-10T01:34:00.005-04:00

Insomnia is a bitch.

Currently, it is 1:36am. I am watching endless episodes of Intervention.
Entertaining? Yes. Sleep inducing? Negative.

I am going to go on a rant right now, see if you can keep up with my sleep deprived brain...

I, like many, have indulged in the Twilight series and I, like many, feel connected to the characters. However, my connection is neither with the relationship between Bella and Edward nor with the romantic notion of vampires. Mine has everything to do with the fact that I completely understand and sympathise with what it is like to never sleep. It really is amazing how much time you have to think or get projects done.

Which brings me to my next point. The worst of my insomnia seems to flow with the anniversary of my mothers passing. 3 months yesterday. I know it sounds bizzar, but after hours of pondering this, I would now compare it to a menstrual cycle. ::many apologies to my male readers:: Seriously, though, the week before 9th starts out like PMS and the week of the anniversary is identical to when Aunt Flow is in town. The two weeks after, I can manage. I can button my emotional jeans. You dig?

So, as it turned out, I ended up out to dinner with DH, his father and his fathers "friend" on Sunday. Truth? I would have rather chewed my own arm off then go to dinner with DH's father. FIL and I do not talk often. Mostly because I have feelings and he does not. GSIL can attest to this. Don't get me wrong, he is not malicious about it. It is kind of like how Jennifer Aniston described Brad Pitt as missing a sensitivity chip.

Anyway, I have come to learn that when some people are being polite and ask "So, how are you doing with everything?" they don't want to hear anything but "I am doing well, thank you for asking." The last time I saw FIL, he asked me how I was doing. I broke down and confessed my extreme anger, hoping he would have words of wisdom since he has been through all of this. Yeah, that would have been way to close to normal.

He basically told me that it was stupid to be angry and to move beyond it. I decided that it was healthier for the both of us that I didn't see or speak to him for a while. Anyway, Sunday's dinner was the first time I had seen him in about 2 months. (Did I mention that he lives 3 streets over?) FIL upped his game and I have to say, I was mildly impressed. He side stepped talking about me altogether, but did ask how my father was holding up.

"He is doing well. Thank you for asking."

Well played, sir. Well played.

Poor Sports

2009-03-09T14:27:00.007-04:00

What a great friggin' game! Umass came from behind with 6 seconds to go and won it at the buzzer! You sports fans out there understand that intense sense of victory when your team pulls off a win like that. Sadly, though, the fun ended there.

The students of URI did not appreciate losing at all. We were heckled and cussed out the entire walk to the bus. We were clearly in enemy territory and the natives were hostile. In all honesty, I was prepared for sour grapes. That's just how it is after a sporting event, especially when rivals play each other. What I was not prepared for was the pelting snowballs aimed at the back of our heads. To add to it, there was such a sea of people exiting the stadium that there was absolutely no way to tell where they were coming from. You could feel the hatred they had for us.

Thankfully, two reps from the Umass Athletic Department were walking with a few of the URI Staff and put a stop to it. I missed the show, but I guess the students in the immediate vicinity were threatened with criminal charges if one more snowball took flight. Yup, that's right. My ass was already on the bus.

The ride home was hysterical. We were ecstatic about the win and ready for beer. Highlights included pom-poms used as boobie tassels, the wing eating contest and witnessing the effects of one too many red bulls. Think air guitar +Poison on the radio = me laughing so hard I pee'd a little.

I need to switch gears now because I feel SO FUCKING BAD.
I gave Brutus and Lulu baths yesterday because they were rocking that wet dog smell. As I am sure most dog owners do, I pair bath time with nail clipping time. Lulu has two nails that are completely black, making it impossible to see how far I should trim. I am sure you can guess what happened next and I feel like total crap. She yelped, gave me the "Why did you hurt me, Mommy?" look and bled for a solid 10 minutes. I had been thinking about getting the Pet Spa Trimmer thing and had been putting it off because it costs about $100 bucks. This just pushed me over the edge.

The Shopping List

2009-03-06T19:01:00.005-05:00

I spent the majority of today shopping for the bus trip tomorrow. DH gave me a VERY detailed list of all the things he and the boys felt were absolutely necessary to have. I now wish I had previewed it before I actually got to Costco because it would have saved me the weird looks from strangers as I stood laughing hysterically in the middle of the store...

