Fearing the Fall

Because I'm over the fear.

2010-01-06T23:08:00.001-06:00

In 30 days this blog will self-destruct. Please follow me here for a new and improved place to hang.

A perfect summary of 2010 so far:

2010-01-02T01:15:00.003-06:00

Kolby
we should of got a pic of your kid running through the house with a flaming marshmellow

Taunya
if only
but we don't need physical evidence of that sort of thing.

Kolby
ritghhhht
nancy grace

Taunya
yep

closure

2009-12-16T23:11:00.001-06:00

I'm working through end-of-year closure one email at a time. Here's wishing the new year will really start anew...

Dear Izzy

2009-12-02T01:03:00.003-06:00

This is mine and Chris' new "project": http://dearizzy.blogspot.com/

Hopefully I do better online than I've done with her journals. And if you have any additional ideas please share! In addition, if you'd like to write her a letter yourself, let us know and we'll send you the logon info. (because there is no such thing as too many letters!)

Here's to raising our parenting "stock".

for the record

2009-11-20T08:34:00.002-06:00

Despite the current page of my blog (geez I've been depressing lately), things are good. I am happy. Positivity is slowly finding it's way back into the Dawson home. I've smudged, lit candles and spread more salt than one can imagine. The bubble is getting stronger.

We're taking Izzy to Grandma's for a week. Heading out for a relaxing camping trip and then coming home to an empty and clean house. I'm a superstitious girl (so I hope I'm not jinxing things here), but I hope to end this year on a positive note in order to bring in a positive new year. We're

Dear Ovaries, why do you do this to me?

2009-11-11T20:59:00.004-06:00

I once worked with a girl who claimed PMS was "an excuse" created by women to excuse their bitchiness. I should have said it then, but instead I'm going to say it now: "Screw you Erin." I'm not a gynecologist, but I'm telling you, there is something to this PMS.

I consider myself a fairly self-aware 30-something and I'm positive that I did not just use the "PMS excuse" to spend $130 on groceries consisting of 2 pints of ice cream, a Betty Crocker "Decadent Carrot Cake", hair color and Half & Half. I NEVER buy any of those things. In fact, now that I think about it, I only buy hair color when I'm on my period. I'm going to say it has something to do with my self-loathing during that time. But I swear at the time I was absolutely convinced that ALL of those things were essential to my happiness. It wasn't until I got home and unloaded groceries that I thought "WTF?"

The only reason I went to the store in the first place was because I was tired of yelling at my husband. Something else I NEVER do unless I'm on my period. No excuses there, just cold hard facts. And it should be noted that he is better at predicting my cycle than I am at this point. Because I buy dumbass shit from the grocery store and yell a lot. So once again, screw you Erin. I hope you are enjoying your well-balanced personality, free of the PMS rollercoaster.

2010 To-Do List (ongoing)

2009-11-09T18:48:00.003-06:00

I've decided to start a list of all the things I'd like to do/change next year. As most who have been following along knows, this has been my year of self-sacrifice, and honestly, this year has pretty much sucked as a whole. But to look at things optimistically and on a positive note (because Jessica insists I must do this) - this year has enabled me to really call next year as mine. Guilt free. And I'm really starting to look forward to the possibilities. So here is my 2010 list:

* Travel!! - I have trips planned to California, Portland and possibly Sedona. And if we manage to make it through the summer without completely breaking the bank (unheard of before now) - I totally plan on rewarding us with a trip to Scotland.

* "Me" time - I'm looking forward to finding some things next year for just me (as opposed to family). I'm considering a quilting class (Erin's t-shirt quilt has inspired me!), a fitness class of some kind (yoga, pilates or kickboxing), and learning to sew/knit.

* Get Crafty - In relation to the above post, I'd like to reverse my input/output next year. This year I have taken a lot in and most of what I have put out was to benefit others. In 2010, I'd like to create more. In a perfect world I'd always be working on a project. Knitting, sewing and jewelry making are on the tops of that list. I'd also like to make a stained glass mirror, some yard art and create more stuff to hang on the walls. Big goals, but it can be done if I'd just close this damned laptop.

* Get off the phone - I'm on the phone 90% more than I'd like to be. Next year I'm moving towards texts and emails as Emily assures me it should only take a year to "reset" the phone call abusers. This provides many benefits. A.) I'll be able to think before I speak; B.) My energy won't be sapped by people who like to call and say nothing; and C.) I'll have more time to work on my many projects.

* Change up social dynamics - Some of my friendships have been really "trying" this year. After several discussions and psycho-analytical sessions with my husband, I realized I've been putting wayyyy too much energy into our friendships and social circle. I'd like to bring the focus back to our family and put less energy into my friendships. The ones who love me will respect it, the ones that don't will move on. And finally, I'm okay with that.

* Get in shape - This is a repeat of above, but it needs to be mentioned again. I've been talking about it for 3 years, but I need to make it a top priority. I've been feeling tired, lazy and embarrassed by how out of shape I am. I really miss the days when I felt good about myself. It's time to finally do something about it.

* Make changes for Izzy - Bless her heart, she has no friends. I need to put her in some kind of pre-school and start her in some classes of her own. This will do a lot for her and ease some of the Mama guilt I've got going on.

Screw you 2009, Screw you.

2009-11-01T02:37:00.002-06:00

Serenity NOW!

p.s. - Screw you again 2009.

I think I AM doing my job, sir.

2009-10-22T15:22:00.003-05:00

Today on the way home from Izzfest grocery shopping I was stopped at a red light. I had my windows rolled down, enjoying the beautiful day, when the corner “Homeless Vet” started walking towards me. I didn’t want to be the jackass rolling up her window, so I just tolerated the rising anxiety.

“Hello there ma’am, how’s your day going?” he asked. “Good, thanks,” I replied. “Do you happen to have a dollar or two,” he asked. My anxiety rising, I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have any cash.” Shaking his head, he said, “It’s okay. I’ve done my job, now you are doing yours.” Nervous and guilty, I started fiddling with the radio. He lingered at my window until the light finally turned green and I drove off.

It wasn’t until I turned left that I started to get pissed and have my George Costanza moment, thinking of all the things I wish I would have said. Had I had it to do all over again (with bigger balls, of course) I would have said “You’re right. I AM doing my job. I’ve just spent a shot-ton of money for my daughter’s 3^rd birthday. I don’t have any money to give you because I’ve spent my last dime on birthday presents, brisket, eggs and fucking expensive-ass jelly beans that match the color of the Seuss theme. And don’t look at me that way. I’m responsible for feeding 30+ people on Saturday. People that have taken time out of their busy schedules to come celebrate with us. People that have fed us, people that have listened to our woes over the last 5+ years and people that are working just as hard as I am to get by.” I would have continued saying, “I appreciate your service to our country, but believe it or not, due to that service you should have a lot more benefits than I do at this very moment and I really wish you’d take the opportunity to explore those benefits as opposed to making me feel so damn guilty for not having a dollar bill on me. Thank you and have a nice day.” Next time I think I’ll just be that asshat that rolls up their window…

Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Come to Austin!

2009-10-18T02:31:00.004-05:00

So there we were, Chris and I coming home from an impromptu night out of Pictionary and Sweet Tea Vodka’s with friends. We drove on to 35 South from St. John’s, a drive we’ve driven a hundred times by now. We were absorbed in a rather serious examination of our relationship when a Chevy Tahoe almost sideswiped us. “Son-of-a-bitch,” Chris cussed, before slowing down to let the Tahoe get ahead of us. It was then that we noticed he was drunk. Really, really, really drunk.

It was just a couple of weeks ago that this same scene played out before us. Again, coming home from the same friend’s house at the same time of night (1:45am). And just like last time, we dialed 911. It didn’t take long to realize that this guy was far drunker than the last. As I talked to a 911 operator, the guy swerved across all three lanes of traffic, barely missing several cars. “I’m not kidding,” I told the operator, “this guy is going to kill someone if you don’t get an officer here soon.” We made this call at the intersection of 35 South and 8^th. The operator assured us she’d inform the police and dispatch someone immediately.

Meanwhile, drunk-driver is swerving across lanes, slowing down to 20 m.p.h. and then speeding up again. Chris and I both agreed that we would follow him until the police came because we were worried that he would hit someone and help would be needed. So away we go down 35, waiting for the police. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. At several points along the way it appeared he was going to exit, only to veer back onto the highway. And there we were, veering with him (albeit far more cautiously). By this time, 8 (or so) minutes had gone by and I called 911 again. I gave all the information again (only this time reading his license plate the “police way” – saying 125-Victor Charlie 9), and again expressing how crazy this guy was driving. “We are going to follow him, because this is not going to end well,” I tell the operator. “That would not be advisable,” she says, “you will become a liability.” Exasperated I say, “then you need to get someone out here quickly before he kills someone.”

Finally drunk-driver made a hasty exit onto William Cannon (about 10 miles down the road for those non-Austinites). We follow and suddenly see 2 police cars speeding down the exit ramp behind us. “Finally,” we both yell. Chris turns on his hazards, pulls over and rolls down the window to motion to the Tahoe. And just as quickly, both cop cars speed right by us as drunk-driver takes off through the light. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Chris yells. And off we go to follow. We drove down the feeder to Slaughter (where we witness him driving off the road, completely onto the grass, then back on to the road), then follow him into the SouthPark Meadows shopping center and right into a Jack In The Box drive-through where he abruptly stops. I call 911 again, informing them of his location (along with repeating everything for a 3^rd time). Again, they say they’ll send an officer out. And again, we wait.

4 minutes into waiting (because now I’m timing this shit), we see a security guard driving around the Walmart parking lot. We flag him down and inform him of the situation. At the same time we notice that cars are not able to access the drive-through because drunk-driver has apparently passed out in his car. We wait another 5 minutes (with another cop car driving right past us), before someone manages to flag down an officer who happened to be at the Whataburger next door. Turns out, she had received no calls. As we were giving our statement, she asked why we didn’t call 911. “We did – 3 times!” we said emphatically. She then said they would attempt to “find our calls” and attach them to the report, “should this guy be arrested and taken to jail.” My jaw dropped a little and I said, “Oh no, you can’t let this guy get back in the car. Seriously. He will kill someone.” And she assured me it would be “taken care of.” We drove off, without seeing the outcome of the situation.

Seriously, is Austin having some kind of police officer shortage? This wasn’t some slightly drunken individual who swerved across a lane or two. This guy was all over the place. He passed out in a drive-through for fucks sake. It was 25 minutes from the time we made the first phone call to the time the officers finally showed up. 25 damn minutes! I dated a cop for a (very!) brief time when I was still living in Baytown, and their response time was supposed to be 4 minutes or less. Most cops could make it completely across town in 2 ½ minutes (I had the pleasure of witnessing this on one occasion), and per Wikipedia, Austin is only 7 times larger than Baytown. I mean, come on already.

