Just Another Day

It Isn't ALL Bad

2011-12-30T12:22:00.000-08:00

The day before Christmas Eve, I found out that I will most likely be having surgery on my thyroid.

The results of the FNA biopsy found "rare follicular cells with a crushed artifact."

The crushed artifact is no big deal, but the follicular cells might be.

Unfortunately, the only way to find out for sure if the nodule is cancerous is to take it out.

I don't have my surgical consultation with Head and Neck until next week, so I am not sure if they are just going to sort of slice out the nodule, or if it is necessary to cut out the entire half of the thyroid where the nodule is.

I'm just a bit bummed.

Thyroid cancer is one of the "best" cancers to have, if you can stomach the term.

The sucess rate is very high, and thyroid cancer tends to not metastasize.

So I've got that going for me.

But I'm not really looking forward to a major surgery, not with all I've got going on right now, which includes a two year old daughter who doesn't ever sleep.

And is it wrong of me to be angry that NO ONE in my family has asked me the results of my second FNA?

I didn't tell them immediately because I didn't want to ruin anybody's Christmas over something that couldn't be changed, but then when no one even asked about it, I decided to wait and see if anyone would mention it.

They haven't.

Only my friends have asked, the ones who know what is going on.

I'm not trying to play games with anyone, but what the hell? Just goes to show how wrong I have been all these years about my family and how much they care about me.

Or maybe I'm being harsh.

Or maybe they just suck.

Time will tell.

I Can't Do Anything Right

2011-12-15T22:22:00.000-08:00

The doctor's office called and the results of my biopsy were "non-diagnostic."

Which is a nice way of saying I had to come in and repeat the process all over again.

So think of me tomorrow, getting needles stuck in my neck and the doctor really having to root around in there for a good amount of tissue.

Is it cheating if I take a couple of Vicodin beforehand?

Also, my mom is coming over to watch the kiddos while my husband takes me to the appointment, and I am SO going to try to get a lunch date with Hubba-hubba out of this.

I mean, my mom HAS to be nice to me, right? I might have cancer, after all. How can you turn down someone who might have cancer, I ask?

What Happens During a Thyroid Nodule FNA

2011-12-08T21:50:00.001-08:00

I'm writing this mostly as a service-y type of thing, because there wasn't a whole lot of information about it anywhere else.

So, if you are scheduled to undergo a Fine Needle Aspiration (FNA) for a thyroid nodule, this is probably what is going to happen.

Try to wear a low-ish cut V-neck or scoop neck or some type of shirt that will allow your doctor to access your thyroid area without you having to change into one of those horrific hospital gowns. Turtlenecks need not apply.

You will nervously check in to your appointment. The anticipation of what might happen is not fun, and I feel for you as the nurse assistant chirpily says to you, "So, we're going to check for cancer today!" You are totally excused from joining in her enthusiasm.

You will wait in the office, staring at the tray containing the needles, the specimen slides, and the topical anesthetic.

Yup, a topical is all you are going to get. Maybe if you beg for a local you might get one. I guess it depends on the level of panic in your voice.

So the doctor will come in, reassure you of the routine-ness of this procedure, and ask you to lie down. For my particular visit, I was to have three needles.

At this point, I would recommend closing your eyes. If you feel your doctor needs reminded, just ask for them to walk you through what they are doing. If you've got a good doctor, this won't be necessary.

My doctor used an ultrasound machine to guide her in finding the nodule, and compared it with my diagnostic ultrasound. Make sure your doctor uses an ultrasound machine.

The doctor will spray the topical anesthetic, which works very quickly.

DO NOT PEEK AT THE NEEDLES. I'M SERIOUS.

Just take their word for it that they are very small in gauge.

The doctor will tell you that they are ready to insert the first needle, and in it will go.

You will feel it.

But it isn't too bad.

You will be able to feel the needle "rocking" in your neck as the doctor digs out those cells, but it isn't enough to make you faint or anything.

Unless you faint easily, and then maybe it will.

The first needle should come out quickly and the doctor will then let you know they are ready to insert the second one.

You will feel this one, too.

For me, the second hurt worse than the first, but was bearable. The second was in for a bit longer than the first.

Then comes the third needle, and this one was by far the most painful. I don't know if it is because the thyroid is now highly annoyed that it has been poked at three consecutive times, but it was not happy.

But, then it was over. You might be bleeding a bit, and the doctor may ask you to apply some pressure to the area to calm the bleeding down.

For me, the entire procedure took less than ten minutes. I imagine that your experience may vary due to the skill of your doctor and the placement of your nodule.

I was lucky in that my nodule was fairly easy to access, I'm going to take a guess and say that if it had been in a less accessible area on my thyroid, it would have hurt quite a bit more.

So, not any one's idea of a great time, but not the worst either.

I had someone drive me to my appointment and back, and I would highly recommend this. As the topical anesthetic wears off, you will definitely start to feel discomfort. The seat belt also happens to cross your neck at pretty much exactly where the needles went in, so it was nice not to have to fuss with the seat belt while trying to drive.

By the time I got home, I was in a pretty good amount of discomfort and I proceeded to apply an ice pack for about twenty minutes. I also took an Advil.

My neck was stiff for the rest of the night and I had a bit of trouble finding a comfortable position to sleep in, but I've been through worse.

The next day my voice was very hoarse, which isn't a normal side effect. I'm writing this on the day after, so I'll update if my voice gets worse.*

*Seems I was getting a bit sick with a cold, not a side effect of the FNA.

Playing the Odds

2011-12-05T22:46:00.001-08:00

Why hello there.

Wow, two posts in less than two weeks. I'm on a roll.

I'm writing because I got a call from the doctor today.

Now anybody with an HMO knows that when the doctor calls YOU it is usually not great.

This was no exception.

I recently had an ultrasound done to my bum thyroid glands, and they called to tell me that there was a nodule on my right gland.

Time for a Fine Needle Biopsy.

Now, this is one of those situations where you are either

a) perfectly fine

or

b) you have CANCER

So, wonderful.

Odds say that I will be fine.

But excuse me if I am a bit bummed if I need to go through Christmas wondering if I have cancer.

Shit.

Excuse my French.

The only upside to this is that if I have cancer, I think I can totally parlay that into never having to to any housework.

Yay.

Bringing Sexy Back to the Drive Thru

2011-11-28T22:45:00.001-08:00

So Hubba-hubba went swimming at the gym the other day, and because I have a toddler that exhausts me, I asked him to pick up some dinner for us (not the kids) at Chik-fil-A.

I don't know if you have heard of them, but there is some excellent chicken-y goodness that happens there. I try to overlook the fact that they are owned by people are right wing Christians, so much so that they are closed on Sunday.

But my stomach apparently overrules my ethics.

Hubba-hubba drives up to the menu sign and starts ordering. They have lots of sauces for the chicken, and today he apparently wants a wide variety.However, his vision is a little blurry due to the chlorine he has just swum in, and as he tries to read the sauces, he comes to one that stumps him.