Booze:

3 cases of Bud Lite

1 case of Bud

1 box of Micky Ultra

1 box of Twisted Tea Original

1 box of Twisted Tea 1/2 & 1/2

1 bottle of 3 Olives Grape Vodka

1 case of Red Bull (that shit is EXPENSIVE!)

1 case each of Coke, Diet Coke and Sprite

1 case of Water

ICE ICE ICE ICE

Food:

24 Bagels

2 containers of Cream Cheese

1 box of Muffins

1 box of Brownie Bites

1 box of Cookies

4 bags of Chips

2 containers of Helluva Good Dip

1 6 foot long sub, cut into 2 inch sections

1 platter of finger sandwiches

2 containers of wings, Hot and Mild, from our local wing place

Hardware:

100 Plates

100 Keg Cups

100 Assorted Utensils

100 Napkins

I felt like a high school kid whose parents were out of town, shopping for a mega kegger. Let me also add that a wicked creepy guy stopped to stare while I loaded my car at the package store parking lot. With a nasty grin and lustful eyes, he lays this little gem on me;

"Glad to see that I am not the only one who likes to party! Need a date?"

::shudder::

Peter Pan

2009-03-05T14:18:00.004-05:00

::Chugs Pepto::

Seriously, I am most aware of my age directly after a night of drinking. What happened to the days where I could go out all night long and still get up at 8am the following day? When did I become this weak, pathetic shell that in no way resembles my younger days? OK, fess up! Who stole my tolerance? My energy? My stamina?

I have heart burn that could take down an ox and a headache that may possibly blind me. The bags under my eyes could easily be mistaken for shiners and I stink. I literally reeeeeeeeak of booze. I feel like it is oozing out of my pores. Even my tongue tastes funny.

I am having a full blown Peter Pan moment. I want to go back to Never Never Land (college) and be a kid forever (21 year old with a healthy liver).

The sad thing is that I am probably going to do this to myself all over again on Saturday. DH rented a bus to take us and our friends to the Umass v. URI basketball game. It is really just an excuse to start drinking at Noon and feeling responsible because we have a driver. Go Umass.

Uhhhhgggggg. Please pray for me.

P.S. Does anyone find it ironic that the bus we rented is from The Peter Pan Bus Line Company?

This is not a good sign...

In which I question my gender

2009-03-03T15:18:00.003-05:00

I don't really like shopping and I dislike chocolate. ::GASP:: I know, I know. What is wrong with me? I suppose growing up in a log cabin, on top of a mountain and without cable may have had something to do with it. I distinctly remember NEVER wearing shoes in the summer. Our shorts were our winter jeans cut off at the knees and our shirts were whatever could withstand mud and woods. Fashion was not a priority. Lets add the fact that when I was in high school, men's jeans and flannel shirts were all the rage. The grunge look, I believe it was called.

Anyway, I know how to dress myself and am aware of what is in style. In other words, I can walk into any social situation and not get snickered at. HOWEVER, I do not make it my goal to devour each new fashion magazine monthly and agonize over outfits. Which brings me to my current problem. Our vacation to Charleston is quickly approaching and DH just dropped a bomb on me. The week we will be in SC is the same week as FASHION WEEK.

http://www.charlestonfashionweek.com/

I have images of all these stick thin runway bitches dressed in stunning ensembles, sipping champagne and not eating. Then there will be me, chowing down on BBQ ribs, chugging a beer and wiping my mouth on my sleeve. Meh.

Why couldn't it be a dog show or beer festival? I would have totally been down for that.

Grandma's Birthday and Throat Punching my Uncle

2009-03-02T13:48:00.006-05:00

My father called me early last week to let me know that The Aunts were taking Grandma out to dinner for her birthday and that the whole family was invited to join. Initially, I was excited to go. I am from one of those weird families that are not really dysfunctional in any way. Our get -togethers are usually a blast; think excessive f-bombs and free flowing booze. However, this is the first family function since Mom passed. I could already feel the eyes scanning my face, questioning my emotional state. Fark. Cue anxiety attack.

"Sure, Dad, what time? 4pm?! For Dinner? Seriously? Oh, OK. See you then."

