My ramblings

2003-08-25T10:51:00.000-05:00

I've moved! Head on over to my new site -- Natalieville! Url is http://www.natalieville.net.

Please update your blogrolls and links!

Thanks!

2003-08-24T17:23:00.000-05:00

Like Jenn, I'm moving this weekend. Look for the unveiling of the new and improved site tonight or tomorrow..

2003-08-22T23:23:00.000-05:00

I'm supposed to be working on the design for my new blog. But you guys know how well creativity and me mix. We're like oil and water. So, I came here instead hoping that it will inspire me. Or at the very least motivate me.

I went to lunch with Nicholas at school today. He's in first grade. I overheard one little boy say that he was moving to another table. Another little boy piped up and said, "Eww. You're going to go sit by a girl?" (Does it really start this early?) The first little boy stayed put. Later on, I'm eavesdropping again and I hear the second little boy explain that "It's okay to like your mom even though she's a girl. She's your mom!" Whew. At least I don't have to worry about Nicholas thinking I have cooties anytime soon. That'll come when he's a teenager.

I was a shit to my mom when I was a teenager. When I was a sophomore in high school, my mother drove a 1973 Torino that was blue with one of the side panels painted white. It looked something like this (although the man and the little boy bare no likeness to my mother and me):

Anyway, when she'd drive me to school, I would hunch down on the floorboard and have her drop me at least a block from school. I couldn't let anyone see me getting out of that heap! I'd ask her to look around and let me know if there was anyone else around and, if not, I'd jump out and make a run for it. If I had been my mother, I would've driven right up to the front of the school, told me that the coast was clear and laughed my ass off as I drove off. But my mother was (and is) a much meeker woman than me.

She did put her foot down on allowing me to come into her work during those years, though. I had jet black hair, nothing that I wore cost more than a dollar from a thrift store (at least my parents can be thankful on that front), I wore the most godawful amount of black eyeliner.. I embarrassed the crap out of her. I guess it went both ways.

You'd think in my rebellion, I wouldn't have cared what kind of car my mother drove. I was in a kind of "fuck the world" phase, but it didn't trickle down to my mother's car. I still didn't want to be seen getting out of it.

I've apologized profusely since -- for that among many, many other things.

I don't mean to imply that I was a baaad kid. I didn't flunk out of school. I kept decent grades. I didn't get hooked on drugs (although I definitely experimented). I didn't get pregnant. I just took advantage of my mom's inability to stand up to me. So, I set my own curfew (none) and basically did what I wanted to. That's what happens when you raise a spoiled brat who can run from one parent's house to the other.

I'm terrified that paybacks are hell and Murphy is going to make sure that I get mine. Because of that, I've decided to tell my children that they can't get older than about 12 years old. No more birthdays after that. I don't want to deal with teenagers. I don't want to reap what I've sown. I don't want what's coming to me. I don't want a kid that is just like me. Does anyone know how I can go about enforcing it?

2003-08-21T11:53:00.000-05:00

Behold the power of sleep. Seven and a half hours of straight sleep and I feel like a different person. I'm productive. I'm not grumpy. Life, my friends, is good. I should look into sleeping more often!

Tonight is the finale of "The Amazing Race 4". I can't wait! You know what though? I haven't even thought about "The Amazing Race 5". If you remember, I sent in a tape for AR4, but never received a callback. But I wasn't going to give up. I was going to apply for AR5. I really need to look into whether they are even doing an AR5. Another thing I really, really wanted to do, but completely forgot about was TARCON. Television Without Pity puts together an Amazing Race convention at the end of each season (it's always been in NYC) where everyone convenes (hence the name "convention") to meet each other and the racers from past and present seasons. I said that I was definitely going to do that this year -- especially since it could be the last one. Then I didn't read TWOP at all this season (as I've been too busy reading all of your blogs among other things) and I just thought about it today. Presumably, TARCON is tonight as it's always been on the night of the finale before. I have a strong suspicion that I won't be attending after all.

What happened to me? I was a reality TV fanatic, remember? If it even remotely resembled a reality TV show, I was watching it! Does this mean I've grown as a person since I've stopped watching it all? I know Buzz would think so. But I don't know. I think it is kind of interesting to watch people you don't know (and generally just everyday people at that) put themselves out there for the world to see and possibly change their lives. I find it very amusing what people will do for money. Sure, it's sometimes a sad commentary on the state of society, but it's entertaining nonetheless.

So, my goal for today is to find out if there is going to be an "Amazing Race 5." If so, find a partner because my friend, Carrie, is a teacher now and probably shouldn't chuck it all for a slight chance at some money. I'm getting back in the game. I'm racing, Baby! (Cross your fingers that I haven't missed the deadline. Cross your fingers that there is an AR5. I probably should have looked into it before I posted here and got crazy excited.)

2003-08-20T22:51:00.000-05:00

I'm a dirty, rotten promise breaker. I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. At 11pm. That's early! I'm going to feel like a new woman tomorrow!

See you then!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

2003-08-20T19:28:00.000-05:00

This has been the longest damn day. I can't wait until tomorrow comes and hopefully it will bring better, brighter news. Keep thinking those positive thoughts. My friend could certainly use them.

I wish had something exciting and entertaining to post. Or even remotely exciting or remotely entertaining. I can't do either. I have literally been sitting and staring at the phone all day.

How is it that time seems to fly by faster and faster each year, yet when you're waiting for news (good or bad) it rolls along at a snail's pace? It doesn't make sense.

So, I volunteered to be room mother today. Was I crazy? What do you experienced room mothers think? I figured since I'm rolling in free time soon (I have FIFTEEN FULL HOURS a week -- I don't guess rolling would be the proper term, eh?) that it's the least I can do. I felt like I spent half the school year at the school last year anyway. What would be the difference to add one more thing? I was already at all of the parties and the planning meetings. I was already there one day a week to have lunch with Nicholas. I was already there one day a week to read to the class and/or to let them read to me. I volunteered at the library. What's one more duty?

I am crazy, aren't I? (Gosh, that just doesn't sound like proper English.)

Blech.

You know what? I'm going to have a glass of wine. Put my kids to bed. Pray for Peter to get home at a decent hour. And then I'll be back. In better spirits. And with something to say. That's a promise.

2003-08-20T00:47:00.000-05:00

One of my very, very good friends is having a major surgery early this morning (Wednesday morning). I know you don't know her at all, but take my word for it, she's an amazing, wonderful person. Any positive thoughts out there would be most welcomed.

As you can see, I didn't get to sleep at a decent time. I know, it's shocking. I hate that my most recent posts have revolved around sleep (or lack of it), but damn it's all I can think about. Tonight, I'm being kept awake because I'm concerned about my friend.

I'm going to attempt sleep now, though. I just wanted to get everyone to send good wishes towards Atlanta for a complication free surgery and recovery period.

Thanks.

Natalie (who hopes to be back to her chipper, well rested self in the very near future)

2003-08-19T08:49:00.000-05:00

Somebody shoot me. Why can't I go to sleep at a normal time? Thankfully, no big rats in my bathroom this morning, so my family got a normal wake-up call versus the screaming banshee one. I think they were grateful.

My goal today (and it's a big one) is to somehow work a nap into my schedule. I feel like I'm a danger to society right now. Jenn, who just might have major stock in the coffee companies and thus an ulterior motive, has been pushing coffee on me for the past few days. I may succumb to the lure of caffeine today. Just hold my nose and choke it down. In the end, it'll be worth it, right? Or maybe I'll head up to Starbuck's and treat myself to some frothy, chocolatey, caffeine laden concoction. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I deserve it! More importantly, I need it.

Must.get.sleep.soon.

2003-08-18T21:34:00.000-05:00

Look, here I am again..

I just wanted to say one more thing. One of the things I am most looking forward to in moving the heck off of Blogger is a comment system that works consistently. My comments are actually working at the moment, but they're just not showing that they've been updated or added to. But any minute now, they're going to stop working completely. And I paid for this shitty service. Who's laughing now, eh? Mr. Enetation all the way to the bank.

Anyway, just because it says zero comments, it doesn't necessarily mean that's the case. Okay, nine times out of ten it is, but every so often someone comments. And I try to reply to them. Sometimes it updates the number of comments and sometimes it doesn't.

Just so you know.. I know you've been losing sleep over it.

2003-08-18T20:01:00.000-05:00

Poor Peter. He's been working 21 days straight without a day off. Poor Natalie. Peter's been working 21 days straight without a day off.

I'm beat. Physically. Mentally.

When does my relief get here? When can I take my two weeks vacation?

Nicholas had a great day at school. Until he got sucker punched after school by another little boy. The boy was just playing. He's the youngest of three boys and that's just how they play. Nicholas is a lover not a fighter. A hugger not a puncher. A kisser not a biter. Needless to say, he broke down in tears. The other little boy asked, "Why is he crying?" "It hurt him when he was hit," I explained. "Who hit him?" he asked. "Umm, you did." "I was just playing," he said. "I wasn't hitting." That just made Nicholas cry harder -- the injustice of it all. It certainly felt like hitting to him. We left school and he eventually calmed down.

Nicholas really is a sensitive little guy.

It's bedtime in four minutes. Four minutes until there's peace and quiet. Four minutes until I can relax. Four minutes until I can put my feet up and.. Oh, who am I kidding? It's four minutes until I get to start battling the kids to go to bed. Four minutes until I have to say, "If you get out of bed one more time, you will start losing privileges." Four minutes until I have to say, "No, Nicholas doesn't need another kiss goodnight." Four minutes until I have to say, "No, you cannot sleep in my bed tonight." (Only because then theyll both want to sleep in there and then they'll NEVER go to sleep.) And after they finally go to sleep, then I get to clean. And if Peter ever gets home, I get to go to the grocery store. After that, I'll collapse into bed in a tired mess.

Tomorrow. I'll relax tomorrow. (insert hysterical laughter)

Who knows.. you might hear from me later on when I get my second wind and stay up until 2am as usual. I really hope you don't hear another word from me tonight. I might see something really scary tomorrow morning if I don't get some sleep. And that would be baaaaad.

2003-08-18T13:55:00.000-05:00

I think the lack of sleep is getting to me. I went to sleep at 1 something in the morning and had to wake up at 6:15am.

I get up when the alarm goes off and run to the bathroom. (Everyone has to do that, right?) I am heading back to bed (I'd hit snooze) and I look over and see my cat chasing a huge, black rat. I scream at the top of my lungs and jump on top of the toilet. Everyone shoots straight up in the bed. (Well, Peter started yelling from another room.. The kids had shoved him out of the bed as they climbed in during the night.) After everyone was at full alert, I realized that it had been a hallucination. There was nothing there at all. Just my cat.

Does that happen after night after night with little sleep? Man, I felt like an idiot.

Nicholas started first grade today. He was excited and did great. He seemed a bit quiet as I was leaving, but I think that had everything to do with the fact that he lost his water bottle on the way into school. I promised to bring him another one (and I did) and everything was okay.

I'm off to pick him up now, so I'll let you know how it went.

2003-08-17T00:32:00.000-05:00

Peter and Adam are putting together Nicholas' loft bed as I type. I'd help, but I think I'd just be in the way. No, I know I'd just be in the way. We're learning very quickly that Nicholas' room is way too small for this huge bed. Oops. Perhaps we should take a tape measure with us the next time we make a major furniture purchase. Nicholas is asleep and will be very surprised when he wakes up and sees it. We'd put him in there to wake up in it, but I don't think it would be very safe (his not knowing that he's in a loft bed) and I also don't think we could get him up there. It's way too tall and he's really heavy on top of it.

It's kind of sad when your kids get too big to carry around. I tried to lift Nicholas into a shopping cart yesterday and I just couldn't do it. It was a kind of sad moment. My realizing that he's just too big to lift up anymore and his realizing that he's not a little kid anymore and doesn't get to do stuff like ride in the cart. Zoe's getting to be a little too heavy to carry around for any length of time also and she gets downright pissed when I tell her that I have to put her down.

We've been getting dangerously close to having the "sex talk" lately. Not too long ago, Zoe asked me how she got out of my belly. Loudly. In the middle of a crowded pool. My face turned bright red as I realized that I wasn't only answering for her, but for all of the people that were curious as to how I was going to answer it. (Hell, I'm starting to blush right now.) Anyway, Zoe calls her genitals her "special". I could correct her and have her call everything by its anatomical name, but I think its cute and she'll know the correct terms soon enough. I won't send her off to get married still calling it her "special". I explained that babies were born through women's specials. She looked a little wide-eyed and contemplated it and just accepted it. I waited for the inevitable question, but it didn't happen.

We were driving by the house we lived in when Nicholas was born the other day. I showed Nicholas and Zoe the tree that Peter and I had planted when Nicholas was born. Zoe piped up and asked, "But I was still in your belly, right, Mommy?" I explained that she wasn't in my belly yet (no, we haven't explained the uterus part either) and that she was in my belly later. Again, I waited for the question, "How do babies get in your belly, Mommy?" It didn't come, though.

It's going to come soon. I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle it. Do you tell a four and six-year-old everything? Well, I mean the mechanics of it? Oh my God, how did I get this job? I am going to be stammering and blushing and .. Well, obviously, I don't think I'm the person for the job. But it's going to be my job (and it should be unless Peter's right there to field it). I remember learning about sex from other kids in school.

There was this girl in fourth grade who came to school in tears. She said she was pregnant. We were all flabbergasted and scared out of our minds. Could we get pregnant too? She explained to us that she'd kissed a boy the night before (probably just a peck -- we were nine-years-old, after all) and her mom had told her that was how you get pregnant. She was scared to death to tell her mom and scared to death about becoming a mother. We all wondered how long it would be before she had the baby. A week? A month? Two months at the most, right? Finally, someone set us all straight. Someone who had all the facts. The right ones. She took great pleasure in seeing the disgust and disbelief in our faces. We didn't know who to believe, though. You can bet your ass that none of us kissed any boys for a long time after that.

Now, there's no way I'd want to be like the mother who told her daughter she could get pregnant from kissing. I'm not sure what her point of doing that was, but her poor daughter was terrified. I'll definitely be straightforward with my kids, I just don't know how much to tell and when. I'm sure there are tons of books on this subject alone. (Note to self: Get book on freak shows and talking to your kids about sex. That shouldn't raise any eyebrows.)

When I was eleven, my stepmother sat me down to talk about sex. I made the mistake of telling her that I already knew all about it and we really didn't need to have the talk. She responded by asking me what exactly I knew about it. I was kicking myself for opening my big mouth. There's nothing worse than having the conversation with someone that you hate and, worse, having to tell them about it instead of the other way around. It took forever, but she finally pried everything out of me and confirmed that I did indeed know all of the facts. What an embarrassing experience! I don't want to do that with my kids either. If they tell me they already know (if I'm lucky enough to make it that far. I'm pretty sure this conversation is going to happen much too soon for my comfort level.) then I'll just tell them that I want to tell them again just to make sure that they have the right facts. I wouldn't want to make them tell me and have them go through the torture that I did.

Uh-oh. I hear a lot of foul language coming from Nicholas' room. I don't think things are going quite as well as I thought. Perhaps they do need a woman's insight. We can be good with tools too! (Get your mind out of the gutter. It was, right? In the gutter? No? It was just me? It's in the gutter now, though, isn't it? I brought you down to my level.) I'll let you know how it goes.

2003-08-16T00:23:00.000-05:00

See? See? I didn't look at the weather and it was a gorgeous day. A bit windy, but a breeze is never something you complain about in Houston in August. The party was a rousing success -- especially to the birthday boy and that's really all that's important. Unfortunately, his mommy didn't do so well with the sunscreen application. (No, not me.. His other mommy. I would've put enough sunscreen on. What do you mean I'm his only mommy? I did this to my baby? Ouch. Bad mommy!) We're calling him "Lobster Boy" at the moment.

Speaking of Lobster Boy.. Do you remember when you were a kid and the carnival would come through town or maybe you were at the state fair and there was a row of "freak shows"? I remember always being terrified of going into any of those exhibits. And knowing, even at the age of six or seven, that there was something inherently wrong with gawking at people that were different. One time, I was with my uncle and he drug me in to see a bearded lady. She looked so sad (to me at least.. She was quite possibly just bored to death.) and I felt like such an asshole that I was staring at this woman. In my mind, she was forced into this occupation of being gawked at just because she was born different. I'd actually be curious to read something about how those people actually felt about being scrutinized all day by curiosity seekers.

I've always wanted to see the Jim Rose Circus Sideshow which is somehow different than going to see a freak show at a carnival. I have never gone to see it, though, because there's a guy in the show that eats hair. Hair in my mouth (or anyone else's mouth) almost always causes me to get sick. Literally. If I am out to eat and I find a hair in my food, my feet will never cross over that restaurant's threshold again. (It's actually really hard to write this because it's bringing back all the memories of when it's happened before -- retch.) I don't care whose hair it is.. Mine causes me just as much grief. In fact, I can't even clean out a brush. Seeing clumps of hair makes me sick to my stomach. I can't write about it anymore. Anyway, that's why I haven't seen the show yet. The rest of it sounds immensely entertaining to me.

So, what's the difference? Well, for the most part, the people in Jim Rose's show weren't born with their "freakish" talents. They worked to perfect them. They actually wanted to learn how to do stuff that was off the wall and mind-boggling. The "freaks" in the carnival were being showcased because they weighed 600 pounds or they were gargantuan in stature or didn't have limbs or a variety of other things that, for the most part, they had no control over. To me, it just seems sad.

(A little sidenote: Pinky, who(m?) you all know that I adore, once hung around with the Jim Rose performers. See? She's cool personified.)

All of this because my son got sunburned.

One last bit of news before I climb into my bed and sleep until Sunday (or 9am Saturday whichever comes first), I registered a domain name tonight. I'm very excited. Peter's going to help me. Natalie Picklejuice pledged her help between Denny's runs and concussion-inducing accidents. The kids go to school, I get fifteen free hours a week and I'm going to become a web goddess. A web princess? A full-fledged member of the world wide web? Yeah, that's what I'm going to be..

Oh and go check out Jenn's site. She's a PTA mom just like me, but with more experience. And she's funny. She found me and I, in turn, found her. She appears to have a coffee addiction, though, and I'm not there yet. I'll drink it on long trips, but in day to day life, I just haven't acquired the taste for it yet. Keep in mind that I just started eating salad less than a month ago -- my tastebuds are still in adolescence.

