Sick. Again? Still?

Ok, so I've been battling the flu over the last week. I thought I was feeling better and just a little tired. But once again I feel like dookie. If I owe you email? It'll be on hold until I sleep a lot more.

I think it's the evil caulk's fault. That or the ribbon.

Disorganization.

My workroom? Looks like an art supply store threw up. I hate messes. And with my workroom a mess, I don't go in. When I don't go in, I don't make anything. When I don't make anything? I get creatively constipated. And that makes me cranky, people! I just can't get a handle on things. The ribbon? Is totally staging a revolt and taking over. The stamps have gone into hiding, which sucks because if I don't see them I forget to use them. My mom gave me the full set of Nick Bantock inks for my birthday (because? My mom is cool like that. She's an artist too. Yay for me!) But my poor inks are sitting smack in the middle of my table right now for fear of losing them in the chaos.

So what have I done to remedy the situation? Pretty much gone into denial and watched HGTV and Best Week Ever on DVR this morning. Have you ever seen Rezoned on HGTV? Love that show. It's basically about public buildings - usually 50 years old or more - that have been turned into private homes. Blacksmith's shop, fortune cookie company, cap and gown factory, firehouse... some really great spaces. SO creative. The really great thing I've noticed is that many of the people fixing up these spaces aren't the Gen-X'ers you might expect. They're older, in their 50's, 60's and even 70's (the couple who fixed up the steel mold making shop in Pittsburg were so cute.) All these people have done years of work to uncover amazing spaces in which to live. We, on the other hand, have done a year's worth of work to uncover the basic shoebox that is our house. Blech.

Anyway, what else did I watch in my effort to totally ignore the chaos in my workroom? I had another episode of Creature Comforts to watch. I'm totally loving that show. Rusty doesn't get it at all and I laugh myself silly sometimes. The show is on BBC America and is by the creator of Wallace & Grommit (a favorite in our household - that's them in the pic). It's essentially this:

Now, for this BBC America series of nine 30-minute episodes, Park has expanded the concept into a collection of shorts that are airing three per week. The opener serves up the original short along with two other segments. It's unfailingly adorable stuff, showcasing very elaborately drawn stop-motion critters (pigs, alligators, dogs, monkeys, birds) spouting very British observations about life in words culled from the mouths not of voice-over artists but regular members of the public in England. So you have sea lions speaking out against liposuction, a horse explaining that he sleeps alone because of a flatulence problem, a buck-toothed donkey divulging his mating habits and flies trapped in a spider web discussing how they've been there "for two years." It's wonderfully deadpan stuff that finds "Wallace & Gromit" creator Park at his subtly irreverent best. Set the TiVo to grab this one. (Hollywoodreporter.com)

The two dogs (Brian and "Keif" who are brothers), garden snails, pigs, a seeing eye dog, a hamster in a cage and more? Crack me up. The Sharpei doing his impression of Julia Roberts? Ha! The penquin kid asking his mom for money for the ice-cream truck in the middle of her interview? Loved it. The kids' voices are hysterical. And the two old ladies that do the bats? They are fabulous.

Anyway, yeah, didn't do much organizing today. But did get some "non-Dora/Diego/Backyardigans/PBS Kids" TV in while Sean played. But now I'm off to fight the ribbon wars. I'll take a few pictures of "Before" and "After". Unless my camera is stuck under the chaos somewhere.

P.S. (for Linda) This ranks as one of the most boring entries evah. I am, however, adding links to some of the stuff so maybe that will make up for the brutal boringness?

Sorry.

Dear Bloggity Blog,

Please accept my sincerest apologies for neglecting you. It's not that I don't want to update you on a regular and timely basis. I do. I so enjoy blabbering on and on about abso-freakin-lutely nothing. It makes me feel cool in an "Internet-meets-Seinfeld" kind of way. Tearing out your kitchen? Hysterical. Removing 400 year-old wallpaper? Comic gold, people. I mean, really. I know you all live for my posts. Your lives revolved around your "Refresh" buttons as you repeatedly click hoping to see something witty appear.

(I'm having a hard time keeping my sarcasm levels up enough to finish this post... bear with me)

Ok, so really? I've been down with what is most likely the flu. I've also been doing some actual work (as in "graphics"), trying to remove the old caulk from the bathtub in the boys bathroom, cleaning and organizing my workroom so I can actually get in there to do something creative and Jazzercising (though the Jazzercising was on hold this week while the flu persisted). I'm kind of achy and tired and cranky but otherwise fine.

In other news, Sean has gotten to be too much to handle. He fell down the other day and just laid there and said, "Um, a little help here?" I have no idea where the child gets his personality from ::cough:: RUSTY::cough::

Ok, well, that's about all I've got for now. My arms are tired and my head hurts and my legs ache and I'm going to go lay on the couch now. Like one of those giant sumo-sized jellyfish.

