I Was Off Yesterday--But Worked Harder Than Ever...

A day off should be just that. A day OFF. But whoever (I'm talking females here) REALLY takes the day off if they have the day off? Apparently not me...

I went to the bank. To the grocery store that I lovingly call "hell mart". To the water department. Unloaded the dishwasher. Loaded it. Washed 3 loads of laundry. And put away 7 (don't ask). I cleaned the litter box out. The refrigerator out. My pantie drawer out. I made my bed. The boys bed. The girls bed. I straightened the living room. Vacuumed. I went and ate lunch with Carson (surprise!!)--but really, I didn't eat. Then I sat on my couch and paid the electric bill (one day EARLY!!) and the car insurance bill (4 days late). Took me 30 minutes and much aggravation. "You entered three. hundred. and forty. five. dollars. and zero. cents. If this is correct press 1" O. M. G. "If you now have a headache and want to cook your food by campfire and read by candlelight--just hang up. We will disconnect you in a few days"

Then I played Mahjong Titans on the computer for a few games (I deserved it). Then I made homemade hot sauce--and ate 1/4 of it. I cleaned the toilets. The sinks. Emptied all the trash cans. Windexed the mirrors. Clorox wiped the counters, faucets and pottys. Took a bath. Read part of my new book ("Such A Pretty Fat" or "Why Pie Is Not The Answer" by Jen Lancaster). Then I started dinner. Had a Sam Adams Winter Lager. By now it was 5:30PM and I officially QUIT for the day.

I was in bed at 8. Asleep by 9PM.

And today I had to go back to work. Where I sit and do a few things--and then by 9:20AM I'm bored. I think I'd rather have the day off.

The Search Is Over For My Latest Love...

I am so smitten with this fella. He loves to rub against me. He gets jealous of any attention I show to a book or my laptop. You can hear how happy he is. He tells me. He can't keep his hands off me. His touch is so soft--but rough sometimes too. He doesn't realise he is hurting me. Which makes me almost like his scratches.

His name is Earl Marco S. He isn't "red" but more "golden". He is so healthy. So soft. So funny. He loves to play. And he loves ME! My in-laws got him from their neighbors. The kids over there had named him Marco. Now, before you accuse me of stealing these kids favorite pet... they have approximately 22 cats. They are all outside. And they ALL have names. I promised the kids that he would be an inside cat. Be brushed, loved, fed and pampered. I have $35 worth of cat toys at my house for him to play with. I also promised the kids his name would be Earl MARCO. I call him Early-Pearly or Early Early Oxen Free!!

I really am happy with him. I love. love. love him. But I gotta get him declawed. O.M.G. He can't be near me without kneading me and clawing me. But he's so darn cute. I love how cats are so "snobby". I saw a sign at the local vets office. It's perfect. "Dogs have owners. Cats have staff." Even Calie likes him. Her and Earl #1 were not friends--he liked to pee-pee on her bed or clothes... Early Pearly knows where to potty. He's a good boy.

For those of you wondering about my health issues... I was stuck 3 times yesterday by an evil blood sucker woman. She finally got 4 vials of blood from me after I bit a hole in my arm so she would give me a break! I wanted to tell her that I would just rip out my tampon and squeeze it into her vials if she's let me. But Sweets kept giving me the evil eye as if to say "Don't you DARE say it...DO NOT!" So, I didn't. I look like a IV drug user--so I'm wearing long sleeves until my arms heal. I do feel a little better. Still exhausted. Even after 12 hours of sleep. I'm a total lard ass. Doctor is trying to find out why I'm gaining so much weight (165--and even at 5'8"--it's not pretty). I think it's my medicine--or Taco Bell's fault. All of my medicines were increased recently--I *think* I feel a difference. But then, I'm crazy anyways, so...who knows.

I can't find Claudia's DS. This last weekend I rearranged the living room furniture. And my bedroom furniture. In an attempt to locate the DS. FAIL! I straightened up her room. And the boys room. FAIL. I can NOT find it. It has to be somewhere. I mean, it didn't grow legs and walk off...right? Oh well.