Either way, Chris and I did our good deed for the evening. Thank goodness he didn’t run over anyone along the way. Though, had he, I would have been prepared with my fancy Emergency Roadside Kit complete with bright orange triangles. ‘Cause lord knows, the Austin cops would have needed them to find us…

ode to friendship

2009-10-11T04:22:00.002-05:00

At a time when I’m questioning a small number of friendships, I’m also experiencing a deep and huge appreciation for my true friends. The last couple of months have been trying for me. Old friendships are going sour. New friendships are being put to the ultimate test. And I find my compass spinning wildly.

But the love I have for my solid friends has grown exponentially. They have advised me well. They have loved me through it. They have fed me literally, mentally and emotionally. New friendships have grown deeper. Distant friendships have come through in a crunch. It upholds my idea of friendship at a time when I could be questioning the whole thing.

This isn’t Baytown. We aren’t stuck together based on environment and circumstance. We have chosen one another. Based on similar philosophies, lifestyles and goals. We have thrown down and mended. We have walked away and come back. We have torn down and built back up.

Being a friend is tough for me. I’ve admitted as much since coming to Austin. I’m flaky, I’m opinionated and I’m outspoken. I’m sometimes a hermit and goodness knows I struggle with the concept of being quietly supportive. But once I consider you a friend, I will be there for you on a deeper level. I may flake out on shopping, but I will stay up into the wee hours of the night helping you work out daddy or relationship issues. I will feed you, I’ll let you borrow my car and put a clean blanket and fluffy pillow on the couch for you. I will hold your hand when you need a hand to hold. I ask for nothing in return except for you to hold my hand when I am in need.

And my friends have been holding my hand a lot recently. It’s not lost at all on me. In fact, I am drawing strength from each and every one of them in different ways. Their calm, their wisdom, their wit, their grace and their fight. I am humbled by these friendships – something I’ve never experienced before. And it’s worth all the nuttiness to experience something so worthy. Thank you to the 100^th power.

Nobody goes "full bad guy"

2009-10-09T00:47:00.005-05:00

We all have patterns that we repeat in our lives. Many of those patterns we find ourselves in time after time, many of which cause the same disastrous results time after time. And yet, time after time, we refuse to recognize or change those patterns.

I have a pattern. And I recognize it. But changing it is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Here’s my pattern: I walk around vocalizing my opinions all over the place. I’m open, I’m honest, I’m forthcoming. Eventually one of my opinions rub someone the wrong way and they attack. They don’t debate (I LOVE a good debate), they attack. And I defend. Somewhere in that defense I hurt their feelings and make them cry. It doesn’t matter how well thought out my defense is. It doesn’t matter that I tread lightly so as not to re-offend. I inevitably re-offend and I inevitably make them cry. It blows my mind that they cry because they so harshly attacked and so I come back with a soothing tone and try to “fix” the situation. Band-Aid applied, everyone is happy, rinse, repeat. I cannot begin to tell you how many times this situation has happened in my life, only to be repeated sometimes for years.

This particular situation happened again recently. And while I exhaustingly explained my actions to Chris, again, he simply said the following: “Do you know what your problem is? You never go full bad guy.” I laughed and said, “You never go full bad guy. Everybody knows that.” He explained that while I have conviction, I’m far too worried about what people think (which I deny, but then later realize that he is right.) I don’t want to be responsible for upsetting people, even if they are wrong and attacked in the first place. I’m “always playing defense, when I should be taking the offense.” He ended his explanation by saying “if this were Big Brother, you’d be going home while those other assholes would be staying.” Something about his analogy and movie misquote hit home with me. I finally got it and was able to see myself from an outsiders perspective (possibly because I LOVE to analyze Big Brother).

And if anybody should know, it’s Chris. He often goes “full asshole” and people love him for it (or despite it). But most of all, people know he has both conviction AND integrity. If you find yourself going up against Chris, you are forced to rethink your position because he so rarely gets involved. Or not. If you do not rethink your stance, he could give a shit. But he will not budge on his, nor will he apologize for it. And you will either love it or leave it (few leave it, frustrating me, but it has been known to happen). My problem is that I budge. I apologize for the way that YOU feel. I compromise my integrity. And by doing so, it allows people to feel luke-warm about me, and allows them to stick around to rinse and repeat. The real problem is that I talk a big game, but I’m a poor player. And I lose often. And after tonight’s pep-talk, I’ve decided to step it up. To stop compromising. To finally go “full bad guy” if need be. Because as we all know, nice gals never win.

vanity card #260

2009-10-05T23:50:00.002-05:00

CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #260

FASHION TRENDS

Dead is the new unambiguous. Bipolar is the new undecided. Heavily armed is the new born again. Bald is the new head... and the new crotch. Hairy is the new face. Sheepishly admitting to having an STD is the new flirting. Purell is the new face of fear. Finding the time that's right for you is the new impotence. The smiley-face emoticon is the new "sincerely yours." Smoking is the new outdoorsy lifestyle. Looking forward to insanely expensive private schooling, thousand dollar a week nannies and soccer is the new yuppie birth control. Misinformed is the new patriotic. Veganism is the new "tastes like chicken." Serotonin uptake inhibiting is the new crowd control. Texting is the new talking. Talking is the new singing. Singing is the new hubris. Gay marriage is the new "be careful what you wish for." And finally, and only because I really need this to catch on, fifty-seven years old is the new forty-five.

1st Aired: 5 October 2009

another day, another crazy obama email from family

2009-10-04T05:16:00.004-05:00

This pretty much speaks for itself. While I love my family dearly, they are not the most politically correct group of people I've ever known. And oddly enough, it infuriates them when I call them on it (when I am calling you on political incorrectness, you KNOW you've done wrong). And yet I feel it's my duty to do so, while still loving them as my family. Bless their hearts. And no doubt my response to this email will start a small war (which will surely be blamed on Obama as well), but what can I say? I enjoy myself...

p.s. - Names have been changed to protect the ignorant.

On Oct 3, 2009, at 7:58 PM, d. wrote:

I was watching TBS and guess what I seen ? Obama doing a commercial for the George Lopez show ! We have wars in 2 countries , our economy is in the tank . Unemployment is at a 30 YEAR HIGH , Iraq is working on a nuclear bomb and Obama is working on a commercial ! This is the same black mother fucker who only spent only 20 min in 9 months with his top General . Hell , he spent more time on the Olympics and look at what a good job he did there ( eliminated in the first round ) . This is kind of thing that will give me a heat attack ! I'm so freaking pissed , I'm having a hard time sending this e mail . I want anybody that voted for this clown to email back and tell me what he has done right ! I'll expect the email around the time hell freezes over and monkeys fly out my ass .

From: taunyadawson@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Somebody explain this !

I don't usually respond to these emails (really, what is the point), but for the record, he was not President of the United States at the time he recorded this commercial. It was recorded back in 2008 when he was a candidate. The same span of time when Sarah Palin was doing all of those stints on Saturday Night Live...

As for what he has done right, well without doing further research and just pulling off the top of my head I have a list of what I think he's done right. But that's just me. And I live in Austin, so I guess I probably don't count for much:

* He reversed a Bush signed order so that stem-cell research would be allowed and government funded.

* He reversed an executive order that refused the press to be present when our fallen soldier's caskets arrive back in the country. The new order allows the families the right to make a decision on if the media should be present or not.

* He expanded loan programs for small businesses.

* He expanded eligibility for the State Children's Health Insurance Fund (which saved your niece the first year of her life).

* Banned lobbyist gifts to executive employees.

* Extended unemployment, as well as expanding funding for Public Health Practitioners.

* He signed a bill to ban torture and inhumane treatment of prisoners.

* He froze the salaries for top White House staff members.

Granted, whether or not these things are considered a "success" lies in the eyes of the beholder. I, personally, do not feel like the "wars in 2 countries", the economy OR unemployment lies solely on him. There are those of us who could make a decent argument that Bush Jr., corporate greed, or personal irresponsibility should be to blame.

One last tip. You should probably refrain from using the term "black mother fucker" in the future. It only serves to negate your argument by making you look like a racist (and nobody supports a racist. Not in public anyway). While I'm sure you have very valid points, you don't want to lose your voice due to racism. Instead, how about "liberal mother fucker", or "worthless mother fucker", or even "socialist mother fucker" (which is actually completely inaccurate for anyone who is truly educated on Socialism). And by all means, do not have a heart attack over it. The Republicans need your vote.

Will I be seeing the monkeys flying out of your ass during my next visit? If so, I'd like to prepare Izzy for such a site. Her only reference to flying monkeys is the Wizard of Oz and they most definitely were NOT flying out of asses.

Lots of love,
~Taunya

hello mid-30's

2009-09-26T15:00:00.002-05:00

I turn 34 today. For the most part, I’m okay with it. I find myself proud of my age, wearing it like a badge of wisdom. I also find myself saying things like: “of course she feels that way, she’s in her twenties.” That’s not a dig on anyone in their 20’s, rather it’s the discovery that there is a shift when you hit your 30’s. You lose that sense of urgency. That fatalistic feeling that everything is do or die. You’ve most likely experienced love and loss and start to see that you will survive, and even be better after the experience.

I’ve learned that most clichés are true and are around for a reason. Here’s a list of some of what I’ve learned in my 30’s so far:

Communication is the most important part of relationships. The Most Important Part.
It turns out I do not know everything. In fact, sometimes I feel like I know nothing.
Weight is harder to lose as you get older.
Forgiveness is imperative to happiness.
I will survive.
If you don’t handle your shit, your shit handles you.
There are no rewards for martyrdom.
I’m not the fattest, ugliest, dumbest girl in the world. In fact, I’m pretty damn awesome.
Where attention goes, energy flows.
Moisturize, moisturize, moisturize.
Problems do not take care of themselves.
This too shall pass.
Sometimes love is not enough.
Oxyclean will get a stain out of anything. If Oxyclean doesn't work, use Incredible.
It’s not what you have, but who you have.
Nothing lasts forever.
You cannot change other people, but you can inspire change.
Putting grapes in the microwave creates a terrifying plasma explosion.
Honesty is always the best policy. If you cannot be honest, say nothing.
Anybody is capable of anything. Good or bad.
Once a cheater does NOT mean always a cheater.
Judge not, lest ye be judged.
The only way to be happy is to stay checked in to life. Checking out (ie: drugs & alcohol) only makes things worse and brings resentment from those around you.
NOBODY likes a victim.
Your life is your own. You are responsible for your own happiness and often times you’ll have to fight tooth and nail for it.