I think I'm heading that way soon (down the coffee road), though (<--which just might be the most used word in this blog). If I don't getting more sleep, I'm going to lose it. I'm not really sure how I'm functioning. (Write that down as the excuse for any grammatical errors, misspellings, typos, idiotic statements, incoherent babbling, etc.) No matter what time it says at the bottom of the post, it's later. It's actually almost 2am. I started this post earlier. Took a break to register the domain name, watch a "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" and assorted other trivial tasks.. Now, I must go to sleep.

2003-08-14T10:42:00.000-05:00

I'm going to be gone all day again. I'm almost ready for school to start just so it will calm down around here. It WILL calm down, right?

It's pouring down rain outside. I'm scared to look and see what the weather forecast is for tomorrow since Nicholas is having a pool party. I'm living under the delusion (not illusion.. delusion) that if I don't look, that will guarantee gorgeous weather for tomorrow. But if I look, I'll have jinxed the weather for sure. So, if the weather forecast if for a 100% chance of rain tomorrow, please don't tell me. I don't want to know.

I watched "The Osbournes" season finale last night and I just have to say, "WTF?" Did you guys see it? I don't want to ruin it if you haven't seen it yet and plan on watching it. I would have been mad to find out ahead of time.

Speaking of television shows, Peter called me this morning and asked if I knew that "American Idol" was in town trying out Houstonians for their chance at fame. I said that I knew. He couldn't believe that I wasn't down there. I reminded him that I sound like I should be put to sleep when I sing (yet I have to do it every night). He agreed (Bastard!), but said that he thought I would've been down there just so I could have a chance to meet the potential American Idols. Sheesh. I'm pathetic about meeting famous people, but as of yet I haven't started stalking people with a slight chance to be famous. I have some standards -- okay, not many, but I do have some.

2003-08-13T10:26:00.000-05:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NICHOLAS!!!

2003-08-13T02:03:00.000-05:00

(waving) I'm still here.. Exhausted, but here.

My mother's work threw her a retirement party tonight. Today was her last day. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful that is. One day, I'll elaborate on the extent of her problems, but not tonight. Tonight is a celebratory time.

Then I went to get Nicholas' birthday presents. Nothing like a little procrastination, eh?

One of the things I was getting was the new Gameboy Advance SP. I called ahead and they only had one. I begged him to save it for me. He did. Anyway, after he handed it to me, I went to look at getting a couple of games. Which are locked away, of course. By the time I'd decided which ones to get, he had a line that was near a mile long (or at least ten people which is close enough to being a mile long to call it that). For the longest time, I'm standing near this man. Eventually, the line moves up and he's at the register and is the last person. He keeps looking at me. Finally, I realize that he thinks I've been waiting for him or something.

Me: I'm just waiting for the cashier to get through ringing everyone up so that he can get some games for me. (I'm just trying to let him know that I haven't been waiting for him the whole time.)

Him: Oh, you was worried I was checkin' you out?

Me: No, I just didn't want you to think that I was standing here without good reason.

Him: Oh, you had reason. You was definitely checkin' me out. (And then he winked at me!)

Me (uncomfortably): Hahahaha.

I mean it was preposterous. Is this what pick-up lines are like now? Was that a pick-up line? Is that the point where (if I were interested) I would have laughed coyly and said, "Oh, you caught me. It was you that I was 'checkin' out'. What are we gonna do about it, Baby?" Or did I handle it correctly by basically laughing him off and rushing after the cashier towards the games case? After we'd picked out the games and I'd finished paying, he was standing where I'd been standing the whole time. Was he now waiting for games too or was he waiting for me or was he showing me what it felt like? I didn't know and I didn't stick around to find out. I also watched my back and then my rearview mirror as I drove away. Anyway, he just seemed so sure of himself that it threw me completely off guard and made me wonder if I broke some unwritten rule by standing in one place for so long. Was I emitting a signal of some sort -- Lonely woman in toy store waiting to pick up lonely man? I don't know..

Anyway, I'm probably going to be woken up in three hours since birthdays are almost like Christmas around here. (I take full blame.. As you've probably surmised, I think birthdays should be a big freaking deal.) So, I better catch what little shuteye I can..

Hasta la manana..

P.S. I apologize in advance if this is incoherent. I should've been asleep hours ago.

2003-08-11T23:15:00.000-05:00

Wow. The PTA takes up a lot of my time. My whole day, in fact. I spent the first part of the day making tags for some welcome back gifts for the teachers and staff. I spent the next FIVE HOURS in a PTA board (or should I say bored?) meeting. Really, it was only boring because we were talking about the budget for pretty much the entire time. When it was my turn to present my plan of action (the plan for what my committee is going to do for the year and how much money we need to do it), I took all of thirty seconds. Short and sweet. I want $2000. I want an extra $100 for banners. Thank you very much. Unfortunately, the rest of the meeting didn't go that way.

I did learn a lot tonight, though. I'm absolutely amazed at how much the PTA does for the school. Did you know that the PTA pays for field trip buses? Or that we give money to each teacher at the beginning of the year to decorate their classroom or buy books or whatever they need? We pay for all the awards in the school. We pay.. we pay for a lot of the programs in the school. Our PTA budget is over $45,000. That's fricking incredible. I always thought that the PTA was basically a way for the parents to communicate with teachers. It's so much more, though.

Don't worry, I won't give you a play by play of the meeting. Because that would take.. well, FIVE HOURS!

When I got home, Peter told me that Zoe told him that I say a lot of bad words. ME? It's true, I do. Thankfully, she's only picked up "dammit", so far. As I was taking off her dress earlier today (after she got soaking wet playing with the hose in the backyard of my friend's house), I pulled her hair a little bit and she yelled, "Dammit!" As I was pulling out a parking lot a few weeks ago, I said, "Shoot!" Zoe piped up, "Dammit, Mommy, dammit." Oops. (A side note: I always thought "dammit" was spelled "damnit", but Dictionary.com says it's the former. Who knew?)

Zoe informed Peter that he says bad words too. "You call the cats 'stupid', Daddy." "Stupid" is considered a bad word in our house. I can't ever really think of an instance where it's okay for Nicholas or Zoe to call someone "stupid." Nicholas and Zoe both agreed that I say "dammit" too much and Peter uses the word "stupid" too much. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Us monitoring their language? Not them monitoring ours?

Anyway, I'm beat. I have more of the same to do tomorrow. Then Wednesday is Nicholas' birthday. Thursday, I am going to help Carrie set up her classroom. Friday is the big birthday party. We're still undecided on the whole Dallas thing. I don't really want to go out of town the last weekend before school starts. We were in NYC last year and didn't get home until late the night before school started. It kind of threw the whole first week off. I'd like to get a better start this year. We'll see..

2003-08-11T10:28:00.000-05:00

Thank you for all the comments overnight. I lurve comments.

Unfortunately, I have no time to respond to them right now. Today, I am PTA mom extraordinare. I have to do PTA this and PTA that. So, I'll catch back up later tonight.

Until then, just be thankful you aren't me.

2003-08-11T00:05:00.000-05:00

After we were able to get the TiVo problem solved (it just needed to be rebooted - oops), we ventured off to Ikea. Ikea is always an adventure. I don't know if all Ikeas are like this or if it's just Houston, but it's always a madhouse. The parking lot (which is HUGE) is always full and people have to park alongside the very busy I-10 feeder road. It's truly unbelievable.

We went there to purchase a bunk bed for Nicholas for his birthday. He's been wanting bunk beds forever, but we always said that he would have to wait until he is six-years-old. The time has finally come. So, we go to Ikea where, of course, the damn bed is out of stock. They have these plastic shields locked onto the ladders so kids can't just climb up and down them and fall and break their necks and sue Ikea for millions of dollars. Apparently someone took the key home and no one could take the shield off. We didn't want to buy the bed for Nicholas without first knowing that he could climb up with no problem and, more importantly, get back down with no problem. The bed he chose is a loft bed and it's really high. We were able to find another bed that was missing its plastic shield (a lawsuit waiting to happen, but a big help to us) and ascertain that Nicholas is cool doing both tasks. Since the bed won't be in for at least a week, we tried to steer him in other directions, but with no luck.

As we were sitting there hoping that the sign would change before our eyes and say "NOW IN STOCK", we decided that we would head up to Gallery Furniture (which "really will SAVE YOU MONEY!" Ha!) and see what they had to offer. Gallery Furniture is an experience in itself. You have to pump yourself up beforehand so that you don't fall prey to their salesmen and walk out with an entire houseful of new furniture. They wait like vultures by the front door to snatch you as soon as you walk in so that they can sell, sell, sell. "Can't afford it all? No problem! Put it on credit! No interest for a year! How can you leave without this 'x' or this 'y'?" And before you know it, you've spent thousands of dollars. It's really quite impressive when you think about it. But we've been there before (and spent thousands of dollars), so we're old pros. We get there and immediately Nicholas zeroes in on a $1200 loft bed. $1200! The salemen's eyes are starting to gloss over thinking of the commission and what else they can sucker us into. But Peter, brave Peter, sent them on their way by letting them know that we're going to purchase a much cheaper, poorer quality bed for our son at Ikea. ;-) He looked at us with disgust and walked off. So, our kids wreaked havoc on the kid's furniture section until they spotted the indoor playground.

It's while they are in there that I start weakening as I look at the new bedroom furniture that would look good in our room. "Just apply for a credit card," I tell Peter. "It's no interest for a year!" "How can we leave without this bed?" But he brought me back to reality and I was able to leave without succumbing to the lure of Gallery Furniture. I think he had a hard time walking away from the plasma screen TVs, though.. (Hell, me too!) We grabbed our very tired, very whiny kids and went home.

Now that I've bored you to tears (and don't deny it), I'm heading off to find something that is somewhat entertaining on TV.

Ooh, one more thing.. I had a great time at BucaChat the other night as always. (Okay, so there had only been one before, but who's counting?) I added some new people to the left sidebar after getting their blog info in the chat. If anyone else was there that I missed, please let me know. Oh, I know one.. Yvonne. Who can forget Yvonne? Oh, oh and Busy Mom. Anyway, there were other people there, but I didn't get their urls.

Anyway, at some point during the chat, the funnier, wittier, cleverer, all around betterer Natalie (Well, not all around betterer maybe -- I'm sure there's something that I do better than her!) stopped by. And then another Natalie stopped by. And all of the sudden, there were a whole bunch of Natalies. Wowza. It during all of this that I came up with an idea for my blog. I have been wanting to change it. I've been wanting to move. And I think I've finally come up with something. (I'm going to call it Cucumber Juice. Very inventive, eh? No, I'm kidding. Really.) So, wish me luck in getting it off the ground. (And hope that Peter has the patience to deal with my trying to explain what I want..) I may be coming to you guys for suggestions.. Will you help me out?

2003-08-10T11:55:00.000-05:00

Houston Texans, Red, White and Blue,

Houston Texans, We Cheer for You,

Houston Texans, Living the Dream,

WE ARE TEXAS’ TEAM.

Houston Texans, Fight ‘Till the End.

Houston Texans, We’re Gonna Win,

Houston Texans, Living the Dream,

WE ARE TEXAS’ TEAM!

T-E-X-A-N-S

TEXANS!

TEXANS!

TEXANS!

I heart football. We didn't win, but it was still SOOOOO great to be back at a football game. Peter and I watched the game from here. Fifty yard line. Watching the player's reactions. Seeing them slap each other's ass. Staring at their asses.. (Okay, that was just me.) It was an awesome view! Well, actually this is what I learned about sitting on the fifty yard line, first row:

1. The seat actually sucks. You can't see the action on the field at all.

2. They take pictures of and print out every single, solitary movement on the field.

3. They have a veritable butt ton of gatorade and water down there.

4. David Carr has a funky shaped body.

5. Some of the players look just like babies. They're so young.

6. They had a PR phone, a security phone, a something else phone, a quarterback's phone, a defense phone and an offense phone.

7. I wish I had any one of those people's jobs.

8. Football players don't respond when you're yelling their name.

9. I should've brought my camera.

And I have to admit that our actual seats were on the 10th row in the end zone. Which are still great seats, but since Texas fans (all of them, not just Texans fans) are notorious for leaving early because a) they are fickle as hell and b) they want to miss traffic (which is futile), after half time we were able to move over to the fifty yard line seats. We started out about ten rows up (which is PERFECT), but eventually migrated down the the first row because honestly it'll never happen again. I am going to bring my camera to the next preseason game and try it again, but after that, we're back to end zone land. (And I reiterate, those are still great seats. We have a fantastic stadium.) Do you think it will be too much to ask if I can wear the head phones of the coaches just like the other kids did after the game? Wait, I don't guess I'm a kid, huh?

We're trying to decide whether to make the road trip this Friday to see the Texans play the Cowboys in Dallas. $25 a ticket on the lower level. You really can't beat the price. And I'd give anything to see us beat the Cowboys again. (And we WILL beat them again.) Nicholas' birthday party is on Friday afternoon, though. So, we'd have to leave straight from there. And Peter would have to take off work -- no work means no money when you're contract. Decisions, decisions. But we would take the kids. I've never been to Texas Stadium. It sounds like it would be lots of fun. What to do, what to do?

Off to talk to TiVo about a problem we're having with our machine..

2003-08-08T20:52:00.000-05:00

I cheated. I read my day old posts. I fixed typos. I can't help it.

A warning, every post from now to October will probably start out with, "F*ck, it's hot outside." We did get some rain today, but all that really did was blast the humidity up to 200% versus 150%. Our grass is dying. Our plants are dying. I'm dying.

When (notice I said "when" not "if") I win the lottery, the first thing on my list is a one-way ticket out of this sweatshop.

I'm a native Houstonian. I feel it's my right to badmouth it if I want. I've earned it. I've lived here all of my life with the exception of (almost) three blissful years in the Bay Area. We lived in a little town called Alameda which was right on the bay. We had the bottom floor of a great Victorian house. It didn't even have A/C because there was always a breeze blowing off the ocean. If you drove three hours in one direction you were in Lake Tahoe. If you drove three hours in another direction you were in Santa Cruz. If you drive three hours west in Texas (from Houston) you're in San Antonio, but after that it's nine hours of nothing. Three hours east and you're in Louisiana -- not quite Lake Tahoe or Santa Cruz.

You know where I'd really like to live? New York City or San Francisco. Two cities in which I will never be able to afford to live. A girl can dream, though. They are two totally different cities, but they both have qualities that you can't find anywhere else. I love the hustle and bustle of New York City. I love all of the parks. I love the culture. San Francisco is beautiful. The weather is phenomenal. I don't care if it gets into the 40's at night in the summer. Like NYC, it is busting at the seams with culture. One of the things that I love about both cities is the diversity of the people. It doesn't happen as often anymore, but there was a time when I couldn't go a day without hearing a racist comment here in Houston. It's still there, but people wait until they're comfortable with you before they let loose with their idiotic opinions. Which is worse, I think. I hate to become somewhat attached to someone only to find out that deep down they're just an ignorant bigot. And I can't be friends with someone who feels that way. I just can't.

I'll try to keep my Houston bashing posts to a minimum. I just joined H-Town Blogs after all. I'd hate to get booted before I ever really got started.

Now, I am off to BucaChat. See you there?

2003-08-08T00:22:00.000-05:00

The other Natalie had me rolling on the floor with this post tonight. I don't know how she thinks of this stuff. I just thought it was time (once again) that I gave Natalie her due props.

(Click on it. Really. I know no one ever really clicks on links that are embedded in posts, but you'll miss out on some entertaining stuff it you don't. Don't say I didn't warn you.)

2003-08-07T23:40:00.000-05:00

I survived. I'm not sure how. As I was driving there, I passed a bank sign that showed the temperature as 105 degrees. As we were driving to the pool, it was registering as 109 degrees. There ought to be a law..

The pool was great fun, though. It's almost tempting to move to The Woodlands just for their great park (and pool) system. Unfortunately, it's a 30-40 minute drive north of the city even without traffic. I can't imagine what the drive is like in traffic. Probably hell on earth.

We took one of the neighbor kids with us as her mom was working and she needed us to watch her. She's six (and newly six at that). As we were driving up, she asks me whether I've seen "The Ring." I tell her that I have. She says that she's going to be the girl in the well for Halloween.

Me: Oh, you've seen the movie?

Her: Yes, it's the best! I own it!

Me: Isn't it a little scary for you?

Her: No way!

She's six-years-old. It scared me!

Her: The other day my friends were over (who are four and six) and we were watching it. You know the part where the phone rings?

Me (incredulously): Yes..

Her: Well, when that happened, I grabbed the phone and gave it to Alex (the four-year-old). Then I ran behind the wall and said, "Seven days!!" (She says it just like the voice in the movie, all scratchy and scary sounding.) He ran into my room crying and was so scared. That's stupid because it was just a movie. I told him he was a scaredy cat for getting scared of a movie.

Wow.

When we met her, she was four and half years old, as was Nicholas. Zoe must have been almost three. She asked them to come in and watch a movie. I could've sworn I heard her say, "Let's watch 'There's Something About Mary'," (<--Check out that crazy punctuation!) but I assumed I must have heard her wrong. Now I'm thinking that maybe I didn't. (Don't worry, they didn't watch the movie.)

Peter and I were talking about it tonight and pondering when we thought it would be okay to let your kids watch "The Ring" or "There's Something About Mary" or any other movie that contained scary and/or sexual stuff. We both don't want to shelter our children to the point that they're sneaking off to watch it somewhere else, but when do you know that it's time to let them see these things and know that a) they'll understand it and b) it won't warp them? Being a parent is a really tough job.

Two days until FOOTBALL. Just making sure that you're keeping track..

I'm going to head to bed and start reading THE HOBBIT. My brother-in-law asked to borrow a book from me a week or two ago and I gave him Jodi Picoult's SECOND GLANCE with the disclaimer that it's a tough read at the beginning, but definitely worth sticking it out. He called a day or two later and said he just wanted to put it down. "This book sucks" were his exact words if I remember correctly. Anyway, I told him it was worth it to stick it out and if he did, I would read THE HOBBIT which he's been hounding me to read forever. He stuck it out (and really liked it), so I've sealed my fate. A deal's a deal, right?

2003-08-07T12:46:00.000-05:00

This is why Houston and I are not best friends anymore. It didn't get this hot when I was a kid. I swear it didn't. Every year it gets hotter and hotter and hotter.

Smart woman that I am, I am going to go sit out in the oppressive heat today while my kids go swimming. It's for a good cause, though. I'm going to see a friend that I haven't seen in way too long of a time.

If I survive the heat without having a heat stroke, I'll be back later. Should I never post again, you'll know what happened. I know, I know, it's hard to decide what to root for..