Thankfully, my sister was in town and she could share the torture. (sister will be called Lizzy Tish, LT, from here on out) It is one thing to tell friends that you are "not OK with talking about it yet", but it is a whole different animal when it comes to family who went through it with you. They do not accept that answer and The Aunts should work for the government. Their interrogation skills are quite impressive.

So, after dinner, presents, cake and Grandma being driven home, all attention was shifted to me and LT. It was clear that there was no escape. Strike all of that, I am being over dramatic. I am actually trying to convey how much anxiety I had about discussing Mom and am failing miserably. The Aunt's were soothing and supportive. We shared our personal struggles and how we are coping. Apparently none of us are sleeping and we all have constant anxiety. We talked for hours, although it felt like minutes, and found comfort in each others words. As we laughed and cried, we sipped on beer and ignored the world around us. I can't explain how good it felt to talk to people who truly, 100%, felt and understood exactly what you were going through. Don't get me wrong, DH is supportive and has been through this himself with his own mother, but lets be honest. Boys and girls are different. Enough said.

I had hoped that we would make it through the night without a WTF moment, but I guess we can't have it all. My Uncle, who had more or less segregated himself from the party and had the Pre-Season Sox game shoved in his ear, made a dick comment of epic proportions.

LT was talking about how she had started seeing a therapist and we were intently listening to his theories on insomnia. Uncle decides it is time to participate and says to LT;

"What are you seeing a therapist for? You are not weak. You don't need that."

Needless to say, the entire conversation stops. It was like a gun slinger movie in which a tumbleweed rolls and small children are rushed behind closed doors. The Aunt married to the offensive Uncle turns slowly in her chair, looks him dead in the eyes, and says

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, ASSHOLE!"

Priceless.

Dreams

2009-02-26T18:28:00.004-05:00

Whoa did I have a doozie of a dream last night. You know those dreams that feel so insanely real that you wake up convinced that it is true? Looaaaath them.

I know everyone hates to hear about other peoples dreams, but most of you will be able to relate to this one and I promise to keep it short.

I dreamt that I was pregnant, multiple months pregnant, but I was on birth control. I was totally confused and scared because DH and I had decided to TTA for awhile and clearly the pill was not good for the baby. I woke up completely convinced that I was with child and felt like a horrible mother for not knowing and not taking proper care of my baby.

When I actually became lucid and fully conscience, I remembered that I was indeed not knocked up and became pissed off about that. What a ridiculous way to start the day.

Note: If you are into dream interpretation, dreams about pregnancy symbolize an aspect of yourself or some aspect of your personal life that is growing and developing. Lovely.

I am spoiled

2009-02-20T14:52:00.004-05:00

When we bought our house two years ago, we hired a cleaning service to come in twice a month. At the time, I was working 50 hours a week and DH was averaging 60+. We really needed the help, especially with two bulldogs that seem to do nothing but shed fur. I am working significantly less hours now and am fully capable of cleaning my own home, but damn it, I LOATH cleaning.

Last Monday was one of our scheduled cleaning days, but I cancelled because I was dying with the flu and wanted to throw up and shit my brains out in peace. The house is now out of control with dog hair and general dirtiness. I have spent the last 3 hours scrubbing and vacuuming and I have to be honest, I do not feel accomplished. I feel hot, dirty and a bit resentful that the house is not sparkling like it does when the cleaning service does it.

And to add a strange twist, if I hate cleaning so much, then why do I covet the Pink Dyson? I want it very badly. DH made fun of me by asking if I would willingly vacuum if we owned it. I think not. I recognize that the Pink Dyson is just feeding into my love for all things PINK.

Starting to sink in..

2009-02-13T23:32:00.005-05:00

The picture above is my parents at my brothers wedding 6 months ago.

Let me back up. I have written before about grief and how I had/have made my base camp in the land of Anger & Denial. Being who I am, I can never follow any plan in the correct order. The grieving process is no exception and if you are a follower of my blog, you will also remember that I started off in Stage 3, otherwise known as Bargaining. I knew deep down in my bones that my happy little life was going to suffer a major blow and I then offered my bargain to God to save my Mother. I won't rehash it, but obviously it did not work out all that great. Which punched me back to Stage 1 and 2, the previously mentioned Anger & Denial.