Hubba-hubba: Uh, and I'll have Sweet and Sour, and uh, what is that? Burlesque sauce? You guys have a Burlesque sauce?

Worker: Sir? No, we don't have a Burlesque sauce. Do you mean Barbeque sauce?

Hubba-hubba: (laughing awkwardly because he has just made himself look like a total perverted asswipe) Oh, yeah, that says Barbeque, doesn't it?

So then he drives up to the window, knowing that he is already very dicey in the eyes of the employee, when he looks down and realizes that he still has his towel wrapped around his waist and that if said employee was the paranoid type, it would totally look like this old pervy guy was gettting ready to flash him.

What better way to endear yourself to the workers at the Christian restaurant than to call their sauce by a sexy name and look like you are dressed in only a towel?

Yeah, that's the father of my kids.I'm so very proud.

In Which I Ramble Incessantly, But You Know You Secretly Like It

2011-07-07T23:39:00.000-07:00

It's been quite a week, let me tell you.

To spare you the verbosity that usually comes with my complaints, I will break them down into bullet points. Because nobody likes to read complaints that are a full paragraph long.

Well, if YOU do, let me know, and I'll write something up special for you and email it to you. Freak.

Kidding.

I love you, really.

All three of you.

See?! I already wrote a ton of crap that had nothing to do with my horrible week. That, my friends, is how I get into trouble.

- Babygirl is having exploding diarrhea diapers at least twice a day. Poor baby. No, POOR MAMA who has to a) smell them b) clean poop off of whatever surfaces it runs onto, which are MORE THAN YOU WOULD THINK and c) all that extra laundry and showering that comes with exploding diaper territory.

-I may be out of a job soon. Boo.

-I have come to painfully realize that my mother sort of hates me. Not totally, but actively tries to fuck with me. Boo times two.

-I hate Bank of America, who decided to all of a sudden change the routing number I needed to enter into TurboTax (after years of using the same one) and therefore MADE me somehow enter the wrong number through mind control THUS turning me into a tax cheat, according to the IRS and the Franchise Tax Board. THANKS FOR NOTHING, BOFA.

-I have also come to the painful realization that I SUCK at networking. I don't FB or Twitter enough to make any impact, and I am not the type to attend networking events and hand out cute little cards advertising my blog. WHERE DO PEOPLE FIND THE TIME? I barely have enough time to take a decent shower, much less tweet and post crap on people's walls and whatnot. I BLAME THE BABY.

-And my last and biggest complaint is that America is on a slow, ugly decline and I am sad that my children will probably be around to see it. You DON'T want me to get started on this.

So you see, even bullet points could not keep me from rambling, cursing, and using waaay too many caps.

You're welcome?

Never Mind Me Over Here

2011-06-04T23:28:00.001-07:00

It's just late on a Saturday night, and everyone else in the house is asleep.

I find myself staying up later than I ought to because when everyone else is asleep, it is the only time I have during the day to be "alone." And I require at least two hours of "alone" time to recharge and be ready for the next day, even if that means being short on sleep and thus apparently eventually shortening my life.

Whatever. When compared to sanity, sleep is underrated.

But seriously, not a whole lot going on over here, thus the lack of posting. One day flows fairly seamlessly into the next, and the routine around here is locked in pretty solidly.

My daughter refuses to speak, instead using her index finger and a catalogue of grunts to make her wishes known.

It's annoying, to say the least.

Also, my daughter is loud.

Like, really loud.

Like, loud enough that if she is standing at the front bay windows and sees something on the sidewalk or the street, then her screeching can be heard by the person/amimals in question.

The windows, by the way, are closed.

Oh, and tonight we went out to dinner (which we don't do that often because, hello! Toddler!) and my daughter acted very nicely until she managed to grab the basket of bread and fling it and its contents onto the neighboring table.

Good job, Hubba-hubba.

Thank god it wasn't me watching her, because now I get to mention this little parenting flub for the next year or so.

Hey, I've got to get my fun wherever I can.

Pathetic, I know.

School, Schmool

2011-04-23T23:44:00.001-07:00

If you haven't read me lately at my other blog, then this will be the first time you find out that I am now homeschooling the Munchkin.

This was a fairly agonizing decision, and my family (especially my sister, the teacher) fought me every step of the way. Even though I've been doing it for almost a month and a half now, my sister refuses to speak to me about it. Anything having to do with school or homeschool is verboten with her.

Boo to that, I say.

But that isn't really what I'm here to talk about.

I'm here to vent.

Because isn't that what blogs are really all about? A place to vent?

Now, anyone who's ever met the Munchkin knows that he is a very smart boy. His former teachers thought so too, and recommended that he be tested for the gifted and talented education program in our district.

Great, exactly what I was hoping for because damn, homeboy was really starting to hate school. He was bored as hell, and due to the class size increase and the fact that due to money issues his school was no longer clustering high achievers meant that he was sitting alongside children with learning disabilities. Which is fine, but it meant that overall the class had to move slowly, and that was making him annoyed with the entire experience.

So he took the screening test for the gifted program, which happens to be a little test called the Naglieri. The Naglieri is best known for being a test that is unbiased towards non-English speakers, as it has no words. However, the problem with this test is that it can fail to catch students such as my son, whose area of giftedness is verbal. You know, because he reads at about an 8th grade level, and takes standardized tests on those types of books and passes, so you know it isn't just me being a proud mama.

So today I get the letter from the district. Now, I had personally asked the woman who runs the gifted program if indeed it was true that the Naglieri could miss identifying someone like my son, and she agreed that yes, it could very well happen.

Well, happen it did. Not only did my son not get into the gifted program, he scored a spectacularly low score, in the 31st percentile. The 31st! Grade-level profieciency is between the 40th and 60th percentile, so according to the test, my son is not even functioning at grade level.

Which to be honest, is ridiculous. His grades are stellar, and if nobody thought there was anything upstairs, he would never have been referred to take the test in the first place.

So now, what to do?

I wanted him to qualify for the gifted program in case he ever chose to go back to a traditional school. He will be tested again next year with a different test, but I'm going to be honest, I am so flabbergasted at his score that I want to do something to FIX it. Like NOW.

So I can try to contact the district and see what my options are. I suppose I could point out the acknowledged problem with the test itself. I suppose I could ask that he re-take the test, but I still don't think he would score high enough to be accepted into the program due to the inherent issues with the test and his area of strength.

I don't know what to do.

I am homeschooling, so it isn't as if he is attending a traditional school and will miss the opportunity, but we were waiting to find out the results of the test to discuss with him if he wanted to attend the gifted program or continue the homeschooling. I can guarantee you that if he does not get placed in the program, he will not go back to a traditional school next year.

I know this is fairly inchoherent at this point, but I just needed a place to register my shock and utter lack of awe at how badly he performed on this test.

I guess I need to decide if I'm going to go all bitchfest on the district or lay low for a year.

Decisions, decisions.