2003-08-06T22:37:00.000-05:00

I've decided to make a new rule for myself. I'm not allowed to read my past posts. Even the ones written earlier in the day or the day before. I'm way too hard on myself about grammar and punctuation and spelling and, and.. So, when I go back and read something and see that I left a word out or used "your" in place of "you're" or I used "it's" when it should've been "its", I'm mortified. I know better. I just type and my brain and my fingers aren't always communicating properly. Then I look and I see that people have actually read it. And that they think I'm an idiot. And they wonder why the hell I can't take a minute to proofread. But here's the thing, I do proofread. (Unless I've noted otherwise..) And I don't catch those things. I never catch them until it's too late and someone has seen it. Blast.

I've had a pretty low key couple of weeks. Not too terribly much going on in the Napenizo household. Speaking of "Napenizo", if I haven't told you already or you haven't told me that you know already, how many of you have figured out what it means?

Anyway, because my life has been even more mundane than usual, my blog has been suffering because of it. It's hard to write anything interesting about housework, housework and more housework. Oh, and I do go to the grocery store. I've been watching a bit of television. Not too much, though. I haven't even read a book since I mentioned the last one (IN HER SHOES). I usually read two to three books a week. I think I'm just worn out. I need a vacation from my vacation. A vacation where I don't have to do anything. A vacation where no one is saying, "Mommy, I'm hungry." Or "Mommy, Zoe's sitting on me." Or "Mommy, I want to go to a dot.com." "No, Mommy, a dot.com on YOUR computer." "Mommy, I'm thirsty." "Mommy, Nicholas is looking at me. Make him stop." "Mommy, Zoe is chasing me." "Mommy.. " You get the picture, eh? There are just some days that you wish that you could go the whole day without hearing the word "mommy". Don't think that I'm not incredibly grateful for my children. I am truly humbled that I've been given two great kids. Just every so often.. Well, I need a break. A long one. Preferably overnight. I refuse to feel guilty about it.

(Three days until football season starts for us.. Three days.)

Oh, and before I forget, the second-something-or-other Buca Chat is this Friday. The first one was lots of fun. Incredibly hard to keep up once you've had a beer or two or five, but fun nonetheless. And I still miss Empress and Buzz and Buddha and Lauren and Laurie and Yvonne and Kazoofus and BusyMom and .. oh no, this is why you don't list people. Invariably someone is forgotten. If it was you, my sincerest apologies. (Damn, I had to hand code those links. Why the heck did I list anybody at all?) Anyway, it's going to be over at Buzz's place this Friday night. Hopefully, we're catering to the west coasters on starting time since I have to get my kiddos to bed first. See, there's something to look forward to. Nothing like going into a chatroom with people you don't know and getting drunk. (For some reason, I feel like that doesn't sound as innocent as it was..)

2003-08-06T12:03:00.000-05:00

I found him! I found him!

Him: I didn't know we were supposed to mow her back yard.

Me: She's paying you to mow it, isn't she?

Him: Yes, but she never told us that she wanted us to mow it.

Hello! That should be common sense!

Sticking around the house next Wednesday would've sucked.. It'll be Nicholas' SIXTH birthday. How do they grow up so fast?

2003-08-06T11:50:00.000-05:00

Does anyone know what time the maid is supposed to be here? What? I'm the maid? How did I end up with this job? Someone should control these kids and the messes they make around here. What? I should be the one instilling control around here? Sheesh. I can't win.

I've been patiently waiting around the house today to talk to the guys who do our lawn. I need to see if they will weed our back yard for a reasonable price. I also need to tell them that by charging my mom the full price to mow her lawn, they actually need to mow the back yard too. They've been getting quite a deal over at her house. There is always, always, always a guy here that speaks English. Today, though, when I've been waiting for them to show up and didn't make a single plan today so that I'd be here whenever they get here, the guy isn't here. No one speaks English. We're having major communication issues over here. I guess this means that next Wednesday is shot too.

Be back after I finish some of my housewifely duties..

2003-08-06T02:38:00.000-05:00

Oh, and I still need to know about that button thing.. Anyone, anyone?

2003-08-06T02:28:00.000-05:00

I need to clear a few things up.

1) John likes 400 but not 300. He likes 100 but not 99. He likes 2500 but not 2400. Which number does he like?

The answer is 900, Folks. He likes squared numbers. (20x20=400, 10x10=100, 50x50=2500, and 30x30=900) That should stop the e-mails. There's the answer. It's not that I mind answering the e-mails, it's just that I get all excited when I see that I have a new message (in the account attached to this blog) and invariably it's someone asking whether I found out the answer or not. Read the comments, People. Gwen answered it in the first one!

2) Also, I am not into peeing in my pants, I'm not dying to pee, and I don't have any stories about girls peeing in the their pants. Sorry to disappoint you.

3) I don't know anything about the adult bookstores in Flint, Michigan or Fort Wayne, Indiana, but if you go and they're cool, let me know and I'll check it out next time I'm up that way. It's not just books, right?

4) I'm considering putting a link about piercing parlors around the nation because apparently I'm the person to see about it. If I've mentioned a place either by state or by city name, it's quite likely that I've gotten a hit asking about piercing parlors in those cities. I have my ears pierced. Since I was seven. But nothing else. And I don't think I'll ever get anything else pierced. I had a friend (who shall rename nameless) who got her tongue pierced. It looked incredibly painful. She could barely talk. She couldn't eat. Then it started feeling better and then it got infected. So, she had to take it out. Here's the kicker -- she'd do it again! I think it looks cool, but nothing is ever going to pierce my tongue with my permission. Or any other body part for that matter. Anyway, since the only piercing parlor that I know from first hand knowledge is J.C. Penney's, I'd go ahead and look somewhere else for your answers. Good luck! Hope you don't get an infection!

5) My daddy doesn't (and never did) play with my breasts. I don't know how the heck I got this hit, but I want to clear it up right away. Ewwwwwww. Pervert.

6) I don't know anything about Adam Bonin and Jennifer Weiner's marriage or wedding. I think they both seem like pretty cool people. I think it's really neat that they are married, but I'm sure that someone else would be a better source of information. Hey, I know.. Try going to their sites! They probably know more about it than any of the rest of us.

7) The Alamo Drafthouse is an awesome place to see a movie. I give it TWO thumbs up. Good beer, good food, good movies. What more can you ask for? At the theater in Houston this weekend, they're showing "American Mullet," (which is deemed the most important hair documentary ever made). Wow, huh? It doesn't get better than that. If I wasn't going to a FOOTBALL GAME (Oh yeah! Football, football, football! Go Texans! Beat the Broncos! Go Texans! It's your birthday! Go Tex.. Oh! Sorry, I got carried away..) on Saturday night, I might go see it. It's almost illegal to try and get a babysitter for two nights in a row, though, so I think I'm going to have to miss it. It doesn't mean you have to miss it -- go check it out and get back to me about it. Short story long, the theater rocks. Check it out. (They also show mainstream, newly released movies, but what fun is that?)

I think that covers everything (or at least the things I get a fair amount of hits about).

On to my newest issue..

I have this sick fascination (and it's really embarrassing) with watching daytime talk shows about people being reunited after 30 years or women trying to find out if one of seven men is the father of her child(ren). I never get to watch them and I'd almost stopped thinking about them. But I was channel surfing on Monday and I saw that Montel was doing a show that had both topics rolled into one. It was like I hit the jackpot or something. Well, I didn't want to watch that smut in front of my children, so I hit record on the TiVo and went about my business.

Tonight, I was ironing Peter's pants for work tomorrow (I had to throw that in there to sound like a good housewife, but I believe that it might have been the first time I've ever ironed something for him. He usually does the ironing around here. He's better at it and it definitely shows, if you know what I mean), so I decide I'll watch Montel. Everyone else is asleep so it seems like the perfect opportunity to indulge in my secret sickness. I didn't notice when I hit play that it was only going to run for fourteen minutes or I wouldn't have even started watching it. But I did and it cut off without telling me anything. Surely someone, somewhere watched this show (it was Monday's show) and can tell me whether Juliana and Richard are biological brother and sister? And was Dianna switched at birth? I don't know if I'll be able to sleep until I know. And I don't get near enough sleep as it is. This could be a serious issue. I just watched "Fight Club", remember? I know that insomnia can cause crazy things to happen!

You haven't lost respect for me, have you?

2003-08-05T10:44:00.000-05:00

Psst. Anyone know how to add a button to my sidebar? Send me a note. Many thanks in advance.

2003-08-05T09:55:00.000-05:00

We rewatched Fight Club last night for the first time since we had originally seen it. It's still one of my favorite movies. It's interesting to rewatch a movie once you know its "twist." I won't go into further detail for any of you who may not have seen it. If you haven't, I highly recommend it. One thing I didn't notice the first time that I watched it was that the last song of the movie is a Toadies cover of Frank Black's (Pixies) "Where is My Mind?". (For those of you just checking in, The Toadies are my favorite band, but alas they are broken up.) I'm not sure how I didn't notice it the first time (probably because my head was still spinning with the storyline), but it just added to my enjoyment of the movie. And also brought me back to the Toadies' last shows where they sang the cover song.. (and now I'm crying. Well, not really.. But I could. That's how much I love them.)

I love movies that have twists -- Sixth Sense, Fight Club, The Others, etc. I know that there are others that I've seen, but I'm drawing a blank right now. Can anyone recommend a movie or movies that I might enjoy based solely on the fact that it has a twist? We love to watch movies in this house. We have a DVD collection that would rival any video store's. In fact, it's very rare that we actually see a movie in the theater anymore.

Peter makes an excellent point for the purchase of the DVD rather than seeing the movie in the theater. When you go to see a movie in the theater, you're forking out between $15-20 just for the two tickets. If you add in a snack bar purchase, you're almost up the $40 for one movie. A DVD costs $15-20 and you can watch it in your underwear if you want. You can pause if you need a potty break. You can eat unlimited snacks. We have an awesome sound system, so really the only thing we're lacking from the movie theater is the big screen. And that fact that you're blinded after you walk out of the dark theater on a bright day. For most movies, you don't really need to see it on the big screen. We see those that necessitate it in the movie theater. We also see all of the kid movies in the movie theater (and buy them later if the kids like it). I also make a point to see anything that I hear has a "twist" in the movie theater before I happen upon some dolt who ruins the movie for me by telling me ahead of time what happens.

So, any recommendations? We have a few movies that we haven't seen yet that we need to watch, but I want something that keeps you thinking the whole time. Something that you're on the edge of your seat about. Or something with a shocking twist. Can you help??

(Now I'm going to go back and figure out where I can add some more parenthetical references, I don't think this post has enough.. Pfft.)

2003-08-04T12:08:00.000-05:00

Nicholas goes back to school in two weeks. I'm ambivalent about it. On the one hand, it'll be nice not to hear the constant bickering, he'll be more active, he'll have fun hanging around his friends (we live in a different school district, so he hasn't seen most of them this summer), etc. On the other hand, we have to get up so early and battle so much traffic to get there that I am not looking forward to it at all.

I've unfortunately (the whole family has really) gotten on this terrible sleeping schedule. The kids go to bed between 10pm and 11pm when their usual bedtime is 8pm. By the time I get them to sleep, I'm ready to wind down and enjoy a little bit of peace and quiet. (That's why I write most of my posts of night -- I've already been interrupted three times in just these few sentences.) I don't know the last time that I went to bed before 2am. It's nuts. Last night, I climbed into bed at 3:20am. I'm so damn tired all day, but every night, the cycle repeats itself. Obviously, that won't work well when school starts.

So, I need to restore some semblance of a healthy sleep schedule around here and FAST.

Yesterday, I took the kids to get their pictures taken. I haven't had a professional picture taken of Zoe since just before she was two-years-old. (I know, Bad Mom!) Now I know why. After 45 minutes of "I don't like to smile" (Zoe) and "I won't smile as long as that frog is on the camera" (Nicholas), we left with me in tears. (The frog was permanently attached to the camera to make babies laugh..) I was so pissed off. Before we even went into the studio, Nicholas was giving me ultimatums. "Mommy, I'm not going to get my picture taken unless you buy me "x" before hand." What?!? Who gave you the right at six-years-old to make ultimatums with me? Gosh, all I could think was "When did my children turn into spoiled brats?" and "When did I lose their respect?" It was a sobering, eye-opening experience. (Hmm, him going back to school is sounding better and better.. ;-) )

Carrie came to my rescue yesterday, though. She came to play with and watch the kids and sent me on the way to enjoy some much needed retail therapy. After fighting the crowds at the mall (it was tax-free weekend) and finding incredible deals, I headed over to Barnes and Nobles to use the gift certificates that I'd received for my birthday. I needed that break so badly. I don't know if I was able to convey how much it meant to me, but it was just what I needed to keep me from losing my mind. Anyway, I was too weary to post yesterday.

Hey, it felt good to vent. Sorry to bore you. :)

2003-08-02T22:48:00.000-05:00

I feel like I should add that Peter was going to take me. Once he knew how important it was to me, he immediately said that we should go. It was just too much money, though. It goes back to my feeling guilty over money that's spent on my whims. I can spend it like crazy on the kids or Peter or really just about anyone else, but I feel terrible guilt over spending it on myself. But he was going to go.. He just couldn't have gone in the end. He didn't know that when he offered, though.

Peter is a good, good guy. I think I'm going to keep him around.

2003-08-02T21:55:00.000-05:00

I'm not at the Jerry Lee Lewis concert right now. But I'm okay with it. I had pretty much decided that I didn't want to fork out $135.00 (for two tickets plus their exorbitant fees) to go see him anyway. I'll save it for the Vegas fund in October. As it turns out, Peter is still working, so we wouldn't have been able to go anyway. So, it's just as well. If I thought I was upset about not being able to go, I would have been devastated to have tickets and not be able to go. And to have wasted all of that money.

Maybe I'll just repurchase Jerry Lee Lewis' Greatest Hits and pretend I'm at a concert and he's playing the piano right in front of me. And that he's still young and limber and can do amazing things while he plays the piano. Yeah. I'll just keep that memory of him. He can't possibly still be able to do all of that now, right? An added bonus is that I won't have to see Little Richard and have nightmares about it for weeks. Little Richard is a scary, scary man.

See how I turned it into a positive? Damn, I'm glad I didn't go to that concert. Whew.

2003-08-02T01:42:00.000-05:00

Tonight, we went to see The Wiggles. We were all pretty excited about it. ("All" being Zoe, Nicholas and myself.. Peter got a "Get Out of Jail Free" card and was able to go directly home without having to stop and wiggle.) We bought the tickets back in April. So, it's been a long wait.. Finally, today was the day!

We head out to the concert and I had a choice of taking one of two freeways -- I-10 or US-59. They were both going to have a lot of traffic, but I finally settled on US-59. I think it was fate that led me in that direction. I'm driving along and happen to glance over at H-town's Arena Theatre. Generally, no one that I'm interested in seeing actually plays there. (Well, The Wiggles played there last year, but other than that, I'd never been there before nor have I been since.) Anyway, I glance over at the billboard and there it is.. A man that I've adored for as long as I can remember. And he's playing there TOMORROW (actually tonight as I look at the time) night. I don't know how I didn't know about it before now, but somehow (even though I thought I receive every single possible e-mail update there is that should tell me about live music coming to town) I was clueless about it. The man I'm talking about is Jerry Lee Lewis. I love Jerry Lee Lewis. Sure, he's not a positive role model, but the man can play a mean piano. His songs are amazing. I love him. He was supposed to come through Houston about five years ago, but cancelled the show. I thought I would never have the opportunity to see him live. Yet, here it is. I immediately called Carrie and begged her to look it up on Ticketmaster. Alas, there were no tickets. I came home to look on Ebay. Nothing. I thought all hope was lost. Peter was secretly smiling that he wouldn't have to suffer through it after all.. I was very sad.. Realistically, how many more chances am I going to have to see the man? He's 67 years old going through his sixth divorce.. I just can't imagine that he's going on too many more tours.

I just tried one more search on the Arena's website. THEY HAVE TICKETS! At $60 a pop. It's worth it, right? It is. Here's the dilemma.. How do I convince Peter that it's worth it? He wasn't gungho in the first place. It sucks that he's there with Little Richard, but I'd pay $60 to see Jerry Lee all by himself. (Gosh, I hope he's the main act!) What to do? What to do? How do I convince Peter? Damn, I need to win the lottery.

Suggestions?

I'll post about The Wiggles tomorrow. This seemed a bit more pressing to me.

Jerry Lee Lewis! Great Balls of Fire!

(And it's at my requisite "small venue". I could have "A Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On" practically right next to Mr. Lewis.)

2003-08-01T11:56:00.000-05:00

I received a very interesting e-mail today. Apparently, I am going to be very wealthy soon! What do you guys think? Is it legit? Surely, I should send my bank account number out to him immediately, right?

Here's the e-mail:

TRANSFER OF USD$22MILLION INTO YOUR ACCOUNT

ATTENTION: President\CEO.

I, on behalf of my other colleagues from different
organs of Federal Government of Nigeria (FGN) owned
parastatals decided to solicit your assistance as
regards transfer of the above-mentioned amount into
your bank account. This fund accrued from over
invoicing of various contract awarded in my parastatal
to certain Foreign Contractors sometimes ago.

We, as holders of sensitive position in our various
parastatals, were mandated by the Federal Government
to Scrutinise all payments made to certain foreign
Contractors and we discovered that some of the
contracts they executed were grossly over-invoiced
either by omission or commission. In the process the
sum of US$27M (Twenty Seven Million US Dollars only)
was found lying in the parastatal suspense account
after the foreign contractors had been paid their
rightful dues for executing the said contracts.

We all agreed that this over-invoiced amount be
transferred (for our own use) into a bank account
provided by a foreign partner, because we are
government workers and the Code of Conduct does not
allow us to operate foreign accounts.

However, we have succeeded in transferring some of
this money precisely US$5.0M (Five Million US Dollars
only) into a foreign account in MOROCCO (North
Africa), but the provider of the account in MOROCCO is
up to some mischief and refuses to comply to the
earlier mutual agreement by insisting that the total
amount be paid into his nominated bank account before
disbursement will take effect. If for a meagre sum of
US$5.0M (Five Million US Dollars only) we are not
compensated, is it when the balance of US$22M
(Twenty-two Million US Dollars)is transferred that we
will be sure of our full compensation? Of course, this
abuse of trust and inhumanity calls for sober
reflection and search for absolute trust.

Thus we are seeking your unwavering assistance that
the remaining amount of US$22M can be speedily
processed and fully remitted into your nominated bank
account. On successful remittance of the fund into
your account, you will be compensated with 30% of the
amount for your assistance and services.