30DoW - bitch of the day

2009-09-16T22:23:00.002-05:00

Okay, I admit it. I’m a bleeding heart liberal. I’m also, personally, a socialist. Let me clarify. I do not necessarily support the idea of a socialist government. But personally, I’m a socialist. Example: I stop at a red light and there is a homeless person asking for money. I don’t think twice before opening my wallet and giving them half the cash I have (which I assure you is never more than $10 bucks). I have taken in a number of people who’ve needed a place to stay, fed a number of hungry people and believe in universal healthcare.

Chris and I have argued about this incessantly since the beginning of our relationship. He feels people take advantage. He feels it is enabling. And I don’t necessarily disagree. But my argument has been that it’s not the point. My personal feeling is that it doesn’t matter what they do. What matters is what I do. And I help whenever I can. I picture myself blessed and lucky and feel the need to pay that forward at every opportunity possible. I’m not much of a volunteer and I don’t tithe in church (I don’t go to church for that matter), so this is my small way of making the world a better place.

But I feel those days may sadly be coming to a close. Over the past few of years I’ve started to notice a trend. Some people whom I’ve helped, the ones that I know, have not been paying it forward. In fact, few have rarely taken advantage of the opportunity, instead, they’ve taken advantage of me (or us, rather). When I extend my hand to help those that I know, it does not come with strings attached (those kind of people irritate me). However, I do expect that it at least be appreciated. If I loan you money for food, I’d hope that you would shop for HEB Meal Deals, as opposed to going out for steak and wine. If I invite you to stay in my home, I’d hope that you’d at least clean up after yourself, not leave spaghetti-stained dishes in the bathroom.

I’m starting to believe that you cannot teach people to respect others. You cannot teach people to appreciate opportunities. You cannot teach people to pay it forward. Some people do it. Others do not. Some people actually bite the hand that feeds them. I think it’s learned in childhood, and if one doesn’t learn it, I’m starting to think they never will.

I remember a conversation I had with my dad’s best friend not too long ago (a “reformed liberal”). “I was once a hippy liberal like you,” he yelled (I had made him angry just prior). “You know what I got out of the deal? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I watched poorer people move ahead. I watched people hold out their hands. But when I needed a break, I got nothing! So you go ahead and give shit away, but let’s see where that gets you 20 years from now.”

I cannot change who I am. I will always help others and extend a hand when I can. I will continue to give money to those who ask. But politically, I feel I’m moving further and further to the right. I’ll never be “the right”, because those guys are just assholes. But while I used to describe myself as a “bleeding heart liberal”, I now find myself defining myself as a “moderate” or Libertarian. And Lord knows that has made discussions with my husband and family a little more tolerable. But let the record show (my dear husband), I’m not budging an inch on Universal Healthcare. I still remember the $1700 bucks we had to spend on 7 damn stitches, and the newborn baby we had to put on CHIPS, because we couldn’t afford $900/month for insurance. And I won’t be forgetting that any time soon.

30DoW - in loving memory of my Grandma

2009-09-14T23:55:00.003-05:00

I have truly been blessed with the best and most interesting of grandparents, so it was hard to choose just one to write about (and I feel a strong desire to revisit this topic at a later date). There’s my paternal grandmother, who was Wiccan and drop-dead gorgeous Dolly Parton-style. There was my paternal grandfather who defined the phrase “larger-than-life”. And there is my maternal grandfather who has become a huge part of my life in the last 5 years, sharing my love of politics, finances and general life philosophies. But this entry is devoted to the woman who played such a huge role in what kind of woman I would later become.

My maternal grandmother was known simply as Grandma. She was my favorite by far, because honestly, I was her favorite. She was born a bastard child from a prostitute mother in Taunton, Massachusetts, so she was never very fond of men. Looking back on her life, I’m positive that she married for security alone, as I doubt she would ever know how to actually love a man (including her son and grandsons). She never finished school; instead she went to work in a factory at the age of 12 or so. Because of that, she was illiterate into adulthood. I believe she taught herself to read at some point, because she was always working on crossword puzzles or word searches.

My first memories of her were when I was about 4 years old. She took a job at the Dairy Queen across the street from my daycare and I was convinced she was the coolest Grandma ever. When I was 5 years old, she took me out of daycare for a week to watch Luke and Laura get married (from General Hospital). I can remember it was a big fricken deal for both of us. After, I remember spending weekends watching the Late, Late Show (this supplied me with an impressive knowledge of “cult classics” such as Cat People, Godzilla and King Kong) while eating chocolate ice cream and then eventually falling asleep on the couch with her. I always slept cuddled up with her, either on the couch or in the king-sized bed her and my step-grandfather shared. I remember her being feisty, opinionated and fiercely competitive. We often played games together, everything from Solitaire to Rumikub. My step-grandfather even built a marble board the size of their dining room table that held 8 players. I remember sitting in my Grandma’s lap while she “killed everyone” at the table and me and her laughing the more pissed everyone else became. Christmastime was the BEST. She would give me a Sears Christmas Catalog and tell me to circle everything I wanted with a red marker. I think I enjoyed the shopping more than actually receiving the presents. But with her, I always received everything I wanted. The Holly Hobby canopy bed with matching gingham curtains and rugs, the prettiest of dresses and every doll my heart desired. I later learned that she was terrible with money. She had a bad habit of bouncing checks (something I also picked up from her in my 20's). But it didn't matter to her. She wanted to give me (and my mom) the world, and it didn't matter the cost or consequences (the cops actually came to her house with a warrant once).

At one point her health started to deteriorate. I remember she had to have a double mastectomy and my shock at seeing her naked after the surgery (they were not concerned about image, only function in the 80’s.) Shortly after, she was diagnosed with Emphysema. My mom went by her house everyday to help care for her and on a number of occasions I remember helping her take a bath. I can still hear her apologizing that I had to bathe her, and seeing her feelings of embarrassment. I assured her that I didn’t mind at all, while hoping to hide how uncomfortable I actually felt at the situation. Her health quickly deteriorated and she became more frail and weak.

I was 16 years old when she died. I wasn’t seeing her as often because I was a teenager and completely wrapped in my own world. It was 1992 and Ross Perot was running for President. My mom was a huge supporter of his and took my Grandma to register to vote for the first time in her life. During her last week in the hospital, she watched the Primaries non-stop. The doctors were amazed that she was still alive as her oxygen intake was next to none. But my Grandma was not ready to go. She held on for a week, eventually losing consciousness. The day she died my mom called me from the hospital. “I don’t know that she is going to make it through the night, you need to get up here,” she said. Again, I was 16 and angry, and had a trip to the beach planned that day. “Fine,” I growled, “I’m on my way.” Mom cried and said, “I’ll tell her you’re coming.” 20 minutes later I received the call that my Grandma had died. I believe her last words were “I’m going to vote for Ross Perot.” I also believe that she did not want me there to see her die.

I’d like to say I was torn up inside, but I wasn’t. I don’t remember feeling much of anything, to tell the truth. It wasn’t until 2 years later on the day of high school graduation that it hit me. My Grandma had never missed an event in my life. She was at every dance recital, school play, awards assembly – you name it. And now it was the biggest moment of my life thus far, and she was not there. And it hit hard. The morning of graduation, my mom bought me a dozen peach roses (my Grandma’s favorite color) and said, “she would have wanted these for you.” I remember sitting in my room alone looking at the roses and finally feeling the huge hole in my heart. The same feeling took hold at my first (and second) wedding and again at the birth of my daughter. Even as I write this, I choke back tears at everything she has missed, when she more than anybody (other than my mom) would have wanted to be there.

But then I realize the impact her life has had on my own. She inspired me to be strong, feisty and opinionated. She pushed me to be better and rise above. She taught me not to be a victim, instead to deal with what life has given you and fight with everything you’ve got. Because of her, I desperately wanted to actually love a man, not just need one. I learned that the little things would matter a lot with Isabella. Random trips to get ice cream, playing board games and staying up really late to watch a scary movie. And most importantly, she never failed to show me how much I meant in this world. I felt loved and adored unconditionally. I was the most beautiful and the smartest and the funniest girl in the world. And without having that kind of love, I’m not sure I would have ever known how to give it.

30DoW - Combo post on Motherhood

2009-09-09T01:35:00.004-05:00

I haven't had a chance to write lately, so I decided to make a combo post on motherhood for the 30 Days of Write. It's a bit long (to make up for lost time).

* The following "Parenting Job Description" is copied from the internet. I tried to find the original author to no avail. *

POSITION :
Mom, Mommy, Mama, Ma
Dad, Daddy, Dada, Pa

JOB DESCRIPTION :
Long term, team players needed, for challenging permanent work in an, often chaotic environment. Candidates must possess excellent communication and organizational skills and be willing to work variable hours, which will include evenings and weekends and frequent 24 hour shifts on call. Some overnight travel required, including trips to primitive camping sites on rainy weekends and endless sports tournaments in far away cities! Travel expenses not reimbursed. Extensive courier duties also required.

RESPONSIBILITIES :
The rest of your life. Must be willing to be hated, at least temporarily, until someone needs $5. Must be willing to bite tongue repeatedly. Also, must possess the physical stamina of a pack mule and be able to go from zero to 60 mph in three seconds flat in case, this time, the screams from the backyard are not someone just crying wolf. Must be willing to face stimulating technical challenges, such as small gadget repair, mysteriously sluggish toilets and stuck zippers. Must screen phone calls, maintain calendars and coordinate production of multiple homework projects. Must have the ability to plan and organize social gatherings for clients of all ages and mental outlooks. Must be willing to be indispensable one minute, an embarrassment the next. Must handle assembly and product safety testing of a half million cheap, plastic toys, and battery operated devices. Must always hope for the best but be prepared for the worst. Must assume final, complete accountability for the quality of the end product. Responsibilities also include floor maintenance and janitorial work throughout the facility.

POSSIBILITY FOR ADVANCEMENT & PROMOTION :
None. Your job is to remain in the same position for years, without complaining, constantly retraining and updating your skills, so that those in your charge can ultimately surpass you

PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE :
None required unfortunately. On-the-job training offered on a continually exhausting basis.

WAGES AND COMPENSATION :
Get this! You pay them! Offering frequent raises and bonuses. A balloon payment is due when they turn 18 because of the assumption that college will help them become financially independent. When you die, you give them whatever is left. The oddest thing about this reverse-salary scheme is that you actually enjoy it and wish you could only do more.

BENEFITS :
While no health or dental insurance, no pension, no tuition reimbursement, no paid holidays and no stock options are offered; this job supplies limitless opportunities for personal growth and free hugs for life if you play your cards right.

· I stir awake with the feeling that something is right in front of my face. That something is my daughter, waking me up with “Eskimo kisses”. My anger at having to wake up at 7am is softened by “Eskimo kisses” every time.

· I beg Izzy for “10 more minutes”, trying to entice her with my arm (she likes to sleep on my arm.) It works. For now.

