Wait. I thought we were FREEING the Iraqis...

How come in the newly 'freed' Iraw, journalists are being imprisoned for speaking out against the government and the government is taking passages from Saddam Hussein's penal code that work against freedom of the press?

Expense Report Adventures

So ABC Nuts & Bolts recently sent its delegation off to their favorite tradeshow in Vegas. MFD is a total foodie, so she always goes to these really posh restaurants and her bills for her client dinners are exquisitely high.

"So how was Guy Savoy?"

"It was wonderful, absolutely wonderful."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, I had so and so there and we were talking with the waiter. He had this like French accent or something. SS says she wants something green, some vegetables. So he says, 'Well we have these fabulous vegetables in a raspberry reduction,' it sounds good, so she orders that. Then this other person wants some kind of soup. He recommends some soup. So everything's hunky dory until I get the bill. $65 for the vegetables, $75 for the bowl of soup. I about sh*t my pants…about $1200 for the whole thing!"

I knew that was going to happen. There were some other bills in the upper hundreds, but nothing over 2K. No really good alcohol-soaked tradeshow stories either. Bummer.

Oh wait, except that the Marketing Manager got food poisoning and had to STILL work through the dang tradeshow.

In other news, now that Nebraska football season has started, the guys, all naturally competitive sports freaks, are trying to get their clients to accompany them to Nebraska football games…at a rate of about $800 and some change per occasion, just for the tickets. When is management going to catch onto that one? Maybe never. LOL.

Schools Are Wussies

I'm about ready to scream right now. Munchkin's school is full of a bunch of adults who are total wussies against my five year old. They are not in charge of their classroom. They're handing all this power over to a five year old for God's sake.

She misbehaves and goes to the Positive Action Center. I have renamed this to something more appopriate for what actually takes place there: the Positive Bullsh*t Center.

This all started last week. On Tuesday, she came home talking about the PBC and how fun it was and that she was good and got to go there. Something was fishy. So I called the school to ask about what this boon she was talking about was. And they filled me in.

Guess what? Next day Munchkin was misbehaving again. And where did she go? To the PBC.

Foster children are usually children who have suffered neglect and abuse of some kind. Because they could not get what they needed from their caregivers, they learned that, in order to survive, you manipulate and cajole until your needs are met. Therefore, many of them, though they are good kids, are also expert manipulators. They truly do not know any better. Such is the case with Munchkin.

I have told them again and again that she is working them, yada yada yada, and they will not change their ways in the PBC until the principal approves it. This absolutely defies sense. So until the principal gets back from her brother's surgery, my kid will be treated well for being naughty. And all those adults are completely aware that they are being worked, but they're willing to let this go on because no one in charge is there to tell them to comply with my wishes!

They called me yesterday and had me come and get her because she was running out of the classroom. I didn't know any better so I just went with it. Today when they called to warn me about possibly having to take her home, I flatly refused. I'm sorry, but you're letting a five year old run your school? Get a clue people.

You know what my sponsor tells me when I call her crying because I'm so frustrated with Munchkin? She tells me, with a tone that tells me I'm being ridiculous, that I'm letting a five year old determine my self-worth. Guess what? She's right. A five year old should NEVER be in charge and that's what this school is letting go on.

And I'm not concerned that they have all these other kids to educate. I'm sorry, but in order to get what I need for Munchkin, I cannot be concerned about that. That is their problem to solve. If I thought it would benefit Munchkin in the least for me to come and get her, then I would certainly do it. But you cannot tell me that Munchkin is the one who will benefit from me taking her home. No. The SCHOOL is the one who will benefit, not my niece. Their 'problem' will be solved and my niece will lose yet another day of learning.

Well, not quite. She'll learn something…she'll learn that if she acts crazy, she will be in charge and can do whatever the he*l she wants. I REFUSED to help the school teach her that.

Snap Decisions

Snap decisions are usually not good ones.

So it was demonstrated to me today. Munchkin's school called and apparently she is acting out again today.

My lack of confidence in these areas is really showing. At the first mention of switching to half-day kindergarten, I was like, "Yes, school, I will lay down and do what you say!"

But after conversations with the caseworker and the counsellor, that does not seem like the best solution. The best solution is to work through these problems and see if they continue even after applying discipline and patience to the issue at hand. Half-day kindergarten is just a quick fix. I am too easily swayed by people with degrees. When they first mentioned half-day, I was against it. I didn't voice this opinion, however. I just bowed to their professional knowledge.

I know the school is concerned about safety. That's legitimate. But I am concerned about Munchkin getting the message that she can growl, kick, spit, and bite her way out of any unpleasant situation. All she has to do is scare the adults and they'll bow to her wishes.

That is one side of this dilemma. The other side is that I need to be more independent of the caseworker and the therapists involved in this situation. I need to fully take on my role as Munchkin's parent. I don't need this much help. I have my own support systems. I can handle this, with the help of God and the people that I trust in my own life. I didn't realize how much power I have as a foster parent. These decisions are mostly mine to make. I don't need input from a zillion different people - I am asking for approval far too much, and it is essentially an effort to put others in control of my life and Munchkin's life

It comes down to this: Am I going to parent this kid or not? Do I want to do it or do I want others to do it? Time to stand up.