So far, much have been said and due to our sensitive
positions, we cannot afford a slip in this transaction
neither can we give out identity as regards our
respective offices, but whereby cordial relationship
is established, smooth operations commences, you will
be furnished with details of all you deserves to know.

I am at your disposition to entertain any question
from you with respect to this transaction, so contact
me immediately through my e:mail for further
information on the requirements and procedure for this
transaction.

THANKS FOR YOUR MAIL NOW , THIS IS WHAT I NEED FROM YOU IMMEDIATELY,

1. NAME .COMPANY NAME/ADDRESS/

2. BANK NAME/ADDRESS/ACCOUNT NUMBER/

3 YOUR PHONE AND FAX NUMBERS .

Please, treat with the strictest confidentiality and
utmost urgency.

Yours faithfully

DR.WEK ASA.

Oops. Do you think I broke the confidentiality part of it? Please don't tell anyone. I'd hate to think I lost a chance at $22 Million just because I told a few people. ;-)

2003-07-31T23:13:00.000-05:00

Whew. Since I put that deadline on myself, I've been a little testy. What if I didn't make it back tonight? Would that have meant that I had to throw it all away? Would my credibility have been shot? Thank goodness we didn't have to find out, eh?

So, I've been thinking about changing the name of my blog. "My ramblings" is really exciting and creative and everything, but it doesn't really say much about me. It's lacking something.. Unfortunately, I've been racking my brain trying to come up with some catch phrase that describes my life to a tee. I'm starting to think it should have the word "uncreative" in it somewhere. I think if I go so far as to change the name, I should also move the heck off of Blogger. No offense, Blogger, you've been good to me as I've learned the ropes, but I think I'm ready to say "goodbye". Again, though, I don't have a clue where to start. How does one go about moving? And can you take all of your old furniture with you?

I've been somewhat down about myself lately. I've always heard that anorectics and bulimics look in the mirror and no matter whether they are skin and bones, they see a fat person. That's always been unfathomable to me. If you're skin and bones, it should be obvious, right? I've got the opposite problem. I look into the mirror and I go, "Hey, I look pretty decent. Not too fat. Certainly not skinny, but definitely not gargantuan." (Don't worry, I'm nowhere near being anorexic and falling into the category mentioned above.) My scale says one thing, but the mirror is saying another. The scale says I should be looking in the mirror and not feeling quite as pleased with myself as I do.. But I just ignore it. My clothing size is another indicator that things shouldn't seem quite as peachy when I'm having my love affair with myself in the mirror. But I just assume that clothing sizes are running smaller nowadays or something. I couldn't actually be that size, right? So, I just float along the river of denial. Until I see pictures of myself.. I took a lot of pictures on my trip and in return pictures were taken of me. There were also pictures taken at my surprise party. For some reason, it's always a shock whenever I see a picture of myself. "Whoa," I think. "That can't be me! I can't really look that big. Can I?" Yet, it must be true. I must look that big. My mirror must be telling me lies. And not just one mirror. All of them! It's a conspiracy. When I walk away, they are all laughing at me. "Haha. Fooled her again. Did you see that look of self-satisfaction on her face? It'll sure be a kick in the ass when Camera gets through with her.. And wait until Video Camera gets a chance. She'll be a blubbering mess."

I don't mean to imply that a) I have issues with overweight people or b) that I'm terrifically overweight. I've been really overweight before. While I was pregnant with Nicholas, I gained A LOT of weight. (Which I was in denial about until Video Camera shed some light on the subject..) Eventually, I lost it. When I became pregnant with Zoe, it was a free-for-all with food again. So, I gained a lot of weight again. I finally lost most of it last year. I'm still not at my goal weight, but at times I look in the mirror and I think, "Hey. Maybe this weight isn't so bad after all. Why knock myself out to lose more?" And just when I get into that mindset, I see another picture that snaps me back into reality. I don't have issues with anyone else being overweight -- I just have issues with ME being overweight.

Heh. How's this for irony? I posted (but didn't publish) this so I wouldn't lose it when I walked away from the computer for a minute and this pop-up ad pops up:

IS IT A SIGN? Should I get the patch?? And do I really want to order it from a company that doesn't know the difference between "lose" and "loose"?

I think I'm going to go eat a piece of ice cream cake. Or get a glass of wine. Tomorrow, I order the patch. (Just in case you don't know that I'm kidding, there is NO WAY in hell that I'd buy a weight loss patch.)

2003-07-31T19:56:00.000-05:00

I am never going to get a chance to post again.. Never. Well, maybe in a few hours. It's either never or soon. We'll just have to wait and see which one it ends up being.

2003-07-30T10:34:00.000-05:00

I don't have time to write this morning. We're off to see "Finding Nemo" (again) and to go swimming. Nicholas taught himself to swim yesterday (isn't that amazing?!) and now we have to find a way to swim as much as possible. (Thank goodness school starts in three weeks.. Swimming's not my favorite activity. Something about getting into a swimsuit..)

Anyway, that's where we are. I know you'll be waiting in anticipation for my next post.. (Or not.)

2003-07-29T00:34:00.000-05:00

I don't know if I've mentioned this here before or not, but my mother has Parkinson's Disease. That's not really the point of this conversation (post, whatever), though.
Last night, we were writing a letter to her company letting them know that she's unable to do her job any longer. Three paragraphs took us over two hours to write. It took that long because my mother kept rearranging my sentences. I'd write something and about five minutes later she'd change the format or the wording or everything about the sentence.

My question (did you know this was a Q & A session?) is this: Are my sentences hard to comprehend? Do you find yourself rearranging the words in your head to make them more comprehensible? Do you think to yourself "Sheesh, this chick needs to go back to grammar school?" Do you have to fight to understand what I'm saying? I'm just curious is all.

If you guys are having the same problems as my mother, please feel free to let me know. I'll start proofreading and trying to decipher what I'm writing before I post it. It's common courtesy.

I still haven't replied to Pinky's emails. I'm really down on myself about it too. Especially because she's so understanding about it. But here's the thing.. She's awesome. I was telling my friends in Canada (whom {who?} I ironically met through e-mail which is pretty much the same forum as this) how weird it is that I met Pinky (and she does have a real name, but she doesn't use it online, so I'm not going to) through blogging, but I think she's the .. she's the shiznit. (See there, I tried to avoid using the word "bomb" and I'm left with "shiznit". Something's not right with this picture.) I swear we would become instant friends if we were to meet in "real life." When I read her blog, I can so identify with all of her music choices and memories about music. I'm a trivia addict. I would LOVE to be on her trivia team. If I lived in North Carolina or she lived in Texas, we would be alternating nights between trivia nights and live music nights. Luckily, my in-laws are moving to North Carolina soon, so there's a chance that our paths will cross in the future. All I am saying, Pinky, is that even if I suck at replying to e-mails, I'm still thinking about you and feel honored to "know" you. :)

I "met" Pinky through Gwen's site. She answered one of Gwen's monthly (bi-monthly? tri-monthly?) surveys and linked to Pinky's blog. I mention Gwen because she sent me an e-mail today about missing her show. She said (in reference to mine and Carrie's inability to attend the show and her wanting to have a guest list of sorts for the next one), "because y'all and one of my cousins and a few other specialer-than-normal people didn't get in." Awww. I'm specialer-than-normal. Isn't that the sweetest thing you've ever heard? I've never been specialer-than-normal before. It's almost worth writing down so I'll remember it in the future.. Wait, I just did that, didn't I?

As usual, I am up way too late. I was talking to a friend about a trip to Vegas in October. A trip that will hopefully include Laurie. (Actually, she better be there or I'll kick her ass.) We tried to get Laurie on the phone, but all I got was a busy signal. I hate busy signals. No offense to you, Laurie, but have you thought about call waiting? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to. I try to make a point of not clicking over to someone else unless it's a) Peter (and it might be an emergency) or b) someone who is watching Nicholas and Zoe (and it might be an emergency). You could do that too! Busy signals just make me cringe. My love for you is unwavering, Laurie, but, well, the busy signal.. it made me curse. And I normally have pristine language. (Shhhh, Peter and Carrie.) That was a pause back there between "busy signal" and "it", if you couldn't tell.

Speaking of pauses (and then I am going to bed), Peter brought home the current "Playboy" for me this past week. I do think the articles are good (I really do!), but he brought it home because Jenna and Heidi from "Survivor" were in the issue. Anyway, he was reading the jokes to me one night. Tonight, I leave you with one of them (which may or may not be verbatim as I have the "Playboy" hidden somewhere from my kids and I don't know where it is right now):

A bear walks into a bar.

Bartender: What can I get you?

Bear: A gin and ... tonic. (The "..." represent a pause.)

Bartender: What's with the pause?

Bear: I was born with them.

Now, that's funny stuff. (Not quite as funny as Jenna and Heidi frolicking together, but funny nonetheless.)

Night, All.

2003-07-28T09:25:00.000-05:00

I mentioned in my last post that I thought that Saturday night was going to be a late night. I thought we'd be up playing games or talking or something like that..

I was right about the late part, but it was because I was thrown a SURPRISE PARTY! Peter (with a lot of help from Carrie) threw me a surprise party! You don't think it was all the plugging I did here, do you? What I don't understand is why you weren't there.. Did you not get an invite? I had a great time. It was wonderful to see some people that I hadn't seen in a long time. We stayed up waaaay too late. (I finally went to sleep at 5am and people were still here!) It was truly wonderful, though.

So, needless to say, I was too tired/hungover/braindead to post anything yesterday. It was for a good cause, though. I'm still feeling a bit worn out.. Until I sneak in a nap later today, I'll leave you with a Zoeism.

Zoe is complaining about having to sleep in her own bed..

Zoe: I'm too scared to sleep alone. I'm always too scared. I can never, ever sleep when I am in my own bed. I HAVE to sleep in your bed.

Me: Daddy (aka Peter), maybe we should sign Zoe up for acting classes.

Peter: Yeah, I think so. Zoe, do you know what an actor is?

Zoe: No.

Peter: An actor is someone who is pretending to be someone or something else than they are. You are doing such a good job at pretending that you're scared at night that it's almost believable.

Zoe (with much indignation): It IS NOT believable. It's the truth!!

Many, many thanks to Peter and Carrie for my party. I had a great time!

2003-07-26T09:36:00.000-05:00

I was rendered speechless by the whole Michael Savage thing..

Nah, I was just really busy yesterday. I had errand after errand. My sister-in-law and nephew were hanging out with me the whole day. Then I had to rush to get ready for Gwen's show. But I took too long and it was sold out when we got there. (That sucked.) So, Carrie and I went out to eat instead. Then we went to have a few beers to celebrate that it was her last day of work and I was celebrating.. well, who really needs a reason to celebrate and have a beer? Besides, it was my first night out in ages..

While were at the bar, I get a phone call from Peter, who in turn put someone else on the phone. No, it wasn't his girlfriend. She only comes around when I'm out of town. He doesn't want the kids to see her. (I'm going to quit making these jokes lest you think I'm serious. I'm not. Peter and I love each other very, very, very much. There is NO WAY he is cheating on me. We are truly one of the happiest couples I know. Not to rub it in or anything..) So, it wasn't Peter's girlfriend, but a friend from high school that I haven't seen in two and a half years. How exciting, eh? I looked down, made a quick weight assessment (I'm not near as fat as the last time she saw me! Woohoo!), clothing check (Cool. I was originally going out to meet Gwen, remember?), and hair check (Uh-oh. I'm having a terminal bad hair day. Perhaps I'll shave my head today!).

We rushed home and it was great to see her. We had a lot of catching up to do. Unfortunately, we caught up until almost 2am. This morning, we have to be at a birthday party in 32 minutes. I'm really tired. We're going out to dinner tonight with some friends. It's probably going to be a late night tonight too. Just a warning that the coherency level of my posts is going to go down as the weekend progresses.

On that note, I'm off to do cartwheels and backflips and ... Wait, I just get to watch. Unfair! (As if I could do either of those things anyway.)

2003-07-25T01:13:00.000-05:00

Is this guy for real? Does he actually think the the good people of the state of California are idiots?!?

Being a Texan (who hasn't been reading the news as of late -- shame on me), I wasn't too informed about the situation with Gray Davis in California and the issue of whether to recall him. (Speaking of recall, would it be a "Total Recall" if Arnold was to take his place?) Today, I was educated about it on my August list.

Anyway, I am driving to the grocery store tonight in Peter's car. Peter is a talk radio addict. Savage Nation is on the air. (Peter's not a right wing, bury a bus in the backyard, conservative whacko. It just happened to be on the air on the station he normally listens to.) I get to hear bits and pieces of this imbecile's show whenever I take my late night trips to the store. Tonight, he's asking whether he should run for governor in California. Is he serious? Does he really think that the guy who called in to say, "Don't let them ravage, vote for Savage!" is actually part of a large group? Does he really believe that people in California are so stupid that they'd vote him into office? It was probably the same guy calling in over and over and disguising his voice. Or perhaps it was even Mr. Savage himself. I wouldn't put it past him.

I'm sure this is just a publicity stunt. But all the same, I'm fearful that if he were to get on the ballot something catastrophic would happen that would keep all of the sane, intelligent people away from the polls allowing the worst to happen and have him voted in to actually run the state. Can you imagine? It would be chaos! I think I might have nightmares tonight just thinking about it. In the times that I've actually listened to him (and really just for some comic relief), the man (and his ideas) has been so far out in right field that I can only hope that all of his listeners are taking EVERYTHING he says with a grain of salt. It's terrifying to think that there are people out there who are actually buying into his bullshit theories. Please tell me that none of you fit that category.

As a rule, I try to stay out of political discussions. I think it's a quick way to get feelings hurt and lose friends. I won't espouse my mostly liberal views here. I just couldn't sit back and not say something tonight. Michael Savage is a .. is a .. My mother always told me that if you can't say something nice, it's probably better to say nothing at all. Oops too late. Sorry, Mom.

2003-07-24T10:15:00.000-05:00

Apparently "online chat" is synonymous with "Natalie gets drunk." Sheesh.

Of my goals yesterday, I accomplished four of them. Not bad, four out of seven. That's the majority of the tasks. See, I can do math!

So, I still need to vacuum, write Pinky, and clean Zoe's room. Unfortunately, I have to do them right now because the exterminator is coming and I don't want to stay here after he comes. (He comes every three months like clockwork. You have to stay ahead of the game!)

I'll catch up later. (Famous last words..)

2003-07-23T15:06:00.000-05:00

One additional note..

Football season is upon us. (Thank goodness!) In the future, you might start to hear a little more talk about the best sport EVER. I am a diehard football fan.

(singing in my best Hank Williams Jr. voice)

Are you ready for some football?!?

(/singing in my best Hank Williams Jr. voice)

This is the year for the Texans. (Who, by the way, didn't ask for my input at all when deciding on a name. The Texans? C'mon. We could've done better than that!) Last year was a just a trial run. We were just getting the feel of things. While doing that, we afforded some teams some embarrassing losses. (Cough, the Cowboys, Cough, and Steelers, Cough) Of course, we lost a few ourselves that were a bit boggling. (Unfortunately, I was present when the Bengals reamed us.)

Anyway, if you're not into football, you've got until August 9th (that's when we play the Broncos in preseason) before you're bombarded with football talk for about sixish months. At least on Sundays. And possibly Mondays. And maybe on Tuesday mornings. Probably a little bit on Saturday nights too.

Just a warning.

P.S. Buzz seems to think it's the Cowboy's year. Could someone please set him straight?

2003-07-23T14:30:00.000-05:00

I could write a long post about laundry (Surf, now called All, is the best), cleaning (I like Formula 409 for an all-purpose cleaner), making the beds (What's the point? You're just going to get right back into it at night.) or some other completely uninteresting topic (since that's what my life has consisted of since we last spoke), but because I like you, I won't. You're welcome.

Instead, I present some photographs..

Here's what happens when you give Cindy the camera to take the picture:

That's me on the left. Lovely picture, eh?

This is what Nicholas thought of Niagara Falls:

"Duuuuuuuude. It rocked." Oh wait, maybe he didn't say it exactly like that.

Nicholas took this picture of Zoe and me. A little close, but who really cares?

Close up photos make my nose and teeth look huge. In real life, they are perfectly proportionate, of course. Strangely, the camera also adds 20-30 pounds and, on some days, makes my skin look like a teenager's. Maybe I should look into getting a new camera!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here are my goals for today:

1. Make beds.

2. Actually respond to dryer beeping instead of pretending like I don't hear it.

3. Unload/Reload dishwasher.

4. Vacuum.

5. Finally respond to Pinky's email(s).

6. Clean Zoe's room. Also, lecture Zoe again about keeping her room clean. Watch in amazement as words go in one ear and out the other.

7. Make delectable dinner for my family. (This will be a challenge!)

Now, I know you're jealous, but there's really no need to be. I know that my life is a thrill a minute, but don't begrudge me for it. I know that I'm lucky and I really wouldn't want it any other way.

(You don't think I use "really" too much, do you? I'm nothing if not consistent with my overuse of certain words.)

2003-07-22T13:46:00.000-05:00

I need a tutorial in posting smaller pictures. Unless no one minds that they're huge. Vote?

2003-07-22T13:33:00.000-05:00

I really want to go to this on Friday. Anyone want to babysit? Gwen rocks.

I devoured IN HER SHOES once I received it for my birthday. Jennifer Weiner writes great books. I seriously couldn't put it down. (Psst.. Her husband has a great site too. Are you all still reading like I asked you to?)

I went to the dentist yesterday and had the second half of my root canal done. Isn't it awkward to be sitting under two people having a conversation over you and to not be able to participate? Or, even worse, have them ask you a question that you obviously can't answer. You just gurgle at them and hope they understand that a) you're really not able to respond right now and b) that by responding in any form you are risking choking on your own saliva. It was a long office visit. They had my mouth opened by a bite block for almost two hours. When it was over, she asked me to bite down to make sure that my teeth matched right. I couldn't close my mouth. My jaw had been wrenched open for so long that I couldn't close my mouth. I was finally able to close my mouth and reassure her that everything felt fine (with the exception of my mouth being numb and my drooling because of it), grabbed a new flosscard and hightailed it out of there. I get to go back in two weeks. I can't wait!