· The next time I awake, it’s to Izzy in my face saying “Mommy wake up! The sun is up. Mommy you get up too!”

· I roll out of bed, get dressed (essential step when roommates are involved) and walk down the hall to the kitchen. I swear to myself that this will be the day I’ll stay awake and get some things done (like a 10 minute workout on the elliptical).

· I sleep-walk to the kitchen and put some cereal in a bowl and milk in a glass. Let the dog out then in. I turn on the TV to Nick and am greeted by the Backyardigans doing a little song and dance. A small amount of guilt sets in, but is eased by the pillow calling my name on the couch.

· I lie down on the couch, promising myself just “15 minutes”. Izzy hops up there with me and lies her head down on my arm. An hour later I wake up to Izzy standing in front of me with a gallon of milk, chocolate syrup, cup and a spoon. My heart fills with pride at how self-sufficient she is. I pour the milk into her glass, add the chocolate and watch her mix it up before she puts the milk away. I nod back off to sleep.

· I am awoken 30 minutes later when she drives a small car over my face. It’s at this point I realize I really do need to get up and face the day.

· I get up and change her diaper, swearing this will be the day I will potty train her (today is actually the day!!) Guilt once again sets in when I realize most kids are potty-trained at this point. The guilt subsides when I realize she won’t start college with diapers and that she is able to play computer games better than some adults.

· I check my email, Facebook and indulge in a little bit of online time.

· I then set about the daily task of washing clothes and cleaning house. I realize I could wash clothes with my eyes closed. Lift lid, turn knob, add detergent, add softener, stuff washer with wayyy too many clothes and repeat. Everyday at least twice a day. I wonder where the dirty clothes come from and swear to start wearing clothes for days at a time.

· After picking up, I finally respond to Izzy’s constant begging of “you wanna go play in Izzy’s room?” I walk into her room when she quickly shuts the door behind me signaling that I will be there for quite some time.

· I drink imaginary tea, eat imaginary eggs with peanut butter and toast and sit through her reading half of her bookshelf. I then teach her how to make a “book tower” involving stacking ALL of her books on top of one another. I am certain that she is learning some important skill here, but seeing as I know nothing about child development and quit reading the books years ago, I cannot be sure.

· I ask her what she wants for lunch and she responds with an expectant “ice cream”. I tell her no and decide to go with carrots and ranch dip instead. While this does not seem like a well-rounded lunch, I remind myself that she is most probably a vegetarian and that this will work.

· After lunch she sits down for the 103^rd viewing of ‘Alvin and the Chipmunks’. I wonder if Jason Lee went through a bad divorce, which is why he decided to star in this movie. I continue washing clothes.

· At 2:30 it is time for a nap. Izzy kicks and screams the whole way to the bathroom, cries while moving her step-stool, then insists on brushing her teeth by herself.

· We then walk to “Grandma’s room” (our room now) to lie down. We exchange kisses and “night-nights”, before she snuggles up next to me with her head on my arm. I vow that I will not fall asleep and I will use this time to get things done (like 10 minutes on the elliptical).

· 2 hours later I wake up with Izzy’s sweat all over my arm. I kick myself for falling asleep (again).

· I check my email, Facebook and indulge in a little more online time.

· I start thinking about dinner. I settle on grilled cheese because I am so damn tired of cooking dinner everyday. I experience a certain amount of guilt over this (it’s my job as a stay-at-home-mom, after all) but decide to add chicken noodle soup to round out the food groups and feel better about myself.

· I wash dishes and clean the kitchen (we dirty dishes like we dirty clothes, apparently.)

· I start dinner when Izzy comes running with her little pink step-stool wanting to help. I wash her hands and let her put the cheese on the sandwiches, thanking God she wanted to help on an “easy dinner” night.

· We sit down to eat dinner (on any given night this can involve 2 to 5 people, as we have quite a busy household), while Izzy exclaims how much she “LOVES grilled cheese”.

· After dinner, I let Izzy play her games. She sits down at the Mac, opens Safari, goes to the Favorites and finds her online game (nickjr.com). She plays until it’s time for a bath while I proudly envision her being a web developer and taking care of me in my old age.

· During bath time, she uses her bath crayons to draw circles all over the bath tub. I make a mental note to be sure to clean the bathtub before company comes over. But it can definitely wait until then.

· After her bath, she gets naked time. Whether we have company or not. I suspect this makes some people feel uncomfortable.

· The time comes for her to get dressed and go to bed. This is a battle every. single. night.

· Upon finally getting her to her room and in bed, we read 3 Rainbow Fish books. At this point she has 2 of the 3 memorized (including the cover page info. Involving publishers).

· After reading the books, I turn out the lights. She counts a few of the glow-in-the-dark stars on the wall, says her prayers and makes me promise to “sit” while she goes to sleep.

· I sit for about 3 minutes and then tell her I have to do something and I will check on her in a few minutes. On a good day, this works (though I have to check in every 2 minutes for about 30 minutes). On a bad day, she becomes worked up and cries for several minutes (to an hour) with me checking on her intermittently.

· After an hour she is usually asleep. It is then that I clean the kitchen again, finish the clothes and decide that I MUST get a job outside the home as soon as possible.

I'm not a fan of the 70's

2009-09-07T23:33:00.004-05:00

I will resume blogging tomorrow. I am too exhausted to think, let along think in paragraph form. I'm so tired I'm getting sucked into That 70's Show. Must. Go. To. Bed.

(I had to edit this post 4 times for corrections. Seriously.)

And I'm out...

2009-09-04T02:51:00.003-05:00

After smoking a half pack of cigarettes (really, I need to quit. Like now.), I'm feeling a lot better. I have to give huge props to an AustinMama who led me to this bit of info:

Godwin's Law

I remember reading about this a couple of years ago, but I thought it irrelevant at the time. I now look forward to the moment when I can say "Godwin's Law - I win." and simply walk away (or close the window to the internet world). No doubt that moment will come soon (most likely this weekend, as I'm heading back to my hometown). While I originally agreed with a recent comment that "nobody wins an argument on the internet," I do believe this is my magic ticket to a win. And it makes me very, very happy.

*Bonus* Mr. Godwin was an Austinite.

30DoW - I just can't "take you there" today

2009-09-04T00:11:00.003-05:00

I can't do today's writing assignment. I wanted to stick to the assignments as best as possible this time around, but damnit if today's goings-on don't have me all pent up. I'm going to go ahead and say it: I'm getting to the point where I want to leave this country. And that's just not like me. I'm a fighter, damnit! And the idea that I sat through 8 years of Bush only to want to leave even more during Obama (who I believe to be the best President in recent history), simply makes me want to cry. And I'm not even on my period.

Sure, the government is a mess. My husband will tell you all day long that none of them are worth a shit. And on a cynical day, I'll agree with him. But whatever. People have to act to make things better and we Americans are a damn lazy lot. It's the people in this country that have me terrified. They don't realize that it's them that's destroying America. Not the government. I'm all in favor of free speech. Really I am. I am not in favor of pulling kids out of school, attacking people at Town Hall's or shooting a man in his own church (for fucks sake!)

There's no point in me even trying to expand. I can't think clearly. I just have images and phrases running through my head like a bad pop song bomb. I'm going to spend the last of my energy cursing Glenn Beck and Fox News. Cursing them with every ounce of imaginary powerful magic my crazy Conservative family claims I have. Cursing them with the core of my being. And then I'm going to go to bed and pray that I wake up to a more beautiful world. Because despite my cursing and cynicism, I still have hope. But when that hope is gone (and I fear the cup is slowly emptying, I'm taking my family and getting the hell out of here.)

(Notice to authorities: I cannot be held liable should anything bad happen to Glenn Beck or Fox News. The above was neither a threat or a promise. Just a simple curse. And you know you guys don't believe in that sort of thing anyway.)

Because I have to vent somewhere...

2009-09-03T16:44:00.005-05:00

This was a Facebook status update from my ex and the resulting comments. I thought my comment would elicit some pretty harsh feedback, but alas, nothing. Regardless, I was so frustrated by their comments, I had to go somewhere to voice it, otherwise I would have quickly become an internet troll myself (by leaving one nasty remark after another). Unfortunately, this series of comments hit two nerves of mine: politics and censorship. Throw in kids and I become fighting mad. All I have left to say is a.) Thank God I got out of Baytown; and b.) Thank God I married up.

And so it begins:

Billy obama is giving a speech Tuesday at 11am directed towards school kids and the gov as ALLOWED school districts the right to choose if they wanna air it or not,I called my sons school to find out if they were gonna air it and they said they were but were sending home a paper I could sign if I object to it and I'm gonna sign it,if they didn't give that option he wouldn't have went to school that day!!!

6 hours ago · Comment · Like

15 people like this.

Billy AMEN BROTHER!!! OBAMA IS AN IDIOT AND OUR KIDS SHOULD NOT BE SUBJECTED TO IT ANYMORE THAN THEY ARE ALREADY!!!!!

Kari We're doing the same thing for my nephews, they don't need to waste their time watching that nonsense!!!

Billy Well when I sign the paper saying I dont want him to watch it Im going under the radar in the goverments eyes

Kari But there are SO many parents signing it, EVERYONE is going to be under speculation!

Scott heard on the radio today the newest Obama load of shit is he is wanting students to take a pledge to support their leader every day... someone needs to do something, fast!

Jana I need to look into this...are all schools across the good ole us doing this?

Billy I guess I shoulda added I dont really care if I am...just means they gonna waste thier time on me...

Billy Im pretty sure all the schools will have the option to show it but as far as the school lettin you sign a paper to allow them to watch it I dont know about that part...just call them and ask

Vera I'm with you Billy! My kids won't be subjected to any more of his bull shit if I can prevent it! I'm signing the paper in the biggest sharpie marker I can get my hands on! If my kids are going to have to "pledge to support their leader" they better come up with some sort of pledge toward me because I will be damned before I let them pledge ANYTHING to him!

Kari I think it is TOTAL bs that they question the pledge of allegiance and prayer in school but yet they'll televise this trash!

Julie I signed both forms for my kids!! That should be something shown during the evening hours and not during school. What a waste of valuable instructional time. It's my job to guide my childrens morals and values not Obama's.

Dana Don't get me on my soap box about this. They think it's okay to take God and prayer out of school, but they can bring in the President. We shouldn't talk religion in school, but politics are okay. Oh, yeah, religion is okay, just not JESUS!! This is absurd!! Honestly, I think the children than NEED to hear someone tell them how important education is and that they should be in school so they can grow up and get a job and support themselves and not ask for a handout will be there - my children; however, will not be there!! The Good Lord gave me my children to take care of and to teach them MY values, NOT Obama's.