Kill Bill is An Excellent Film, But...

…if you've recently become used to going to bed at 10:30 or 11:30, it's not worth staying up for. No movie is.

But man, it was cool to watch Black Mamba and California Mountain Snake fight it out. I especially love the part where Black Mamba plucks out Cali's other eye and then Cali's thrashing around on the floor. It's frickin hilarious. Watching those chicks fight made me want to be thin LOL.

In other news, Mr. Wrong is back. Why can't I shake this bad habit? What is wrong with me? A better question might be - what is the payoff? Sponsor says it is a distraction. I have a lot of hard work to deal with when it comes to munchkin and that trial date is looming. Both of these things are very troubling. My usual way of doing things is to find a fantasy to live in instead of looking for and executing solutions.

I could sit here and go, oh well there must be some COSMIC connection, and THAT'S why this has been going on for three or four years now. But I know that's a bunch of crap. I know the real reason is that there is some payoff. I wish I could say that I believe in cosmic connections. But the truth is that I no longer do. I used to be far more romantic, but now I feel like all that melodramatic stuff is a bunch of bullsh*t.

But, more than anything, I do wish that I had a special someone to share munchkin's hills and valleys with, someone to talk to about her problem. I sometimes wish I didn't have to do it alone…

But wait, I'm not alone. I have friends who are more than willing to let me share my problems with them. I have people who are more than willing to talk to me about things. What's up with this whining? There's no reason I can't handle this. Good God. The world is not ending just because I don't have someone to rescue me from it! I don't need to be rescued. I know how to solve these problems!

The Wonders of Cast Iron

I remember growing up and my mom using her cast iron skillet and raving about how wonderful it was. I would look at that thing and think, how could that possibly be wonderful? It looks horrible, weighs a ton, and everything bloody well sticks to it!

But now I know the wonders of cast iron. It is the ultimate non-stick surface. My mom's mistake? Washing it with soap.

My recent flirtation with cast iron (and this is not a food blog so I don't know why I'm talking about it. I just felt like it. It's my blog. I can do that.) began recently when I was browsing some links at FrugalForLife (www.frugalforlife.com). One of the links is for products sold to the Amish. And one of those links then led me to an article about why cast iron is awesome.

I was also excited when I went to a local kitchen products store and found a universal pan lid! It fits any pan from 10 inches to 12 inches! Very cheap too. I think it was something like $10.00.

The Wonders of Cast Iron
1. Cast iron is cheap.
2. Cast iron lasts forever. My experience bears this out - my mom has cast iron that's older than me.
3. Cast iron might just stop a bullet if held in front of your chest or other appendage at the proper moment. Useful if you live in the hood.

4. You can use any utensils you want with it. No babying this stuff!
5. It is the ULTIMATE 'non-stick' surface. You season it with vegetable oil by giving it a light coating and then baking your pan at a high temp in your oven for a while. Poof! Non-stick. To keep it that way, don't use soap when you wash it. That's right. No soap. No, it's not gross. When you store it, give it a light, light coating with non-stick spray. Also, do not put it in the dishwasher. The non-stick chemicals never flake off into your food, and if it loses its seasoning, it's easy to re-season it.

6. A cast iron skillet applied with force to the head of burglar or other perp will stop them in their tracks.
7. I mentioned it lasts forever, right?
8. No non-stick chemicals seeping into your food.
9. Can be used on the stove AND in the oven!
10. Will not warp easily. Ever had a pan get warped? Pain in the a*s.
11. Even heat distribution.
12. Uses less energy! What you used to have to use 'high' for on your stove with a normal pan, you can use 'medium' for with cast iron.

I guess I have to mention the cons…
1. it's heavy.
2. doesn't heat quickly or cool slowly. Better get to know your skillet and your stove.
3. Yeeeeah….no dishwasher for this one.
4. Not a very substantial handle -- Bit of a problem when your skillet weighs that much. Solution - Kitchenaid's silicon handle grabber things.

That's about it. Not bad for something that'll outlive YOU.

A Rainy Day with Hope

So recently I have felt out of whack. Munchkin was out of control and so was I.

Today however is a new day. The whole day yesterday went well - Munchkin behaved, I behaved. Same thing today. Yay! : )

She even got dressed and made her bed when I told her to. Miracles do happen!

I don't have control over her actions but I think that it helps that my attitude has changed in these past two days and so now all of a sudden things are going well. I conduct myself differently as a parent and therefore, she reacts differently.

I am just feeling all around better. It could be that I was in a 'sugar depression' and that colored everything, I'm not sure. But I think we are going to try sugar-free syrup, just in case. A program friend of mine suggested it. She said that when we eat less sugar, it affects us even more when we dabble in it. Kind of like building up a tolerance to alcohol. The more you drink, the more you need to get the effects.

