Snapshot of My Mind

I really should not be sitting here eating the rest of this lentil pilaf and brussels sprouts and drinking Husband's Kirin Ichiban but damn if it isn't all really good and anyway I've been instructed to stay up until he returns from the grocery store seeing as how we arrived home from the Northland last night to a house empty of ALL items that would be considered even remotely edible by even the lowest standards and then spent today in the doctor's office/hospital tending to The Goose's reactive airway issue.

I do this every Thursday night ... drink a few too many beers, finish off the leftovers from dinner, write something ridiculous, and then post it to the web. It's really something that should be on my New Year's resolution list of Things to Stop Doing ... along with fibbing about my credit card bills and handing The Goose grossly inappropriate items to fondle while I change his diapers. He has got to potty train himself soon or I'm going to go insane. Poor little diddums ... he's up there now sound asleep but barking like a seal with his Reactive Airway Cough: A fresh diagnosis from our beloved pediatrician who manages to always be at work despite the fact that she has four children under the age of six.

That's a lie. I have no idea how old her kids are. So there's another thing on the New Year's list to stop doing: Exaggeration for Effect.

Something is wrong with our printer. I hate it when something goes wrong with our computer or its relatives because there are always Things I Need to Do for which these items are required. Like tonight ... instead of unpacking all of our holiday shit, I am sitting here attempting to print up some "Happy New Year" cards for all the people who didn't get Christmas cards from us because either I ran out of stamps or didn't have their address or totally forgot about them and then got a Christmas card from them and was like, "Whoa! We forgot so and so."

And speaking of the holidays ... I am NEVER driving to my in-laws again. The trip back was bad enough what with the baby's fever shotting up to 103 degrees, and the rain, but the trip there ... on Christmas Eve ... we were supposed to leave for the 11-hour trip at 5:30 p.m., right after Husband got off work ... but at noon, his boss called and said, "Kee-um, I'm lettin' Brine off at 2:30 but don't you go be tellin' him. I just called you so you could be gettin' ready."

Enter Kim stage left ... neurotic and totally disorganized. having spent the morning doing things which should've been LOW on the priority list of things to do before you leave for a trip: Watching The Sound of Music in Spanish ... mopping the floor ... attempting to make cutesy bows for all the gifts ... calling my mom to report mindless chitchat. So then I realized that oh my lord the baby hasn't been outside all day and he can't possibly make this drive without having burnt off some energy splashing in mud puddles so off we go to do that and then he's filthy and needs a bath and all I have packed so far is my red cowgirl boots which I didn't even freakin' wear.

And then I started burning copies of one of The Goose's new kids CDs as a gift to send his friend Babybird, my boyfriend. And then I decided that I really needed to back up all of our .mpg files of The Goose ... and what I really need is some sleep.

Do y'all do stuff like that? Just ridiculous stuff that you can't believe you'd do and then sit around writing about? No, you don't. But look at you sitting there reading about how I do it. That's worse, people, so there. Kirin Ichiban is not even that good and now the baby's screaming and I've gotta go.

Happy New Year.

Things I need to say about the holidays

First of all, before I forget, let me just add a note about my last post: after all that shit with the ink cartridges, I failed to mention that I DROPPED the damn thing on my favorite cords and ruined them. Then I got in a huff and dumped an ENTIRE bottle of bleach into the washer with the pants thinking I could just bleach the shit out of them. Didn't work. Ink spots still there along with big patches of white.

And now, on with the show ...

I made those cookies up there in that picture. Please stop reading right now and look again at that picture and say this out loud: SHE MADE THOSE COOKIES! Then say this: I BET SHE WILL NEVER DO THAT SHIT AGAIN SINCE IT TOOK ALL FREAKIN' DAY AND THEN SHE DROPPED THEM ON THE WAY TO DELIVER THEM TO HUSBAND'S CO-WORKERS.

ION ...

I'd like to send a shout-out to B's boss for allowing him to work until 5:30 p.m. on CHRISTMAS EVE since we have an 11-hour drive ahead of us. Merry Christmas to you too and I hope you don't get the shits even though I dumped some ex-lax into your Christmas cookies this year.