Dawn i don't think i need to comment on this. i am signin the paper as well. it doesn't belong in the schools. i can watch it from home if i wish,WHICH I WILL NOT!!!!!

Michael Here is the "change" that everyone wanted ( BTW this is not a race issue.. I hate how when you are white and don't support Obame.. The race card is automatically played... I'm not racist.. I would have voted for Condaleeza or Colin Powell.. I watch Opera ..the Cosby Show.. and I like Tupac)

Jeremy I don't have any kids (just the occassional anonymous father's day card), but I'm gonna go around to as many schools as I can and pretend to be someone's dad and start signing papers!! Any one kid saved is worth it!!

Taunya I'm most definitely going to get flamed for this, but wouldn't it be more productive to let your kids watch the President of the United States speak (right or wrong, he is still the President. Maybe not YOUR President, but President nonetheless), and then discuss your problems with his speech later that night, rather than to avoid it altogether? I wasn't a fan of George W's (no need to burn me at the stake for that) - but I would want my daughter to hear everything he had to say and then have a commentary on why I thought he was right or wrong. A "teaching moment" if you will....

Jarrod I second everyone's opinion. Even without kids, I am offended. Now that adult America is awake and saying "Hell No!", do they think they can really plant their seeds in future voters? W doesn't seem so bad anymore does he...

Christopher Dawson while the dislike of a president and his agenda (or the congress, for that matter) is completely yours to discuss with your children, the undeniable fact remains that without discourse the next generation of our country will be more diminished and even more out-of-touch than ours. if you really fear a socialist regime and earnestly desire to protect your children, then the greatest defense to provide for them is a logical and open discourse. nothing will be gained by shoving your kid's heads in the sand. if a patriot is uninformed or misinformed, then he is nothing better than a terrorist and a threat to his own countrymen.

Billy Well I was waitin for some liberals to chime in and glad you did...1st he is my president even though I dont like that 2nd Im not shoving my sons head in the sand its just that he doesnt need to make remarks towards the kids...there was another leader that made great speeches and talked to the youth...his name was Hitler! Look how that worked out! Me and my son can discuss everything that is going on but dont want a liberal school to teach him

Michael... Texas should just secede from the Union and have Chuck Norris for president and Ted Nugent for vice president. Don't mess with Texas!

Sarah I am not going to let my boys see it. I will make sure they stay home if the school doesn't give us a choice. I'm with all of you. Amen Billy!!

Christopher Dawson well, to be exact i am a libertarian, not a liberal. i find that a lot of folks i speak with (libs and reps) have become too easily caught up with name calling and invoking the name of hitler. and, for the record, george bush talked to our youth, too. he also urged that america's youth dedicate themselves to a life of service:

(link deleted to save space)

BTW---neither the republicans or democrats are on your side. all this stuff is a smoke screen to keep us occupied and our attention focused elsewhere.

Billy Chris I do agree with you that the goverment isnt here for us "little" people anymore and hasnt been for many many years.I dont recall Bush giving a speech during school hours where parents were at work and couldnt monitor what was being said...but he was in there 8 years so he might have snuck one in

Taunya Bonner Dawson I am quietly stepping away from this comment and moving to my own (on the same issue). God Bless America! (hahaha)

Kari Like Michael said, this is not a race issue nor is it repubican vs the world. We are not "putting their heads in the sand" by not having our kids watch this presentation at school, we just choose to educate and inform our children at home. I do not have children but am a very active part of my nieces and nephews lives. My 14 yr old nephew was at my house months ago and had questions regarding our president. I explained some isues and posisions to him and also helped him look up info on the internet to educate him on Obama. I do not think they should watch this video at school wthout parental supervision to interject when needed. It almost comes across to me like Obama picked this time (when parents are at work and kids are at school) on purpose; almost like he feels he can "brain wash" their neive minds into supporting him. Above all that, my biggest issue with it is the simple fact that congress has been pushing for years now the seperation of school and state. Why is it ok now???

Taunya Bonner Dawson Simple question. Would you guys have felt the same way when Bush was in office? (There's no tone or accusations there, just genuinely curious. Know that I'm treading as lightly as possible.)

Christopher Dawson actually, congress has been doing the exact opposite:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Child_Left_Behind_Ac t

passed with a bipartisan vote and has had its funds increased over and over. the reason they are talking to the kids now is because they know most parents dont educate their own kids and their publicly funded schools dont really teach anything. what better time than now to begin the 1984 generation? this is not obamas doing or the current congress. this was started a long time ago and no one is more responsible for this happening than the people who elect these career politicians over and over. for any malady that affects a democracy, only the governed (where the power rests) are responsible for allowing it to continue. if you want to protect your kids, or anyone else's kid, vote for a third party. any one of them. eliminate the two party system. BTW--has anyone paid attention to the most recent anti-food bills that were introduced in congress? do you like food?

Shelly I looked at the link abt bush. yes he did, but those were graduates. Not elementary kids. graduates pretty much know what bs is. our elementary lids don,t btw I wouldn't my kids either

Jarrod I'll tell you what, I SERVED my country before anyone asked me to. My time in the Air Force shaped who I am today and it helped to open my eyes to what really matters. I'm tired of people trying to tell me how what when and where to run my life and then try to cram it down my throat anyway. Time for debate is over in my book. We've taken a wrong turn recently as a government. Continuing in this direction is "sticking our heads in the sand". When will someone pull their head out and make a U-turn? Probably way too late. Our grandchildren will be paying for our mistakes and hesitations.

Some people loved to bitch about the past administration. Guess what, now it's my turn on this one...

Christopher Dawson how can graduates know what BS is if they are taught by liberal universities? i think that arguing semantics might be an exercise in futility. youth is youth. besides, is it a fair assumption to guess how whatever obama chooses to say will impact those kids? i highly suspect they will leave school as obama-zombies. more to my previous point, whatever the case may be, obama is just a figurehead. this is bigger than obama and it has nothing to do with socialism. a leisurely read of 1984 would offer a more realistic possibility. anyway, i did find a transcript of an address by Bush Sr to school children, pumping up learning and how it is cool to be smart. but, i suppose one could argue that this was not the entire nation, but whatever. it is senseless to split hairs...unless one simply insists on being right to support their own opinion, which is neither right nor wrong.

http://bushlibrary.tamu.edu/research/public_papers.p hp?id=3394&year=1991&month =9

Christopher Dawson http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nineteen_Eighty-Four

Dennis For those wondering about BHISD see the following from the school Website. www.barbershill.isd.esc4.n

et/

Address to students...

President Obama will deliver a national address to students on September 8 at noon ET. The president will challenge students to work hard, set educational goals, and take responsibility for their learning. BHISD will not broadcast this live to students. There will be a link to the recorded broadcast after Sep 8 so parents and students can watch it together.

Angela thanks denny..my kids go there. that answers my question. i would've kept mine out that day too.

------------------------

I don't have any more to say on this. I'm spent just re-reading it. But bless these poor kids hearts, they are our future.

30DoW - Screen CAPTCHA

2009-09-02T23:59:00.001-05:00

Write in favor of something I dislike immensely. That is today's task. At first I thought "No problem." I'm Libra, after all. I see two sides to everything. Turns out, age does make you set in your ways. Conservative Christians? I couldn't even if there was a new car in it for me. Republicans? I could do it, but I'd have to go into political philosophy and Chris would surely correct me along the way. The pro-life movement? I don't even want to think about it.

So instead I'm going to go against my general nature and keep it light. I'm gonna go with word verifications, otherwise known as CAPTCHA's. I'm an old school blogger and commenter, so the uprising of the CAPTCHA has gone from a random annoyance to a regular irritant. But wait, I'm supposed to be writing in favor.

According to Wikipedia "a CAPTCHA is a type of challenge-response test used in computing to ensure that the response is not generated by a computer." Basically, it aids in filtering out unwanted ads, spam and automated postings to email, blogs, forums or wikis. The term "challenge-response" should not scare you away. They are designed so that "most humans can solve" them. Of course, you might not be able to read the first, second or third CAPTCHA, but eventually you will get the random letters and numbers correct. Unless of course you can't due to a disability or because it is simply too difficult to read. But do not worry. CAPTCHA creators have designed an audio CAPTCHA for your convenience. No doubt that anyone who has ever had voice activation on their cell phones are overjoyed to hear about how easy an audio CAPTCHA will be! So rejoice in the technology that serves as a constant reminder of how irritating us humans have become in this technological age. Be free of spam and trolls! But please remember that CAPTCHA's do not actually have to be real words, nor are they an internet fortune cookie. Do not make the mistake of trying to use them in a sentence or find meaning in the one you have been provided. They mean nothing and yet they do everything! (Unless the spammers are employing cheap labor or have developed character recognition software. Which is not only possible, but probable in this day and age. But let's not think about that!)

30DoW - Full circle

2009-09-01T22:28:00.003-05:00

So here we are. Back at the beginning. It feels like that in a lot of ways, but I'm sure I'll go more into that later this month. As for now, my intentions. Honestly, they are similar to before. I'd like to branch out in my writing style (the last 30DoW was a branching out FAIL). I'd like to improve what little style I have (because admittedly a wordsmith I'm not) and I'd like to finish what I start.

As for me, I'm a tightly refined mess. But I'm working on it...

Above all else, be prepared.

2009-08-31T16:07:00.005-05:00

I come from a long line of survivalists. And more than a couple of times in my life I've fled hurricanes or pending disasters due to my grandmother's astrological predictions (that never came to fruition). Because of this, I feel like I have a healthy grasp of emergency preparedness skills. While I seriously doubt the day will come when we will have to "bug out or hunker down", most especially in Austin, it's in my blood to be prepared for nearly anything.

Shortly after having Izzy, I felt the need to prepare a "Go Bag" in the event we needed to leave town quickly and survive in the woods. Eccentric nesting, to say the least. So Chris and I headed up to Academy and stocked up on everything from mosquito nets to water purification tablets. $300 bucks later, we had the most well-rounded emergency bag one could ask for. Granted, there's no way on Earth we could carry this thing through the wilderness (essential for survival), but we could always ditch the tent, coleman stove and camping dishes if we absolutely had to. Regardless, we were prepared.

Today I got another itch. Perhaps it's our upcoming trip to the ranch. Perhaps the heat and the drought are getting to me. Or perhaps the recent Glenn Beck/Rush Limbaugh love-fest has freaked me out beyond repair. Either way, I felt compelled to make a quick run to Walmart today to stock up again. And now I can rest easy knowing that if the government collapses, H1N1 becomes a worldwide epidemic and zombies come out of the woodwork, I have done what I can to make it through another day.