Welcome, Bienvenue

2011-04-01T14:07:00.000-07:00

Well, most of you know that I have been writing for the Orange County Metblogs for the last five years or so.

Good lord, has it really been that long?

For whatever reason, unbeknownst to us lowly writers, the powers that be that ran (and yes, the past tense is deliberate) the site could not make it work and so have shut down the entire network. So, all of my writing, poof! Gone!

I didn't even have time to save my stuff that was on there because, hello, I barely have enough time to write, much less sit there and copy and paste all five hundred or so of my posts.

Boo.

But, one of my former Metblogs colleauges and I are possibly cooking up something new for ourselves, which doesn't require us to stick to someone else's (rather arbitrary) rules about what we can or can't write about.

I'm excited (not just because I love parenthesis, apparently) because it's been a while since I was excited to write about where I live. I so LOVE living here, and I've always tried to express that through the blog, but now I'm looking forward to beng able to say what I want to say, when I want to say it.

Look for something new soon!

A Public Service Announcement

2011-01-21T14:40:00.000-08:00

Hubba-hubba works in the line of public safety.

One day he was interrogating someone, apparently in a more aggressive manner than usual. Truly, my husband is an easy-going kind of guy. Which explains why we are still happily married.

Anyhoo.

His co-worker looked at him in amazement and said, "What, did your wife let you check out your balls today?"

Now, this co-worker is a woman and a lesbian, so I forgive her for not knowing how the whole thing works.

You see, balls are to be checked out every weekday at 8am, and returned promptly at 5pm.

Check-out on the weekends is prohibited.

And the late fees?

You don't even want to know.

WTF?

2011-01-16T14:32:00.000-08:00

Yes, yes, I know.

I cannot pull my head out of my ass and post here, can I?

I don't know why but putting up a post on this particular blog is one of the last things I think of doing during the day. Compare that to the heady days of 2006-07 when I was so wrapped up in this blog I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Well, I'm thinking that I have a healthier attitude about this blog compared to then, but even the crickets are getting lonely around here.

What have I been doing with myself?

Well, chasing a toddler around, for one.

You know, when I was raising the toddler version of Mr. P, I thought he was fairly challenging. He was clingy and a high needs baby. So I was full of woe is me and my god, my life is so damn hard.

So when we found out Ms. P was coming along, we thought to ourselves, finally! Our easy baby!

Well, the joke was certainly on us as this little girl is quite frankly hell on wheels.

As underweight and tiny as she is, she DOES NOT STOP. She is constantly, constantly moving and if she is not moving, she WANTS TO MOVE. Highchairs and carseats are hated, and roaming around the house or outside is by far her favorite activity.

Except it isn't mommy's favorite activity because mommy finds herself keeping this child from running into the street or playing with the knob on the television tuner or fifty other annoying things that she knows darn well she shouldn't be doing but does them anyway.

I used to think that parents who used those backpack/leash thingys were lazy.

Now, I know better.

I don't have one, but let me tell you, I'm tempted.

I Just Remembered

2010-12-07T18:18:00.000-08:00

If you are amongst my peeps that send me an Xmas card, and assuming you still want to, email me for my new address.

I will be somewhat late sending mine out this year.

AND, if I know you well and we haven't yet done the card thing for whatever reason, send me your addy!

It will be your only chance to see Ms. P as I do not post any pics online. Ever.

Mickey's Halloween Par-tay

2010-10-06T10:39:00.000-07:00

You know, one of the few perks of being a blogger is the fact that sometimes, you get some fantastic swag, and even though many people wouldn't necessarily consider tickets to Disneyland swag, I do. I'd take an experience at Disneyland over cereal or detergent samples any day, even if I got free cereal or detergent every month.

I was lucky enough to be invited to Mickey's Halloween Party, this year happening at Disneyland proper rather than California Adventure, where it has been held for the past few years.

Being the traditionalist that I am, I was very happy to be at Disneyland. One of my very favorite rides at this time of year is of course the Haunted Mansion, all done up Jack Skellington style. Seriously, I could go on that ride ten times in a row and not get tired of it, or probably see everything.

I'm sure you're thinking, but is there candy? Why yes, Virginia, there is candy! Good candy, too. Throughout the park they have trick or treating "trails" where you are able to pick up mucho sugar at stations placed about fifty or so feet apart. I have to say I preferred this to stations scattered around the park, because then you had a lot more flexibility in manuvering around. And I'm all about the manuvering, you know.

Then it was on to view the fireworks show, which has Jack Skellington, Zero, and Disney villains. It's one of the best I've seen from Disney, and I've seen an ungodly amount of firework shows there. Although note to lady holding your (admittedly cool) balloon- don't be surprised when someone asks you to lower it during the show, as we are all looking up to see the fireworks, not your (admittedly cool) balloon. And don't act all put out about it, either. Sheesh.

I don't know what it is about Disneyland and the holidays. My inner Martha Stewart, which is usually quite repressed, takes such joy in the decorations. She certainly doesn't have anything to be impressed about at home, so she has to get her fix in at Disney.

A big hit with the men the particular night we were there were these very cool skull necklaces. When you are in the dark, it looks like a huge disembodied, talking skull is coming at you. They are only fifteen bucks, use regular batteries, and can also be used as a window decoration. Win! And of course, I bought one.

My family had a wonderful time at Mickey's Halloween Party. You will too. I promise.

Why Hello, Satan

2010-09-17T21:23:00.000-07:00

I spend a lot of my time worrying about Ms. P and her sleeping habits, or lack thereof.

She is not a great sleeper, and I am a big believer in the power of napping, so I can get a little anxious at times when she hasn't slept enough. Because when she doesn't, it is a big can of fussy that gets opened up on everyone for the rest of the day.

So at one point I wanted to try and put her to sleep, but the gardener across the street was making a lot of noise, and it was too hot to close the window.

I kept hovering around the window, trying to gauge when he would be finished. I kept muttering rude things under my breath, mostly for him to hurry up already.

Hubba-hubba heard me and said, "Why are you telling that poor one-armed gardener to hurry up? He's going as fast as he can!"

And because Hubba-hubba is often quite the bullshitter, I told him to shut up, that there was NO SUCH THING as a one-armed gardener.

"Oh yeah," he said, "Just go ahead and look a little closer, will you?"

"You lie like a rug," I retorted.

Just then, the gardener started loading his equipment into his truck.

And what did I see?

An empty sleeve where his left arm should have been.

Surely, I am going to hell.

September 11

2010-09-10T22:06:00.000-07:00

It is seared into
my memory forever.
I will not forget.

Well...

2010-07-06T14:44:00.000-07:00

Erm, this is awkward.

How does this thing work again?

It is sad that days go by before I even think about updating this blog, and you've got my daughter to thank for it.

My freakishly tiny daughter.

You see, we took her for her six month checkup (uhhh, late, as in she was seven months and three weeks old) and they did the whole measurement thingy dingy, what with the body length, head circumference, and weight.

And guess what?