I really should be doing my housewifely duties (i.e. laundry, make the beds, vacuuming, etc.), but I just can't get in the mood. Oh hell, since we're being honest, I'm never in the mood. I hate cleaning. There's nothing fun about it. You'd think the reward of a clean house at the end would make it a somewhat satisfying experience, but when you live with two little tornadoes who stir up everything you've just picked up, it's hard to get excited about cleaning just to have it look like a wreck again in 30 minutes. Peter would tell you that I'm like a tsunami, but I swear it's not me making the majority of the mess. Really. Our house looked fantastic when we got home from Canada, though. Very, very clean. It lasted about an hour, I think. Poor Peter.

Hey, here's a picture of our house if you're interested. It's like a castle. Okay, so we outgrew it the day we moved in, but we love the house. It's right around the corner from my mother. All that aside, we're hoping to move soon to a bigger house near Nicholas' school. (Let's see if I can remember how to do this..)

And while I'm posting pictures, here's a picture of the welcome home sign that Peter made for us and hung in the kitchen. He's a sweet guy. (Or he's feeling terribly guilty about having his girlfriend in the house for the last two weeks. Hmm.)

I need to make lunch for my kiddos, but I'll leave you with a few things said by the kids while on the trip.

About Pop Rocks

Nicholas: Zoe, do you want some of my Pop Rocks?

Zoe: Yeah!

Nicholas: Okay, but be sure and eat them really, really fast. If you leave them on your tongue too long, it starts to hurt. It really, really hurts. So, be careful. (He hands them to her.)

Zoe: No way! I don't want it any!

(I wonder why?!?)

The kids are screaming in the backseat while I am trying to maneuver my way through Canada..

Me: Please stop screaming. I am trying to concentrate.

Kids: (screaming at the top of their lungs)

Me: I'm serious. If you scream one more time, you're going to be quiet for the rest of the trip. (We weren't that far away by this point.)

Nicholas (to Zoe): Go ahead and scream. She'll never make us be quiet.

Interesting!

Zoe: (screaaaaaaaam)

A side note: They WERE quiet for the rest of the trip. He's right I probably would've let them talk sooner, but since they see me as a pushover and are willing to say it out loud with me RIGHT THERE, I figured it was time to take a stand.

I'll post more pictures from my trip later.

2003-07-20T14:38:00.000-05:00

Here is one last travelogue of sorts before I get to back to detailing the mundane happenings of my life.

I hit the road from Indianapolis on Friday morning. It doesn't take long to reach Illinois. I don't have too much to say about Illinois except that they have signs in their work zones that actually work. It's very rare that I actually observe too many of the signs asking me to slow down. I'm generally in a hurry to get where I'm going and usually there isn't a single soul working when they have you slow down. Illinois, however, has signs that are written in child-like script that say either, "Please slow down. My mommy works here. Thank you, Bobby" or "Please slow down. My daddy works here. Thank you, Abbi." The letters "s" and "y" are backwards as if a child had actually written it. I slowed down. I didn't want to be the one who deprived little Bobby or Abbi of their mommy and daddy. Very good marketing ploy. Perhaps it's because I am a mommy, though. Of course, there wasn't anyone actually doing road work, though. Illinois must take lessons from Michigan in the mind games department. Except that Illinois throws in the guilt to go with it. I feel like a sucker.

Have you ever noticed that the Waffle House sign is actually bigger than the Waffle house building itself? Maybe they should think about a smaller sign and a bigger building.

Coffee is vile, vile stuff. I don't how all of you drink the stuff on a daily basis. Cappucino on the other hand is very good. Anything that tastes that good must be laden with calories. I don't want to know if this is the case. I'd much rather be of the mindset that it's practically calorie free.

Speaking of calories, I feel cheated. I was told that Canadian food is calorie free. If this is true, how did I gain five pounds on this trip? Was it false advertising? What the hell?!?

I think unmarked police cars should be illegal. I don't know what state I was in (they all kind of blurred together on the way home), but every car that I saw pulled over was pulled over by an unmarked police car. One, it's very sneaky. Two, I don't know that I would actually pull over if I was being pursued by an unmarked car. How am I to know (until it's too late) that it's not some Ted Bundy serial killer just trying to get me to stop in order to slash me to bits? Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about it. I managed to drive almost 4,000 miles without getting pulled over once. I even drove really, really fast yesterday because I was anxious to get home and also because surely you're exempt from tickets on your birthday, right?

There are an inordinate amount of adult book stores on the interstates. They are everywhere! I would have loved to have been able to stop and check one out. Just to see what the big draw is -- they must be full of exciting things if there are so many of them. It can't be just a big book store.

I listened to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack as I was driving. Am I the only person who liked this movie? And the music? (With the exception of "The Academy"?) I've never met anyone in person who actually liked the movie, but I loved it. Did any of you like it? Or am I really the only one?

How neat is it that there's a town called Cooter, Missouri? What possessed the town founders to say "I know! Let's call the town 'Cooter'. It's describes the land and the people perfectly."?

We stopped in a store in Arkansas to get something to drink. There was a rack of postcards and magnets and other things to advertise the positive things about Arkansas. I really wanted to buy the Bill Clinton magnet as a gift for my in-laws (who despise anyone with the last name of Clinton), but decided against spending $3 on something that would likely end up being run over again and again in their driveway. Nicholas was reading the postcards and looked at me wide-eyed and asked, "Is the mosquito really the state bird of Arkansas? I thought it was an insect, Mommy." Gosh, if there was ever a more ringing endorsement for moving to Arkansas, I don't know what it could be. Who doesn't love mosquitoes?

Another thing I thought was strange about Arkansas was that for the first twenty or so miles into the state, all of their speed limit signs had been chopped down. I actually got a little flutter of excitement in my stomach at the thought of being able to drive 140 miles an hour. "It's the new Montana!" I thought with elation. Unfortunately, it was just a cruel trick. They have a speed limit. I was back to my standard nine and a half miles over the speed limit.

After arriving in Mississippi (M-I-crooked letter-crooked letter..), we stopped for a potty break. The kids were getting really tired of being in the car, so I asked the store clerk how long the drive was to Jackson (my predetermined stopping point). She seemed unsure, so she asked one of the customers. The customer replied, "Well, it depends on how fast you float your boat. How fast do you plan to float down the river?" Huh? "Do you mean how fast do I drive?" I asked. "Yeah, how fast do you float your boat?" she replied. "Umm, well I drive about 85 miles an hour, is that what you mean?" "It should take you about two hours then. I am heading that way. If you want to follow in my wake, I'll get you there in an hour and a half." Thanks, but no thanks. I half expect that we'd have been travelling down the Mississippi river. (I know the Mississippi River doesn't go through Jackson. No geography lesson is needed.)

We did make it to Jackson, but not by choice. I stopped a bit before Jackson because the kids were asleep and well, I needed to go to the bathroom really, really bad. (Not only is coffee vile, it goes right through you!) I decided that this was the town for us. After visiting all six of their hotels (motels, if we're being honest) and finding no vacancies, I am desperate. I find a hotel discount guide and start calling hotels in Jackson all the while bouncing around and praying that I don't lose control of my bladder. I finally find one that has one room available. I ask if I can reserve it. She tells me it's not necessary. I ask if I can anyway. I can't take the chance of not getting a room. She sighs and takes my information. I finally get there and she's turning away three sets of people who are inquiring about availability. "It's a good thing I reserved that room, isn't it?" I ask her. "It sure was!" she says smiling. Sheesh. I think I would have peed right in her hotel lobby if I had gotten there and she'd told me that there weren't any rooms.

The next morning we get up and stop at a Wal-Mart. I want to get a phone charger and I decide to get the kids a movie each. We're all tired of the same movies over and over. I find what I want and the kids pick out their movies. I write the check and hand it and my driver's license to her. For this story's purposes, let's say I live on Smith street.

Sales Clerk: It's your birthday?

Me: Yep.

Sales Clerk: Well, Happy Birthday!

Me: Thank you!

Sales Clerk: Is your address information correct?

Me: It sure is.

Sales Clerk: Wow! You live on Smith? This town is called Smith!!! (She's really very excited about it.)

Me: Hmm. That's a neat coincidence.

Sales Clerk: I can't believe it's your birthday and you live on a street called Smith. That's amazing.

Things must be really boring in Smith, Mississippi.

That's it. That's my trip in a nutshell. I'm home. I'm 32. Peter's working. There wasn't a surprise party last night. (It must be next weekend!) Nicholas is begging for the computer. Life is back to normal.

Ta-ta!

(Not proofread, so please ignore any and all typos.)

2003-07-19T21:44:00.000-05:00

I'm home!

I never thought I'd be happy to see a "Welcome to Texas" sign, but I was thrilled. This was one long trip!

I'll update tomorrow. For now, I am going to have some birthday cake. Yummy.

2003-07-18T00:09:00.000-05:00

I'm in the midst of trying to learn how to FTP and waiting to call Cindy, but at the moment I can't do either. So, I'll just talk to you guys. Talk about multi-tasking. Luckily, you'll have no idea when I blow you off for someone or something else. Not that I'd do such a thing. It's really all about you, all the time.

So, Canada. Since quite a few of you would have no clue who or what I was talking about should I go into great detail about the reunion itself, I'll spare you the details. Those who were there or who are interested have been given my complete point of view. If you didn't get the low down and want it, send me a note and I'll give you all of the sordid details. For now, I'll just give you a quick rundown.

Night one: Arrive, hug everyone (Well, almost everyone. Jennifer isn't a huggy person, I don't think, and hurried off when I tried. I decided not to be offended.), get the kids involved in the mayhem going on in the hotel room, unpack car, drink entire bottle of wine, participate in drunken blogging and pass out.

Day One: Wake to loud, obnoxious banging on wall right over my head. Think it must be some kind of sick joke that Cindy is playing on me and rush right over to the room. Cindy's still sleeping. Gavin is trying to drill through then chip away at the wall. Feel sheepish for waking Cindy over it (although I truly don't know how she slept through it). During the day (after consuming some Motrin), we visit the Farmer's Market, THE BANK (muy importante), the grocery store, and the beer store, as we needed more reserves. Notice that there is a Jehovah's Witness conference staying at OUR HOTEL. Sort of offended that no one tried to convert me, although they were all very friendly.

Night Two: Drank lots of beer. Switch to some vodka concoction that Cindy was raving about. Espy Jennifer drinking a beer, but realize she's just doing it for Sammy -- it helps with let down afterall. Go to sleep.

Day Two: Wake with headache again. Go down to breakfast area. Get some crazy headache therapy from some strange stranger. (His wife was with him so I think he really knew what he was doing and not trying to pick me up. I do look especially glamorous in the morning, though.) He felt around my head. Smashed a loaf of bread against my forehead. Poked around my back. And voila, my headache was gone. It was crazy cold and rainy, so we venture to the Children's Museum for the day. Well, for an hour or two. It was very small, but was just the thing we needed to let the kids run off some energy. Finally find an ATM machine that will give me some money.

Night Three: Decide to take it easy and give my liver a night off. We all make something for a group dinner. It was all delicious. Jennifer made some amazing Tastykakes, Cindy made an awesome Pad Thai, Amy brought Old Bay and poured it over some fries -- she's from Maryland. Hilary made a fantastic salad with artichoke hearts, olives, parmesan cheese and some other good stuff. Diane made some mac and cheese and ham that the kids were really happy to see. Mandy made.. Mandy made.. Oh, I remember it was a bean salad, but I didn't get any of it because she came late with it and I was already stuffed. I made a dip. Yes, the appetizer that didn't come until after everyone had started eating. I hate when that happens in a restaurant. You want to send it back, but you're just not mean enough to do it. But by definition, an appetizer is "a food or drink served usually before a meal to stimulate the appetite." Ah well, it was the thought that counted.

Heh. The joke's on you, isn't it? You just thought you were going to get a recap. Somewhere along the line, I lost control and just started babbling. How unusual for me.

Day Three: Attend Aquafest. Take the really scenic route getting there. Kids have fun while we're there and that's the important part.

Night Four: Reign in desire to drink like a fish. I have to get up the next morning and lug out all of my luggage and need to be somewhat coherent to make sure that we don't leave behind anything important.

Day/Night Five: Pack up and move out .. to Cindy's house. Cindy's husband plied me with fresh strawberry dacquiris all day and night. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was trying to get me drunk. Can you believe?!? He also made the most delicious risotto. Was very sad that it was my very last night with Cindy and Jennifer.

Day/Night Six: Leave Cindy. ::sob:: I love Cindy. Drive to Niagara Falls. Spend way too much time there looking at two (three, if you count the bridal falls) falls. Finally get to Cleveland at midnight.

Day/Night Seven: Head to Diane's house. Zoe throws up on the way. Her health progressively goes downhill for the rest of the day. Finally make it to Indianapolis. Wish that I had a strawberry dacquiri, but I didn't. Go to sleep.

The present: Spent day lounging around. Finished a most excellent book by a most excellent author -- SECOND GLANCE by Jodi Picoult. This woman is amazing. Every book is different, but every book is equally as wonderful as the prior one. She is a truly gifted storyteller. If you haven't read anything by her, you must go get one of her books. Any of them will be fine, they are all great. Getting prepared to begin final leg of trip home.

I should be home by Saturday night. For those of you keeping track, and I know ALL OF YOU are, that's my birthday. My birthday present to myself will be getting home on my birthday. I really have Zoe to thank. It's because of her that I am rushing home. If you're a parent, you know that Nicholas is next in line to get whatever it is she has. I'd prefer to be home when it hits. Besides, I really miss Peter. I really, really do.

Hey, speaking of Peter (I mean, why stop when I can continue to bore you?), we were married eleven and a half years as of yesterday! Woohoo!

Oh, and speaking of birthdays, by the time I actually post this, it will be Diane's birthday. She's a better person than me because she hasn't mentioned that once in her blog. Nor did she mention it once at the reunion. Diane's the woman! Go wish her a HAPPY, HAPPY birthday.

What? You've fallen asleep? WAKE UP! It's over. You can go home now. Show's over, Folks.

Talk to you soon (and I promise to make it a bit more interesting).

2003-07-17T00:38:00.000-05:00

Way. Too. Tired. To. Blog.

Back in business tomorrow.

I had a fantastic time in Canada. (At least, what I remember of it. I'm kidding. No really, I remember it all.)

Signed,

Incapacitated in Indianapolis

P.S. I had to use a word that actually worked in the sign off to make up for my complete misuse of "harangue" in my drunken stupor a few days ago. Don't expect me to come up with something clever every time (or ever really).

2003-07-13T01:06:00.000-05:00

This is my first night in Canada that I didn’t get obliterated. My liver might survive this trip after all. I decided to take this opportunity to update about my trip from Indiana to here before it all disappears from my brain.

I left Indianapolis and that was the last big city that I actually saw until Lansing, Michigan. I think Fort Wayne might be big, but they bypass all thru traffic to the outskirts of the city. In between Indianapolis and Lansing, it’s farmland and more farmland. I had no idea that there was so much farmland this far north.

We did a take a potty break in James Dean’s hometown, though. For miles beforehand, there are signs claiming that you’re in James Dean Country. There’s a whole store devoted to selling James Dean stuff. I guess everywhere needs to have some claim to fame, right? Grant County, Indiana has James Dean. They also sell a veritable butt ton of fireworks. I’ve never seen so many fireworks. They sell them in packages that are huge – the biggest was almost as tall as Zoe and went for the low, low price of $289.00. It was in this store that I saw my very first Amish people. Well, I’d seen them in “Witness”, but this was the first time that I’d actually seen them live and in person. It was a neat experience.

After I crossed into Michigan (Great Lakes, Great Times!), the roads deteriorated terribly. Do you think it’s the snow chains that do it to the roads? Harmony, do you know? By the way, I know you’re from Michigan, but I had no idea where in Michigan, so I just waved to you for the whole drive through the state. My arm was getting very tired. Michigan was relatively uneventful. We stopped in Lansing and visited a friend for a couple of hours and then we were back on the road.

Once we were in Flint, I called Cindy to let her know that we were getting close.. We debated about how long it was actually going to take me to get to Hamilton from Flint. She started by saying that it would take me about five hours, but I had her talked down to three by the time we got off the phone.

I asked her what the speed limit was in Ontario and she told me that it was 110 kilometers per hour. (It’s actually 100 kmph.) I said, “Oh, they don’t have it in miles?” She said, “Uh no, this is Canada we use the metric system here (Imbecile).” (Okay, so the imbecile was just implied..) I said, “Well, I’ll just go 110 miles per hour and if they pull me over, I’ll just explain that I’m from Texas and that I don’t know what a kilometer is.” She said that they’d probably believe it and that it would become folklore. “Yeah, I pulled over this slow-witted Texan, eh, and she said she didn’t know what a kilometer was. They sure do make them stupid in the states, eh?”

Which reminds of a story about my brother-in-law, Adam. He was up in Lake Placid, NY a while back. He’d been drinking a little too much and was pulled over by the police. They started performing the sobriety tests, one of which was for him to recite the ABCs – forward, no less. He couldn’t do it. He finally just broke down and confessed that he was from Texas and that the education system was terrible down there. He’d never actually learned the ABCs. They believed him. Do you all think Texans are that stupid?!? They let him go and told him to go straight home. Unbelievable.

Anyway, back to Michigan. I thought it was interesting that as you went through a road work zone, the zone was always preceded by a sign saying, “Injure or Kill a worker get a $7500 fine + 15 years in prison.” Wow, what if you accidentally roll over their toe and it’s just mildly injured. Do you automatically go to the big house for 15 years? Or if you do happen to kill a worker, do you just get off with fifteen years? Hmm. Anyway, it was all for naught. They had tons of work zones, but not a single worker in any of them. They just like to make you slow down every fifteen or so miles. I think it’s just a mind game.

We finally got to the Canadian border. The border guard asked if I had any alcohol (I wish), tobacco (I plead the fifth), firearms (no, I left those home for the neighborhood kids to play with), fireworks (um, no, I was tempted to buy that huge package back in James Dean Country, but I resisted), or mace or pepper spray (as a matter of fact, I do.) “Ma’am, in Canada mace is a weapon.” I try to give it to her. She looks at me like I’m handing her .. well, a loaded weapon. It is a weapon here after all. “No, I can’t take that! You’ll have to pull over and fill out paperwork and one of the police officers will take it from you then.” Wow! I felt a little bit like a criminal. I finally got that taken care of and I was on my way.

It was a good thing I didn’t have a radar detector, because they’re illegal in Canada. Another thing about Canada (at least Ontario) is that there is a golf and country club as EVERY EXIT. I thought Kentucky had a lot of caves, but these are some golf playing people!