In the event you want to 'hope for the best and prepare for the worst' along side me, here are some helpful links to get ya started:

Because everything you need can fit in a mint tin: Altoids Survival Tin

The authority on survival: Survival Blog

Everything you need on the cheap: The Sportsmans Guide

When shit hits the fan, go here: SHTF

when you wish upon a board

2009-08-25T12:58:00.004-05:00

So as of last night, we are the proud new owners of a '07 Jeep Patriot. After a weekend of headaches, bartering, bitching and panicking, Chris finally brought her home for good. The deal we got was AMAZING. 48 month financing at 8 1/2% interest (we were shocked!) and we actually financed LESS than we did on the Ford Focus. A better quality car that we love for less money. The Jeep that I've always wanted. Who'd have fricken thought?

It's funny... at the beginning of the year I put together a vision board. I'd been hearing about them here and there (okay, why lie, I heard about them from Oprah) and I decided to create my own. On one side I put my health goals. Healthy eating, exercising, meditation and doing my best to retain an inner calm. The middle is, of course, my family. Things to remind me to be a better wife, mother, daughter and friend. I also put up worldly reminders. Recycle, donate, reuse, give to others when possible. The last images I put on the board were materialistic. A cute little house on a lot of land (with a garden) and an S.U.V. I remember when I taped the S.U.V. image to the board I laughed to myself. All of this other stuff was possible, but an S.U.V.? That would take a miracle. But whatever, "here's to hoping", I thought.

True that. Here's to hoping. Once again I am reminded that one should never underestimate the value of focus, determination and a (mostly) positive attitude. Once again I am reminded that it is usually darkest before the dawn. And once again I am reminded that everything happens for a reason. I'll spare you the rest of the cheesy cliches running through my head...

Now I that I am a firm believer of the vision board, I can change my focus. S.U.V. - check. Better wife and mother - check. Global insight - check. Size 8 ass and no double chin - starting tomorrow.

apparently the bad luck can last longer

2009-08-22T01:16:00.004-05:00

Our car (that we're still making payments on), needs a new compressor to the tune of $1100 (a third of the value of the car that we are still making payments on). This car was a blessing when we bought it, but I'm over it. Completely.

It's become obvious to me that it's time to make a sacrifice to the car gods above to break the Dawson/Bonner car curse that we've got going on. Until then, I'll just wrack my brain for some kind of solution to get us out of this situation (as we also need to replace our back-up car after Chris' most recent accident).

It's like I was telling my mom this afternoon, when the only hope you have is winning the lottery, you are in pretty bad shape. But whatever. We've been here before and made it through, and as my mom has told me since the ripe age of 5, this too shall build my character. Which means I'm going to have hella character by the time my life comes to an end...

bad luck can only last so long

2009-08-18T21:04:00.005-05:00

Chris and I decided to postpone our trip to Portland tonight. It's just another addition to our craptastic week. On the plus side, we won't have to stress trying to take a vacation right before Izzy's birthday (which is the event-of-the-year for us).

I am just determined to get our money straight this year, despite additional car problems, extra mouths to feed and unnecessary traveling. And living paycheck-to-paycheck is not the best time for vacations. As I told Chris, "How can I enjoy a vacation while I'm beating myself up about the money spent?" I thought I could do it. I've joked that we may have no money when we get there, but damnit we were going. And we're still going to go. We have until January 23rd of next year to use the tickets. And we HAVE to go. I need to do this. For me and for us. We've put so much energy this year into other people (one of the many reasons we are broke as hell), that we need to do this for ourselves.

Unfortunately, it's going to mean saying "no" to other people. And while I thought I was very good at that, it turns out I actually suck at it. I don't want to let people down. I want to be there for them. I want to help others. Even if it drains me to the point of financial and emotional depression. And like they say on airplanes, you must first put the oxygen mask on yourself before you can help others. So from this point forward, we are going into lockdown. We are going to straighten out our finances once and for all, and then reward ourselves with a weeklong wintry trip somewhere (Portland may not be the best place to visit in the wintertime). But as God is my witness, we are leaving Texas within the next 6 months.

in memoriam

2009-08-15T14:51:00.006-05:00

My great Uncle Carl died today. I was shocked at how emotional I became when I heard the news. For a few moments, I couldn’t stop crying. I’m not sure if I cried for myself, for my aunt Carole who had just celebrated her 50^th wedding anniversary with the man she loved, or for the fact that the world had lost such a beautiful man.

In truth, I hadn’t seen Uncle Carl in just over 10 years. Since Great Grandma and Papa John’s death, we no longer had much of a reason to visit Illinois where my mom grew up and Uncle Carl & Aunt Carole still lived. While I hadn’t seen him in a very long time, he’s still one of those relatives I felt pretty close to. Mostly because as a kid he made such an impact in my life.

Uncle Carl was a farmer, and looked every bit the part. He was a big man who usually wore overalls and always had rosy cheeks. He was very much a “Northerner”, quiet and reserved, but had a laugh that would fill a room. I never heard him raise his voice, and he never seemed like the kind of man to lose his temper. He was the personification of a “gentle soul”.

Growing up, Mom and I would usually make a trip up North every 3 or 4 years. Every visit we’d go to Carole & Carl’s farm after Sunday church for dinner and homemade ice cream. When I was in elementary school, I remember him giving me my first tour of the farm. We walked out into the cornfields where he showed me how to shuck corn. I took a ride on his tractor, amazed that it had a nice radio and air conditioning. When I was in high school, he drove me out to the Grain Mill where I got my first ever stock lesson. He explained that you had to plan your trip right, because some days were better than others for selling your crops. And that trip determined the rest of your year, because farmers only got paid once, and that money had to last for an entire year (which is why farmers wives had to be self-appointed accountants).

After high school, Mom and I made another trip up North. The family drove to Camargo, Illinois where the Douglas County Museum had set up a Korean War Exhibit. It was at that time I found out Uncle Carl had been in the Korean War. He was a conscientious objector at his time of his enlistment and went on to become a medic. He and I walked the museum together while he humbly told me the story of how he earned the Silver Star Medal (he earned many others, I later learned). I remember stopping after the end of the story and saying “Uncle Carl, you’re a true hero!” He turned a brighter shade of red, looked down and said “No honey, I just did what I had to do at the time. There were very little heroics involved.”

I have one other memory of Uncle Carl that stands out in my mind. He and Aunt Carole had driven my Great Grandma and Papa John down for their last visit to Texas. We were all having dinner at Mom’s house and Uncle Carl said out of nowhere “Ya know Taunya, you have a very close family member who was a part of the KKK.” He sort-of chuckled as the shock set in. “Who?” I asked in utter amazement. He chuckled again as he looked into the other room where my gentle Great Grandma sat. “NO WAY!” I said as I ran to ask Great Grandma about the details. “Oh Carl,” she said with her tickled grin, “was there any reason to share that with the family? Don’t worry honey, we weren’t against the blacks back then. We didn’t even have any blacks in Camargo, Illinois. We were angry at the Catholics.” Amazed, I asked “Did you burn crosses in people’s yards?” She laughed. “No honey, the KKK was about bake sales. We baked cookies. Now what your grandfather did back then is his business, and he was probably right to take it to the grave with him.” We then launched into one of the many history lessons Uncle Carl was known for.

My heart hurts that I will never again have a chance to benefit from Uncle Carl’s wisdom and grace. That I will never again feel the pride that came from eliciting a chuckle from him. That I will never sit next to him as he churns homemade ice cream or ride along side him in a tractor. My heart breaks for his family; my great aunt who never had any love for a man other than him and my cousins who had the honor of having him for a father and grandfather. I know how large the hole in my heart feels today, I can’t fathom how large theirs is. All I do know is that we were all blessed to have known such a wonderful man.

red rage

2009-08-12T08:13:00.004-05:00

I wrote a long entry last night that was pretty much hating on conservative Republicans, but then I deleted it. No need to stir that crazy pot.

But after watching FOX News all evening, I will say this: Glenn Beck and Hannity are not only nutjobs, but they are starting shit with Americans. My hatred for Glenn Beck is obviously becoming unhealthy, because last night I had a dream that I tied him up and kicked him in the balls repeatedly while wildly yelling "Carpe Diem!" No weird subconscious meaning there....

purge

2009-08-08T17:33:00.003-05:00

She pulled into the driveway next to the old yellow station wagon. A familiar feeling of dread came over her as she rested both hands on the steering wheel and sat staring at the small white paint-chipped house in front of her. The house that was once bright, well manicured and full of life. The house that held a childhood of memories, ranging from the joyously good to the depressingly bad. Images flowed through her mind like a quick slideshow. Her and her best friend running through the lush green grass and sliding head first onto the slip-and-slide. The morning she tried to make her parents breakfast in bed, only to catch the old green toaster on fire and woke them up with a shrieking smoke alarm instead. Evenings spent popping popcorn, making milkshakes and sitting down to watch Wrestlemania, while her mother groaned and her father rubbed his hands together in excitement. Those memories dissolved into the later years. The years of yelling, crying, and slammed doors. Her smile quickly faded.

She slowly got out of her car looking around. Time had not been kind to her neighborhood. It was located in the older part of town. Once a neighborhood filled with the sound of children laughing, weed eaters weeding and retirees pushing their pecan rollers on the ground, was now littered with the sound of cars bumping their bass, children crying and a couple yelling down the road. She walked up the cracked sidewalk to the tattered screen door. She remembered when she had accidently fallen and pushed the corner of the screen out of it’s frame. It had been years ago and time had succeeded in dislodging more of it so that it now looked like a large turned down page of a book. Fitting, perhaps.

She put her key into the lock and took a deep breath. This was not her life anymore. She knew that, yet still she could feel the dread rising, causing her breath to become short and a lump start to form in her throat. She reminded herself that she had successfully escaped this place. That it was just a chapter of her life. A chapter that served to remind her what can happen when people stop trying. A cautionary tale on giving up and checking out. The all-too-familiar snapshot of a family unraveling. Taking another deep breath she turned the key, braced herself for the overwhelming feeling of despair and walked in.

movie and a shower

2009-08-07T00:24:00.003-05:00

Our new roommate, Dan, is a movie watcher. He is particularly fond of the classics. Because of this, I am currently viewing Apocalypse Now: Redux. I'd much rather be watching my DVR which is full of much lighter fare, such as Big Brother, The Cleaner or even The History Channel special on Caligula. All of these options are much lighter than fricken Apocalypse Now.

Watching this movie makes me want to take a shower and wash away the viewing. There are many other movies that make me feel the same way. Full Metal Jacket, Requiem for a Dream, Natural Born Killers, Mulholland Dr. (and basically anything else David Lynch has done), Reservoir Dogs, A Clockwork Orange and Trainspotting. There is something so deeply disturbing about these movies, a quality that I wish I wasn't aware of in human nature, that it literally makes me want to vomit and take a shower.