I'm about to go home for lunch and pet Early Pearly. And play solitaire on the laptop. Have a great Tuesday--see yall (I'm from East Texas--I can say that) Thursday.

Driving Mrs.Crazy...

I've recently had more doctors, therapist, nurse and lab appointments than I did while pregnant with all 4 kids... I'm missing 6-8 vials of blood. And I have to go back in one week to give *more*. And within the next 6 weeks I have 3 MORE doctor appointments! Don't worry, I'm not pregnant. And it shouldn't be fatal. baha ha Don't worry, I'm in good hands. Trying a new medicine that everyone has high hopes for.

Needless to say...I've got some medical stuff going on. On top of being crazy. So, this is my reason for not posting more of late. That and my addiction to David Sedaris. I would love to slap mayonnaise all over his lil ole head and cradle it between two slices of soft white bread...and eat him UP!! I love his humor. Love. Love. Love. I read one book in 1 day. Won't tell you which one--cause it doesn't matter--they ALL are that good.

And I might not get to post too much in the near future either. My full time job is cutting my hours back to 24 per week. They are uber slow right now. I've already talked to my part time job/boss about picking up 8-10 hrs per week there. And since I make double *there*--shouldn't be a problem for us financially. Plus I'm gonna be off ALL jobs Saturday, Sunday and Mondays. And Mondays are "me and Sweets day" since he's off Mondays too. I really need a job with insurance though. Really.

For those wondering, emailing and commenting:

Earl: Still MIA. Call me heartless, but I'm already looking for his replacement. I NEED that little thing waiting for me when I come home for lunch break--or at the end of my work day.

Chupacabra: Spanish for "goat sucker". An "urban legend" (or so they say) of a hairless, coyote-looking animal that sucks blood from other animals--google it--but be prepared to drink heavily and HARD to keep from having nightmares about it...

I've recently started a "mood" journal too. Sweets and I are about to try some holistic type things together to help with the Bipolar stuff. My Psychiatrist was really impressed with Sweets attitude about this. Sweets has researched and bought books on this type of addition to my treatment. And is going to my appointments with me. Sure is a switch from that last guy, huh?

I also want to take a moment to thank my best friend. And to scold her. V, you mean alot to me. ALOT. You will never know how much I appreciate your emails. Don't EVER hesitate to email me, girl. EVER. ((HUGS))

Earl Has Run Away...Or He's Hiding Really, Really Good...

I am pretty sure that my cat, Earl has run away from home. I've only been his...Momma, for 3 weeks, give or take a few days. I have been treating him for a VICIOUS case of ear mites. I even gave him a...eeeeek, BATH. Needless to say, he hates me. He hides from me whenever I come home. He knows me only as "that Bitch who cleans my ear out and gave me a bath". He's maybe 3 months old. He is a little on the retarded side. He poops in his litter box--but I've seen evidence that he pees wherever he has the urge. His ear is soooo gross, that when I clean it I gag. The smell!! The mucus and pus! And he wants to shake it all over me. Gag.

Yesterday when I caught him and drug him out from under the chair/recliner to clean and medicate his nastiness, he grabbed a hold of my middle finger with his claw and attempted to pull the bone out of my finger. In other words, it hurt like a Mo Fo. Today, at lunch, I went hunting for him. I looked in all his good hiding places. All the closets. Under the recliners and chairs. Under end tables, my bed...even the dryer (if you leave the door open he will crawl in and lay his nastiness all over clean clothes). I couldn't find him. Then I remembered: yesterday, I cleaned out the refrigerator. And took all the gross leftovers that had worn their welcome out--out to the field behind our house to feed the Chupacabra that lives in the woods. And I left the back door open when I did it...did he sneak out then?? Or. I remembered that when I got up this morning I saw the front door open 4 inches. My 17 year old vampire/daughter came in soooo late it was early...this morning--did she let Earl slip out the door?? The storm door was closed--but who knows...? So. Is Earl hiding in a really good place? Or is he gone?