Got all da' bomb frostings

We saw this when it aired on SNL last month and still laugh every time we see it. Chris Parnell is hysterical when he raps. Not bad for a stubby white guy. The new guy is really funny too.

Inevitable.

Alright. For a while now I've been debating posting this kind of entry on my blog. It's an entry about my body. I know a lot of people don't want to read this kind of thing. But? It's my blog and I'll post whatever the crap I feel like posting. So there.

Ok. At the root of this post is my unhappiness with myself physically right now. Over the last six months or so I've gained and lost weight depending on the chaos of my life and how I was dealing with it. I know this is somewhat "normal." But guess what? I don't care if it's "normal." You know why? Because I did too much work to get back in shape after Sean was born to be such a lump now. Let's go back in time for a bit, shall we?

When I was pregnant with Liam? I gained seventy pounds. That's right. Se-ven-ty. Seven Oh. Before that? I wasn't "skinny". But I was in pretty decent shape. I was a happy size 8. I had Liam (who was totally worth the seventy pounds, by the way) and for some strange reason thought that all that pregnancy weight would magically disappear. Stupid, I know. Anyway, I was all kinds of depressed because of my weight and probably a touch postpartum as well. I didn't do much to take care of myself. I was, essentially, a big unhappy lump. One of my biggest failures as far as I was concerned was that up until I got fat? I didn't think my looks mattered to me all that much. I thought I was "deeper" than that. And I felt like I was now a hypocrite by feeling as depressed as I did. I knew being a size 16/18 wasn't the end of the world. But it still felt like it deep down inside.

When I became pregnant with Sean? I was terrified of getting even fatter and only gained eleven pounds with his pregnancy. Which sounds all great and such until you remember that I had already gained more than half of my previous body weight with Liam's pregnancy. Oy vey. Anyway, Sean was born. I wasn't quiet so depressed this time though in hindsight I think it was because I knew Rusty and I weren't planning on having any more children so my body was mine again. All of a sudden? I was all kinds of motivated.

After Sean stopped nursing at six months old, I joined Weight Watchers. I started walking and then eventually running. Over the course of the spring and summer following Sean's birth I lost almost sixty pounds. I wasn't out to get "skinny". I was out to find some part of myself that I felt I'd lost under all that weight. I was back in a size 10 and even an 8 in some things. I felt like myself again. Then? We moved.

The first couple of months in Maryland weren't all bad. I stayed the same size and ran a bit. But then the contract on our house in Ohio got held up. Our few months living with Rusty's mom turned into almost a year. Rusty's mom? God lover her, she doesn't really cook. We ate out a lot. A LOT. It took its toll and I was back into a size 12 then a 14. And I've been battling it all this past year. We're in our own place again and you'd think that would help. But with the kitchen renovation, and the house upheaval overall? Plus the stress over the summer with Liam's testing? I'm now a very unhappy size 16. So what will I do about it?

Well, for one thing? I'm not a big fan of making New Year's Resolutions. Because? I break New Year's Resolutions. And then I feel all bad about breaking the stupid resolutions. So I chose to ignore the whole thing. But last week I snapped. I hated looking at myself in the mirror. I hated not buying clothes because I refuse to buy size 16. It's not a vanity thing, either. I'm 5' 4" (and that depends on my shoes). My frame is not happy lugging all this extra poundage around. So at the urging of Liam's teacher - who is really great and has lost 45 pounds herself since school started - I started going to Jazzercise right up the street from my house. Oh heaven help me.

I don't know what I expected. I mean, I guess I thought it would be all "dance-y" and whatnot. Oh noooooooo. It kicked my butt. Which irritated me so I went back. And then went back again. I went four times last week and tonight will be my second time this week (the whole pink eye doctor's appointment thing kept me home Monday and Tuesday). I actually got out of bed and hauled booty up the street at 7:45 last Saturday morning just to jump around like a fool for an hour. And to laugh at myself with Maria (Liam's teacher, who is fast becoming one of my new favorite people).

So. What does all of this mean? I am not a size 16 if I can help it. If I exercise and try to at least be somewhat conscious of what I'm eating and then I'm still a size 16? Then fine. But I'm doubting that's the case. So I'm putting here in writing. I'm not going to obsess about some number on a scale. I'll rate it by sizes. I won't freak out and only write about my diet or exercise or whatever from now on. In fact you may not hear it from me again. But if you do? Please be patient and tolerant of me. If you're a size 16? Don't take my unhappiness with it personally. It's not the size. It's me.

Ok. That's all I have to say. Move along.