We stopped at a gas station along the way to use their facilities. I wish I could blame it on the kids that we had to stop so frequently, but it was really all me. I kept telling myself, “Why didn’t you go when we last stopped? Why are you making me stop again? You did go at the last stop? Maybe you should stop drinking so much friggin’ Diet Dr. Pepper! If I have to stop this car again..” I never got it, though. Invariably, we stopped about every 75 miles for me to pee. Man, I have a small bladder. I would be DYING by the time we stopped, too. Worried that I wouldn’t even make it to the bathroom. Screaming to the kids to “Please HURRY up! Mommy’s about to pee in her pants.” Unfortunately, that had the opposite effect of what I wanted. The thought of me peeing in my pants was much more exciting than me actually making it to the bathroom. They never got the show that they wanted, though. It was a close call too many times, though.

As I was leaving the gas station, I noticed that gas was $.62 a gallon. I couldn’t believe how cheap gas was in Canada. I’d heard horror stories, so I’d stopped at the last place in Michigan to top off my tank so that I wouldn’t have to buy gas here. I was so excited about how cheap it was that I called Peter at $.89 a minute to tell him about it. I was starting to think about how I could import gasoline to the states and sell it. That was when my bubble was burst and I heard Cindy’s voice telling me that they use the metric system (Imbecile). It was liters. $.62 a liter. Not quite the deal that I thought it was.

Whew, I’m rambling for sure tonight. I didn’t call this “My ramblings” for nothing, you know.. You can break it up over a few days if you want. I don’t know when I’ll post again. If you’ve made it this far and are starting to get weary (from the length not from my writing, of course. Of course, right?), just come back tomorrow to finish the rest. We’re near the end, though, so if you can stick it out.. well, you might win a prize or something. (Probably not, though, so don’t get your hopes up.)

So, I am finally nearing my destination and I pass by the Four Seasons Nudist Resort. Now, why didn’t Cindy choose this joint for us? I mean is there a six-year-old or under that doesn’t like to run around naked? I guess we all do, but they still have the freedom of not having body issues yet and of not knowing any better. As it is, we are all fully clothed. Not just because we have to be, but because it’s freezing cold! Sheesh, it’s cold. I’m used to 100 degree heat right now and this 20 degrees (that’s Celsius because this a metric country, but who knows how to convert it?) stuff is downright nippy.

You know, I have some Nicholas and Zoeisms, but I’m downright tired. I have them. I will save them. You will hear about them later. I know you’ll wait with bated (baited) breath? What the hell does that mean anyway?

Until next time, Cheers!

2003-07-11T00:45:00.000-05:00

Did you care if the links work in the previous post? That's apparently beyond my level of expertise right now. ::sigh:: Tomorrow's going to suck. By the way, everyone that I linked to is on the left hand side of the page. Check 'em out. :)

2003-07-11T00:17:00.000-05:00

I’ve never drunken blogged before, but I’m drunk now. Cindy got me drunk tonight, though. I’ve had a whole bottle of wine and I’m trashed. Damn Canadians.

I wanted to blog about my trip from Indianapolis to here (Canada), but I’m a little too messed up to do so. I owe you. You can write it down as an IOU.

To sum it up, it took FOREVER! No, I’m not exaggerating. It’s true. An eight hour trip took twelve hours to make. Unfortunately, I drank a whole bottle of wine to make up for it. I feel like a lush.

I wish I could go on, but I’m afraid I would embarrass myself. I will try tomorrow on less wine and more wit. ;-)

I do have to say that I miss Peter. I miss him SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much. Did you get the gravity of how much I miss him? I miss him a lot!

Sorry that I’m toasted. I’m such a drunk. Maybe I should’ve eaten dinner, eh?

More tomorrow when I’m a bit more coherent. Also, I plan to let Jennifer borrow the computer so she can post.

On that note of generosity, I am going to sleep (aka pass out).

Viva Canada!

Signed, Harangued in Hamilton

2003-07-10T07:18:00.000-05:00

As luck would have it, Canada won out in the end. Whew! I wasn't looking forward to driving all the way back to Texas.. I'm kidding, of course.

We're about to head out. Think positive thoughts for an uneventful trip -- especially that I won't have to give up my prized avocados up at the border. (102. Avocados are my favorite food.) I will have a laptop, so I should be able to post from there.

Happy Trails..

2003-07-08T23:13:00.000-05:00

I said I would post something before I left, but being that I am not only the queen of procrastination, but also the queen of disorganization, I wasn't able to do so. I left two hours late, but even still I almost made it to my planned stopping point.

I am in Indianapolis, Indiana now. It's been a realllllllly loooooooong trip getting here with lots of whining, but we made it here in one piece. I did make some observations along the way that I wanted to share..

1. What ever happened to radar detectors? I used to always have a top of the line radar detector, but I have no idea where any of them are now. I didn't notice a single other person on the road with one either. Are they illegal now? I was really wishing that I still had one as I cruised along at a set nine miles per hour over the speed limit. What happened? When did I become an adult?

2. Louisiana is actually using its federal funding for their roads. They used to be notorious for having the worst roads, but they were actually very nice. Tennessee has great roads too. Mississippi and Kentucky need help, though. (Indiana too now that I think about it.)

3. Can anyone else see the word "Mississippi" and not think "M-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-humpback-humpback-I"? Me either.

4. Do you think it was a bad idea to leave the kids in the car at every casino I passed while I went in and played few hands of blackjack? I'm kidding, but I will admit that the tempation to try and sneak them into the casino was very strong. Peter and I have always been thankful that we don't live near enough to a casino to make it a regular thing. We would be prime candidates for Gambler's Annonymous if we did.

5. What is so hard to understand about "Keep Right Except to Pass"? It seems to be written in perfectly good, understandable English. Why don't people heed the signs? Isn't that a law? "You must obey all warning signs." If it's not, it should be. I can't tell you how many people I had to pass on the right. And they don't even blink an eye. Who made them the one's in power to decide just how fast we should be going in the "fast" lane? I'm always mortified if I space out and don't get over to the right and on the rare occasion that it happens, I always immediately get into the right lane after waving apologetically at the person who had to pass me on the right. Most people don't give a flip, though. It's common courtesy, People.

6. Has anyone EVER won on a Dr. Pepper or Diet Dr. Pepper cap? EVER? I buy them all the time. On this trip alone, I've had at least 20. I've won zilch. Nada. Nothing. What's up with that?

7. Paris, Tennessee is so small that it doesn't even have the population listed on the sign. They have three body piercing parlors, though. Apparently, they are the body piercing capital of Tennessee.

8. Speaking of Tennessee towns named after cities in foreign countries. I stopped in Milan, Tennessee to ask how long it was to Clarksville from there (and when the last train to Clarksville was -- yuk, yuk) and I asked "How long will it take to get from Milan (pronounced like the city in Italy) to Clarksville?" "You mean Milan (My-lan{rhymes with can}), Ma'am?" Uh, yeah.

9. Kentucky has a cave at damn near every exit. That's amazing.

10. Kentucky also has some wicked thunderstorms. As I was driving, this torrential downpour started. I wanted to pull over, but there were cars parked along the ENTIRE shoulder. There was nowhere for me to pull over. So, I cruised along at five mph with my hazards on and my bright lights on. I didn't get too terribly concerned until I saw that people were parked like sardines under the underpasses. Yikes. I made it out alive, though. I did get to see something awesome, but scary happen right in front of me, though. As I am cruising along the interstate at a hefty three mph, I see this bolt of lightning come down, hit a transformer, cause it to explode and split the utility pole. Wow!

11. When we got to Indiana, that storm had caught up with us. I saw the Emergency Broadcast System used for the first time in my life. You hear it all the time , "This is a test. This is only a test. If this had been a real emergency, the tone would have been followed by official information." Well, they really used it here. I thought it was just a big farce. I was amazed. And scared shitless. I figured we were goners since they pulled out the Emergency Broadcast System and everything. Tornadoes scare me. There was a tornado warning and a tornado sighting and we were right in the path of it. I suppose you can probably guess the outcome. We survived.

Are you still reading? You are? Thanks. I appreciate it. We're in the homestretch now..

After I found out that I could go to Canada after all, I gave the kids a choice. Canada or San Antonio. I said if we went to San Antonio, we'd go to Sea World and Fiesta Texas. If we went to Canada, we'd get to see lots of friends and Grandpa along the way and do lots of cool stuff in Canada, but it would be a very long trip with a lot of time in the car. (We're at Grandpa's house now.) Zoe voted for San Antonio. Nicholas voted for Canada and talked Zoe into going for it too. So, we embark on the trip. Two hours after we leave home, they are already complaining about the length of time we've been in the car. I explain that I am not going to listen to that for the rest of the trip and that it's not too late to turn around. They both decide that they want to go on. Yesterday morning it was the same thing, but it was too late to turn around by that point. Last night, Nicholas was saying in his best "poor me" voice, "WHHHHY? WHHHHY? Why did I have to choose Canada over San Antonio?" ::sigh:: Tonight, it's been more of the same. As of now, we've agreed to talk about it tomorrow morning since it's too late to turn around and go back tonight. I'm THIS CLOSE to losing it. Please tell me they'll have fun once they get there. And that I won't hear "I want to go home" over and over and over again. They have plenty of entertainment in the car. We have a DVD player. They have books, coloring books, music CDs, a gameboy -- you name it, we've probably got it. We stop frequently. I don't know what else to do. I'm at my wit's end.

Ooh. I ended on a bitter note. Sorry about that. Opinions? Suggestions? Commiseration?

Signed, Irritated in Indiana

P.S. At least I'm going to win the Powerball tomorrow night, though. :-)

2003-07-05T23:52:00.000-05:00

One of the license plates in the previous entry is a real license plate. I grew up in Houston, but from fourth grade thru ninth grade, I lived in a little town called Hockley which is about 30 miles outside of Houston. When I was in tenth grade, my father and I moved back to Houston after he was divorced from my stepmother (which was a cause for celebration).

Soon after we moved into our subdivision, we noticed a red, LOUD Pantera driving around. The license plates on it read "CAR2NV". I remember thinking, "What a pompous ass!" As it turns out, that "pompous ass" is now my father-in-law. My husband was the one who came up with the license plate. Pretty ironic, eh? So, Mr. P, thanks for letting me use your license plate in my blog entry.

I'm swamped getting ready from my trip to Canada. Trying to remember last minute items and things I need to take..

So, tonight I leave you with two Nicholas and Zoeisms:

After a day of playing hard, Peter is surverying the mess in the living room..

Peter: Nicholas, you guys really made a mess in here. You need to pick this up!

Nicholas: But Daddy, we worked really hard at making this mess!

While Peter is tucking Zoe in for the night..

Zoe: Daddy, today was a special day.

Peter: Really? Why, Zoe?

Zoe: Because I was nice to you ALL day this day. Usually, I am only nice to on your birthday and Father's Day, but I was nice to you all day this day on purpose!

I will post something really quick tomorrow before we hit the road and will be able to update intermittently along the way.

Woohoo! I'm going to Canada!

2003-07-03T23:50:00.000-05:00

You know what this world needs? A way to communicate with people in other cars. I know we have cell phones, but it's the people I don't know that I need to talk to.

As I'm leaving the Bureau of Vital Statistics today (an almost 3 hour wait), I am waiting at a left turn yield light. The light turns green and I start to go. The person across from me has their blinker on and is also turning left. We edge forward and, apparently, they want to pass me and THEN turn left. That's just not the way it works. It's illogical to do it that way. There are people behind me who are also waiting to turn left and it would be mass chaos if we tried to do it this lady's way. So, I didn't. I turned in front of her. As I pass her, the guy in the passenger seat is flipping me off and yelling at me. I shrug at him and keep on going.

What I really wanted to do was turn around, follow him, get him to pull over and ask him what his problem was. Obviously, that wouldn't be safe. But if we had a way to dial in a license plate and have a little chat, well, that would be okay. And pretty damn handy.

Dialing TX RAM-IT -- "Ma'am, could you please quit riding my ass? If you don't lay off the gas quick, I am going to slam on my brakes and you will be buying me a new car. Thanks."

Dialing TX CAR2NV -- "Sir, your car rocks, but you can't drive for shit. Why don't you try using your brakes every once in awhile instead of trying to cut off every vehicle on the road? Much appreciated."

Dialing TX TURTLE -- "Grandma, I love it that you're still driving and are independent. The speed limit clearly states it is 65 mph. You are going 20 mph. Any chance you could put the pedal to the metal? You're the best. I love the hair color, by the way. It matches your blue eyes perfectly."

Dialing TX PUSHY1 -- "Hey there. The light just turned green a nanosecond ago. I haven't even had time to react to the light change. It is truly not necessary to blare your horn at me. I do know that 'green means go.' Oh no! I missed the light while I was talking to you! Please try not to distract me with your horn again and we'll both get where we're going a little faster. Gracias."

Dialing TX MYBABY -- "Speaking of babies.. Shouldn't yours be in a car seat? It's really cute that you're letting your one-year-old help you drive, but I bet she'd really appreciate actually living until her sixteenth birthday when it's time to REALLY drive a car."

See? It would be great! I was dying to know what the heck had him so worked up. If I could have just called, maybe we could have worked it out. Surely, it would cut down on road rage. Well, maybe not. I don't know, though. I might be less apt to shoot someone if we could talk about it a little first.

What do you think?

2003-07-03T01:00:00.000-05:00

I forgot to buy a lottery ticket. Can you believe it? Did you win, Buzz? If so, can you front me some dough?

2003-07-02T22:40:00.000-05:00

Ooh, ooh. I found Nicholas' birth certificate. I don't want to tell you where it was. Let's just say it wasn't where it was supposed to be.

2003-07-02T22:32:00.000-05:00

Where the hell are my kid's birth certificates?!? Where? I've spent ALL DAMN DAY looking for them.

If I have to go here, I'm gonna be pissed.

"It is not necessary for you to bring your child to the Bureau of Vital Statistics to obtain a Certificate of Birth for that child. The lobby waiting area is not spacious and is not designed to accommodate or entertain children. They may find a long wait to be difficult."

I can't wait.

Now, I'm grumpy again.

2003-07-01T23:48:00.000-05:00

Today was a good day. (I haven't said that in awhile, eh?)

My tooth? Cured.

Canada problem? Possibly cured.

Peter told me today that he's definitely going to have his job through August and that he thinks that I should go to Canada. I've come up with some possibilities as to why he's working so hard for me to be able to go.

1. He loves me and wants me to be happy.

2. He's tired of my boohooing.

3. He has a girlfriend and really needs the house those two weeks.

4. He wants some peace and quiet.

5. He really wants some Canadian beer.

6. He wants the bed all to himself.

7. He wants a clean house for two weeks.

Personally, I think it's a combination of almost all of them with emphasis on number one. I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume number three is not a possibility. (Shh. Don't tell him I've installed spy cameras throughout the house.) I don't know what to do. I really, really, really want to go. I feel like this a sign that I should go. But why do I still feel all guilt-ridden? Why can't I just roll with it and head on out as planned? It's because of the "what ifs".

"What ifs" are a pain in the ass (Side note: Pinky, it's still my phrase of the day. I need help!). Especially since you can't do a damn thing about them. It's kind of like worrying. You never say after you've worried terribly over something, "Whew. Thank God I did all that worrying. That accomplished so much and was so worth it." Generally, I think worrying is pointless. Besides, Peter does enough of it for both us. I worry about Peter worrying about everything else, but that's about it. I usually live by the motto of "Things Will Always Work Out." And they always have. We're still here, aren't we? I guess I just think if it's something that you have no control over, then why bother stressing out over it.

In this case, though, I do have some control over it. I don't have to go on the trip. I really want to, but I certainly don't have to. In this case, it's all about me, me, me. Sure, the kiddos are looking forward to it and they'll have fun, but, deep down, it's just about me. Therein lies the issue.. I don't worry much, but I carry around an exorbitant amount of guilt. What if he loses his job sooner? Or even if he loses it at the end of August? What if something happens along the way (i.e. the van breaks down -- nevermind that it's under warranty) that causes the cost of this trip to skyrocket? What if we get trampled by a moose? What if, what if, what if? (I even almost asked the dentist a "what if". What if I had come in sooner? Would it have been a filling versus a root canal? Luckily, I came to my senses and decided not to torment myself by possibly finding out that it would have been the former.) If any of the aforementioned things happened.. Oh, the guilt. Every time we were ever short on money for the REST OF OUR LIVES it would be because I took "that trip to Canada." Nothing Peter would or could say would change my mind.

It appears the Natalies are full of dilemmas today. Can you help us both out?

Should I stay or should I go? Should she stop or should she roll? Help a Natalie out today.

(That was it. There will be no further mention of the eerie coincidences between our two lives. Until I move to Minnesota.)

Auf Wiedersehen!

2003-06-30T21:58:00.000-05:00

With the exception of the Natalie hoopla, today was a pretty shitty day.

When I woke up this morning, my tooth was still killing me. In fact, the Vicodin didn't even work last night it was hurting so bad. (Actually, it was the whole left side of my mouth. I had no idea which tooth it was.) First thing on my agenda today was going to the dentist. (In truth, it was blogging. I do have my priorities straight.) I call and get an appointment for 10:30am.

I get to the office, they take x-rays, numb my mouth into blissfulness and then break the bad news. I definitely need a root canal. And a crown. And it's going to be $1588.00. What a bargain! After the dentist sat down, he starts poking around my mouth with his torture tool.

"Hmm. You seem to have some decay in this tooth too," he says, referring to a tooth on the opposite side of my mouth.

"Look," I say, trying not to drool, "I realize that I have major mouth issues. I am an excellent candidate for a dental makeover. Unfortunately, that costs a lot of money. As of now, you've just taken my vacation money for this tooth. Please do not find anything wrong with any of my other teeth today."

At which point I burst into tears. Sobbing, heaving, bawling, snot running down my face tears.

"I'm so sorry," he says.

"No, it's not your fault. I'm sorry to make you feel bad. It's just.. just.. just that I really wanted to go," I sobbed. "Just give me a minute to compose myself." When he finally starts drilling, I still feel the tears sliding down my cheeks into my ears. When it's time to check out, he informs me that I need to come back in a week (when I am supposed to be on my way to Canada) for the second part of the root canal. Then soon after that, I need to get the crown.

"I'm hoping to win the lottery on Wednesday," I explain. "So, if I do, I will still go on my trip. Is there anyway that we could do this on, say, Thursday?"

(The sad part is that I am actually kind of planning to win it on Wednesday. Buzz, if you win, will you send me to Canada?)

"It would really be better if we waited a week," he said. "Your tooth was too infected to finish it today. You need to finish your antibiotics before we can do the second part."