My daughter should apparently be joining the preemie gang.

She is sixth percentile in weight, ninth percentile in height, and thirteenth percentile for head circumference.

Now the funny thing is, if you were to see myself and Hubba-hubba, you would think there would be no way such large people could in any way be related to such a tiny child, much less be the parents.

Mr. P? He was in the ninety-fifth percentile or above for everything his entire life, so it seems my daughter is a statistical anomaly of sorts.

Maybe it is because she is still being breastfed? Maybe because I don't eat the right foods, although I take my prenatals faithfully.

But, developmentally she is on track or ahead of schedule in all other areas, so I'll try not to enroll her in the circus just yet.

Wake Up! Your Car is a Death Trap!

2010-06-09T18:10:00.000-07:00

At least that is what American Honda was nice enough to tell me at 6:30am.

Me: Hello?

Them: May I speak to Hubba-hubba?

Me: Uhhh, it's six thirty in the morning, is what you are calling for really all that important?

Them: Oh, ahhhh, oh, I see you are in California. Oh, I apologize, I shouldn't be calling you this early.

Me: Yes, and?

Them: Ah, yes, well, I'm calling about a recall to Hubba-hubba's 2001 Honda Accord.

Me: I'm his wife and you can talk to me.

Them: Well, yes, this recall involves the metal casing that houses the front airbags has been found to be defective, thus causing metal shards to be propelled at the occupants of the car upon deployment of the airbag, possibly causing serious injury and/or death.

Me: Well, good morning to you too!

In Memoriam

2010-05-30T22:20:00.000-07:00

You know, I'm a liberal.

Not what I would call a "bleeding heart" but fairly close.

And you know what?

Liberals appreciate the sacrifices made by the people in our armed forces every bit as much as any red-stater. Don't even think otherwise.

So to all those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, thank you from the bottom of my blue heart.

Bono Hates Me

2010-05-25T21:46:00.000-07:00

U2 is one of my all-time favorite bands.

My BIL, you should know, is six feet, three inches tall.

The last time I saw U2, it was the nineties. The Popmart tour, I believe. I'd seen the ZooTV tour as well, but little did I know it would be almost fifteen years until I would see them again.

I don't remember why I couldn't see them in 2001, and in 2006 we had scheduled a trip to San Francisco on the exact same weekend they were here. U2 was also here last October, but that was a mere seven days before I was due to give birth, so we didn't think it was really wise to buy tickets.

So of course I find out today that due to Bono's back surgery (sorry, Bono!)they have canceled the American leg of their tour.

Because apparently, the universe just does not want me to see U2.

My sister tried to console me. She said that she would set up her big, fifteen by fifteen foot outdoor screen in the back yard. She would rent a U2 concert DVD and play it for me. She would also charge me obscene amounts of money for food and drinks, and would hang an "Out of Order" sign on the bathroom door. For that real concert-type feel.

I expressed gratitude at her concern, and told her there was only one way she could make it the most authentic experience possible.

My BIL would have to stand in front of me the entire time.

You've Got Voicemail

2010-05-20T21:44:00.000-07:00

So I recently got a new cell phone, and with it, a new number. Well, new to me, anyway.

However, it seems as if the person who possessed the number before me got rid of it because she was getting chased by so many creditors/old boyfriends/holistic health colleges and the like that she chose to move on.

And lucky me was the next recipient.

When I first got the phone, I would get about ten or fifteen calls and texts a day, all to "Stephanie."

I never answered the phone, because I hadn't even given the number out to anyone yet, and I knew it wasn't for me.

The calls and texts have somewhat tapered off, but yesterday someone from a place that sounded suspiciously like Stephanie's place of employment called and left a message.

That's when I decided to change the voicemail on the phone from the standard computerized message to a personalized one. And it goes a little bit like this:

Hi, you've reached a phone number that is no longer Stephanie's. Stephanie changed her phone number and apparently never bothered to tell you. So if you would please take this number off your list for Stephanie, I would appreciate it.

And so goes example 542 of why I am a complete bitch.

Retinol Ruined My Life. Sort of.

2010-05-02T14:07:00.000-07:00

Now I know that this post may be TMI for some, but I have to share this with people because the fact is, my anti-wrinkle cream just ruined the last three days of my life.

You see, I'm turning forty next year and I looked in the mirror and said, "Oh shit!" Years of sunbathing without much sunblock have definitely taken a toll on my skin, even though at age 32 or so, I swore off tanning and wear sunblock and hats pretty religiously. Still, I had at least 12 years of hardcore sun under my epidermis, and it was showing.

So I read through the reviews on Sephora (my crack provider) and chose Philosophy's Save Me. It had high ratings, and I know that Philosophy is a good brand.

I ordered it online because who the hell has time to shop at a Sephora store? I received it, and started using it right away because dude, I needed help.

It was about that time when Ms. P began being crabby. Whiny, non-sleepy crabby. The kind of crabby that drives you up and wall and then makes you want to punch through it. I was seriously wondering where my good-natured girl had gone to, and why was she being replaced by a baby who was unhappy pretty much 24/7?

Well, I blame it on my no-time factor, because it wasn't until yesterday that I read the entire label on the bottle, which included this lovely line, "If pregnant or lactating, check with your doctor before use."

Crap.

You see, the cream has retinol, which is a concentrated version of Vitamin A, and that can be secreted into breastmilk, which some babies will react to, and not in a good way.

It seems Ms. P was one of those babies. Of course.

So I stopped using it last night, and today she is a completely different baby. Her normal cheerful, sleepy self. Well, even more sleepy than usual because she is catching up on three days of little sleep.

I have vowed to stop using the cream, even though it was working beautifully, even in the short amount of time I used it.

Fine, mama will continue looking like a troll so that you can sleep, baby girl.

The sacrifices I make for this child.

Coming Out of the (Blogging) Closet

2010-03-20T22:42:00.000-07:00

When I first began blogging, I didn't tell anyone but my husband. In those first heady years, I didn't feel the need to share what was my supportive, lovely blogging community with my family. I remember being rather obsessed with blogging, the writing, visiting other blogs, and getting to "know" people. As much as anyone can "know" people online, although I have had the privilege of meeting many of my bloggy friends, and they are every bit as fabulous (usually even moreso) in person.

But still, for some reason, I never told them. I very recently told my sister, who I pretty much tell EVERYTHING. I think she was a bit shocked to hear of my secret online life, which with being Captain of the OC Metblogs, writing professionally for my other site, and this lil ole thing that started it all, was pretty large.

Sometimes I catch myself starting to talk about the things I've written or read on the blogs when I'm with my family, and I have to bite the words back.

And I have lately been asking myself why I haven't told my parents yet. I have written a few things about my mother on here that she probably wouldn't exactly appreciate, but nothing horrible. I don't think, anyway. I'm guessing she isn't going to sit there and go through six years worth of archives on here, but then again, you never know.

What do you think, should I come out of the blogging closet to my parents? Or is it best to leave well enough alone?