A good friend of mine, whom I will refer to as Mysterious Wife, will support my claim that The Land of Anger & Denial is a thriving metropolis and that it even has a railroad. The Hate & Bitterness Train, to be exact. It is very a la Harry Potter and the Knights Bus. I am getting off track.

Anyway, I am thinking that Christmas and New Years, while they were awful enough, were not yet really real to me. This holiday tomorrow, as silly and Hallmark as it is, hurts really bad. Perhaps it is because I am starting to check out real estate in the suburbs of Acceptance. Or is it simply because I always worked at the flower shop with Mom on Valentine's Day? We used to spend the days laughing side by side at the awkward way men would come in looking for flowers, the scandalous messages married men would send to their mistresses, wives and girl friends alike calling to try to find out if their partner had ordered them ANYTHING?! We would later crack beers and giggle over the stories for hours...

Granted it was long hours and tedious work, but we were doing it together and having fun. I am working the flower shop again this year and we were so busy today that I didn't think much about it until I got home. Now I am sitting here remembering how, when we were kids, she would always get each of us a heart shaped Russell Stover chocolate box and a card. When we were in college, she would make sure to send a package with candy and a tooth brush. As an adult in the real world, we would spend it together, at the flower shop. I want my mother back.

Can you be in all 5 stages at once?

Of course I am in Denial. I spend every waking moment ignoring the fact that my mother ever existed. If she didn't exist then I would not have to hurt. I suppose this is why they often couple denial with guilt, because I also spend every waking moment feeling guilty for trying to forget my mother. Vicious circle.

I am so fucking angry that my mother is gone that I still have moments where I could reenact Steel Magnolias and shove an Oscar up Sally Field's ass.

I actually don't know about bargaining. I have tried this and failed miserably, not too sure I would try it again. But truth be told, I am well aware that once I get a grip on the loss of my mother, I will also have to deal with the loss of Baby Chatham. Bite me, I only have room for one grief at a time.

Depression? You think? Just a touch. Depression seems to be the gravity of grief. It is the days where I let it get the better of me that I am really aware of the rest of this bullshit. Today? You ask? Duh.

Acceptance is the outsider. It's like looking at a brochure for sky diving and thinking "who seriously does this?!" But at the same time, kinda wanting the courage to do it.

Anyway, to get back to the point of the picture above, that was only 6 months ago. I have this picture framed in my kitchen and I look at it everyday. It seems like it was sooooo long ago. But in reality, she passed away 4 months after this picture was taken. I know no one can never know what the next day is going to bring, but damn, does it have to be so hard? I am ready to stop crying and ready to start smiling when I think about Mom. I honestly and truly am. But I also know that getting through The Year of Firsts will be brutal.

I am abusing you, my poor readers. Have no fear, I am shopping for a vacation home in Acceptance. I do like it there and hope to make it my primary home soon.

sick as a dog...

2009-02-09T13:53:00.005-05:00

Please kill me now. I have the flu and all I want to do is crawl into a hole and die. The dogs, however, have other ideas. As far as they can tell, Mommy is home and that must mean that it is a play day! I am 2 seconds away from opening the front door and wishing them luck in their new lives.

Also, H is a farking asshole today. I would like to rip off his arms and beat him with them. Short version: DH was miffed that I wanted to go home early last night from the game.

H: "You had better be sick or I am going to call you a pussy for not being able to stay up."

Me: "Stop talking."

H: "Make me some meatballs?"

Me: "What part of I am sick are you not understanding?"

After a night full of hot and cold sweats, constant 'reah and the feeling that my joints are being ground to dust, I finally call out of work at 6am and try to go back to bed. H gets up to get ready for work and around 8:15am, my father calls. Whereas I am dead to the world, H feels it necessary to grab my ankle and shake my like a rag doll. I ache so badly that I thought my knees and ankles had exploded. The look I gave him was apparently enough for him to get the message, so he throws the phone at me and tells me to stop being a fucking bitch.

"Good Morning, Daddy. Oh? You heard that? Yes, happy day here at our house. I will call you later, I have the flu. Love you. "

Sigh. I want a redo of today. This one sucks.

P.S. I changed my template. Enjoy.