Remember that delicious breakfast that V cooked for Edie in V for Vendetta? And then her gay friend also cooked it for her? And then Parliament blew up? It's called Eggy in the Basket and it's awesome. I resurrected my small cast iron skillet and made it last night. Realllllly simple greasy morning deliciousness. Yum. I think right now that I'd have breakfast at every meal of the day. I'm on a real breakfast kick right now.

Eggy in the Basket

Ingredients:
- 1 slice of bread, your choice. You'll want something substantial. I used cheap wheat bread, but I think I'm going to try something different next time…like perhaps some potato bread or Italian bread.

- 1 medium egg - depends on your bread. Are you using cheap wheat or white? Then you need a medium egg, because it'll fit in your bread. But if you are using something more substantial, you could probably get away with a large egg.

- 1 tsp butter
Salt & pepper to taste

1. Cut a hole out of your bread…about the size of a tennis or handball. Not a science, I have read. ;o)
2. Butter one side of your bread.
3. Melt the butter or whatever in your skillet on medium.
4. Put your bread in the pan, buttered side up.
5. Break your egg into the hole. Or if you detest that yolky taste, break your egg into a bowl, whisk, and THEN pour into your bread.

6. Let egg 'set' into bread. Check it occasionally to see how it's doing.
7. Carefully turn it over (egg will be runny on top).
8. Cook until you think it's perfectly done.

Voila! Five or ten minutes tops for the whole thing. I saw somewhere else online where someone added some dill. I might try that, but this is good enough for me right now. :o) Cheap and filling, peeps!

Food Fog

I felt pretty miserable this weekend. I spent almost the whole time running from my feelings, trying to avoid them however I could.

I feel that I must reach out for help, but I keep reaching out to food instead of people and God.

I feel overwhelmed and frustrated and I am going back to old methods of coping instead of turning to my friends, turning to God, using the tools of the program, to deal with my problems.

I'm not taking time out for myself, not getting sitters, just assuming that people do not want to help and do not have time. I'm trying to do it all by myself, and so, of course, it's not working. Sometimes I don't even want to accept help when it's offered. Some of my friends want to spend time with me,  some of them want to do things with me, but I turn down their offers and would rather be alone. Not productive.

It's because I'd rather walk around in a fog and not feel anything than spend time with people. I can't ignore a person that's right in front of me. I can't tell them to go play, can't just entertain an adult…adults can tell you're not all there, they can tell that you're not in the moment, and they tend to get a little insulted when you do that right in front of their faces. It's best not to have them around when you want to be foggy. You have to be in the moment, in the present, when there's a fully-perceptive, healthy adult nearby.

Yet again I learn that food does not serve me. At all. It makes pain last longer, augments existing frustration, lengthens the period of time spent in misery while problems are not being solved, but instead are being infinitely perpetualized so as to keep one in a state of mental agony.

I hope to end it today. I need to get honest. I need to reach out, get up, shake it off, and try again.

No Visit Today

And no surprise, either.

The Dog is Arrested for Capturing Rapist Andrew Luster

I think this is ridiculous. Yeah, I know Chapman isn't a posterchild for the law or whatever, but capturing Andrew Luster was a very good thing.

Andrew Luster may have faced charges on raping only three women, but that's because those are the only three who came forward. Everyone's pretty sure he raped a lot more women than that. He used to drug them, rape them, and videotape the whole thing. That man was dangerous and belonged in jail and thank God that someone got him. I hope Chapman gets off easy.

Your Featured Selection is Here!

And it's Nick Lachey's shameless _P.O.S._ CD, where he aims to make money from his divorce by writing songs that shamelessly sell out his personal life, titled: "What's Left of Me".

Accept or Decline.

I think Decline.

Sadness, Butt Vomit, and Mystery Texts

Sadness
It's going to be a beautiful day out today -- the high today will be somewhere in the 80s. Today, this equated to a beautiful morning.

But not inside my apartment.

At first it seemed like things were going to be awesome today. Munchkin got up, got dressed, and made her bed all before she came to ask me if she could watch TV. Yes! The strategy worked!

Then I got up and did my thing, and was trying to find a way to do Munchkin's hair without it hurting her toward the end of the day. I figured something out and got her to let me do her hair. Yay!

Then, I told Munchkin that I didn't know if she was going to have visit today because Mommy is still sick. All of a sudden, it was a stay at home day, according to her, and she didn't want to go to school. I felt like a huge ogre this morning because I had to practically drag her into the school this morning….in front of all the kids sitting there eating breakfast. Ugh. Someone finally came and took her to breakfast and then she didn't say goodbye or I love you to me, she just went. I don't think I could reasonably expect more than that from her.

I keep thinking…what could I have done differently? I could have set this morning up to be a better one…she picked out her own clothes this morning, which means she ended up wearing her dirty khaki capris from yesterday and wouldn't change out of them. Oh well, I thought, could be worse. At least she's wearing pants. I hate the idea that someone might think that there's some other reason she's wearing those.