The Short End of the, Uh, Arm

2010-03-15T23:08:00.000-07:00

My sister had told me that she was going to visit a yoga class with her friend, you know, the kind where the friend wants to drag you along because it's free and supposedly more fun than sitting at home. Although most of the time, I would beg to differ.

Anyhoo, she was thinking the whole thing was going to be pretty funny, because even though she has always been active, she is not flexible. And by that I mean even in her physical prime, she could never touch her toes.

I was talking to my dad and mentioned my sister's impendeng ~~embarassment~~ experiment in yoga, and reminded him of how unflexible my sister is.

"Oh," he said, "She's not unflexible, she just has short arms."

It took me a minute to process that and I dedided to spare my dad a disagreement and moved on.

However, I told my sister what he had said, and of course we couldn't stop laughing because who ever heard of someone not being able to touch their toes because their arms were too short?

Then my sister decided that her "short arms" were the scapegoat she had been looking for her entire life.

She can't parallel park? Of course not, her arms are too short.

She can't load the dishwasher properly? Why, nobody with arms as short as hers could possibly do it right.

She can't do proper pushups? Damn those short arms every time.

Now if I could just find my excuse...

Not So Great Lake

2010-03-12T23:18:00.000-08:00

Spring school portraits were taken a while ago, and I had allowed Mr. P to choose the background he liked best to pose with.

I figured that if he were enthusiastic about the fake location he was supposed to be in, he would not have as fake a smile as he seems to be displaying in photos lately.

Ever the lover of the outdoors, he wanted the scene of him standing ostensibly on the shores of an unnamed lake, with blue sky, mountains, and grasses rounding out a very pastoral setting.

When we got the pictures back, I showed them to Hubba-hubba.

"Why is my kid standing in the middle of a swamp?"

I guess we won't be ordering any.

Music Monday

2010-02-28T23:42:00.000-08:00

I swear, I don't know what to do with myself some days.

Yesterday I wound up in the ER from 10:30pm to 7am. Yes, AM. They were thinking that I had appendicitis, but I kept vomiting from the pain relievers they had IV'd into my system, so they couldn't give me the contrast liquid you are supposed to drink so that your body lights up on the inside like a Christmas tree. Granted, a rather twisted Christmas tree, but you get the picture.

So the very cute young guy who is to do my CT scan wheels me on my gurney (so dignified, with vomit on my gown, my hair in an unwashed, disheveled bun) and chats nicely with me the entire time. I'm feeling good about myself as I make a couple of jokes and he laughs appreciatively, because I know medical personnel enjoy people with personalities.

As he wheels me back into my little ER bay, he says, "OK dear, I'm done with you."

Uh, what?

Did this guy just call me "DEAR?"

As in the thing you call old, doddering women with grey hair and a hearing aid?

My official resignation from the "Hot Chicks Club" has just been written.

And here is some official ER music for you today... I love Pink Floyd and I would like to see them in concert. Now, would a "dear" want to see Pink freaking Floyd in concert?

I didn't think so.

Gina the Thief

2010-02-26T06:43:00.000-08:00

Oh hello. It's me.

And I recently did the walk of shame at Target.

You see, I was making an oh-so-important purchase of badly needed things like toothpaste, socks, hair gel and the like. Oh, and elastic bands for my hair. I manage to start out with twenty and within a month I'm down to two. I've resigned myself to this reality.

Anyhoo, so I swipe my card and the Target checkout lady panics. "Uh, it's not going through." Shit. So I swipe it again. "Uhhh, this is coming up as a referral, the transaction won't complete." Double shit and WTF? My credit score is enviable, and I KNOW I am current on the payment.

So the Target lady is looking at me in dismay, and I can FEEL even though I can't really SEE the lady behind me giving me a look of pity mixed with disdain like I am someone who doesn't pay my bills but blithely goes to Target and charges up a storm ANYWAY and exactly how long did I think I could get away with it. Damn, she was judgemental.

At first I told the checkout lady that I would go to the car and get another card, because lately I have been very anti-purse and will only carry what fits in my pockets. Which is basically my phone, my keys, and a credit card. But then I'm like, forget that, I'm going to call freaking B of A and find out why the hell my card isn't going through.

Then I become THAT lady on the bench next to the registers, with an expression of pissiness and embarassment on my face as I look at my cart full o' things I need in limbo next to the register.

Well, it turns out that my card was flagged for fraud because I stopped at a gas station I've never stopped at before (well duh, I just moved) and then went to Target. Which according to law enforcement Hubba-hubba is a typical pattern of GTA suspects.

So the whole thing was fixed while I wrestled information out of a chick with a very twangy Texas acccent. She was very unwilling to tell me what had tripped the fruad thing, and when I got home I found an email sent to me from B of A alerting me that my card was being suspended.

FAT LOT OF GOOD that did me, as I was already out.

So, the moral of my story is don't go to the gas station and fill up and then go to a big box store or they will think you are a thief. The end.

OK, J, You Guilted Me Into a Post

2010-01-26T12:26:00.000-08:00

Because J is such a lovely person, inside and out, I will answer her question that basically said, "Where the hell are you?"

Hmmmm...

This whole baby thing is a lot more time-consuming than I remembered it to be. Overall, she is a wonderful baby with a great disposition, but damn if the girl just cannot tolerate gas in her tummy. The screaming stays with me still...

But, we've managed to pretty much figure out what works and what doesn't at this point, so it is getting easier as time goes by and her digestive system matures. She is absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself, with golden brown hair and blue eyes. She sort of looks like this doll, actually, but her hair isn't as long. But she does have a lot of it, and it is the first thing people comment on. They are kind enough to not mention how it looks a bit like one of those troll dolls, because it is so fine and whenever she lays down or sits in her carseat, she gets major bedhead.

As for the move, I don't know how we did it, but we managed to pack everything and get everything out, although it took us three days to totally make sure all of our stuff was gone. We left stupid things like pot lids and stuff that the cleaning crew we hired found on the last day.

Well, actually I know how we managed to move, it was my family and friends that totally stepped up and helped us and we NEVER would have been able to do it without them. When the weather gets warmer, we are going to throw them a thank-you party.

And where we live? I LOVE it! We are the fourth house from the end of a cul-de-sac and on the first full weekend here, a group of neighborhood kids knocked on the door and asked if Mr. P could play. Since then, I hardly ever see him on the weekends, as there is a gang of seven or so kids that literally just jump around from house to house as they get bored. So we all sort of take turns watching them, but nobody gets them for too long.

Also, the neighborhood moms were kind enough to offer to include Mr. P in the local carpool, even though I don't yet have a car big enough to reciprocate, and besides the fact that Ms. P just hasn't gotten on a good enough schedule yet to make taking and picking up an easy thing to do. So, they are just simply taking him and picking him up for me in the morning, and man, is it a life-changer.