Uh.

Ok. I have absolutely nothing of interest to say. Um... we stripped off the 400 year-old ugly wallpaper from our bedroom Sunday afternoon (can you imagine? Wallpaper that pre-dates the United States itself.) It was that stupid grass paper stuff. You know, like on that episode of "Trading Spaces" when Hilde stuck hay on the walls. Thankfully, the stupid, ugly, 400 year-old, real grass wallpaper was only on one wall so it only took one annoying day to strip instead of multiple annoying days. Ugly, stupid wallpaper.

Anyway, we've primed that formerly ugly wallpapered wall and started painting. To anyone who saw our house in Fairfield? It's the same color we had in the family room - "Dusty Trails" (not to be confused with "Dusty Bottoms" of Three Amigos fame.) Though stripping the stupid, ugly 400 year-old wallpaper was fun, trying to paint our miniature master bedroom is even more fun. Imagine yourself in the handicap stall of the ladies room at your local Target (if you're a guy? You're on your own because I don't know of the mens' room has handicap stalls) Anyway, go ahead. Imagine yourself standing in the handicap stall in the ladies room. Now, you're probably thinking, "hey, this is kinda roomy." But then imagine that your bedroom is roughly the same size. Not so roomy now, is it? Now imagine that you're crammed into that handicap stall with a king sized bed and a few dressers thrown in. And imagine further that you're trying to paint that handicap stall so you you have to move all of this furniture around the room to access each wall to paint (and now imagine Target security coming in and demanding to know what the crap are you doing to that bathroom stall and where did all that furniture come from). I'll be sure to post the fabulous photos when we're finished.

In other news, Liam is home with pink eye today. Because, you know... fun! The only thing worse than a sick six year-old is a sick six-year old who doesn't feel sick. That's all we'll discuss regarding pink eye, because yuck.

Now, see, Jodia and Linda. Aren't you sorry you asked me to update? I have absolutely nothing of interest to say. Nada. Nothing. El zippo. Maybe I'll try to get some pictures posted to take up space and make it look like I'm actually having some sort of life (ha, good luck with that!)

Prayer please

Short note to say that I hope each and every one of you have a wonderful holiday, whatever it is that you may celebrate. To our friends and family:

Merry Christmas and we love you!

On a sadder note, please keep my Uncle Emilio in your prayers. He is in Intensive Care after collapsing at home Friday night. He is a husband and father. They live in Chicago (the rest of our family and his family are all in Cincinnati) so we don't see them much anymore. But when I was younger and they still lived in Cincinnati, I spent a lot of time at my aunt and uncle's house in the summers when I was in jr. high and high school. My uncle doesn't really believe in anything as far as spirituality is concerned. And he's annoyed by religion overall as far as I remember from conversations in the past. So please pray that he finds something to believe in during all of this (his family too). I haven't heard anything since yesterday so I don't know if he's even conscious or not. It's all in God's hands now.

Tagged.

I was tagged by Betsy and am trying to think of "Seven songs I'm listening to" lately. This is going to be a festive list because I've been listening to a lot of Christmas music lately.

So. My seven songs I'm listening to a lot lately, according to my "Top 25 Most Played" on my iPod:

1. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - U2
2. Gabriel's Message - Sting
3. God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen/We Three Kings - Barenaked Ladies with Sarah Maclachlan
4. O, Holy Night - Tracy Chapman
5. Jingle Bells - Bing Crosby
6. I Pray on Christmas - Harry Connick Jr.
7. He is Born, The Holy Child - The French Peas

Runners-up include:

1. Do They Know It's Christmas - Band Aid
2. Last Christmas - The 1980's cheeseball George Michael's verison, not this semi-ok remake version out now.
3. Mele Kalikimaka - The Blue Hawaiians
4. The Heat Miser/Snow Miser song - "The Year Without A Santa Claus"
5. Anything by Bing Crosby.

I tag anyone who has a good list to share - including Linda, Jodi, my brother (I know you read this) and anyone else who'd like to play.

So tired (again)

It's been a weird few weeks. Not a lot of time online. I finished my Christmas kit and sent it in to RMH. Aside from that, I haven't been online much. I feel kind of cut off but I'm not sure what I can do to remedy that right now. We got to have dinner with one of my favorite people last week - Ailsa. Her family is fun and she is an good person, an honest person. And I've missed her. She and her family, Rusty and I and the boys, and our buddies Deedie and Ramsey and their boys all got together for dinner Friday night. We had a good time and it was nice to just sit and be with friends who love you. Deedie is another fabulous friend that I constantly wonder why she bothers with me. Deedie and I shared a house before Rusty and I got married and she has always been one of those people that I wish I could be - energetic and doesn't really give a crap about other people's opinions when it comes to how she lives her life and loves her friends and family. Deedie is one of a kind and I adore her.