Like that her foster mother doesn't care enough about her to wash her clothes. Believe me, after all the stories of children dying in foster care, foster care has a very bad name. Even I don't think much of foster homes, though fostering is exactly what I'm doing right now. There is a definite stigma attached to foster care and being a foster parent. People wonder, I think, how many children you have at home in cages with straw and a food bowl at the bottom. Or how many rolls of duct tape you have at home to keep those kids in line. God it makes me sick just thinking about things that those children have had to suffer.

I hope Munchkin's day gets better today. I feel so bad for her. She seems to be in so much torment during these visit days and their aftermath and I just ache for her. Whether it's because she wants to live with Mommy or she doesn't want to live with Mommy, I can't tell. I'm no mind reader. And I don't wish to speculate. In the past, I'd probably have said things like, "Well I'm sure it's because she doesn't want to live with her Mommy! She wants to live with ME!" But nowadays, if something like that escaped my lips, I'd probably gasp at how self-serving, arrogant, and gauche it is to pass that judgment…to act like I can read Munchkin's thoughts.

Butt Vomit
Anyone who read the title of this section of the post was probably like, "Dude, I'm outta here." But trust me, it's not gonna be gross.

One person whose thoughts I do not need to read to understand them, though, is her mother's. Sister called me Tuesday to warn me that she might not be able to have visit on Wednesday, even though all she had was diarrhea.

"Well, we don't need to worry about Wednesday till it gets here, do we? I mean, you might be just fine by tomorrow, if you take some immodium."

No real reply to that statement.

Not surprisingly, Wednesday was cancelled. Hence the weeping from Munchkin. When I got that call on Tuesday, it had a feeling of dishonesty to it…of wanting to cancel the visit, and diarrhea happened pop up, which helped with that want. I don't think she's lying about diarrhea.

Last night, a text about how sick she still is.

ME: U feel really guilty about cancelling visits, don't U?
HER: Extremely. :`(
ME: That doesn't make sense, does it? If ur sick, ur sick.
ME: As long as ur being honest w/urself, nothing to feel guilty about.
HER: Usually I'd just med myself up or have Dr F call something in & have visit anyway, but can't this time. I feel so bad about it all.

ME: Why not?
HER: @ visit, D likes to sit on me, likes 2 be near me. What if I get her sick? What if I suddnely gotta go really bad? I don't do humiliation well.

ME: Tell her at the start of visit that she can't do that because Mommy is sick. Wash ur hands and keep hers washed - no germs will pass along.

ME: and if you take some meds, no germs will be available via their chosen exit, so no one will get sick.
HER: I'm gonna call the Dr's office now.

So basically, she had been content to be sick and avoid visits that way. She wasn't taking any meds to help stop the illness.

This reminds me of when I used to look forward to being sick so that I wouldn't have to go to work. I used to look forward to doctor appointments because that was time away from work that I could 'legally' take. It is the same thing.

And normally, I'd be fine with that. But not when it upsets D so much. I don't think it's likely that she'll get sick. Supposedly, it is better for D when her mom cancels visits because that weakens her mom's case against termination of her rights, which is supposed to be better for D in the long run. I don't think her mom can raise her, but it is awfully hard to watch D be so sad when her mom cancels visits. I don't think it's fair to her. D is already torn enough and what is the message she gets when her mom cancels visits? I don't know exactly what it is, but I don't believe it's a good message.

Mystery Texts
This morning I got another Mystery Text. This one? "Have a fantastic day" and where did it come from? Supposely my *own* number. Dude, I didn't get up at 7:15 and send myself a test. I can guarantee you that one. Weird. But pleasant nonetheless, I suppose.

Raise Your Hand...

…if you noticed that Justin Timberlake is getting a beating in the press, and most especially, the gossip bloggers.

I mean, they are whippin him with a cat o nine tails. Every time he does or says something, they make him out like he's some kind of jerk. Ok, I guess they're not really doing that much work on that…how much work does it take to make a person who really is an a**hole look like what he is?

After all, he's STILL milking his former relationship with Britney Spears, while she clearly is not milking said former relationship. Points for Brit Brit!

And now there's a picture of the Pasty One on A Socialite's Life where he totally looks like he's three sheets to the wind. Heavy sarcasm is in use whenever posts about Pasty appear on that site and others.

Hmmmm...

Employment Can Be Fleeting...

As a couple of bloggers that I have read about have learned.

I have read the blogs of at least three people now who were fired for their internet usage. It just reminds me why it is so important to not give an employer any reason to fire you if you can avoid it…if you do in fact want to remain employed that is. I'm not going to give up my blog…but this is a great reminder of why I need to spend more time working and less time slacking. Not just because it's the honest thing to do but because I don't like what the consequences could be. That's why blog posts have waned a little bit lately. That's my higher power at work, telling me what I *should* be doing doesn't match what I *am* doing. So I am trying to be more honest about my time at work.

Which is why my cube is going to be reconfigured next week…to allow me to talk to coworkers more easily as well as to help me get honest…and no, that wasn't my sup's idea. It was mine. Straight from the higher power though. After I said it, I immediately felt fearful. I don't think I'd get fired without a warning unless I had some seriously messed up stuff and p*ssed off a bunch of people in my department, but why take the chance? Some browsing is ok. Spending hours doing it: not ok. That *is* my employer's time, after all. And it's the most expensive commodity that I have any direct contact with.