Good News, Bad News

2009-02-06T13:14:00.003-05:00

In reference to my father. Without me even noticing it, he has quickly adopted Mom's spot in my regular phone call rotation. Don't get me wrong, I am a Daddy's Girl through and through, but I talked to Mom about 3 times a day. Easily. Dad now gets those calls and he loves it. I won't lie either, I am enjoying my new relationship with him. We are now actually closer then ever and while the circumstances that brought us to this new level blows every set of donkey balls ever created, I suppose some good things must come out of tragedy.

So, the Good News: Dad is back to work, enjoying being needed and having a schedule. His Doctors gave him a stamped and approved seal of Good Health and he has his snark factor back.

Bad News: He bought a Harley and signed up for Facebook. Dad is doing his best to embrace his new life but he constantly has me doing a double takes. He also states that he wants to buy a plane...

Mom?! Are you up there?! Are you listening to this?! Yeah, I bet you are laughing your ass off. Little help here, please?!

At a loss for words...

2009-02-06T00:29:00.004-05:00

I often run my random thoughts past my girls on BOTB and this one was no exception... Their general thoughts on the topic were that the situation is too terrible to even talk about, much less have a name for. I am on the fence. Here is my issue...

My father is doing his taxes and had to have the "widow" discussion with his accountant, which got me thinking.

When one loses a spouse, you are widowed.
When one loses a parent(s), you are orphaned.
When one loses a child, you are.....? What?!

I thrive on having the right words to express my feelings about things and to be able to categorize things in my head. It irks me to no end that I can't find a word for it. I know I never held my baby in my arms, but I still feel the absolute loss. I also feel like I am in limbo because while I am not considered to be challenged fertility wise, I have had a loss. To sum it up, I am at a loss, about a loss. For words that is. Follow me?

Websters adds new words to the dictionary every year. If they can add Bootylicious, they sure as hell can find a fucking word for what many of us are... whether or not we want to be it. I don't want to be the white elephant in the room, the red-headed step child, the black sheep, the dirty little secret, whatever. I want a word. End of story.

Finally, something exciting!

2009-01-29T20:24:00.003-05:00

So apparently DH has noticed that I need a break. He told me last night that we are going to Charleston!!!

Seriously, Charleston is one of my most favorite places in the world. I simply adore it. I can not wait until March.

However, we shall be driving. DH absolutely looooves to drive far distances and hates to fly. As far as he is concerned, 15 hours it totally doable. I would normally argue, but I refuse to look this gift horse in the mouth. In any event, we will hopefully be able to stop in DC to see my sister!!

I soooooooooo need this. I am going to get spa'd within an inch of my life and will eat and drink until I grow a food baby.

::glances at stomach::

I will also be killing myself at the gym from here on out...

More Updates and a Confession

2009-01-23T11:39:00.002-05:00

Dad had his stint removed on Tuesday and there is no further evidence of a Kidney Stone.
I am so friggin relieved. He says that he is feeling 100% better and that he is looking forward to going back to work on Monday. He has not been there since before Thanksgiving and I think he is afraid as to how people are going to treat him. Dad is not one for "touchy-feely emotional stuff" and I think he just wants to start to move forward, without constant reminders of the past.

Speaking of which, I had to write a crappy email the other day. A friend of my mothers has been emailing and texting me almost daily, telling me how something reminds her of Mom or how Mom would have loved such and such. It destroys me every time I am reminded of Mom. I am just not at the point where I can openly and happily talk about her. I need more time. Much, much more time. Anyway, Mom's friend, whom shall remain nameless, emailed me saying she was at the Inauguration and that Mom would have loved it, blah blah blah. I hit my limit.
I emailed her back thanking her for thinking of Mom often and that I hope it helps her, but it does not help me at all. I need more time to grieve and process and the constant reminders are like emotionally kicking me back to the day she died. More or less, I asked her to stop emailing me and texting me about mom.
She sent me back an email saying she was sorry and that it was insensitive of her. Lots of love and all that stuff. I considered the matter over. Not so much.
DH gets home and he asks me if I got into a fight with Mom's friend, who is also a friend of DH's family. Always suspicious, I ask why. He explained that Mom's friend sent him an email apologizing for causing turmoil in our house and that she hoped he could find it in his heart to forgive her. He had no idea what she was talking about so he didn't bother to answer it. DH was somewhat miffed to find out that she had been bombarding me with her constant observations and reminders.
His only verbal response about the matter, "What did Mom's friend expect you to say? ""Gosh, Thank You! I forgot that Mom loved that stuff!! Please, keep reminding me of everything about her!"" She is being entirely over dramatic about everything."