I must assume that capturing this quality so well on film is exactly what makes it a classic. And many people (my roommate being one of them) enjoys watching these types of movies on a semi-regular basis. And honestly, to each his own. But I prefer light and fluffy. I'll take He's Just Not That Into You over a creepy Marlon Brando any day.

the quest for perfect toilet paper

2009-08-05T16:51:00.007-05:00

I'm a brand whore. It's something I'm trying to change, as I realize there is absolutely no difference in French's mustard and H.E.B.'s version. But some things I just cannot scrimp on, and toilet paper is one of them. The main reason is because I have allergies. And cheap toilet paper makes my nose hurt. Or it falls apart while I'm blowing. And that blows (ha!).

My mom has always bought the fancy toilet paper (Chrons Disease will make a woman do that). Triple rolls with aloe and fragrance and everything else you can put into a roll of toilet paper. But that crap is expensive, and I can't stand toilet paper that is too soft and leaves behind lint. At the same time, I can't stand toilet paper that is too rough either. Basically, I'm the Goldilocks of toilet paper. And finally, after many, many years I've found something that's *just right*.

Charmin Basic is my new favorite toilet paper. In fact, I think it's the closest thing to perfect that toilet paper can be. For starters, it's $5.99 for a twelve pack of BIG rolls. But not so big that they don't fit on the toilet paper roller. Second, it's a strong single-ply. I hate 2-ply because the paper often comes apart creating chaos (yes, chaos.) Next, it's soft without being linty. Last, it's scent free. Often times scented paper only makes me sneeze more in the midst of an allergy attack. Basically, Charmin Basic is basic. Simple. And perfect.

seriously women? seriously?

2009-07-31T01:34:00.008-05:00

Look, I'm no hardcore feminist. I prefer that men mow the grass, carry heavy boxes and open my doors while out on dates*. But what the fuck is going on over on VH1? Why am I seeing a houseful of bikini-clad women vying for Brett Michaels affection? Why am I watching a woman drink herself into oblivion for the sole purpose of trying to convince the others that she is "not innocent"? Seriously? And for the love of the Goddess, why are all these damn women crying or fighting all the time???

Tonight is the first I have seen this show. I've heard about it and immediately knew I wanted no part. I am so f'ing tired of these shows where women are competing for a man and making themselves look stupid and worthless in the meantime. And yet, here I am, still watching this mess of a trainwreck. And wanting to scream at the top of my lungs.

HAVE SOME DIGNITY!! QUIT FUCKING CRYING!! PUT SOME CLOTHES ON, PUT DOWN THE DRINK AND PICK UP A BOOK!! FOR THE LOVE OF WOMEN EVERYWHERE!!!

Seriously. I'm tired of it. It's one of those things that make me want to climb dangerously to the top of a radio tower in L.A.** and not come down until all of these shows are removed from TV and women everywhere quit acting like dumb whores. My nightly 2am viewing of West Wing cannot come on soon enough***....

* On men opening doors for me. I've decided that opening doors is a gentlemanly gesture that I greatly appreciate. I don't expect, or even want, men to open my door at the office. At the office, I want to be considered equal. In fact, it's much like carrying a heavy box. At work, I can do it. I don't need anyone to do anything for me. Outside of the workplace, I consider it especially kind if a man asks if I need help carrying something or reaching the case of water on the top shelf of the grocery store. Poor guys. No wonder they have such a hard time figuring us out...

** A la Daryl Hannah's tree climbing incident (which was far more interesting than I remembered it being).

*** As it turns out, West Wing is not on tonight. My anger and frustration will have to be curbed by a viewing of Cold Case, which in turn will probably leave me feeling icky and depressed.

**** I just realized all of this would go away if I would just throw my damn TV out the window once and for all...

{Edit: Tonight's episode of Cold Case is actually a fictionalized version of the West Memphis 3, a case I've been following since 1998. In '99 I felt so strongly about the cause I actually donated money to their defense fund. Infuriatingly, the three boys (now men) are still incarcerated...

I guess my point here is that not all TV is bad. Especially if it brings awareness to issues we may not have previously known about. Still, women vying for men on national TV suck.}

get it

2009-07-22T23:57:00.002-05:00

Today has absolutely made up for the week of inactivity I've had. I can either be emotional or physical it seems, I can't do both. And all week I've been planning, plotting, thinking and revising. In the mean time, I didn't get a damn thing done.

So today was my day of work. I dusted, mopped, shampooed carpets, washed dishes, cleaned toilets and gave Zoey a bath. In addition, I wrote out my Last Will and Testament. It feels so good to get things done. It feels good to be exhausted. It feels good to ache. And now my life is clean and organized again. I can (literally) die happy.

because history ALWAYS repeats itself.

2009-07-20T15:21:00.004-05:00

Chris and I are about to embark on yet another adventure. It seems we can't stay away from them. Just when we think the dust is settled, just when we let out our first breath of fresh air, a storm blows through again. I think a therapist would say we ask for it. I think (if I'm completely honest with myself) I'd have to agree. While I didn't stand outside and do a raindance this time, I definitely didn't "batten down the hatches". And I most definitely knew the consequences to saying "yes".

Now the goal will be for Chris and I to remain a united front. Today we had a discussion about the difference between "support" and "agreeance". While discussing our current situation I said "I support you on this, but I don't agree. It will be your job to make the case for your argument." This comment disturbed him because I think he felt I might undermine him at some point. "When you are met with this discussion later," he lectured, "I hope you don't state it in that way. You can leave out the part where you don't agree." As anyone who knows me knows, I can't leave out my opinion. So that would be impossible for me to do (as I explained to him in detail). But it won't change the outcome. I DO support him on this particular matter. I understand why he feels the way he does. I understand that he is probably a better judge on this situation than I am. Which, of course, is why I support him. But it doesn't change the fact that I don't agree. It doesn't change the fact that I would do things differently. And sharing my opinion doesn't undermine the final decision. Because at the end of the day, I have agreed to follow his direction on this (which is not always the case), and I'm fully able to explain why I'm able to follow it despite our differences in opinion.

I think the ability to support, yet disagree, is absolutely key in all relationships (romantic, familial, work and friendships). It's saying "I trust your input on this matter. I trust that I may not have the best information available. So I stand beside you whatever happens." That's not to say that I'll go behind his back with my opinion. I plan on openly expressing my varying views on the matter. But I also plan on confessing that I'm a "bleeding heart liberal" who often gets screwed for being "too nice".

Honestly, I think that's the reason Chris and I work so well together. We are opposite ends of the pole. I donate to causes and homeless people, he says "get a job". I take people in, he kicks people out. I rattle on for hours, he quietly observes. I make him a better person, he makes me a smarter person. The two of us together make for one powerful entity. But separately, we are just two extremes trying to survive in a world of gray. And it's with that knowledge that I am able to confidently say "I support your decision, but kindly disagree."

Recipe of the Week

2009-07-18T21:09:00.004-05:00

So in order to get our money straight, I've decided to start really planning out our dinner menus (especially since we are now feeding our very hungry roommate). I read online about cooking a whole chicken and preparing 3 dinners out of it, so I decided to try it this evening. I must say, cooking a whole chicken is gross. Really, really gross. But if it saves money, I guess it's worth it. And I thought I'd share the process for anyone out there in a recipe/dinner/money rut.

First, I cooked the whole chicken in a crock pot overnight. I sprayed the crock pot lightly with cooking spray (olive oil) and threw the washed chicken in there with some fresh herbs (rosemary, basil, and bay leaves). No need to add water, just start it and go. 10 hours later I had a well cooked chicken.

I removed the chicken and put the juices into a large stock pot. I removed all the meat from the bone, put it into a bowl and threw the bones, skin and all that other gross stuff into the stock pot. I added some additional seasoning, filled it up with water and brought it to a boil. From there I let it simmer for 2 hours. Then, turn off the heat and let it cool. Strain through a cheesecloth (I didn't have one available so I used a clean kitchen towel). Then you can pour it into ice cube trays, freeze, put into a freezer bag and any time you need chicken broth, you're good.

The meat from the chicken equals about 4 cups of dark and white meat. Tomorrow I plan on making a chicken pot pie. Tonight, however, was chicken enchiladas that turned out simply fantastic. They were fast, easy and the best enchilada's I've ever had. Here's the recipe:

1 tablespoon butter
1/2 cup chopped green onions
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 (4 ounce) can diced green chiles
1 (10.75 ounce) can condensed cream of mushroom soup
1/2 cup sour cream
1 1/2 cups cubed cooked chicken breast meat
1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese, divided
6 (12 inch) flour tortillas
1/4 cup milk

DIRECTIONS

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Lightly grease a large baking dish.
In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter and saute the green onion until tender (about 3 to 4 minutes). Add the garlic powder, then stir in the green chiles, cream of mushroom soup and sour cream. Mix well. Reserve 3/4 of this sauce and set aside. To the remaining 1/4 of the sauce in the saucepan, add the chicken and 1/2 cup of shredded Cheddar cheese. Stir together.
Fill each flour tortilla with the chicken mixture and roll up. Place seam side down in the prepared baking dish.
In a small bowl combine the reserved 3/4 of the sauce with the milk. Spoon this mixture over the rolled tortillas and top with the remaining 1/2 cup of shredded Cheddar cheese. Bake in the preheated oven for 30 to 35 minutes, or until cheese is bubbly.

just shut up already

2009-07-13T04:15:00.005-05:00

I'm a gossip. There. I said it. And it's probably the worst thing about myself, and the first thing I would change if I could. It's hard, because I don't consider myself a gossip. Gossips are mean-spirited people in my mind, and I don't consider myself at all mean-spirited. Also, gossips have a tendency to spread false information. You will rarely hear me say "I hear so-and-so did this". I speak first hand. Which is probably worse. When I gossip, I am rarely judging. I mean, I do judge sometimes, but not usually. Most of the time I am analyzing that person's choices and actions. Out loud. With others. Which I know is not right. I should mind my own business and keep my mouth shut.

Recently a friend of mine ended up in a c.r.a.z.y situation. Bad choices were made which were met with some crazy-ass consequences. The situation was just too damn insane NOT to share with others. And I shared it with everyone I knew. Because I just couldn't NOT share. Since the story was crazy, it was also funny. And I like funny. The cruel part is that it isn't funny to my friend. It's been disturbing, life changing and traumatic. And now I feel the people I told will judge my friend based on my big mouth. Which wouldn't be right because this person isn't the sum of these particular crazy actions. They are much better, kinder and smarter than I made them out to be in this crazy-ass story which I used as coffee-talk entertainment. And that's the problem with gossip. While it serves to entertain others, it can truly hurt people.