Anyway, Christmas is hitting me a little hard. It's coming on fast. Apparently, it did a fly by last week and threw up in our family room then fled the scene. All that remains are random bins full of Christmas decorations, two fully decorated Christmas trees, mounds of tangled lights and two way over-stimulated children. Apparently, Christmas then went and threw up at a house not far from here. They have a yard full of Christmas, including six Santas on their roof. Yes... six. If you're local? It's the house on Good Luck Road. You can't miss it. I'll try to get some photos if possible.

So. What else is going on at our place? Well, Rusty and I got back on the renovation bandwagon. Since the travel for testing and showers and weddings is over we're trying to get this house finished for good. We started laying the flooring tonight. I also spent today painting and putting up baseboard, painting a patched hole, sanding new drywall, installing new hardware to the bathroom vanity and taking down old towel holders and hooks in the boys' bathroom to get ready to paint. Good lord I'm tired.

I have absolutely nothing interesting to say. But I felt like I'd been away too long. I'm going to try to get some good Christmas light photos (and by "good" I mean "really really bad") I'll post them if I get anything worth looking at. The theme for this year is "Are you blind or did you mean to make your house resemble the Vegas strip?" We'll see what happens, eh?

Also, we are making decisions for our family that will have a lot of impact on our not-so-distant future if things work out. Please keep us in your prayers.

Updating (Hi, Linda!)

Ok. So it's been brought to my attention that I haven't updated in a while. I've been busy. And annoyed. Not by the people asking me to update. But I'll get into that in a minute.

First, I have to answer the calls for photos of ex-boyfriend/current TV guy. I have debated posting his photo. To be perfectly honest, I don't want him showing up in my email box. Did I mention I broke up with him when I met my husband? Oh yeah. Must have left that part out. He's a very nice guy and I really do hope he's having a great life. He deserves it.

Ok, so moving on from DJ Boy. My annoyances this week:

1. Hot glue guns. I hate hot glue guns. Hate with the white-hot passion of a thousand suns. I hate the little gluey stringy pieces that linger all over the place. I hate burning my fingers. Despite all the hate, I pulled out my hot glue gun to make four ginormous wreathes for my mother-in-law's work Christmas banquet. I totally didn't mind helping out. I just hated the hot glue episodes.

2. Stupid customer service people. And by "stupid" I don't mean "you stupid so and so...". I mean stoo-oo-pid. As in, first telling me to go to their website to bring up a list of network providers but then telling me afterwards that though it is the correct website, and the very same website they themselves told me to use? The list of doctors I pulled from their website was wrong. And my favorite? "I can't tell you why it's wrong, but it's wrong". Can't tell me? Um, does that mean it's top secret info? I need clearance of some sort? Or are you just mentally deficient?

3. Therapists with ginormous egos. After finding out that the customer service person was all kinds of wrong (shocker) and that our list of network providers was fine, I finally had people to call for Liam's therapy. And you'd think that after the testing? Making phone calls would be easy. Oh no no no.

First, you have to actually reach someone. I left a total of 32 messages (my list is three pages long). Then I reached the first live person. For a practice which included one woman that was actually also recommended by a friend. That woman wasn't even offered as a possibility to us for Liam. But they had someone else. For reasons I won't go into, she is not going to work for us. The second live person I reached was a very nice guy who was going on a three month trip to teach somewhere. The third person? A total jackass that proceeded to tell me that Children's was wrong and Liam sounds like Aspergers to him. Which is odd because I really didn't go into detail on Liam's issues. Then this guy told me he's writing a book and how "stupid" many other therapists are. He finished by giving me the name of a woman who started an Asperger's support group in the area. Oooook, nice chatting with you... no, you know what, dude? Not really nice talking to you, you big jerk. You didn't shut up at all to listen to what I was asking. I'm a mom. With a kid with some issues that need to be resolved. Get some empathy you moron. I pity the kids that have to put up with trying to cram themselves into a room with you and that ego sucking out all the breathing air. Also? It's not really "chatting" when you do all the talking. I'm just saying.

Ok, so third live person I reached wasn't so bad. She still totally ignored the fact that we had an extensive assessment done and talked about all the testing we could do to figure out Liam's issues (Hello? Is this phone working? Why is no one paying attention to the fact that the testing has been done?).

So what have I learned from my phone calls? 1, many (though not all) therapists seem to think that if they didn't do the testing? The testing was done by a brain-damaged chimp and should be totally disregarded. And 2, for a city as big as Washington DC, and the fact that we live between DC and Annapolis? There are way too many offices not answering their phones. I now officially hate voicemail.