I am giving her the benefit of the doubt. I am sure she meant well, but she is 100% socially inept. I wish some people would just stop to think about what they are doing and saying. Sure, it makes them feel good to think that they are being supportive, but they have no idea that they totally suck at it.

Um, that can't be right...

2009-01-21T11:54:00.001-05:00

So my father got the final bill from the hospital...
Mind you that my mother was there for 17 days, half of which was spent in the ICU...

Grand Total: $247,653.41

Half of a million dollars. I can not wrap my brain around how 2 weeks of health care could add up to that. I am not even going to argue the point that she did not survive. I will not subject you all to that torrent of anger.

It is one of the few blessings in this disgusting situation that my father has excellent insurance. He has not had to pay a dime of this, but it makes me wonder how other families deal with this. I know that I would never be able to financially recover from a medical bill like that. It makes me so sad to think of families struggling to keep their loved ones healthy and then having to suffer the burden of a mountain of bills. It must feel like the debt is Mt. Everest and they have no hiking boots, never mind a jacket, gloves, goggles, snow pants, etc...

::Sigh::

Another "Life Sucks" moment brought to you by Chatham, The Converted Pessimist.

In which the house falls apart

2009-01-13T20:46:00.001-05:00

DH is gone for the week on business.

I have my appetite back and am eating nothing but shit food. I will be fat by the time he gets home.

Also,
The dishes are sitting in the sink, laundry is erupting from the washer, I have abandoned all personal hygiene, the mailman is pissed because nothing else fits in the box and the dogs look like the want to run away.
I think I should have been a boy. A frat boy at that. My ute seems to agree, since AF is still MIA.

I was pondering the other day as to when I should expect her, since the doctors said 4-6 weeks. As if that answer was not vague enough, I also have the challenge of trying to figure out when my CD1 was.

So here is a question for all you lovely readers. Was CD1 when I took the first round of Meso and started to bleed(12/2)? Or was it when I started to bleed again from the second round of Meso (12/5)? OOOORRRRR, was it when my lady parts went into a state of emergency and started to evacuate, sending me to the ER (12/9)? TYIA.

Adding to the loveliness of today, I got a letter from my insurance stating that the claim submitted for services rendered on 12/9 were denied, or partially denied.
Excuse me? What?!
My OB office is going to receive the business end of my angry female voice tomorrow.

Is it too early to start drinking?

2009-01-09T13:39:00.001-05:00

I actually woke up today feeling OK. Then I opened my email.
I had a message from one of my Mom's friends telling me that she is thinking of me today and that if I need anything to just let her know. I was initially confused as to why she would send me a random email today, but then I read the header to the letter.

1 Month Ago.

Today is the 1 month mark that Mom passed away. And I didn't even think of it. Perhaps I am still dwelling in the land of denial, but I really feel like a piece of shit. I don't even know what to say.

Is it too early to start drinking?

Catch Up

2009-01-07T08:50:00.001-05:00

I have been neglecting you all, and for that I am so sorry. For some reason I have just not felt like writing. I think I am back on my game now, so here is the latest of the never ending drama that is my life... This is going to be long so hang in there.

New Years Eve: All around, I had a good time. However, I had a rocky start. DH and I went to my favorite restaurant for dinner and while I had been feeling super emotional all day, I had managed to keep it in check. At dinner though, for some reason, I just lost it. I am talking tears the size of Texas rolling down my cheeks. DH is looking at me like "WTF is wrong, what did I miss??"
I broke a weak smile and he tells me that we can go home if I want to, he hates NYE anyway. I refuse to ditch my friend and the party she worked so hard on. Plus I took all the time to shower and whatever. Huge accomplishment for me lately.

I don't know why, but New Years was harder then Christmas or Thanksgiving for me. I was a seriously a train wreck. I was so Hell bent on kicking 2008's ass out the door that I didn't stop to think that maybe 2008 was friends with 2009. Tactical error on my part. 2009 sent me into a abyss of endless thoughts and unanswered questions. Of course, most of the thoughts surrounded my mother and the baby. The biggest was that now it can be said that they passed away last year. Which I find absurd because it was really just a fucking month ago. But because it all "happened last year" I feel like someone or something is trying to fast forward my grieving process and I can't possibly keep up.