It's nice to know what they actually call it in HR'ese when they fire someone for this stuff. "Excessive internet usage". Makes sense…that's what I'd call it if I were still documenting unemployment claims. But employers should be advised that it may be difficult to avoid paying unemployment without warning the employee first, especially if their internet usage policy is vague, that is, it's not all or nothing or it doesn't quantify what it considers to be misconduct - the misconduct is not measurable.

Does getting unemployment make all that big of a difference? Probably not to the employer, other than the feeling of gall after having fired an employee for what they considered to be egregious misconduct. But the employee would certainly feel pretty vindicated that their termination had a tinge of unfairness to it.

I guess all this is moot. I still have expense reports to crank out today.

Condoms and the Omaha Weird-Herald

Our local paper, the Omaha World-Herald, has renamed its Living section the following:

Lifestyles.

I thought about emailing them and reminding them that Lifestyles is the brand name for a popular line of condoms, but I used to work there, so I know they're vicious enough to use my IP to track me down or at least contact my employer and be all like, "Some chick that works for you is harrassing us." Especially since I already sent them one email castigating them for usurping my city's name and then parking their crappy, and I do mean crappy (as in non-updated design for about seven years now), website there.

Syriana

Great movie. Realllly makes you think. That guy who plays the good emir is hot. I think his name is Siddiq something. Definitely hot. His evil prince brother looks hot at first, then turns weasily and non-hot as we get to know him.

George Clooney looks a bit like someone's cuddly grandfather until he meets a dude in a cafe and basically tells him that if anything happens to old Georgie, then first the dude's son will die, then his wife, then him. And, oh, by the way, Georgie wants his passports back.

Sorry for the, uh, 'blonde' kind of writing...I've been reading this Dean R. Koontz book, "Seize the Night" and two of the main characters are boardheads. Surfers, that is. With genetically engineered troops of rhesus monkeys wandering around their community, trying to kill them. You have to read it to understand, dude.

The Ritz crackers that I bought the other day as work snacks in order to avoid vending machines are totally clamshelling me as though I was riding insanely hollow, fully macking waves and didn't get out of the pipe in time. This is the second of two Dean R. Koontz books.

Got my subpoena today for the trial in October regarding Niece's situation. I'll be sitting out in the hall with four other witnesses, probably crocheting the baby blanket that I am acquiring the CORRECT yarn for today. I tried to do it half-assed last night but just couldn't bear the thought of doing all that work and ending up with a misshapen, birth-defected baby blanket at the end of three months. I'm thankful that it wasn't in fact a subpoena for one of my past financial misdeeds. No, not fraud, just severe bill-paying dysfunction.

I did spend some time last night freaking out and calling my OA friends to whine about what IS that subpoena? What are those civil process servers bringing me? One of my buddies assured me that, even if I were to become homeless, I could just crash in her basement. Not sure how the department of health and human services would take that. Their attitude might be something akin to, "Not with our ward, you're not!" One more reason to continue to be a functioning adult.

Alrighty, enough with the fun writing...now I must crank out about five expense reports. A bunch of my peeps just back from this year's major tradeshow for them, soooooo I'm sure I'll have more fun to report later, yo!

(If you could see how un-hip I am in real life, you'd totally laugh your ass off at all this hip-talk I'm trying to use.)

Oh, did I forget to let you know about the weird-ass text message I got last night? Here it is:

"Diary of a mad black woman ~Bite My Sushi~"

This little jewel was sent at 3:14am last night. I have no idea who sent it or what it means. I do recall a conversation with an OA friend about sushi the other day...but she's sane, so I doubt that she'd be up at 3:14am on a school night. Hence, the mystery of the sender is still a mystery. I just have their phone number, and as I am 3/4 convinced that they sent it to the wrong person, I'm loathe to actually call them.

Diary of a Mad Black Woman was frickin' awesome, by the way. I LOVED it. I totally recommend that one.

Alright, alright, I succumb to actually working for a living. I will now proceed to crank out several expense reports. Au revoir!

Control Freaks

Man, I thought that *I* was bad. But after last night's meeting, it is clear to me that I can breathe a little easier, knowing that I could always be worse.

Last night at OA we had a meeting about the retreat and I was struck by how much of a control freak the leader of the committee is. I do believe we need strong leadership, but man, I find this particular behavior to be obnoxious in the extreme. Geez, just let me do my job. Help is nice, letting me know about what's worked in the past is nice, but telling me step by step how to do it really kinda grates on me.

It's sooooo ironic. We were talking about a tradition, tradition nine, which basically keeps all the addicts from wrecking their own organization. Addicts don't seem to like authority much. This is incredibly heavy irony because we tend to be control freaks. We manipulate and pout when people decide that *they* are going to be the captains of their own ships, no matter how much advice we give them and how much we try to tell them the *right* way to navigate the ship of their lives.