4. (the list of annoyances, remember?) I have to be careful how I write this because I totally love and adore my youngest child. He is sweet. He is cute. He is a wonderful, beautiful child. But he has an annoying thing going on. It started last week. He talks. Non-stop. Like, he could be standing there talking, you could put him in the bathroom, shut the door, come back ten minutes later and he's still talking. Yeah, that kind of talking. And he requires not only an answer to everything he says, but also eye contact at all times. Seriously. All the time. Even if I'm driving (he expects me to continuously look in the rear view mirror the second he says something... which is, basically, all the time.) Like I said, I love my son. But he is four years old and going through what I really hope is a phase. Though I guess it's our own fault. We spend the first year of our kids' lives trying to get them to talk. Then once they finally do, we want them to "just be quiet for one minute, ok?"

So, what have we learned here today? Well, for one thing, we learned that I need more sleep. I am a cranky woman. We learned that you have to be careful when calling random therapists for fear of smacking the phone against your head repeatedly after saying the same thing over and over to a group of people who are supposed to be concerned for your mental health. And we learned that I should totally not update my blog without having had at least one cup of coffee. So sorry about the bad attitude. But it happens, no?

Only a matter of time.

Uh huh. Ok, so I turned on the TV and switched over to the Fine Living Network (because, as I've told Linda many many times, I live a life of high glamour). And I'm watching this commercial for one of their newer shows in which people are given a chance to live out their dream occupation with the help of others already in the industry. For example, this DJ in Los Angeles who wants to get into the record industry and start producting at some point so they hook him up with some record industry professionals already running their own label. And hey, this DJ guy is quite a hottie... actually he looks strangely familiar... holy cow... I know that guy! Holy poo... I dated that guy (man. He stills looks adorable, too).

So I suppose it was bound to happen, I mean with all the reality shows out there we're very likely to see someone from our past pop up when we least expect it. But still. It's way weird.

(P.S. Yes, like the very honest and devoted wife I am, I told Rusty about the show. Then informed him that I was recording it.)

Digital scrapbooking.

Digital scrapbooking. Odd phenomenon. Basically, everything you see is fake. Meaning, it's not real paper and ribbon and embellishments. It's just a file (pretty darn realistic looking files... but a bunch of pixels nonetheless). Put the files together and it looks like a scan of a real layout. A lot of people print them out and put them into books. I like to make digital layouts as wallpaper for my computer, to send email cards to people, do fun church video screen graphics (that one is for you, Betsy) and "pretty up" basic photos before I email them. An advantage to digital scrapbooking is once you buy the supplies? You can use them over and over and over... if you find a paper you like? And you use it? You don't have to go buy more. You have it. You can print it out and use it in a real scrapbook.

So. Why am I telling you this? And why is there a giant CD posted? Because I have been asked to design some digital scrapbooking kits for a fabulous site called Rocky Mountain Hobbies. Their owner, Cindy, is very nice and every experience I've had with them as been great so I said "of course I'll do it!" I've done two kits so far, the "Back to School" kit and the "Autumn Holidays" kit. They're offered as downloads or on CD (hence the ginormous CDs, above and below). By the way, the CDs in the photos? Not scans or edited photos. Totally digital.





















If you're at all interested in seeing what this stuff is, feel free to click and see my digital layouts:

"The Farm"

"Tom & Jerry - Halloween 2005"

"Autumn on Crosswick"

"Home" (this layout, as well as "Sean" and "Liam at Work" were done with elements from other sites which I did not design)

"Sean" & "Liam at work"

Click here to see the entire "Back to School" kit and click here to see the entire "Autumn Holidays" kit

Leaves on Crosswick

So, they're back. The entire yard, front and back, is covered with leaves. Actually, that's not quite true. Wednesday, Sean and I went out and raked the front yard. Yesterday was leaf pick-up for our street but we've been out of town so much over the last month that raking the yard was the last thing on our minds. I ended up taking some pictures of the yard and the street because I honestly believe we may have more leaves than anyone else in Bowie.

Ok, so anyway, Sean and I go out with our rakes - me with my normal wooden handled, green pronged "grown-up" rake, and he with his super cool, purple plastic Little Tykes rake. Personally, I'd love a purple rake. But I digress. Sean and I started raking. Sean got tired and went inside. I got tired, but had to keep raking. That's just wrong. Sean came back out and saw that I had finished the little strip between our house and Grandma Mary's house* (see photo, bottom left). He decided that he was going to help and proceeded to pick up handfuls of leaves and walked them over to the leaf pile to drop them. Sorry to gush about my kid, but it was really cute. Unfortunately, "really cute" didn't last long and Sean decided raking and the whole leaf-thing really stunk and went back inside. Until? He heard the noise.