We are currently renting this house, for only a hundred more than what we paid in mortage and property taxex per month, and so far the next house we buy is going to have to be perfect in every way in order to get me to leave. This house is bigger, has beautiful marble floors and granite counters in the kitchen, a lovely view of the mountains, and did I mention a kick-ass cul-de-sac?

So in one sense we are great, and yet in another, I almost feel like I am waiting for the other shoe to drop, because things are spookily good. Because I'm a pessimist like that.

Erm...

2009-12-12T22:03:00.000-08:00

I'm realizing that we are supposed to be packed and moved out of this place by January 8.

Have we packed anything?

The short answer would be no.

I could go on and on about how I hardly get any sleep and I have a 5 week old and I am 38 for chrissakes, not some spring chicken...

But...

My ass is so gonna be grass come January 7 or so.

Her Boyfriends Are Gonna Be in Big Trouble

2009-12-09T12:52:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to say thank you to all for your lovely warm congratulations on Miss P, and just know that I read ALL of your posts on my bloglines feed reader, I just rarely have the time to comment. I know, bad BAD Gina. But I love you all, have no doubt.

When I found out I was pregnant and we told Mr. P he was going to have a sibling, he was so very happy he actually ran around screaming. Uh, in happiness, I assure you. The entire pregnancy, I kept telling him that he was going to be Miss P's most favorite person in the world. Because of course she is going to adore and idolize her much older brother. I mean, he's so totally awesome it was a foregone conclusion.

He has been so wonderfully doting on her that I feel like crying every time he interacts with her. He loves holding her, and he gets a kick every time her Moro reflex kicks in and she grasps his finger. He asks if he can go check on her while she is sleeping, and just generally likes to hang around her when she is awake. He sings silly songs for her, dances crazy chicken dances, and just makes life that much more fascinating every time he is around her. Mom and Dad? Totes boring after this guy.

So this morning she was up and I was burping her and Mr. P began one of his patented song and dance combos. It was a classic, something about chicken noodle soup. And what to our wondering eyes should appear as he jerked around spastically a la Elaine Benis?

That's right, a smile.

Her first smile, for her brother.

It makes me wanna cry, I tell ya.

You Know What I Forgot?

2009-11-24T14:16:00.000-08:00

All the cute little noises that newborns make. She snorts, snuffles, meeps, and does all sorts of auditory gymnastics.

She makes me feel all melty, for sure.

And I have to say that Mr. P is a truly devoted big brother, who insisted that we not give her her first bath (the real one in the tub vs. sponge, that is) until he got home from school. It is a lovely and wonderful thing to see how much he cares about her, even as she is this sort of blobby thing that can barely move her own head.

Did I mention that Mr. P has switched classrooms? It seems they felt he was a bit unchallenged in his former class, and he was moved into a 1-2 combo class where they seem to do a lot more independent work, as well as move faster along in the curriculum, as they are all high achievers. So, we will see if Mr. P can step up to the plate, or if he will resent having to actually work rather than coast.

Also, there is an issue on the playground with a 3rd grader, one who has pushed Mr. P and other kids, as well as trying to boss them around by telling them he is a playground monitor. I told Mr. P that there is no such thing as a 3rd grade playground monitor, and to tell the kid to go shove it if he tried to order them around again. We even spoke to his teacher about the incidents, but it seems that for many schools, bullying on the playground is all talk and no action.

More stuff went on, and finally Mr. P found a real playground monitor who sort of got the 3rd grader in trouble. By "trouble" I mean just telling him to leave Mr. P and his friends alone. But it seemed to satisfy Mr. P's need for revenge.

Anyhoo, yesterday Whiney McWhinerson 3rd grader apparently tattled to his momma that Mr. P has been "spying" on him at recess and she actually approached Hubba-hubba to complain about it after school. Hubba-hubba looked at her with a "seriously? you're talking to me about my kid supposedly following your kid? And he's a 3rd grader to boot?" sort of look. But seriously, chickee, if you had been talking to me, you wouldn't have gotten such an even-handed response. Don't paint your son out to be some sort of martyr in this situation, as he was the one who physically shoved my kid.

But Mr. P did not help his own cause, as he verbally retaliated to the 3rd grader "I'm going to get you for this tomorrow" right in front of the mother, who flew off the handle. I think he meant he was going to try and get him in trouble again, but who knows the mind of a 7 year old? He wasn't being violent, he's never had even one incident of physical acting out at any time in is school career.

I told Mr. P that any threats he makes should never be made in front of parents, for god's sakes. Kidding. Well, I did tell him that was a stupid move, and that he needs to just forget about the kid even existing, so we'll see what happens.

And if I don't talk to you before Thanksgiving, hope you have a happy one if you are celebrating it on Thursday. Our weather is supposed to be in the low 80's, and boy, am I pissed. I should not be able to wear shorts on Thanksgiving!

The New Addition Seems to be Working Out. I Think We'll Keep Her

2009-11-09T16:37:00.000-08:00

Just a quick update for y'all.

Our daughter was born healthy (7lbs 6 oz) and beautiful at 9:33 am on Thursday Nov. 5, a day that will live in the annals of Caesarian section history. I say that because the anesthesiologist himself told me that I set some sort of world record for vomiting during the entire procedure.

Fun times.

If you want to know the name we picked out, email me and I'll tell you. Think, uh, designer clothing label. Or a famous actress.

But, it truly is the beginning of fun times. She is such a joy, such a good, good baby. Which I really think I deserved because I endured such hell with Mr. P.

So, I am not too sleep deprived, Mr. P is a fantastic big brother, and all is good in my world right now.

Thanks, Universe, for listening.

We Sold Our House

2009-11-03T08:10:00.000-08:00

And I'm thinking I'm supposed to be happy about it.

We got exactly the price we wanted and exactly the terms we wanted. Because if we hadn't we wouldn't have accepted the offer because you know, we've got a bit much going on over what with the imminent birth of Ms. P, which is short for Ms. Princess.

Anyhoo.

I'm actually pretty stressed out because it means we will have to find somewhere else to live by January 10.

Ouch.

Whether that is something we buy or rent remains to be seen. But just the thought of trying to look for a house with a newborn seems daunting. And I've already had lots of daunting things to overcome lately, and I'm just tired of overcoming things, you know? I just want to have everything handed to me on a silver platter, with absolutely no effort on my part.

Universe, are you listening?

Lucky Me

2009-10-14T14:21:00.000-07:00

All right, so I didn't get checked in to the hospital the other day, so give a big sigh of relief with me.

But, I escaped from the hospital in order to have THIS happen to me:

Our house is up for sale.

We have, like 99% of people who have their house on sale, a lock box on our gate.

Lately, asswipe realtors have been showing up at our door without calling first, which is specified in the listing that all realtors have access to. Some beeyotch showed up without warning and wanted to show my home in 10 minutes.

I kept having a bad feeling about something. I didn't know what, but it was definitely realtor related.

So I was taking a shower, like 99% of all people.

I had brought the phone in the bathroom with me, because I was paranoid about missing a call from what I will now term "goddamn realtors."