New Years Resolution: Live life in the moment. Go for it, Do it, and damn it, have some fun.

Follow up appointments and such: My OB had to cancel my last u/s again because of a snowstorm, but made me go to get blood work the next day. The great news is that my levels have finally come back to zero. Actually the nurse said I was "reading in a negative." I didn't know I could be so unpregnant. Meh.

Anyway, when I spoke to my doctor, she said that I could try again in a couple of months. Before I could even get a lasso around my tongue, I had already spit out "Fuck that."
Complete phone silence for what felt like an eternity. She finally laughed and said to give her a call if I had any questions.
What I had really meant to express was that I was not ready to get pregnant again at this time because I am still grieving over my losses. I am so eloquent sometimes it hurts.

Also, WTF is AF. I know I really should not expect her this early, but 4-6 weeks marks January 8th in my book, for the 4 week mark at least. Oh Hell, I have no idea.

DH: Has been a saint. He has done his very best to keep me distracted and happy. I had mentioned in passing that I wanted to see Foot Loose. It is playing at a theater in our city and I really wanted to go. Two days later, he has tickets for me. We are going to see it tonight and then to have a nice romantic dinner together. I have said it over and over again on here, but I am so lucky.

The Kicker: This past Saturday my father called me around 10am on my cell phone, which was in my purse, on vibrate. I see the missed call about 2 hours later and try to call him back, no dice. I call again 4 hours later and he answers. He confesses that he spent the morning in the ER because he thought he was having a heart attack, but it turned out to be a kidney stone. I honestly ripped his face off. I was so pissed at him for not calling me at the house or not leaving me a fucking message saying he was in the ER. We have gone through so much in my family, health wise, that you would think that my father, who is an intelligent and educated man, WOULD LEAVE A MESSAGE!
I feel a little bad about it now, but I had no sympathy for him at that moment. They gave him meds and told him to expect to pass it. 2 days later, around 11:30pm, my house phone rings and it is my father. I can hear in his voice that he is not OK and he asks me to bring him to the ER again. 6 hours later, we leave the ER. The doctor tells us that this kind of pain is to be expected with a Kidney Stone and to more or less deal with it. The next day Dad goes to see his urologist (sp?) and they have him admitted to the hospital. They want to remove the stone surgically. Long and the short of it, they went in, tried to remove it, failed, put in a stint, and he still has to try to pass it on his own.
I hate the fucking hospital. It is nothing like Grey's or House. There are no magical moments where the doctors have a secret technique that will save the day and none of the doctors know exactly what to do the first time around and actually have it work.

I have to stop now or I never will. And don't look at me like that, I told you it was going to be long.

What is today?

2008-12-29T16:45:00.001-05:00

Oh right, it is the 29th. I thought that was tomorrow.

Negative. Apparently I missed my last u/s. I now have the pleasure of going at 7:30am tomorrow morning. Argh.

Me: Do I really need to have another one?

Nurse: Yes.

Me: Why?

Nurse: Because the Doctor said so.

Me: Sigh.

What I really wanted to say was, "No! NOPE! Nu Uh. You can't make me. What if I just don't show up? Are you going to take my Ute away? Fine, you can have that too. I don't give a crap anymore."

Me: 7:30 is fine.

I also have to have another blood draw because my levels are still hovering around a 71.

Honestly, for a baby that was "not meant to be," s/he seems to be Hell bent on sticking around. On the upside, I can seriously rock the "crack whore" look. ::eye twitch::

I ran errands with my father today too. He asked me to go through Mom's jewelry. Repeat of "NO, NOPE! Nu Uh. You can't make me." I just can't do it yet.

::Has full blown hissy fit::

Merry Farking Christmas

2008-12-26T13:31:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was Christmas, right?!

What do people want to do on Christmas? Visit their loved ones? Hell Yes! Right?

So why was the fucking cemetery closed on Christmas Day ?!

Sorry, Mom, I can't get in. I hope you can see me waving from way over here.

Can I Throat Punch myself?