Oh. My. Goodness. The noise. THE noise. The one that lets you know that Robert is doing something (he's our neighbor on the other side of Grandma Mary). Robert has fun tool-type stuff. And we are really very jealous. He has a riding mower. And it has a leaf vacuum attachment. And he has the biggest leaf blower I've ever seen ever. Seriously? It looks like one of those big fans my grandma's church had in their bingo hall in the summer. Yeah, it's big. So, the noise started. Robert and his dad divided and conquered - one on the mower, one with the big ol' blower. There were leaves flying everywhere. At least eight or ten feet up in the air. They were aiming for a giant tarp that they dragged to the curb when it got almost too heavy to move. Sean came running out, saw the leaves flying and thought it was better than anything he'd seen on TV lately. He proceeded to sit down - right in the middle of the leaf pile - and watch, completely enthralled. I? Continued to rake.

Now we move on to the part of the story involving pain and relief. The pain? I was stung by a Yellow-Jacket. Good times. Relief? I sent Sean in the house right before I realized that I was stung because I had just started raking over a hole in the ground that was the opening to a Yellow-Jackets' nest. I've never heard of bees or any sting-y things building a nest or hive underground. But my friend, Claudia, said they had one this summer too. It made sense, as earlier this summer Rusty was stung three or four times while mowing the lawn but we couldn't figure out where these things had come from so fast. Now we know (yay, us)**

After I finished finding the Hornet and "things-that-will-sting-you" spray and bombing the nest, I went back to raking. And more raking. I raked for a totel of almost three hours. But for the life of me I couldn't figure out why I finished around the same time as Robert and his dad, even though they had way cooler toys than I did. Then I noticed something. They weren't working on Robert's yard anymore. They had moved to the house next door to Robert, which belongs to a single mother with three little kids. The mom works full-time and trys to keep up with the yardwork when she can. Robert and his dad proceeded to clear her entire yard for her while she was at work. Did I mention Robert is a nice guy?

So, what's the point of this post? Well, first, we have a lot of leaves (see photos). Second, educational value in finding out that Yellow Jacket's can nest underground. Consider yourself educated. Third, I thought Robert and his dad did a very nice thing and someone, somewhere, should acknowledge it. That's pretty much it.

The photos are clockwise from top left: The view of the leaf-lined street from our driveway (the brown two-story is the house Robert cleared for the single mom), our backyard with the hammock and all the trees, Sean sitting in the leaves watching Robert while picking out some keepers, and a small part of our cleared front lawn.

*Grandma Mary isn't our grandma. I refer to her as "Grandma Mary" when speaking of her because she lives right next door to us. Her daughter and son-in-law and family live next door to her on the other side. Grandma Mary's grandaughter/next-door neighbor is also named Mary. And since "Really old Mary" just sounded rude, I decided on "Grandma" instead. Also? Robert (of "Gigantic leaf-blower" fame) is Grandma Mary's son-in-law/Little Mary's dad.

**Maybe if you're all lucky I'll be able to track down the email account of Rusty's epic battle with the hornet's nest in Cincinnati, complete with detailed description of his head-to-toe "battle armor". Hee. That's a funny one. There was a hockey stick involved.

Duh.

This? Is for Linda. And all the other women out there with impeccable taste:

People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive 

Joke O' the Day

A woman gives birth to a set of twins and gives them up for adoption. One twin is adopted by a Middle Eastern family and named Ahmal. The other twin is adopted by a Latin American family and named Juan. Years later, Juan sends a photo to his birth mother. The mother is touched and says to her husband, "I wish I had a photo of my other son as well". Her husband says, "Why? If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal."

Ahahahahahahahahahaha....... that was a good one.

We're back. And we have a diagnosis for Liam.

I apologize in advance because this is going to be old news to some of you by the time you read this.

So. We're back from Cincinnati (again). One baby has been born, gorgeous little Emerson Dawn. She is so adorable that it makes my ovaries hurt (must resist... urge... to have... another). Caitlin and Joel are married and the wedding chaos has settled. That leaves only one more event, and one that we are looking forward to with such anticipation it makes me teary just thinking about it. My younger sister, Lianne, is due with her first child on Thanksgiving. It is a girl. And her arrival is highly anticipated by everyone in the family, but no more so than by both her mommy and her daddy. Her daddy has already been playing with her for months now (Daddy pokes mommy's belly, baby kicks back. Repeat.). And Lianne is so perfectly suited to be a mother. She has the most nuturing personality but is also very down-to-earth. She also has a hysterically dry sense of humor that I'm sure will serve her well in the months ahead. I'm so looking forward to watching her as a mother and getting to see her start a new phase of her life with her little family.