I start to cry again and ask, "So, even if I do win the lottery, I won't be able to go on the trip?" I really don't know what I was thinking, though. If I win the lottery, I'll get my root canal and crown in my private jet on the way to Canada.

He looks at me strangely and says that we can go ahead and schedule it for Thursday. If on the off chance I don't win the lottery on Wednesday, then it would be best if I reschedule for next week. I agree and I'm on my way. My mouth is still numb 11 hours later. I'm not complaining, though. Apparently, he thought I was going to be in some sort of pain tonight as he prescribed Vicodin Extra Strength for tonight. I really don't want to take it.

So, barring a lottery win, my trip to Canada is off. I'm very sad. It's not that we can't afford it. It's just that we can't afford it if Peter gets laid off at the end of this month. (His contract was extended through July.) Remember, I am somewhat irresponsible, not crazy irresponsible. I just don't know how to tell Nicholas and Zoe.

But you know what? Things might be looking up for me, yet. The Mormon Missionaries came back tonight and I answered the door. I promised to sit down with them the next time that they come back. I'm not stupid. Things went terribly downhill for me the last time I didn't answer the door. So, you never know.. I just might win the lottery yet.

(Disclaimer: One of my best friends is a Mormon. I mean no disrespect to those of the Mormon faith. I've just had terribly bad luck since they knocked on my door. No, I am not insinuating the Mormon Missionaries put a curse on me. I am just making sure all of my bases are covered. Thank you.)

2003-06-30T09:17:00.000-05:00

Okay, now I feel like some weird stalker. As I mentioned in my previous post, I found a blog by another Natalie. That in itself was weird because you don't run into too many Natalies in life. Like the other Natalie, I've never known another one. Sure, I've heard of other Natalies like Natalie Wood or Natalie Cole. And you hear about other everyday Natalies. But I've never been friends or even acquaintances with another Natalie.

Anyway, this Natalie not only has my same name, but she also has children called Nicholas and Zoe. And we both have a Sam(antha). Mine's a cat, though. I think hers must be a child? We call Nicholas by the nickname of "Pickleboy" because he loves pickles so much. Is that bizarre or what?

I think she and I should duke it out ala Moxie vs. Moxie. I mean, who was here first? Who's the real stalker here? Who has rights to the Natalie, Nicholas and Zoe names? My children are older so maybe I win points there, but is she older than me? Would that make her the winner and me the stalker? Oh, it's all so confusing.

Maybe I should take this another direction. Maybe Natalie and I were destined to meet each other and become the best of friends. Our Nicholases and Zoes will grow up together and be best friends. Everyone around us will think it's the coolest thing ever that we all have the same names and WE'RE ALL BEST FRIENDS! Yeah. It'll be great. We'll buy houses next to each other and share clothes with each other. (I just hope she doesn't live in Houston because I really don't want to live in Houston anymore.) We'll be just like sisters! That'll be great because I'm an only child. Oh my gosh!

Or maybe, just maybe, we'll continue along side by side in the blogosphere and remark to our husbands how weird and kind of cool this is and they'll look at us like we're nuts. (Or maybe that's just my husband.) In a few days, it won't seem like such a big deal. In a few months, it will just be a vague memory. In another year or two, one of us will have disappeared from here and we won't remember it all.

So many choices. What to do? What to do?

(I didn't proofread because I have to go the dentist right now!)

2003-06-30T01:06:00.000-05:00

Another Natalie, who far exceeds me on the wittiness meter, wrote this tonight. I think it's sound advice. Check out her site, if for nothing else than her amazing ability to come up with a new way to sign off each time. I'm in awe. I wanna be like Natalie. (It feels kind of weird to say that since I am a Natalie, just not that Natalie.)

I sat down with intention of not saying a word about my aching, hurting, smarting, pounding, suffering, excruciatingly painful teeth, so I'm not going to.

I'll leave off with some Nicholas and Zoeisms:

I'm walking across a street holding Nicholas and Zoe's hands. My purse is starting to slip off of my shoulder.

Me: Hold on, Guys. I need to fix my purse. It's about to fall off and knock Zoe in the head and what would happen then?

Nicholas: I'd be an only child?

My mom came over and gave Zoe a ballerina doll last night. Zoe played with it for awhile and then came over to me.

Zoe (whispering): Mommy, what is Grandma's real name?

Me (whispering): It's Susann.

Zoe: Grandma, you want to know what I named my doll?

Grandma: What did you name her, Zoe?

Zoe: I named her Susann.

My mom got a tear in her eye. See? She can be really sweet sometimes.

As usual, there are more, but my brain is fried and I can't think of anymore. I've been trying to remember to write them down in my Palm, but I've been failing miserably at doing so. I'm going to go write a note in my Palm to remind myself to remember to write them down in the Palm as they happen. Surely that will help, right? Pfft.

Do widzenia!

2003-06-29T12:53:00.000-05:00

I don't know how people get hooked on Vicodin. I can't stand the nausea that comes with taking it. I can't stand the fact that I feel like I'm in a fog. I can't stand the fact that I'm a walking (more like sleeping) zombie. It does take away the pain, though. So, in that regard, I guess I understand it. Right now, I wish that I could pop one in. But what kind of mother would I be if I were to take it and check out for the next 4-6 hours? So, I am trying to get by on Motrin and Excedrin Migraine (which has acetaminophen and aspirin). I sure hope you can mix all those things together.

I hope for your sakes that I get this taken care of tomorrow. I'd hate to think that you'd have listen to me whining about this for too much longer. I know it must be boring, but it's consuming all of my thoughts.

I'll stop here before I alienate you further with my bitching and complaining.

:::sob:::

2003-06-29T05:16:00.000-05:00

Since I'm wasting time, I might as well waste yours too. If I were you (and I'm not), I would wish for the vicodin to kick in REALLY fast.

Let's talk Hello Kitty.

How does Hello Kitty have the market cornered on everything from small appliances to adult toys? Here's a sampling of some of the more interesting things you can buy that have a Hello Kitty theme:

By the way, this won't be a long post. The good stuff is kicking in..

A toaster -- Now this seems fun. I wouldn't mind having one of these. How fun to have your toast imprinted with Hello Kitty's cute little face!

"Hello Lisa" CD by Lisa Loeb -- I'm not making this up. Does it mean that your career is in the toilet when you make a CD that's Hello Kitty themed? Or have you hit the big time? You tell me.

Ooh, there's a waffle maker too. (I want this. Hurry! Only 20 more shopping days until my birthday!)

Wow! It's on sale! I can hardly resist it!

What's the deal with this guy? He must have gotten Hello Kitty's mouth too.

Can hardly go on.. Getting very, very woozy.

I loved Hello Kitty when I was a little girl. Zoe thinks Hello Kitty is the best. Her birthday party was Hello Kitty themed and everything. Just tonight, she was dancing and bouncing around the living room to the Hello Kitty theme song. (Which is extremely catchy by the way. Or what my friend, Leila, recently coined an "earworm.") Who knew that Hello Kitty would be such a booming business?

I sure wish I'd known when I was seven that I should have invested in Sanrio stock with my allowance.

I am feeling no pain now. The words are a bit blurry. I'm singing "Hello Kitty" in my head. I am going to go have sweet Hello Kitty dreams.

(I'm not responsible for any glaring grammatical errors, gross spelling mistakes or left out words. Well, I am, but I just don't care about it right now.)

2003-06-29T04:40:00.000-05:00

I know I was rather silent yesterday (with the exception of bragging for Laurie). But I was (and still am) in horrendous, terrible pain.

A throbbing, pounding, I want to rip my head off kind of pain. No, I wasn't that hungover. I STILL have that toothache. Apparently, you guys aren't thinking positively enough. I've been in a vicodin-induced stupor since 6pm last night. You know it's bad if I am taking vicodin, though. I hate to take anything stronger than a Tylenol or Advil, but I just couldn't bear the pain any longer. And the only reason that I am up and typing right now is that I am waiting for the next dose to kick in. IT'S THROBBING!

I hate to whine, but I've never had a toothache before. I've been living with it for three weeks now. And it's getting progressively worse. Actually, it seemed a little better this week only to go drastically downhill as of yesterday. There's no way I can put it off any longer. I have to go to the dentist.

I'm begging you. Please send along positive thoughts, good vibes, or anything you can spare along the lines of well wishes that I am still able to go to Canada. Maybe it's just a little, teeny, tiny cavity causing all this pain. It's possible, right? Yeah, let's go with that. If I have to cancel my trip to Canada, I am going to FLIP OUT.

I sure hope this was coherent.

Pain sucks.

2003-06-28T13:42:00.000-05:00

Last night, I got a little tipsy in a chatroom with Laurie. She was having a drunken blog-off with Buzz. (Although, the blogging didn't actually happen. Who could keep up in chat if they were actually blogging?)

I just want to be the first to say that LAURIE WAS THE VICTOR.

There were lots of other people there that I would link too, but I am having to hand code this and I just don't have it in me to think too hard about it all this morning, err afternoon.

2003-06-27T19:18:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, Peter told me that some Mormon Missionaries stopped by to visit. Ironically, I'd just read this over at Gwen's site. Peter tells me that they were really nice guys and that he had told them that they were welcome to stop by anytime. As he's saying this, all I can do is picture Gwen's cartoon.

They just rang the doorbell. Does it make me a bad person that I looked through the peephole, ducked, ran into the living room and told the kids to be extra, extra quiet for a minute? I just really wasn't in the mood for it tonight -- nice guys or not. The kids were nearly jumping out of their skin wanting to know who it was. I told them that it was a salesperson and that I didn't want to buy what they were selling. And it wasn't really a lie. They are selling something. Salvation and all that comes with it, right?

I'm probably going to hell now. Maybe I should have answered the door.

2003-06-27T19:09:00.000-05:00

A conversation between Zoe and Tricky Kitty (one of our cats):

(Heh. Tricky Kitty didn't actually converse back, so it wasn't really between them, was it?)

"Tricky Kitty, I love you. You're the best cat ever. I hope you never die. One of our cats died, so I know that cats die. You could die. I hope you don't die, though. You're very handsome. You're a boy, so that means your handsome. You're the best kitty." She's hugging him tightly as she continues on.. "You're nicer than Sam. You were really lucky with those dogs. Those dogs could have made you die."

At this point, Tricky Kitty was getting a little tired of all the hugging and scratched her.

"I hate you, Tricky Kitty! You're mean!"

"Mommy, get him out of my room and shut the door. I don't ever want to play with him again!"

So fickle at this age, eh?

2003-06-27T17:35:00.000-05:00

Hip, hip, hooray! Carrie got a job today! She has been looking for a teaching position and was getting pretty distraught over not finding one. Her luck changed today! Go tell her "CONGRATULATIONS!"

2003-06-26T23:50:00.000-05:00

Oh, the irony...

[take the test] - [by krystaljungle.com]

2003-06-26T17:34:00.000-05:00

I've found that blogging has changed my relationships with people to some extent.

Peter often follows up a conversation with, "You're not going to put that in your blog are you?" (Just that part, Honey.)

It's kind of weird, though. My brother-in-law, Adam, reads this and I was talking to him last night and telling him a story about a surreal, convoluted experience I'd just had. He said, "Hey, that's almost blog worthy!" (And it would've been if I could have figured out a way to tell it where you might possibly understand it.) Or when we have people over and Adam says, "I was reading your blog the other night..." and people who don't have a clue what he's talking about are suddenly excluded from the conversation.

Another friend of ours does know about the blog, but feels like it's an invasion of my privacy for him to read it. He says it makes him feel weird to read about my life versus hear about it. It's certainly not an invasion of my privacy -- if anything is private, you won't read about it here. I'd like to say that I see where he's coming from, but I really don't. Now, if it bored him to tears then that's an entirely different story and if that is/was the case, then I like the "makes him feel weird" explanation much better.

I also find myself wanting to tell people that are just acquaintances (and sometimes complete strangers) to read my blog. As I am having a conversation with someone, I have to stop myself from blurting out "I was just talking about that in my blog! You should read it!" It's kind of bizarre. I'm sure that they'd look at me like I was nuts if I was to blurt it out -- so far, I've been able to restrain myself.

I guess my point is that if you're my husband, family member or friend and you tell me something in confidence, it will stay in confidence. You won't ever see it on here. If it wasn't in confidence, I will use common sense about whether to post anything we talked about.

Now you can all talk to me normally again.

Thank you.

2003-06-26T14:07:00.000-05:00

Laurie deserves to be famous... and why the hell not? Exactly. (Posted at the behest of her brother, Mike.)

2003-06-26T01:06:00.000-05:00

Can you see it? Did it work?

Nicholas and Zoe were taking a bath last night and really wanted me to take their picture with their bubble beards. Here's the result:

2003-06-25T22:50:00.000-05:00

Now this is just darn cool. I just downloaded the Google Toolbar 2.0 and it has the nifty new feature to create a blog post about a page right from the toolbar. (I realize I've seen something similar before, but it wasn't on my Google toolbar before tonight.) Just thought I would share since I have nothing better to do than laundry, sleep, clean the house, sleep, finally eat dinner, sleep..

2003-06-25T19:58:00.000-05:00

It's happening again. I'm becoming a work widow. I could write another poem about it, but I'll spare you the abuse. Peter worked EIGHTEEN hours yesterday. Yes, you read that right. Eighteen hours. He appears to be on track to do that again tonight. And tomorrow night. And the next night. And the.. You see the trend here?

I'm hard pressed to complain, though. At least he's working, you know? It's not the ideal situation, but he could be in the unemployment line -- actually, since he's self-employed he can't do that either. Thankfully, that's not the case at the moment. But from past experience, we know it could happen at any time. So, we don't tempt Murphy by complaining about the current gig that happens to put food in our bellies and a roof over our head. I feel badly for Peter. I can't imagine the stress he must be under 24-7 worrying about whether he will have a job next week (He's on a short-term contract that ends next Thursday if you're just joining us.) and whether he will be able to find another one should he get the boot. I'd go look for a job, but (as embarrassing as it is to say) my highest paying job to date was $19,200 a year as a slave of the state of Texas. I'm pretty sure being a stay-at-home mom for six years wouldn't afford me much of a chance to make too much more than that should I want to return to the work force.

So, Peter's working his ass off. The kids and I are hanging out. I'm a work widow and I'm damn happy about it. (Did you hear that, Murphy?)

Since we're sort of talking about money, I splurged and upgraded to a Blog*spot Plus site. (Don't worry, Peter, it's only $5 a month.) That means once I know what I'm doing, you might see a picture or two on here. Super exciting, no? Oh, and look at the top of the page. No more ads. That's nice, right?

Off to figure out how to use my new features..

2003-06-25T13:42:00.000-05:00

It's the little things that get me excited. My blog has a rank on Google. It has an importance of 2 out of 10. I can only aspire to reach Mynx's level of 4 out of 10. Wow, huh? Big dreams, big dreams.

Edited to remove one of the "Wow, huh?" remarks -- you really only need one to get your point across.

2003-06-25T12:25:00.000-05:00

I've had some new visitors from Jennifer's blog and elsewhere. Jennifer referred to me as "N" in her blog which is the way that I used to refer to myself in this blog. Peter was "P", Nicholas was "N", and Zoe was "Z". There's a really long story behind that which I will not go into here, but if you're interested in why I was hiding and why I've since come out of the closet, if you will, feel free to e-mail me.

2003-06-25T00:40:00.000-05:00

This made me laugh out loud. Don't open if you're easily offended, prim and proper, and are uncomfortable with certain body parts. Personally, I have none of those issues.

2003-06-24T21:38:00.000-05:00

My poor comments. They've been so lonely. No one has talked to them in days. Please take pity on them. What if no one talked to you for days? Wouldn't you be sad? My comments are saaaaad.

2003-06-24T18:22:00.000-05:00

My ISP has been down most of the day. (The horror!) So, you've been spared from my blathering. For the time being anyway. I have too much to do right now to actually sit down and blather about anything. But you've been warned. It's in your future.

I do have one quick story, though.

I get on the plane yesterday and I am assigned the middle seat. A man is sitting by the window. He's talking on his cell phone while I put all of my stuff in the overhead compartment (or try anyway because it ended up being full and I had to check my bag, but that's beside the point) and under my seat. I notice him surreptitiously (or so he thinks) move his wedding band from his left hand to his right. I finally sit down after getting my bags sorted out and he's very chatty. Not being overtly smarmy, but I know he's smarmy because I'd seen him move the ring.

I have issues with this for a few reasons. One, I'm a very happily married woman and I'm not the least bit interested in him. Two, he's married and even if I wasn't, I'd find it disgusting that he's trying to pick me up. Three, I hate making small talk with complete strangers on a plane -- I just want to savor my "me time." He finally got the picture as I pulled out the presents I'd purchased for Nicholas and Zoe and removed the price tags and went on and on and on about my kids and how wonderful they are and how much I'd missed them and my husband even though I was only gone a short time and I couldn't wait to see them and that the presents were peace offerings for being away and because they'd been so good about letting me go without whining that I was leaving, etc., etc. Then I pulled out my book and started reading.

After a bit, I noticed that his wedding ring was back where it should be. Asshole. Did he really think that I wouldn't have questioned his being married when he's obviously got a wedding ring on even though it's on the wrong hand?

Okay, so it wasn't a quick story. And now I really have to go.

2003-06-24T00:49:00.000-05:00

So, I'm back from Hotlanta. Although, it certainly wasn't hot there. It was downright chilly at night. I mean, have they ever been to Hotston? Damn, I am so not funny when I am exhausted.

I had a great time. I stayed up waaaaaay too late both nights. I could say it was because I was up carousing all night, but that would be a lie. It was because I was running my mouth until all hours of the night. But you guys know all about that, right? When I could tell you something in five sentences, I drag it out to five paragraphs. That's not going to happen tonight, err this morning.

Tomorrow (later today), though -- watch out. I'm going to blather on for pages. I'll also do my best to not add, commas, to, every, single, sentence, that, I, type.

On that note, I'm going to sleep.

(I heard that sigh of relief.)

2003-06-21T00:42:00.000-05:00

Be back Monday. Have a great weekend!

Here are some interesting blogs for you to enjoy in the interim:

Pinky -- She's got my back!

Aged and Confused -- Spunky, spunky, spunky!

Miss Cashier -- A reminder that common courtesy towards your salesperson is always welcome.

Buzzstuff -- Funny guy and Laurie's going to drink him under the table.

Amazon World -- Reviews of reviews on Amazon.com.

Ordinary Morning -- One interesting chick.

Ari Goes Down -- Another interesting chick.

Mother, May I Sleep With Treacher? He'd really like it if you gave him a buck. I'm still thinking about it.