I open the bathroom door when I am done, only to hear a male voice calling out, "Hellooo!"

I screech and go "Oh my god, who ARE you?"

Male voice, "Oh, uh, I'm a realtor."

I say with all the sternness a pregnant, dripping wet naked woman with a towel wrapped around her can muster, "No SIR, you NEED TO CALL FIRST."

Sounds of some dude beating a very hasty retreat out of my house.

I think I would have rather been in the hospital.

Here We Go Again??

2009-10-12T13:03:00.000-07:00

Well, last night my defective gallbladder started to act up again, and I tried to ignore it as best as I could. Because the last thing I want to do is go back to the damn hospital.

But.

Then I did some resarch, and all of it said in big or italicized letters "You need to get medical attention" or "ignore the pain at your own peril" and that type of crap.

So I'm about to leave to labor and delivery where they will take samples of various bodily fluids and poke me and prod me like a cow.

Fantastic.

Let's hope I'm back home by later this afternoon, shall we?

We're Personal Friends Of Mickey, Don't You Know?

2009-10-10T13:25:00.001-07:00

My family and I were lucky enough to be invited guests to Mickey's Trick-or-Treat Party being held on select nights this October at California Adventure.

We visited on October 2, and luckily, it wasn't too crowded and the weather was just right. My son, dressed in his "most intimidating knight costume we were able to find on the internet" was of course, extremely excited to be there.

When we entered the park, we were handed some trick-or-treat bags and right away, Disney gets you into the ahem, spirit of things. The giant sun wheel above the fountain had cool light projections on it, and it presided over a fun, DJ'd dance party. Also entertaining were the whirling projections being cast on the ground, which all the kids were either sort of freaked out by, or jumping on. There wasn't really a whole lot of in-between.

Treat stations were set up all over the park, and the lines for some were quite long, but the staff tried their best to keep the times down. And to be sure, the candy and treats were first-rate. Normally my son would sort of scoff at raisins as a Halloween treat, but they were packaged in some very cool Cars-themed boxes, so that made up for it.

It was great to see all the families dressed up in their costumes, many of them going as a theme. There was a family of Incredibles, a father and son who were Woody and Buzz respectively, and even some caveparents with their kids as dinosaurs. I really enjoyed seeing everyone being so happy and enthusiastic, seeing as how Halloween is pretty much my favorite holiday.

Even though the fireworks show is held in Disneyland, it's still possible to see quite a bit of it from California Adventure if you're in the right place. Just as a heads up, some of the rides in the park are still being renovated. But, the best one is of course operational, and that would be Toy Story Mania.

So, I recommend getting some advanced tickets (save yourself some money!) and have a great time!

Where the Hell Have I Been?

2009-09-23T14:38:00.000-07:00

I just looked at the last post I wrote, and shook my head sadly. I've never gone that long without a post here, and I really can't explain what took me so long to come back.

Could it be I have other blog obligations?
Could it be that I was literally sick for two months?
Or that a (hitherto unknown to me) gallstone attack put me in the hospital for four days, and almost triggered preterm labor at 30 weeks?
Could it be that I have a busy 1st grader and am tired and exhausted in my last trimester?
Could it be that I am just damn lazy?

Probably a combination of all five, my friends.

The less said about the hospital stay, the better. I've never been in the hospital for that long, and I never want to be in there for that long again.

I learned two things:

1)Taking a shower with an IV hooked up to you is a pain in the ass.

2) Even if your nurse is a crazy right-wing nut, DON'T DISAGREE WITH HER AND PISS HER OFF.

Of course I wasn't stupid enough to piss her off, but a perverse part of me wanted to, and then thought the better of it since I was pretty helpless and weak. My least favorite nurse out of all of them was of course assigned to me for a full 10 hour shift. Of course. The really cool ones? Four hours at most.

And that's pretty much the way my luck has been running.

All I can give as an excuse is that my life has sucked, my pregnancy is kicking me in the ass, and most days I'm down for a two hour nap.

Oh, and of course it stands to reason that with all the crap going on, every weekend for the next month is booked solid with parties, carnivals, and various social gatherings which we are obligated to attend.

So, I don't know how soon I'll make it back here, but I have one plea for you.

We are still fighting about a damn name for this baby, and I want some suggestions from the peanut gallery, since books with 6,000 baby names still haven't produced a winner.

It can't start with a P, and we prefer it to be limited to two or three syllables.

Thanks, and I promise I'll write sooner rather than later.

Friday Poll

2009-08-14T11:18:00.000-07:00

My dad had to put his beloved dog of 12 years down last week. It was very unexpected, and very hard for him. She had suddenly gotten a condition that is apparently common in older, deep-chested dogs, and my dad, not knowing exactly what was wrong, waited a little too long to take her to the vet (a mere six hours, and she had initially gotten ill at 1 or so in the morning, and he simply waited until his vet's office was open) and it had already damaged her heart and kidneys. She was going into renal failure when he made the decision to not have her suffer any longer, as she had suffered greatly throughout the day.

I feel very badly for him, but at least he was with her during her last moments, and she was being held and talked to as she slipped away. Not knowing she was going to die so soon, he had also recently gotten a Border Collie puppy, thinking they could keep each other company. Now at least the puppy is keeping him occupied and hopefully not dwelling too much on his much-loved Australian Shepherd.

What was your favorite pet?

Music Monday

2009-08-10T10:41:00.000-07:00

I've been sick, sick, sick for the past week and am only today starting to feel any better. It was basically a head cold with a fever added in for good measure, but man, without being able to take medicine, it was killer.

Add to that I had to deal with home inspectors and termite guys, and the overall week was one of not getting enough rest, and thus, never getting better.

So of course it sucks that John Hughes died, and seriously, we DVR'd The Breakfast Club and watched it the week before his death. Really weird, because I hadn't seen one of his movies in years and then bam, he dies right after I watch it. Somehow I feel reponsible.

And with the sickness and all, I'm again taking the easy way out and putting up a favorite song of mine from a John Hughes movie. Can you blame me? It's also one of my favorite sequences from his movies has well.

Friday Poll

2009-07-31T09:22:00.000-07:00

You thought it was gone forever, didn't you?

Well, so did I for a while, there.

I've been watching with increasing alarm the debates over revamping the health care sytem that are ocurring in the House and Senate. At first I was confident, because the dude in charge in the House is Henry Waxman, a kick-ass guy if there ever was one, and one of the few politicians I actually trust. He comes from the LA area, and has always been as honest as a politician can possibly be expected to be.

But then came the Republicans and the Blue Dogs and all the other jerks who are looking to screw over people in favor of the wealthy and powerful health insurance lobby. And listen, anyone who doesn't think the government should have a part in healthcare should renounce their right to Medicare THIS VERY SECOND. And yes, old people who are croaking about "socialism," I'm talking to YOU.

Argh. It raises my stress level, it does.

Do you think there should be a public option in the new health care bill?

PS I now realize the build-up to that question was a bit loaded. Er, I promise not to bite your head off if you disagree. Only maybe your nose.