I'd also like to send a shout-out to my friends who have sent photo Christmas cards in the mail. In fact, this year, I'm giving awards (not prizes, mind you, just awards):

4th place: My friend Rene who dressed her ENTIRE family (herself, her husband and two kids) in matching green and red striped pajamas and got them to all smile beautifully while sitting in front of her department-store perfect Christmas tree. And even though her husband is in a VERY FAMOUS COUNTRY BAND WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS, I am not going to attempt to sell it on e-bay.

3rd place: My friend Caleigh for the photo card from her dog, Gidget Ann ... Gidget Ann's eyes were weirdly possessed looking, but damn! she's a good-looking Jack Russell. And how cute to write, "Happy Holidays, from Gidget Ann (and Caleigh & Scott)."

2nd place: My friend Catherine for the photo card from her and her dog, Gidget Ann ... again, we have the possessed eyes, but since Catherine is there with her ni the picture looking SOOOOOOOO cute, this one just had to get kudos.

How the F did I manage to get two Christmas cards from dogs named GIDGET ANN?

And now ... the big winner is ...

1st place: My friend The Queen, for her photo card of a toilet out in her yard with a poinsettia in the bowl, and the quote, "Wishing you a shitty Christmas!!!" Delightful.

Other things I need to say about the holidays:

• There are people driving around this town with wreaths on their automobiles that are nicer than the two I have on my house.
• I am perfectly OK with the fact that we did not buy The Goose any Christmas gifts (except for that damn Peek-a-zoo and a $1 dog on wheels -- have y'all seen Targets ONE SPOT section? Wow. It's too much ... and everything is $1. Too much). He is one and he doesn't know it's Christmas and I will spend the rest of my life providing his Santa Claus crap so there's no need to rush it. Plus, we're poor because I just had to have a new car last May. Even though I STILL miss Rhonda the Honda in a devastating sort of way.
• All I asked for for Christmas was a set of measuring spoons with a 1/8 teaspoon. So far I have gotten an apron, a tacky picture frame, an anniversary edition of The Sound of Music (and y 'all: it has karaoke in three different languages -- oh yeah ... that's what I did all day today while simultaneously vacuuming and stuffing veggie snackin' crackers into Goose's piehole), a bag of gourmet coffee, and some men's socks. I can't wait to see what else is in store.

This is my last post before we take off to the northland. I hope all of you have lovely holidays filled with non-psychotic relatives and lots of eggnogg or whatever else you like to numb it with.

Feliz Navidad.

Things I Learned Today

Another list ... you know I can't resist a good bulleted or numbered list:

1. If you jab four needles into a Toddler Goose's legs, then he will hurt so badly that he won't even be able to put weight on them when you get home ... for the rest of the day.
2. If your previously walking-all-over-the-place toddler becomes temporarily immobilized, you harbor secret happiness and put "Jay-Jay the Airplane" on repeat play in the DVD player.
3. It does not save time or money to MAKE your own Christmas cards. It also does not save time or money if you MAKE half of your Christmas cards and then BUY half of those photo-slot cards at Target IF prior to these two events you have done the following: First, you attempted to refill your printer's color cartridge rather than buying a new one. Second, even though you had done this before, you read all of the directions ever so carefully and STILL managed to crack the cartridge's "easy to remove" top. Next, you put the magenta in the turquoise slot and vice versa and print out a whole bunch brown Christmas prints of The Goose. Then, you go to OFFICE MAX and deal with a hot but stupid red head who wants to sell you an expensive PHOTO cartridge for your Lexmark Z42 Inkjet printer rather than you just using your brain and buying the much more affordable and practical COLOR cartridge (since you have screwed up the other one and lost money on the refill thing). When you get home, you discover that if you have the PHOTO cartridge you STILL NEED THE COLOR CARTRIDGE so you go back to a different Office Max with your sob story about the dumb red head and no receipt because you have lost the receipt amongst all the CRAPOLA floating about your hosue ... but ALAS they are fresh out of #20 Lexmark COLOR inkjet cartridges that go in Z42 printers and so you then have to go to OFFICE DEPOT and get one, which is what you should've done in the first place rather than trying to save a dime. I stayed up all night aligning those damn cartridges, printing out cheesy Christmas pictures and pasting them onto or into cards. And then Husband wakes up this morning and says, "I never have liked that picture." TIMING, people, timing!
4. I love Reba McEntire. I know y'all knew this, but the same guy who gave us that huge stack of CDs a while back just gave me Reba's 50 #1s album. I have listened to it nonstop for approximately 37 hours now.
5. Country music is going to hell. There is a song out now that is called "What I Love About Sundays." It has cute lines about the choir singing "Amazing Grace" and naps and ballgames and fried chicken and then it says, "59 cents offa ground round, baby CUT THAT COUPON OUT ... that's what I love about Sundays!"