Ok, so on to the technical stuff. Liam was officially diagnosed last Thursday. And there is good news. And then there is more good news. First, we have been told that Liam is not Autistic, nor is he dealing with any of the 200+ disorders that fall within the Autistic Spectrum. That in itself is a huge relief. Huge. During the assessment, Liam had a session with a child psychologist. Initially, they needed to test Liam's I.Q. to see what was his ability to learn. Some children have more ability and it's just blocked by something. Other children have less abilility to learn on their own and that's one reason why they're being assessed. The average child Liam's age has an I.Q. of 80 - 105, with the higher end of that range indicating a "bright" kid. So our "even more good news"? Liam's I.Q. tested at 126. The developmental pediatrician was giddy. She was just thrilled to have great news for us instead of the sometimes somber news she has to relay.

The final report we will receive on paper in a few weeks will say the following: Liam is suffering from an anxiety disorder brought on by his lack of ability to communicate his thoughts and feelings. Essentially, his communication skills haven't caught up to his thinking abilities and it's driving him batty. He knows what he thinks and wants but can't get it out right. And he thinks about a lot of things you wouldn't necessarily think a six-year old would think about. So us "taking a guess" can often times frustrate him even more. For right now, we've decided to forego anti-anxiety medication and try therapy first. The psychiatrist agreed and seems to think that Play Therapy along with Cognitive Behavior Therapy will help Liam's communication skills develop more quickly. And that development should help alliviate most of Liam's anxiety issues. If not, we'll have to reevaluate and possibly go the medication route. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

So, this post in summary: One wedding down. One adorable baby born. Liam is not Autistic, and is actually quite a little smarty pants. And? One more little arrival in the next week or so (yes... can you believe Thanksgiving is next week?!). Things are looking up a bit.

Now if we could just get the !#%@*% kitchen finished!

Life and love. Or something.

Ok. So that last post? About Earl? Totally legitimate in that the TV show really does make me laugh. A lot. But the post overall was just nonsense. Filler, I guess. Sometimes I open this screen to work out some of my feelings in words and then get to the end and wonder if people really want to read this stuff. And even if they do? Will they read it and think I'm nuts?

Seeing as how there aren't, like, gobs of people reading this and the people reading it pretty much have probably formed their own opinions of me? And the fact that this is my blog, which I started initially to 1.) be able to comment on Jodi's blog and 2.) use it as a forum to work out my feelings and faith and such while occassionally posting ridiculous filler? Leads me to the conclusion that I should just write what I want to write and if it bugs anyone or appalls anyone, they have the right to not read it.

So, now I've set you up to think that there is some big huge thing I'm going to write. Some revelation or announcement or major statement. If so? You've apparently forgotten who's site you're reading. Ha.

Anyway, yeah. I'm working some things out. Mainly, thoughts on my marriage. My husband. My life at this point. First, I have to say that I really really love my husband, Rusty. Rusty is a good man. When it comes down to it you can count on him to do the right thing regardless of whether or not it's comfortable or convenient for him. Please understand, Rusty makes mistakes. Oh boy, does he make mistakes. And then? I freak out. But in the end? Hanging with him through the consequences of those mistakes? Has been painful. And confusing. And scary. But also the most transforming experiences for our relationship. I guess when you say, "Am I going to stick with this person and this commitment even though he did something stupid? Even though I'd be totally justified in giving him the boot?" and then you decide to stick it out, you move to a new level. Admittedly, it would be a heck of a lot easier if you could get to that level without so much junk to go through.

An example: Two years ago, Rusty was involved in a car accident. It was his fault, because of something stupid that he did. Let me say up front that it was a single car accident (Rusty's car) and no one else was involved or hurt. But Rusty himself was lucky to be alive. He knew that. He knew he'd made a mistake that was going to put our family through some crap for a while. And he was sorry. Not just "I'm sorry" and then all is expected to be forgotten. He was devestated. It was plain to see. And I was totally within my right to say, "You moron! What the hell were you thinking?!". But I remember standing there looking at him and realizing that nothing I could say would make him feel any worse than he already did. So I told him that. And his face... the expression on his face was amazement mixed with overwhelming gratitude for understanding him at that very moment. He knew I wasn't happy about it. But he also knew I love him and that trumped anything else.

So we dealt with it together. And it was a lot to deal with. But amidst all of the anger and sadness and fear? I was given what I consider a huge blessing. I got to witness the true character of my husband as a man and as a Believer. Rusty's lawyer met with the judge overseeing the case and came back to tell us that he thought he could get the case dropped because of some technical loopholes. Rusty just said, "I've done something wrong and deserved to be held accountable." Even now? Thinking about that? Gives me peace that I've married a good man.