And you know this could just be my own personality flaws coming through - imagine this: I don't like authority. Hell, read my blog from a year ago and all you'll see is whining about how people are asking me to work. Holy Jesus, no! Though I don't think it's unreasonable to be angry that the uppity Adminzilla has decided you can go shred her trash. That might have been two centimeters on the right side of okay. And there were the Lazy Executive Assistants to deal with...that wasn't unreasonable. But God, the whining! Worse that my five year old. Blech.

Well, it's a new day and I don't have to meet up with this person for another whole week. Thank you Jesus. Thank you Tom Cruise.

Diabetes is on the Rise

And you'll never guess where...click the title to see the article in the New York Times.

Apparently, diabetes is the aftermath of modernization and greater prosperity. Makes sense but who would have thunk it?

Go check out WaiterRant this morning...

He has an awesome post called "Outside Looking In".

Conscientious Employees

Are they what makes this office tick, or are they just annoying to the would-be slacker?

Twiggy was out all last week. That was nice. It was nice not having to sit next to her royal highness for a week. I also enjoyed being able to go to lunch early without getting the North Chicago evil eye, which is a sight to behold. You don't want to get caught in that gaze.

11:30 strikes. "Hey Twiggy, I'm going to lunch, ok?!"

"I GUESS." Aw shit.

"You don't sound too happy; what's up?"

She pauses to think of something that conveys her displeasure at not having the world revolve around her while not displaying too much venom. "It's just been a long morning."

So f'in what? Every time she says she's going to take early lunch, she doesn't end up going until her lunch period is half over and then I end up having to wait for her to come back. Makes me want to tear my hair out sometimes.

"Oh ok, no sweat. I was just going to Wal-Mart. If you want to go now, you're more than welcome; I don't have anything pressing." I'm doing my best to keep my demeanor as kind and helpful as possible.

"No, it's ok."

"You sure? I can wait."

"No, I'm fine."

Score. "Alrighty, see you soon then."

Anyway, Twiggy has a lot of cute little duties that she does for the office.

She orders the office supplies. Actually, she over-orders the office supplies. Must be her QVC penchant rearing its ugly, Black Hills Gold, Diamonique- encrusted head. When we run out of an item, it's not just replaced; future scarcity of said item is insured against by ordering two backups of the item.

I mentioned that she's a packrat, right? Her cube has piles of paper and old, old software books on almost every square inch. It makes sense that her supply closets would be stuffed to overflowing with ancient office supplies that predate the age of the computer.

I had to put some of her booty away while she was gone. Unfortunately, the world has come to an end, because my officemates, who are mostly helpless males apparently, will have to group their own manila file folders into groupings of the three different tabs. Do you understand what I'm getting at?

Allow me to spell it out: when she orders manila file folders, she sorts the f*ckers into sets of three. The whole box, mi amigo. WTF?

More proof of her search for ways to wipe the rearends of the male members of the species can be found in the fact that she doesn't trust them to be able to sniff out where the coffee is kept. She has to extract the little packets from the boxes and gently place them in the drawers next to the coffeemakers. She actually asked me to make sure that coffee stays in the drawers while she was out. Easy enough, I won't complain. Miraculously, the ravenous coffee drinkers did not manage to run themselves out of easily accessible coffee packets. Thank God!

Next up -- making the coffee in the morning. Twiggy does not drink coffee. Ever. Yet, she shows up here at about 7:30 to make the coffee every morning. Yeaaah.

When people steal batteries, pop, CDs, etc., out of the supply closet, I swear she takes that sh*t personally. It's kind of admirable, really. I mean, she's a very honest sort. Except for the part about plotting behind the backs of her coworkers via malicious gossip.

So I really wish she'd leave her desk so I could get a CD out of the closet and make myself a copy of this CD I'm listening to. Geez, lady, can't you go get some chips or pop or SOMETHING in another region of the office? Hmmm...I do hear coins bumping against one another over there. Perhaps she will soon fulfill my wish?

*sigh*

I really wish I was more like Twiggy. Not an exact copy -- I'd hate to be that hooked on QVC, with bill collectors calling so much...but hey, that *was* me, without the QVC part.

Hmmmm...better wrap this up. Damn Program is starting to ruin my snark!

Is This the Beginning of Her Eventual Meltdown?

First there was the DUI, now this. Paris is having a bad week.

The Lost Doily

I have been waiting for months to get a picture of this one. This doily was made based an 1800's pattern that was reproduced by a modern-day crocheter. I saw other doilies similar to it a General Crook House, which was built in the 1800's.

I made this doily for an officemate who wanted a special gift for his wife on their anniversary. It was made to match their kitchen and dining room's new decor. It took about two months and was about two feet wide. :) It is the only doily I have ever been paid to make.

Bad Attitude

My calendar is now decorated with a bunch of small post it notes.

September 11 -- Review hearing for Niece.
The 12th -- Mental status exam for Niece
13th - school pictures, woo hoo!
16th - swimming registration at Burke. She'll *love* that.
18th - open house at her school - client visit, but who cares about that compared to open house?
29th - no school - teacher planning day. My sister's birthday party, which she mightily wants us to attend. I said yes initially but now I wish I hadn't. I don't want to go. Especially after seeing what munchkin is like after seeing her mommy.