I do not have time for this blog anymore. I'll still try, but lordy!

Me & Goose, 30 Turkeys, Julie Aigner Clark, & WHERE I'M HEADED in 2006

Yep. That about sums up my day.

Do you see that Delicious Diddums, Boo-Snickums, Silly Goat, Goosey Guy right there in the pic with me? Have I ever said before that one day I might eat the cheeks off his face?

Sometimes I want to slap the cheeks off his face (brutal honesty has always been one of my attributes), but mostly I want to just eat him up with some salsa (America's #1 condiment).

Right now I am listening to the Housewives on Prozac's Christmas album. I am neither a housewive nor on Prozac, and mostly I hate all of their songs except for "Eat Your Damn Spaghetti" and "Naughty Santa." Here are the lyrics from the latter, just so you can get an idea ...

It was a quarter after midnight
Late on Christmas Eve
I finished wrapping the presents
And put them under the tree

Well I was getting comfortable
And then what did I see?

I must’ve been mistaken
I must’ve been confused
I saw Santa, slidin’ down the chimney
Wearin’ his underoos.

I left the fire burnin’.
I feel it burnin’ inside.
Well a big fat man
In a cute red suit …
C’mon and take me for a fire ride.

CHORUS
SANTA CLAUS
SANTA CLAUS
Did you come all this way just to give me lovin'?
It's a good thing I got some cookies in the oven.
Santa Claus, thanks a lot for comin'.
Would you like to have

Some

MILK?

Now don’t take Santa for granted
I never will again
He told me things I can’t talk about
Unless the kids are tucked into bed

Well it’s a long way from Who-ville
We’re gonna deck the halls
Take off your hat
Open your sack
Let’s play Jingle Balls.

Repeat Chorus.

I love it.

I mean, playing "jingle balls" with Santa is a little gross, but it's still funny.

ION ... (i.e., TRANSITION?)

If you have kids, you inevitably know about Julie Aigner Clark, founder of the Baby Einstein Company. Well, I checked out an older one of their videos from the library and at the end of it is Julie herself, explaining the thoughts behind the company (the part that doesn't include money. Money. MONEY BABY! Send it in to babyeinstein.com).

She is sitting there with her daughter and there is enough blonde hair to kill a man. Her hair alone could make twenty-five thousand Barbies and her daughter could also contribute to some non-profit doll endeavor funded by Oprah Winfrey for poor children in Africa or something. And they are just sitting there reading a story about sunflowers and there is Bach playing in the background and some impressionist paintings flashing on and off the screen among National Geographic video clips of the savannas in Africa and a croton plant beside their rocking chair and y'all: Julie probably has One Zillion Dollars in her pocket just from making some cheap videos of toys and playing the 2nd movement Dvorak's New World Symphony while giraffes lick each other.

In the credits of the video it reads, "Puppeteers: Julie Aigner Clark & John Jones."

WHY CAN I NOT BE THAT INGENIOUS? ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS PLAY SOME CLASSICAL MUSIC AND STICK YOUR HAND UP A PUPPET'S ASS TO MAKE ONE ZILLION DOLLARS.

Not that money is everything, of course. It's just that here I am teaching my heart out about grammar and politeness rules in English and there she is sticking her hand up a puppet's ass and making One. Zillion. Dolares. That's Spanish for "dollars," in case you were wondering who has STUDIED IN SPAIN AND ONLY REMEMBERS ENOUGH WORDS TO COUNT ON YOUR HANDS.

ION ...