So. What does that have to do with anything? Nothing, really. Just thinking out loud... or onscreen, as the case may be.

I love Earl

Holy crap. Do you watch this show? "My Name is Earl" I hate hopping on the bandwagon with new trendy stuff but this show seriously makes me laugh out loud pretty much the entire way through. Every time we watch it. If you don't watch it, it's hard to explain without sounding a.) totally rude or b.) kind of mean. Earl is a redneck. There is no other polite way of saying it. Essentially, it's a show about a redneck criminal who goes through a series of events that lead him to the conclusion that he needs to starting righting all of the wrongs he's done to people to restore balance in his life through Karma. The fact that Earl learns his Karmic way of life from hearing Carson Daily talk about it on TV? Hysterical. Could there be a better metaphor for our culture today? Carson Daily as our pop culture savior. Oy.

Also? "My Name is Earl" is a highly quotable show. Example:

Never underestimate the power of confidence. And never underestimate fifteen beers, a little enlightenment, and the power of Rob Base and DJ Easy Rock.

The wisdom of this show is obvious, isn't it? Seriously, it's very funny. You should watch it sometime. Click here to go to the iFilm page where you can watch a video clip of "My Name is Earl".

This blog update was originally posted from Picasa

Warning: It's a little loud

**Edited to remove extremely loud and amazingly theraputic Linkin Park video "Faint"**

Ok. So I know it's Linkin Park. Please forgive me. They're a bit over-exposed (or they were a year or so ago; not quite as bad now). But I really really like the yelling right now. And some of the lyrics. I like the lyrics:

I am a little bit of loneliness, a little bit of disregard
Handful of complaints
but I can't help the fact that everybody can see these scars
I am what I want you to want, what I want you to feel
But it's like no matter what I do I can't convince you to just believe this is real
So I let go watching you turn your back like you always do
Face away and pretend that I'm not
But I'll be here cause you're all that I've got

I can't feel the way I did before
Don't turn your back on me
I won't be ignored
Time won't heal this damage anymore
Don't turn your back on me I won't be ignored

I am a little bit insecure, a little unconfident
Cuz you don't understand I do what I can
Sometimes I don't make sense
I am what you never wanna say, but I've never had a doubt
It's like no matter what I do I can't convince you for once just to hear me out
So I let go watching you turn your back like you always do
You face away and pretend that I'm not
But I'll be here cause you're all that I've got

Hear me out now
You're gonna listen to me like it or not
I can't feel the way I did before
Don't turn your back on me
I won't be ignored

Bah

It's been a bad week for me. I think we've covered the fact I don't handle continuous stress very well. Shocker. But for some damn reason, it keeps on coming.

Scene: Sean's pediatrician's office. Thursday, 1:00 p.m.

Dr: See those brown patches? The birthmarks?

Me: Uh, yeah?

Dr: Well, the thing is...if a kid has more than six we really should send them to a dermatologist to "rule out [insert something that starts with an "N" that even the Dr. had a hard time pronouncing]"

Me: LA LA LA LA...I'm not listening. Don't tell me. I'll take the kid to the dermatologist but don't tell me what it "could" be. I don't want to hear it right now. I'll listen to it if it turns out to be anything "for sure" and deal with it then.

Dr: I'm sure it's nothing, but you know... just to be safe. Here's the name of the dermatologist I'd recommend.

Me: Yeah. Thanks.

Nurse: Uh, doctor... you want me to pick her up or just let her lie there on the floor for a while?

(ok... so I didn't really pass out. But I'm pretty sure my mind and emotions tuned out for a while). Yeah, I'm sure it's nothing too. And I'm honestly not stressed about Sean's health. But it's one more phone call to make to one more doctor who'll have a waiting list a few months long (so my pediatrician warned). We have been doing homework with Liam all week and still have piles to make up from his week of testing. We have to go back to Cincinnati on November 11th for one more assessment appointment and the diagnosis. I have a house that looks like CRAP - it's messy and still unfinished as far as renovations go (yes, the house warrants bold, CAPITALIZED and italicized CRAP). And my husband? A complete moron sometimes.

(please... I adore my husband. He is a wonderful man and looks great in a pair of soccer shorts. But he is, at times, completely brain dead and knows how to do something just stupid enough to make me question whether his brain came unplugged).

So. Aren't you glad you stopped by? I just saw that Linda linked to me and I really do apologize to anyone who clicked there and ended up here. So sorry about that. I'd love to say I don't always whine so much, but I like honesty. It works for me. So admitting that I've been "Queen-O'-the-Whine" is pretty much all I can do at this point. Stop back later, maybe I'll post some pictures or tell a joke or something.