Being a parent again has fully taken over my life. I'm cool with it, except on days like today.

Munchkin was fine this morning until it was time to get ready to leave. And we were running late too. Admittedly, my fault. We ended up being together in a stress pressure-cooker where Munchkin was unwilling to put her shoes on and I was unwilling to bend one more inch, until it was apparent that we needed that inch if we were ever going to get out the door. I clocked in with five minutes to spare.

Since we had our second naughtygram last night, there were no extras last night because of that. We had Taco Bell for dinner, which we could ill afford, but I did it anyway. Another way of saying that is that I acted like a petulant child, stomping my foot in the face of someone saying, "Hey. You can't afford that. I don't care what time it is or how tired you are, go home and fix dinner."

Things just haven't gone my way today and my character defects are saying to me that the world revolves around me and how dare the world not do that today? I'm unhappy with myself that I yelled at Munchkin today. I'm unhappy that she has to go to these stupid visits, which greatly disturb her and ruin half of her week. She knew this morning without me telling her that she had a visit today. Once I figured that out, that explained a lot to me about why she was so surly this morning. Even her teacher notices the mood swings after visits with her mom.

She cried bitterly this morning and said that she wants to live with her Mommy. It shouldn't make me feel bad, but I can't help but feel a little hurt that I'm doing all this work and I'm the one taking care of her, and she wants to live with Mommy. I know that sounds ridiculous, but that's just how I feel. I keep it to myself completely and I just hold her and tell her that I'm sorry she's going through all this and that I know it feels bad. I could talk about this with my sponsor, but I know what she'd say -- those feelings are natural and they just are what they are…feelings. It's ok to have feelings and I needn't be ashamed of them.

But I wish they'd go away. I'm sick of feeling this way. I just want to go home and sleep them away.

It Doesn't Feel Too Good to Break the Rules, Does It?

Ah, five year olds and their sleep.

 

Getting between a five year old and the amount of sleep they need (about 11 hours) is like getting between a lion and a freshly killed gazelle. Get ready to be mauled.

 

We had quite a fight on our hands tonight and I learned this lesson. If you have a five year old who doesn't nap during the day and you have them go to bed at 10pm on a school night, you are so screwing yourself. And them. Because the next day, they're going to have a very, very short fuse.

 

And this short fuse may soon lead to you holding their door closed while they look for ways to bust it down. These ways may include a certain blue rolling backpack (read: heavy) that, when she spins around with it a few times and then throws it at the door, will make a nice dent.

 

This, in fact, was what the little darling was doing when I opened her door tonight to try and figure out how the hell I could get her to go to sleep. She was spinning around with this heavy backpack loaded with some knickknacks and whatnot, and when I calmly asked what she was doing, here is the answer I got: "I was going to throw it at that door."

 

"Oh. Well you know that anything that you throw at me or at the door is going to the Goodwill, don't you?" God I feel like a bitch.

 

This little discipline technique decimated her population of My Little Ponies two years ago. She had a habit of throwing them at me when the mood struck. Throwing soon ended. Then hitting and spitting and kicking began. I have a feeling it won't get that far this time.

 

But this time I did have to take a couple of measures. I won't call them drastic. Basically, it involved unscrewing lightbulbs so that her lamps *look* like there's nothing wrong but still mysteriously will not light.

 

At the end, I heard a lot of: "You're making me cry all night!!"

 

"No, sweetie, you did that to yourself." Stroking her forehead, I speak in a low, gentle, calm voice. "It doesn't feel too good to break the rules, does it? I know it's a bummer. Goodnight, I love you." Forehead kiss.

 

End of Scene.

 

I just might be getting the hang of this.

That WAS Really Cool...

...until I found out it's because I spelled the word wrong!!!!

lackadaisical

One entry found for lackadaisical.

Main Entry: lack·a·dai·si·cal
Pronunciation: "la-k&-'dA-zi-k&l
Function: adjective
Etymology: irregular from lackaday + -ical
: lacking life, spirit, or zest : LANGUID
synonym see LANGUID
- lack·a·dai·si·cal·ly /-k(&-)lE/ adverb

Lacadaisical

This is so cool.

Someone keeps finding my blog simply by searching Google for the word 'lacadaisical'. Hello, Lacadaisical Seeker! Welcome to my blog!!! LOL : )

You Might Be Cynical If...

You read this article (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060905/ap_on_bi_ge/france_airbus) and think oh great. Now more people can die when the thing crashes.

Next thought: Why don't they paint a target on the side so that terrorists can more easily shoot at it, since now they'll have a chance to kill more people with less ammo and effort.

Raise Your Hand if...

…you think it's creepy and crazy that Lindsay Lohan's grocery receipt was published online.

http://socialitelife.com/2006/09/05/at_least_shes_playing_safe.php#comments

(no subject)

Oh look...it's 10:30 at night and my dad's calling...he must have gotten his caller ID confused again and thought that I called.