To be honest, overall the holiday was awful and not that bad, all at the same time. Spent a lot of time with family and tried to enjoy each others company. My father had asked my Aunt, who hosts the Christmas Eve get together, to put it out there that this is not another memorial for my Mother, and that emotionally, we can not handle it. We just need a normal night. Everyone respected it and it was nice to see everyone. The pact that Dad and I had made about escaping out the back door was not even necessary.

We also had dinner with DH's family. His Aunt, who has NEVER been nice to me, was suddenly all lovey and kissey. She kept making comments about my mother and asking how my father was doing with all of this. DH did a fine job of running interference and changing the subject.

Our Christmas was nice. It was just me, DH and the Monsters. DH got me the purse that I have been coveting, as well as tickets to the PBR in January. DH is so good with Christmas and gift giving. He remembers thing I say from 6 months ago and files it away. He even managed to get me the book I have been looking for. He has been amazing and I love him.

I can not wait for New Years. I want to kick 2008 in the ass on its way out.

New Normal

2008-12-19T13:27:00.001-05:00

I was reading through a loss and grief message board last night and someone made the comment that while time does heal, you also have to adjust to a "new normal." I am striving for normal days now, but they are peppered with constant reminders of my mother and the baby. The statement of "New Normal" helped me to understand that thinking of the lost loved ones will always be apart of my "New Normal" life. I am actually OK with that.

I was also struck by a passage in the book Baby Proof by Emily Giffin. I don't recall ever reading it before, but maybe I just breezed right past it because it meant nothing to me at the time. I could not relate. This time, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Sorrow comes with so many defence mechanisms. You have your shock, your denial, your getting wasted, your cracking jokes, your religion. You also have the old standby catchall - The blind belief in fate, the whole "things happen for a reason" drill.
But my personal favorite defense has always been anger, with its trusty offshoots of self-righteous indignation, bitterness, and resentment.
Throughout the ordeal, I learned that getting mad was easier then being sad. Anger was something I could control. I could settle into an easy rhythm of blame and hate. Focus my energy on something other then the ache in my heart. "

This passage speaks to me on a number of levels, and I imagine it will do the same for some of you. To be honest, I am still chewing on it.

Something Funny

2008-12-18T20:34:00.001-05:00

I figured my Blog was pretty much making people want to slit their wrists lately, so I wanted to post something funny.

My SIL told me a joke today that made me laugh so farking hard that I seriously almost wet my pants...

What kind of Bee's make milk?

BOOBEES!!!

Don't ask me why this killed me, but I felt I had to share.

TTC is out, TTA is in.

2008-12-16T21:54:00.001-05:00

DH and I have decided to take a break from TTC. He brought it up last night and I give him all the credit in the world for having the courage to talk to me about it. He said all of the things I had been thinking and actually managed to make me feel a bit better about it. I have been harboring this insane amount of guilt about losing the baby in the first place and felt even worse about the fact that I was not even close to being excited about trying to do it again.

Neither one of us is mentally stable enough to go through another miscarriage, Heaven forbid.
I am also barely taking care of myself right now. If I were still pregnant, I would probably be accused of neglecting my inside baby.

The next paragraph or two may offend people, cause a lot of shock and awe or bring on yet another session of tears. However, I need to get this off my chest. I am going to confess this here, because I don't think that I could ever say it out loud in real life.

Before I even knew I had already lost the baby, I offered a deal to God. I told him that if it would save my mother, he could have the baby back. So, when I lost the baby and I was completely devastated, I was also slightly relieved because clearly God had accepted my deal. I was so certain that my mother was going to be OK that I never even considered the possibility that I would lose her too.

When the time came and mom passed away, I was, and still am, so fucking angry. I actually hate God right now. When things like this happen, you start to over analyze ever single detail. I started to wonder if God was punishing me for offering up the baby and took both away as punishment. This is how sick and twisted my mind has become. I know that it is probably crazy talk and I am trying not to let myself dwell on it any more. What's the point? I will never get the answers I am looking for and will never feel good about all of this. But it comes full circle to me not having faith anymore. I have become such a pessimist about the good things in life that I can say, with about 90% certainty, that when I get pregnant again I will probably have another miscarriage. This is how cold hearted I have become.

Don't mind me right now. I am ranting and it is night time, my worst hours of the day. I should probably change the title of my blog to "Bring Your Own Tissues."