My Sweets feels really bad that he got me a kitten that is flawed, ill...messed up. He wanted a kitten that jumps around. Snuggles. Plays with the $30 worth of cat toys I bought. I love Earl. I do. I wanted to be his Knight in Shinning Armor. To rescue him from an ear mite filled miserable life. And send him purring into one filled with canned food and catnip. But, maybe Earl just wanted to be a wild cat, like his CatMommy and CatDaddy. Maybe he got tired of me cleaning all that gunk out of his ears. Putting in those dreadful drops. Got tired of me hauling his ass to the cat box every time I caught him in the "I'm about to urinate all over this here quilt" pose. So he snuck out. I want to put food out for him--but I'm afraid. Afraid the Chupacabra will get it--or Earl.

So, tonight, when I get off work, I'm going to search the house from top to bottom for Earl. I may even bribe the kids--like I do when we can't find a special toy, or school backpack. "Whoever finds him gets a dollar. A WHOLE dollar!!" Lay out carrots for the Carrot god or pray to G. O. D. that we find him.

Aeropostale After 29...AKA Act Your Age...

I think Aeropostale was designed with the young, hip adults in mind. Don't you? I mean, really? I'm not saying, that as a 40 year old woman, mother of 8, that I'm wearing denim jumpers and keds all over town. I still wear jeans and T-shirts. I own a leather jacket. I wear flats and Mary Jane sneakers... but some items of clothing are just...too young. You wouldn't catch me in a mini skirt. Or a tank top (unless I'm mowing the yard).

As I pass through my everyday life I am seeing more and more people wearing clothes that just make them look desperate to maintain that "youthful" vibe. Gah. Whatever. It doesn't come off as youthful, either. It comes off as desperate. Just plain desperate. 40+ year old women with Pamela Anderson breasts stuffed into a small baby doll tshirt at the grocery store--it just ruins my appetite. You should never show your mid-driff in public after the age of 20-ish unless you are involved in a horrible accident which causes you to pass out--and then the wind blows your tshirt up (a la Oprah, in "The Color Purple"). And just because your boobies look 20-something, doesn't mean the rest of you does.

Same thing with men. I know it's supposedly harder for men to accept the come of "middle age" --that's why men get bombarded with the big nickname of "Midlife Crisis"...you never really hear that about women. Men try to appear younger by buying clothes that should appear on teenagers. Or buying expensive sporty cars...or dating women young enough to be their daughters. It just makes them look SAD. And OLD.

I suppose it makes them all feel better to dress like they are 29. Or date people half their age. But how hot will they feel when they realise everyone is laughing at them behind their backs. Or their younger partners decide to date someone who can keep up with them?

Act your age people. Or at least from your own generation...

PS: You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you, don't you? Don't you?!

Is THIS What I'm Going To be Doing All Year?...

Have you ever heard the dumb ole wives tale/saying that "what ever you are doing when the new year rings in, is what you will be doing all year"? I sincerely hope it's not true.

I had high hopes for New Year's Eve. But Karma reminded me that just when you think it's gonna be good--be prepared to be disappointed. I won't go into specifics here, mainly because I don't REALLY want you to know how really crazy I am, but my husband and 3 of his 4 kids came home about 8PM with pizza and movies. I had already had a glass or two or three of wine. I sorta started the party without them. Needless to say, after a bath and a slice of pizza--I was asleep in bed. By 10PM. They tried to get me up for fireworks at midnight. But I was soooo tired. I know what you are thinking. And no, I was not passed out.

So, if the wives tale is right, I will either be sooooo tired all year. Or asleep in bed. Alone. While everyone else parties and has a good time. Great.

PS: "the diet" started yesterday. And at 10pm we made a run to Taco Bell. I'm a failure. Already. Again. sigh.