 

"Secretary, it's your mother." Oh shit. We have a problem. "What are you doing right now?" That's worse.

 

"Nothing."

 

"Good. I need you to come down here and get me. Your father's been stopped by the cops and I need to go get the car."

 

If they lose that car to an impound lot, it'll be wrack and ruin, and guess who they'll be calling? I can ignore their calls if I want, but I'd feel pretty bad. Especially knowing how much they need every hour that my mom can work.

 

So I pick up Mommy Dearest. She's pissed. After a few expletives wrapped in some angry statements against my dad, whom Munchkin considers to be her father, I remind her of the young ears listening from the backseat. "Oh, sorry, S."

 

All's well...Dad got stopped, got a nice fat ticket, and didn't get hauled off to the pokey.

 

I call my mom later on to check on what happened in the end.

 

"So, is Dad home or did he get arrested."

 

"No, he's home." She says this dejectedly, as though she hoped for him to get arrested.

 

"Mom, you sound disappointed. God, you sound almost mopey! Listen to yourself!" I'm laughing at the irony of this as I'm saying it.

 

"Well, I kinda was hoping..."

 

God, someone shoot me if I'm ever that miserable in a marriage or relationship and refuse to leave.

Secretary's Special Flick

Hmmm, M has a videotape on her counter. What's the label read? Lord I'm so nosy. "Secretary's Special Flick." Oh dear.

 

"Thanks for babysitting the munchkin, M."

 

"Oh, no problem. We'll have to get together sometime." She glances over and Munchkin has her arm sitting by the videotape.

 

"Oh! Almost forgot! THIS is for you!" She smiles broadly while presenting me this little gift.

 

"Dare I ask?"

 

"It's the first one that I had when I was in Program and in your shoes. A gave it to me. It's awesome."

 

"I don't have a VCR."

 

"Well, you have to get one. Trust me, it's worth it."

 

Such caring people.

I Hate Weekends

And this weekend is a compelling reason to keep on doing so.

 

Yes, I know that my misery is of my own making. I didn't plan very well, so Munchkin and I ended up spending the lion's share of Saturday at home.

 

And she had acted a little crazy at the doc's office.

 

"No TV today."

 

"Why?"

 

"Well honey, you need to think about how you behaved at the doctor's office, and you can't think with the TV on."

 

"But I'm sorry!"

 

"Sorry isn't good enough."

 

Later that night, after I ended up breaking down in tears while Munchkin pelted books at her bedroom door in an attempt to get me to open it, she finally went to bed. And my sponsor gave me the following mantra, "Don't give her a consequence that's worse for you than it is for her."

 

IE...don't make the TV addict do without TV all day long without expecting to pay large amounts of attention to her.

 

On top of everything else, we still have diarrhea, folks. And by we, I mean she does the shitting and I do the cleaning. The accidents are fewer and farther between though. Yay!

 

We found out what's causing it at the doc's office on Saturday, so we started medication for that today. In connection with that, I apparently am going to have to teach her a certain skill that she should know by now, but does not. One word can describe this skill: yucky.

 

Sponsor keeps suggesting I do all this crafty John Rosemond discipline. Don't make her do anything, just punish her later when it'll really hurt. No, I'm not talking about spankings. "Oh hey honey, we're going to spank you for a, b, and c. And we're going to use a cat o'nine tails because you didn't clear the table last night." No, what she's referring to is something akin to the following:

 

"I don't want to clear the table." Insert whiny tone for proper effect, ie: "I don't waaaaaaaaaant to clear the taaaaaaaaable!"

 

"That's ok, I'll take care of it."

 

And then later, in the car, about to leave the parking lot:

 

"Oh, sorry, honey. I almost forgot. We can't go to the movie because you chose not to clear the table like you were supposed to. My time isn't free, so we're going to stay home instead."

 

Somethin like that. I'm sure I have it wrong. But you get the gist.

 

But I gave up on that this morning when Munchkin refused to pick up her books and bolted from her room in an attempt to evade putting them away. I took her back to her room and held the door shut while informing her that she wasn't coming out until her room was clean. Suddenly, she was eager to please and far more respectful for the rest of the day.

 

And, yes, I let her watch TV. We're going to have to wean her off of that and it might take a while.

 

Meanwhile, I'm eating everything in sight and obsessing about how to cook the perfect pancake in my cast iron skillet. I read an article about how wonderful cast iron is and how you can use it forever, which is definitely true, as my mom has cast iron that's older that my sister. The pancake mystery has been solved, I'm unhappy to report. Now that pancakes aren't carbonzied, stomach-turning messes, it's going to be far more difficult to resist the urge to eat them.

 

That's about it. Got a couple of other small items to post about, but then I'm headed off to bed.

More Barf, More Diarrhea

 

At this rate, I'm going to be fired within a month.

 

It's weird. She never used to get sick...I don't understand it. Ugh....at least now I have some carpet cleaner stuff. Works like a charm, thank God. Too bad it can't cure my own nausea when I'm cleaning this stuff up.