Plus, of course, the blogs on the left that you are already reading every day, right?

Be sure and come back now. Y'all hear?

2003-06-20T00:11:00.000-05:00

Sheesh. The car place FINALLY (6:15pm) came to pick me up after fixing the car. It was done hours earlier. "Ma'am, we're just too busy to pick you up right now." Sure, you were. You were just pissed that you didn't get to screw us out of an extra $185.

So, I get there and they tell me it's going to be $299. I explain that I had spoken with the manager after my husband spoke with him and that it was supposed to be $200 + tax. The guy stomps off to speak with the manager who is conveniently nowhere to be found. "My manager is unavailable, Ma'am. Can you get your husband on the phone?" Wha? Why? Whatever. They talk and it's back to $200 + tax.

We're not going to go there again.

So, we were stuck in the house all day. Nicholas and Zoe really wanted to play in their new bubble-blowing, water-shooting pool, but I couldn't let them because I had no idea when they were actually going to come get us. If I was a smart woman, I would have put them into the pool to guarantee that they would come right then. I've never claimed to be a smart woman, though.

I read lots and lots and lots of blogs today. (Yep, lots of blogs -- even yours.) I did a half-ass job of cleaning up the house. I watched an episode of "I Lost It" on Discovery Health and was inspired for about ten minutes to actually do something about my weight, but then I ate some cookies and came to my senses. I routed my Palm Pilot in Scrabble a number of times. The times it won, I am sure it was cheating. What the hell is an "upo" anyway? I sent lots of e-cards for the kids. "Mommy, can you type in Daddy's e-mail address again?" I'm sure Peter appreciated the Jimmy Neutron e-card. It had probably been half a day since the last one.

Our cat got out of the house tonight and was attacked by three dogs in the yard catty-corner (Catty-corner? Is that a word?) to us. He's okay, though. Thankfully, since he's the good cat. It's always the good cat that gets hurt or disappears -- it's never the one who pees all over the house or rips your furniture to shreds. He was so scared, though. He was panting and was covered with dirt and saliva, but amazingly had no puncture wounds or broken bones. The owner said that she came home and saw her dogs rolling him around the yard. I'm just glad he's okay.

We're getting out of the house tomorrow. We're going stir crazy. And I am going to Atlanta this weekend. Things are looking up!

Ciao!

2003-06-19T14:44:00.000-05:00

Eerie. Just mix up the "p" and the "s" in "blogspot" and you're in a whole different world. For some reason, it made me feel guilty.

2003-06-19T13:41:00.000-05:00

I take Peter's car in this morning to get his brakes fixed. They call me an hour and half later and tell me that it's going to cost $385.00 to fix the car.

Peter calls and now it's going to be $200.00.

What's wrong with this picture?

2003-06-19T12:09:00.000-05:00

I've been redeemed. Ah, life is good again.

2003-06-18T23:55:00.000-05:00

Gosh, I said I would embarrass myself throughout the day and then I left the house and never got around to it. What was I thinking?

Unfortunately (or fortunately as the case may be), I am all out of bad poetry. The reason I wrote the "poem" in the first place was to let y'all know how much I love Peter. I love him so much that I am willing to make an ass of myself in front of all of you by writing a bad version of a love poem. He really is the best thing that's ever happened to me.

I can't sing on here and that would certainly be embarrassing.

I already write bad prose on a daily basis complete with horrendous grammatical errors which is horrifying to me. I could care less about your grammar, but mine better be tip-top. As it happens, I have a love for the comma and the apostrophe and I misuse them all the time without even noticing it. When I find the error, though, my cheeks burn with embarrassment as though my grammar teacher were grading my blog. (I got an "A" in grammar, but that was 10 years ago.) I also have the very annoying habit of leaving out words. Just use your imagination and add whatever one you want. Think of it as a Mad Lib if you want.

I don't know what else to do.

I guess I'll tell you an embarrassing story.

A couple of weeks ago, I hopped out of the shower. Peter and I were getting ready to go out for a bit and I needed to use the restroom. The one in our bedroom was already occupied so I went to use the one in the hall. The hall bathroom is missing its shade. It's been so long since it happened that I don't remember exactly why we don't have a shade in there, but for whatever reason, we don't. Normally it's not an issue as no one uses it but the kids and they are shorter than the windowsill. Our poor guests, though.. Anyway, I am walking naked through the house because it's just Peter and me and he's probably the one person in the world who wouldn't shudder at the site of my naked body. I enter the bathroom and happen to glance out the window right into the eyes of my EIGHTY. YEAR. OLD. NEIGHBOR. I stand there stunned for a moment. We look each other in the eyes, both of us shocked beyond belief and then I do what anyone would do -- I duck and cover. I yell for Peter to "Please turn off light! Fast!" He comes and does it with a bewildered look on his face wondering why I am crouching on the floor and begging for darkness. I get up slowly and see that my neighbor has closed her blinds. And to this day, I haven't seen them opened again. Smart woman, eh? I am dreading the day when I run into her in the front yard. What do you say? "Sorry about the peep show, Ma'am?" "So sorry that you had to see the product of almost five consecutive years of nursing?" I just hope I have the good sense not to duck and cover.

Night, All.

2003-06-18T12:08:00.000-05:00

Gwen is running a little contest over at her site where you can submit a guest blog entry or send her a nosy, personal question that she HAS to answer. I submitted a guest entry, but sadly it didn't make the cut. Since it obviously sucks, I'll share it with you guys. I'll just officially call this "Embarrass the Crap Out of Myself Day."

Here is my pathetic attempt:

I try not to be a judgmental person, but I often wonder at what point do people stop caring about being somewhat fashionable? As an example, I am sitting in a restaurant the other day and a woman walks by followed closely behind by her husband. They appear to be in their mid-to-late 70s. Now she's a pretty natty dresser, but her husband was dressed in navy blue shorts, some sort of nondescript shirt, knee-high black socks and white shoes. At what point did his wife stop asking, "Is that what you're going to wear?" or "You're not going to wear that, are you?" in the just the right tone of voice to let him know that what he's wearing (knee-high black socks with white shoes) is completely unacceptable? Especially with a fashion plate such as herself!

Peter has it down to an art form. I know that the correct answer should always be, "No, Dear. I just wanted to make sure that YOU wouldn't let me out of the house looking like an idiot. Thank God you passed the test!" At which point I promptly scurry back to the bedroom to find something that would make Mr. Blackwell, err Peter, proud. Does this mean that some day I am going to be wearing knee-high panty hose that have lost their elasticity with a fancy dress and slippers to a restaurant and that Peter will turn the other cheek? Help!

(I actually used Peter's name in this entry, but in the contest he was known as "my husband.")

I'll try to think of other ways to embarrass myself throughout the day -- presuming I don't already do that on a daily basis.

2003-06-18T10:27:00.000-05:00

Ode to Pedro

(I'm not a poet and I know it!)

We met when we were in our teens,
(And he was just a little mean).
He's changed a lot,
And mean he's not,
He's damn near the best thing I've got.

I love him more every day,
In each and every single way.
I do not tell him near enough,
that life without him would be rough,
that life would be just downright tough.

(Don't worry, it's not a long poem.)

Not because he makes the money,
Or because he's very funny.
More that he is my best friend,
My soulmate to the very end,
Without him I would never mend.

He's the sweetest man I've ever known,
With him I have really grown.
From a spoiled, selfish girl,
With not a care in the world,
With him I have really unfurled.

(Hey! I said I wasn't a poet! Not enough words rhyme with girl and world!)

Now I know it sounds sappy,
But I really am happy.
Enough so that I get,
To embarrass myself on the net,
To show him that he's my best bet.

Now your torture will stop,
I've gone over the top.
With my sad attempt to try,
to show Peter's a great guy.
It's over now. Goodbye.

(If I promise never to write another poem, will that keep you from removing me from your bookmarks?)

2003-06-18T09:39:00.000-05:00

This just makes me sad. I hope they still put the Season Four DVD out in August.

Oops. I just made a TV post.

2003-06-17T15:12:00.000-05:00

I'm heading out to Atlanta this weekend to visit a very good friend, Bambi. I'll admit to feeling a little guilty to "jetting off" spur of the moment like this, but this is something that I've wanted to do for awhile now. Then an impossibly cheap fare came up for this weekend. I just couldn't pass it up and, thankfully, Peter was very understanding about my wanting and needing to go.

I'm going to take this book for the plane ride. Although I never got any feedback about the books I asked about previously, one of the reasons that I had put off reading this book was that it seemed that it might actually require some thought versus just coasting through. I have a hard time reading books that require me to remember from one page to the next what's really going on when I only get to read in five minute increments.

Nicholas and Zoe are going to have a sleepover at their cousin's house and they are very excited. If I thought they would be the least bit upset at my departure, I wouldn't go. My sister-in-law is one of those super creative people who is always full of neat ideas and my kids always have so much fun when they're over there. (I'm not a bad mom!)

We are heading out to ride bikes in the cool 94 degree heat now, so I'll be back.

(I don't know why I feel the need to explain why I am going to quit writing and I know it's technically bad manners, but I can't help myself.)

2003-06-16T17:37:00.000-05:00

They say you learn something every day.

Today I've learned:

Ice cream + Toothache = Really bad pain.

Speaking of intelligence (ha!), Peter and I took the IQ test that Laurie mentioned. (At least I think it's the same one-- Fox News, right, Laurie?)

Peter got a 136. (Apparently he and Laurie are intellectual equals.) I got a 129.

I am still baffled by one of the questions, though. It went something like this:

John(?) likes 400 but not 300, 100 but not 99, 2500 but not 2400. Which number does he like?

A. 900
B. 1000
C. 1100
D. 1200

Anyone know the answer and why? I'm going to go crazy trying to see the pattern here. It's probably pathetically simple, but I just can't figure it out. Leave a comment or send me an e-mail if you know it.

As always, thanks in advance.

2003-06-16T10:18:00.000-05:00

Saturday night was the Red Hot Chili Peppers concert. As I knew it was going to, it rocked.

When we walked into the Pavilion, Snoop Dogg was still in the hizouse.

"Houston, whatcha gonna do?"

"Get stoned, get drunk and get f*cked!"

"What? I can't hear you! Whatcha gonna do?"

"Get stoned, get drunk, and get f*cked!"

(Over and over and over again.)

That was soon followed by a rousing rendition of "Gin and Juice 2" where the chorus was "Somebody say, I wanna get f*cked up."

At one point, Snoop wanted to pay tribute to all the "beautiful women in the audience" and began singing "Beautiful" (his own version, not Christina's) and invited all the "beautiful women on stage." After it was all over, Snoop graciously invited them all backstage so that they all could "take care of me later." Lucky girls!

Here's my biggest question about Snoop. He had at least 25 people on stage with him plus an indeterminate amount of people on each side of the stage. Why the heck do you need that big of an entourage? And is he paying all those guys to be there? Or is their payment helping him take care of the "beautiful women" that went backstage?

No, I'm not a Snoop fan. I was interested in seeing him, though, because it's a concert that I would have never seen otherwise. Very interesting indeed.

(Oh and I had to look up the name of "Gin and Juice 2." It wasn't hard to find. Just search "Snoop" and "I wanna get f*cked up".)

While we were waiting for The Red Hot Chili Peppers to come onstage, these huge (and I'm really not exaggerating, they were huge!) black, ominous clouds roll in. Lightning starts. It appears we are about to get drenched. We're in reserved seats, but they are uncovered reserved, so if it rains we will get soaked. I'm actually not terribly upset at the thought of taking an unplanned shower because it's hotter than h-e-double-hockey-sticks outside. (Gawd, I love Houston.) Amazingly, it never rains. It just gets dripping-wet-with-sweat-humid. Woohoo.

The Chili Peppers finally come on. Flea is wearing bright red bikini underwear and tube socks. (I was insanely jealous.) Anthony looked cuter than ever. I really like the short hair on him. The show was great. I admit, I was disappointed because they mainly stuck to songs off of "By The Way" and "Californication". I was hoping that they'd play more of their old stuff, but alas it was not to be. Great, great show. Heck, it was worth the $50 for the experience of seeing Flea dance and jump around the stage. Oh, and seeing Snoop Dogg, of course. ;-)

This was my last "big venue" concert. I have always wanted to see the Chili Peppers in concert and something always kept me from seeing them. In fact, when tickets went on sale this time, Peter had just been laid off. I decided that I really, really wanted to go and since I was giving up concerts that weren't in a cozy, intimate setting that this would be my last chance to see them, I bought them even though it was somewhat irresponsible. (101. I'm a somewhat irresponsible person.) I'm very glad I did. I had a great time. I can cross "See the Red Hot Chili Peppers in concert" off my list of things I want to do before I die. That's really all that's important, right?

Oh, one more thing before I sign off.

I have a terrible, terrible toothache. Terrible. Could you send some positive thoughts my way that it will get better all on its own without me having to shell out $1500 for a root canal and crown since we don't have dental insurance? If I have to get it fixed, I can say goodbye to my trip to Canada. (I'm just somewhat irresponsible, not crazy irresponsible.) Please, please, please? I really want to go to Canada.

Thanks. :-)

2003-06-14T02:36:00.000-05:00

I took this out of curiosity. Should I be proud?

How much of a pottymouth are you?

I'm really trying to curtail my foul language use. Really. Unfortunately, it's become so commonplace that I don't even realize I'm doing it.

An example:

Tonight, the kids are eating dinner at the table in the kitchen.

One of our cats spotted a cabinet door open and jumped into it to frolic in my pots and pans. Yuck. Nothing irritates me more. (Curiosity killed the cat you know..) So, I'm reaching in to grab the cat and at the same time I'm saying, "Get the f*ck out of the cabinet!"

As an afterthought, I realized that probably wasn't appropriate language for the kids to be listening to, but at the time I didn't even realize I was doing it. It just popped out.

That's what happens when you marry a f*cking sailor.

(Now, I'm ashamed. I'm a potty mouth.)

Edited to make my language a little more presentable. It looked so harsh in the morning light.

2003-06-12T10:53:00.000-05:00

Quite awhile back, Annalise wrote a sentence that has hung with me for a long time. (I've tried to link to it, but can't find it in her archives.) It was something along the lines of not understanding people who say that they need a break from their children.

I was awed by that statement. What an amazing person she must be to never need a break! At that very moment, I was probably thinking, I really need a break from my children. And I felt really guilty that a) she never needed one and b) she would think I was an inferior person for needing one for myself.

Yesterday, Peter and I were having a conversation about the upcoming trip to Canada. He asked how long we were going to be gone and I guesstimated that we'd be gone for about two weeks.

Then I said, "Wow! A whole two weeks to yourself! All alone."

Peter said, "I do look forward to it, but after three days it gets lonely."

I said, "I'm looking forward to one day having three days all alone in our house."

"Really? What would you do?" Peter asks.

"I'd read and sleep and watch TV and bask in the silence and, and.."

Peter explains that while we are gone (I've taken the kids on a long trip for the past two summers in addition to many other week long trips), he's getting lots of work done around the house -- painting, cleaning the carpet, yard work, etc.

I say that while I would clean the house on the first day, I don't see anything wrong with lazing around and taking a complete break after that. I wouldn't begrudge him doing the same thing. Yet he just didn't understand why I'd want to be totally selfish with my time -- the only time that I've ever been left alone in the house.

There was one night where Peter and Adam were in New Jersey and Nick and Zoe were spending the night at my mom's house that I did have the opportunity to be all alone in the house, but I ended up sleeping at Carrie's house. My fault, I know, I could've been basking in the silence then, but I didn't. So, I have never spent the night in my house all alone. I don't mean to imply that I don't cherish the times I spend with my family, but every so often, I just crave solitude. Solitude that allows me to just laze around and not feel guilty about it.

As you can probably guess, I am craving solitude right about now. I'm tired of being at my children's constant beck and call. I'm tired of listening to the constant arguing of my children. I am tired of my house being a wreck all the time. I am tired, tired, tired. I am ready to send them to summer camp.

Of course, I'm kidding about sending them to summer camp. I can't imagine sending them anywhere, but it's okay to fantasize about it, right? Fantasizing doesn't mean it's something you'd really want to put into action. I mean just because I fantasize about George Clooney taking his.. Oh wait, this was a post about something entirely different. I'll save that one for another day. ;-)

In all actuality, the overwhelming guilt I would feel about Peter taking complete care of Nicholas and Zoe away from our house would ultimately take away any pleasure from the solitude that I'd envisioned happening in the first place -- both from hearing Annalise's statement in my head and from Peter saying how much work he gets accomplished around the house when we're gone. It's kind of a lose-lose situation.

I feel better after writing it all down, though. Sort of.

2003-06-11T13:03:00.000-05:00

Things to do before trip to Canada:

1. Find birth certificates and passports for all involved.
2. Get notarized letter showing Peter will allow me to take children out of the country.
3. Buy Saint Arnold's beer to bring and share.
4. Box up books to take and trade for even more books.
5. Buy earplugs to block out all of the fighting that will certainly occur on the trip.
6. Set TiVo (in the bedroom so that Peter doesn't have to suffer through it) to tape "Big Brother" and "The Amazing Race."
7. Find out what the weather is like in Hamilton, Ontario in early July.
8. Buy a new road atlas as my old one sucks.
9. Lose 20 pounds.
10. Make lots of CDs so that I can sing at the top of my lungs with them all the way to Canada.
11. Look for points of interest between Houston, Texas and Hamilton, Ontario.
12. Find all of the kid-friendly Playstation games so we can hook up the Playstation in the van.
13. Buy more Saint Arnold's beer. I might need a lot of it.
14. Find a way to be home in time for the surprise party that Peter is throwing me for my birthday.
15. Make that 25 pounds.
16. Buy special case for the "shiny nickel" that Jennifer is giving me for attending.
17. Find out if my cell phone will work in Canada.
18. If so, let Carrie and Bambi know that they can still send me text messages.
19. Have the van looked at to make sure that we won't break down in the middle of nowhere.
20. Find a way to bribe Murphy (as in the law) into staying home for this trip.
21. Horde lots of links so that my four loyal readers won't be too bored when I'm gone. (Like they're not bored when I'm here.)

Does that sound like I've covered everything?

22. Oh and call Chris and make sure we can still stay a night or two on the way there and back.

My ramblings

I've moved! Head on over to my new site -- Natalieville! Url is http://www.natalieville.net. Please update your blogrolls and links! Thanks!

I've moved! Head on over to my new site -- Natalieville! Url is http://www.natalieville.net.

Please update your blogrolls and links!

Thanks!