Music Monday

2009-07-27T18:13:00.000-07:00

There's been lots going on in Gina-land, I've just been too busy/distracted/stressed to write about it.

We have totally lost our minds and have decided to sell our place.

Er, the bad news is that we need to be out before the baby comes (due on approximately 11/12/09) and in another place by then. So yeah, six months pregnant and getting ready to put a house on the market! I am indeed certifiable, I know. But, I figured it would be much easier to show the house sans bebe, what with diapers and feedings and nap schedules.

Whether we own or rent that place remains to be seen, as we now know after eight years of homeownership that it isn't always what it's cracked up to be. Especially since we only have one main income, and thus the tax breaks are pretty much negligible.

If we can find something within the right timeframe, great. If not, I'm not averse to renting for a bit. The last thing I want to do is to say, "I've got thirty days to find and buy my next house!" To me, that is going to lead me to make compromises I probably wouldn't make without the pressure.

Add to that the fact that some people are causing my husband great stress at work, and you have the recipe for some not-so-fun times.

So, the song for today was almost too easy, ya know?

I am so totally that blonde chick!

Music Monday

2009-07-12T22:15:00.000-07:00

Oh bloggity blog blog, how I hath forsaken thee!

It has been crazy busy around here, what with time off for Hubba-hubba and hanging with friends, as well as my teenaged cousins being here from Arizona, which causes all of us to do many "touristy" things we wouldn't normally do. Or even just get out of the house more often than we normally would, becauase we want them to be happy, and teenagers are happy to go shopping and the beach and pretty much where ever you want to take them.

So, still too much going on, although I have gotten a nice burst of energy just in time for the girls' arrival. I can actually do more than lay on my bed and moan. Kidding, I would just lay on the bed, minus the moaning part. Most of the time.

Mr. P begins camp this week, and for the next three weeks he will be spending a blissful four hours a day hiking and making crafts and whatever the hell else they do at camp. He loves it, although it is going to be damn hot, so I hope they modify the schedule for that.

As for today's music, I've been hankering for some classic 80's, and you can never go wrong with the band that pretty much started the whole thing, Roxy Music.

This song was released in 1979, and just look at Bryan Ferry with his skinny tie and boxy suit jacket! A trailblazer! And the Nagel-looking girls! What cracks me up is the unconvincing harp players. I can see the producer now, "I don't care if you can play the harp, just fake it and look sexy, no one will care!"

I was telling Hubba-hubba that I still own the original album Flesh + Blood, which was released in 1980. I wondered if it was worth anything, and according to Ebay it is worth maybe around ten bucks.

Guess I'll have to wait longer to buy that mansion.

Music Monday

2009-06-29T13:47:00.000-07:00

Ah now, you can't blame a pregnant woman for taking the lazy way out and posting a Michael Jackson video, can you?

I was never a huge fan of MJ, although I certainly can acknowledge his talent. Thriller came out just as I was hitting my musical stride, and I have to say I resented it for all the attention it got over my more alternative musical favorites. I did truly enjoy Billie Jean, though.

I definitely liked his early stuff better, and I think he definitely peaked with Thriller. The older he got, the more I hated looking at what he had become, and I don't know why plastic surgeons kept agreeing to alter his face.

This song is from Off the Wall, and one that makes me dance no matter what is going on.

Music Monday

2009-06-22T12:00:00.000-07:00

Summer is here, and you can tell because my house is a complete disaster. I don't know how he does it, but in a very short amount of time, Mr. P manages to scatter a million things all over the floor. I try not to let it bother me too much, but when it devolves into a match of wills to get it picked up, my patience goes out the door.

Patience is definitely not one of my virtues, lately. I'm lucky that it hasn't gotten that hot, but now that I have written that, I have doomed myself to 90+ degree temps for the duration of my pregnancy.

For today's Music Monday, I'll take you back to the early 80's. One of the records I listened to the most was introduced to me by, of course, my father. I think a litle later he got a cassette tape, and I began listening to that more, simply because it was easier to rewind my favorite songs. But I pretty much listened to all of them, and I would screech along to the lyrics, because I am an alto, and Lou Gramm is a definite tenor. Sorry for the lame-ass video, but this had the best sound quality.

Friday Poll

2009-06-18T21:57:00.000-07:00

Do you use Chapstick, Blistex, Vaseline, or something else to moisten your lips?

Friday Poll

I like to think of 2009 as holding better stuff than 2008, sort of like a handsome man I'm gazing at across the room instead of the disappointing loser I came to the party with. He looks good, but I'm still too far away to know if he's a jerk or a womanizer or has an annoying laugh. So may 2009 turn out to be, uh, perfect!

Huh. That analogy started off great and then just sort of lost steam at the end there, didn't it?

Not a whole lot exciting happened in 2009, and nothing really bad happened either. It was a year of milestones for Mr. P, of course, but as a growing young man, every single year will be one of milestones, so nothing new there.

I am looking forward to possibly moving in 2009, and then probably getting a dog.

I think as long as both of us keep our jobs (and I am constantly amazed that my part time income makes such a difference) I'm hopeful that all will be well. And now that I have just said that, I'm sure I've cursed us both.

Anyhoo, I wish you all a Happy New Year! Smooches!

Gettin' Merry Like Christmas

2008-12-24T22:21:00.000-08:00

Oh, it's almost here, isn't it? We were tracking Santa all night, and when we left my mom's house, he was in Florida already. Florida! We told Mr. P that we had better get home really fast, because we needed to be asleep when he got there.

So we set out the Rice Krispie treats we both made together on the special pirate-ship shaped plate and milk in a Justice League glass. Good times....

So Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Friday Poll

2008-12-18T23:12:00.000-08:00

I was on the computer, and Hubba-hubba was watching a movie. "Dumb and Dumber" to be exact. Now, I like funny movies. I even like stupid funny movies. But I cannot stand D&D, which Hubba-hubba counts amongst his favorites. That and some really crappy movie starring Val Kilmer, where he's in Nazi Germany and he starts singing on top of a table or some other crap which I didn't bother to watch. It's so horrible that I have tried to block out the title from my mind.

There is no accounting for taste.

So, what is your favorite movie comedy?

Music Monday

2008-12-14T23:19:00.000-08:00

Let me take you back to those wonderful days in 1984. Gina was in seventh grade. Gina had a huge crush on the brother of my best friend. Uh, yeah, the one that was in high school and who introduced me to all of the New Wave music of the 80's. Pablo also had hair that was exactly like that of the lead singer of today's band. And dude, he was freakin' cute.

I'm not sure how far-ranging the popularity of Blancmange was, but I really liked them a lot. They had three pretty good songs, which was two more than many other 80's bands. For the record, blancmange is a French dessert, with some sort of whipped cream and layering of possibly fruit involved, if I remember correctly. Ah, this video was back in the day when video was still new and they had fun instead of taking themselves so damn seriously. They all look like they are having a great time in this video, don't they?