Earlier today while The Goose was napping, there were 30 (count 'em) THIRTY turkeys in my driveway:

And speaking of white meat ... (WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE ONE OF THOSE SQUEAMISH ANIMAL LOVERS WHO likes the fact that aliens look down on Earth and think DOGS are in charge and who SUPPORTS NO-KILL SHELTERS):

We had to kill one of our chickens. One of them had gone practically bald and was prancing around BACKWARDS while grinding her beak into the ground, and so Husband shot her with a shotgun. She died honorably in the backyard, while her sisters watched. Yes, I know. I did tear up when I heard that part.

But y'all: WE DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH MONEY (or time) TO TAKE A DAMN CHICKEN TO THE VET.

So now we need a couple more to keep the others' company. We never should've had an odd number of them anyway. They peck on each other and really, even numbers are better when it comes to chickens (although NOT when it comes to other things).

ION ...

I am wrapping up the semester and am getting ready to start a new job. It's at the a school where one of the co-owners was once fired from a local private college for sexual harrassment, but HEY, it's gotta be better than working THREE NIGHTS a week teaching really sweet and respectful refugees, most of whom fled Kurdistan after Saddam Hussein dropped chemical bombs on their friends and family, right?

Right.

So I'll be working five days a week from 10 a.m. to 12 noon p.m. and The Goose will start going to "school" two days a week. On the other days The Dad will watch him and lord help us all. I am about to gain a comrade in this parenting business.

I am still planning to teach one night a week at the CC with the refugees just so that I can be near some Sudanese Lost Boys, whom I would totally invite to LIVE WITH US (all of them) if I ever went to teach class after a few toddies.

ION ...

I like that "Jesus, Take the Wheel" song and I am thinking about getting out my guitar as a New Year's Resolution. This is mostly stemming from the fact that I think I could've done a much better job as June Carter Cash in Walk the Line than Reese Witherspoon (don't get me wrong, I love me some Reese -- especially in Legally Blonde). I mean, I can say, "Quit clutchin' on me" and sing "JACKSON" with just as much cutesy tutesy as her and I am a natural brunette anyways. And plus, when we lived here in Nashvegas the first time (pre-grad-school-in-the-wild-west days) I took guitar lessons from the same man who taught Johnny Cash's son to play. So there. Hopefully that teacher has some openings for 2006, since getting back into MUSIC is one of my NYRs.

ION ...

This is what The Goose came home from school with this week:

And up to now I have refused to take him to get professional photos, but y'all, that greasy, cheesy man who snapped these little gems is now right up there with The Buddha, in my mind. I don't care that they're posed. I don't care that that all those presents are fake or that the little girl in line in front of us (who was in the throws of Terrible Twoness and was REFUSING ADAMANTLY to smile and stand sweetly by her 7-week-old-baby-brother-wannabe-Jesus (in a fake manger writhing around with fake hay and all)) made a huge scene while her mother and the photographer crooned, "KISS BABY JESUS!"

That LITTLE BOY in those pictures is MINE and I will spend all of our Saved and Reserved Money for Emergencies (such as ALL FOUR NEW TIRES ON SUSIE Q SUBARU) on copies of these photos because they stole my heart and put it in the witness protection program somewhere in the Australian outback.

I love that he has on that striped sweater and that a wrapped-up empty box is balancing precariously on his knee. I love the fontina background and I even love the "Cherish life's every moment" quote.

Forgive me. It's the last few weeks of 2005 and I am a proud mom. Let's see ... what else am I?

I am hungry a lot (albeit psychological).

I am trying to just live life fully. It's harder than just saying that you are trying to live life as best you can. It really is just about taking battles one at a time and, for me, doing yoga and hiking.

I am about to be an aunt (in May of 2006).

I am trying to get over the fact that the best person in my extended family is gone.

I am not the person who is typing.

I am the silent one inside.

I am ...

Thanks for asking

Long time no post. This one will be short. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has written to ask where I am. What an ego boost! Life got a little crazy ... here's what has kept me away:

1. Pappaw died.
2. Lightning hit our computer monitor.
3. Thanksgiving.

Now I'm back, hopefully. I usually post on Thursdays while Husband is working late and while I'm home alone drinking wine. That might explain some things.

I've gotta run now. Goose is awake from his nap and there is a whole lot of end-of-the-schoolyear work for me to do while he picks off all the Christmas tree ornaments.

Quote of the week:

"You need a fucking Ph.D. in Christmaslightology to decorate a damn tree." ~ Husband