I've discussed this before. My inability to keep my mouth shut. It's not just with others, I'm the same way with my own life. I have no secrets. There is no part of my life that others don't know about. This is a double-edged sword, of course. On the one hand it keeps me out of trouble. On the other, there are some things others just shouldn't know. There are certain parts of yourself that I suppose should remain private, I just don't know what that would be (obviously). Not too long ago I was tempted to cheat on Chris. For no other reason than I wanted to create a second life for myself. Not because I was at all unhappy (seriously honey!), but because I wanted to actually try to do something and keep it completely to myself. And because I never do things halfway, I wanted to go to the extreme. And then I realized, there's no way I could keep my mouth shut about it. I'd come home and immediately tell him (and everyone else) all about it. And not only would I prove that I can't keep a damn secret, but I'd destroy my family in the process.

I guess I'm just saying that there is some good to come from my big mouth. It isn't all negative. And, I should reiterate what I said the last time I wrote on this subject: I can keep quiet if specifically asked to do so. Seriously, I can. But it has to be requested of me. And then what happens is I later block it out of my mind. If the subject comes up, I remember that I was specifically asked to say nothing, and so I say nothing. Which I often wonder if that's a giveaway with others, because I have absolutely nothing to say on the matter. Which must seem suspicious seeing as I always have something to say. Bringing us full circle to the problem in the beginning...

follow up

2009-07-11T21:42:00.003-05:00

Chris never found the roach. I feel like I've heard it several times since, crawling up the walls, shaking doors and scurrying under the bed. I know it's here. Plotting.

Last night I couldn't sleep. I told Chris I was worried it was planning to crawl into my ear while I was sleeping. He said roaches don't crawl into people's ears and I relayed the story of my 3rd grade friend who missed a day of school because he spent the night in the ER while they dug a roach out of his ear (no doubt a contributing factor to my ever growing roach issues). We argued for several minutes before he fell wistfully asleep and I stayed awake listening for the sound of scurrying. To date, the roach is still M.I.A. I did however find an answer to our argument on one of my favorite sites. I used to spend hours on Straight Dope when I first discovered the internet, so I was happy to be reunited again with one of my most pressing questions (although, I never really had any doubt).

------------------

A STRAIGHT DOPE CLASSIC FROM CECIL'S STOREHOUSE OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE

Why do we have wax in our ears? Do roaches ever crawl in there?

September 19, 1997

Dear Cecil:

When I was about 12, my health teacher told our class that roaches sometimes crawl into sleeping people's ear canals and get stuck. This causes pain and hearing problems. Within a week of being told this, I suffered pain and hearing problems in one ear. I freaked out, went to the doctor, and fully expected him to pull a roach out of my ear. Instead, he took out a lot of earwax. This marked the beginning of my ongoing battle against earwax. I've been wondering ever since: What is earwax for? Why do I produce way too much of it? And was my health teacher right about roaches?

— Bob Vesterman, via the Internet

Afraid so, Bob. But let's not jump into that right away. Earwax--called cerumen by doctors because they don't want people to realize they're talking about earwax--is a normal secretion of special glands in the outer ear. The wax coats the outer part of the ear canal, trapping germs and debris and preventing them from reaching the eardrum. If you didn't have any your ears would, at a minimum, itch like hell. In other words, earwax is good! You should be organizing Earwax Appreciation Week!Cecil replies:

Still, all things in moderation. In most people earwax is produced in modest amounts and migrates out of the ear naturally. But a few people such as yourself are, let's face it, freaks. You may be tempted to remove excess earwax with a Q-tip or the like. Don't; you'll pack it in tighter. Better you should try an over-the-counter preparation such as Debrox or ordinary mineral oil. You put in a dropperful and pack your ear with cotton; the earwax softens and comes out.

If that doesn't work you need to see a doctor. We found this description of a doctor's Cerumen Management Kit: a suction pump with a one-eighth horsepower motor and 1,500-cubic-centimeter collection bottle; an otoscope, a lighted ear-examining device; stainless steel ear forceps with "alligator type three-inch serrated jaws," so the earwax knows who's boss; a stethoscope--who knows why, maybe they just figure if you're a doctor you need a stethoscope; an "emesis basin," I guess to catch the drippings; and a headlight with rechargeable nicad battery pack. I mean, you gotta be ready for anything.

Some doctors say, forget all the apparatus, just squirt in some warm water. But we'll leave those decisions to the pros.

Now, about roaches crawling into ears. You may think this is some kind of deranged myth. Uh-uh. Happens all the time. In fact, a controversy has raged since 1980 over the best way to get the little bastards out. The conventional remedy: drown the critter with mineral oil. "One cannot use the commercially available roach sprays," one MD sagely notes, "because of technical difficulty and for possible medicolegal reasons"--i.e., the patient might sue. But mineral oil isn't ideal either, because the insect takes a while to go through its death throes in the patient's ear.

One proposed alternative is 2-percent lidocaine anesthetic. The value of this was seemingly demonstrated when a patient showed up at a hospital with cockroaches in both ears. (Unanswered question: what was this guy doing?) Recognizing a golden opportunity for a controlled clinical trial, the attending physicians put mineral oil in one ear. "The cockroach succumbed after a valiant but futile struggle, but its removal required much dexterity on the part of the house officer," they wrote. In the other ear the doctors put lidocaine. "The roach exited the canal at a convulsive rate of speed" and was promptly stomped by an intern.

But lidocaine has drawbacks too. Another doctor who tried it reported that (1) the roach died in situ and was hell to get out, and (2) the roach had punctured the eardrum, so the lidocaine penetrated the inner ear and the patient had the whirlies for the next five hours. Also, subsequent tests have shown that lidocaine works much more slowly than your top-quality mineral oil.

Promising alternative: suction. Of course, one must take care not to inadvertently seal the ear canal with the suction tip, thereby risking "tympanic membrane barotrauma" and, for all I know, possibly sucking out the patient's brains.

What else? How about fly larvae in the ear? Happens. Also earwigs, with those scary pincers. You know the story. Earwig gets into a guy's ear, chews through his brain, causes horrible agony. Finally it stops. The doctors say, good news: the earwig came out the other side! Bad news: it was female and laid eggs. You've also heard that this is BS, that earwigs don't really crawl into ears. Not so; two known cases. The part about eating out your brains may still be a myth, but who knows?

— Cecil Adams

oh. my. god.

2009-07-10T12:21:00.003-05:00

It was bound to happen. In fact, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner...

I was cleaning out Izzy's closet. It's by far the most organized closet in this household, but there were a couple of diaper bags I needed to go through. I thought I'd gone through them all, but then I saw a large black one on the top shelf of her closet. I pulled it down, opened it up, stuck my hand in...

And that's when the largest cockroach I've ever seen in my entire life crawled up my arm and into my hair. I screamed, jumped around in circles, shaking my head like a crazy lady and the cockroach was nowhere to be found. Sometime in the midst of this craziness (no doubt I looked like I was possessed while doing a crazy voodoo dance), I started stripping off my clothes, absolutely sure that... thing ... was crawling around inside my clothes. It was at this time that Izzy came running back to her room (because all of this happened in a matter of seconds) asking "what's wrong Mama, what's wrong?" Half naked, I picked her up and ran out of her room, slamming the door behind us. I grabbed two towels and shoved them in the cracks of the door, hoping to trap that evil thing inside her room. Izzy kept repeating "it's okay Mama, it's okayyyy," while I continued to shake my hair and freak out some more. In fact, I'm still shaking...

When Chris gets home from his interview, it's my plan to lock him in Izzy's room until he finds that thing. I won't be able to sleep knowing it's in the house. Because to my crazy way of thinking, it's plotting to crawl in my ear while I sleep. And there isn't enough Xanax in the world to shake that fear.

Speaking long term, I should definitely work to address this fear. Erin was recently telling me about a friend of hers that went through cockroach therapy, and she is apparently healed now. Since I have no plans on leaving Central Texas, this is going to be a way of life. And I can't keep getting naked and freaking out everytime a roach crosses my path. It goes against my strong-woman nature. And really, Izzy shouldn't have to witness such things. Because right now, as I type this out, she is running around, shaking her head and yelling "Get away from that thing! Get away!" and laughing. And I'm just not okay with that.

In fact, you are a vegetable

2009-07-03T03:47:00.004-05:00

So just tonight have I gotten on the Michael Jackson bandwagon. I'm not really sure what was going on in my life at the time that he died, but I was not watching (or reading) the news. Just catching bits and pieces here and there. So tonight I was getting caught up on exactly what happened (apparently they still don't know exactly) and reading about different conspiracy theories (because that's where I always end up).

I remember a day or so after he died I was singing "Wanna Be Starting Something" to Chris. I got to the end and was singing "you're a vegetable. You're a vegetable. La da da di do, you're a vegetable." Chris started laughing and made some comment about how funny that was. I laughed saying "I'm not sure what the words actually are, but that's how we sang it as kids."

Tonight I looked up the lyrics out of curiosity, and it turns out "you're a vegetable" was correct (and surprisingly fitting, odd as it sounds out of context). I should have known better than to question my memory in regards to Thriller lyrics. As if my girlfriends and I didn't sit there for weeks pouring over the lyrics. As if we didn't make up dances to every single song. As if we weren't obsessed and wearing our cubic zirconia gloved necklaces from Avon and matching red parachute pants. As if.

I lost touch with MJ in the late 90's. I thought I was no longer a fan until after his death. Watching a montage or two reminded me of his older songs, and it turns out, I still love me some old MJ. Of course, 'Wanna Be Starting Something' tops my list. 'Rock With You' comes a very close second, and 'P.Y.T.' rounds off at third. But only because that was my favorite as a kid. I was a big Alvin and the Chipmunks fan back then (stop judging) and they can clearly be heard during that song (no need to dispute this, my adolescent mind is made up).

So if you are one of the millions who went out and bought some MJ cd's posthumously, please feel free to make me a mix CD for my upcoming birthday. Just leave off Thriller, as the Vincent Price "rap" at the end still gives me the chills.

the childless vacuum

2009-07-02T12:14:00.003-05:00

I always joke that I'll get rid of Izzy at the first suggestion. Want to practice having a child? Take her! Want to pick up chicks? Take her! Need entertainment for your next party? Take her! Usually someone chimes in and says "awww, you know you would miss her". And I always say "please, give me the chance!"

Mom took Izzy for the weekend because she was dead-set on her seeing fireworks this 4th of July. We are lazy, it's hot as hell and Austin traffic with a toddler is not our idea of a good time, so she felt we could not be trusted with her granddaughter's Independence Day festivities. Once Mom found out that Barbers Hill (a neighboring upscale community) was having a fair on July 4th, complete with pony rides, moonwalks and enough junk food to make up for 2 years of a healthy diet, she was packing their bags. When she mentioned it to Izzy, Iz walked to the car and tried to move her carseat from our car to hers. Suffice to say, she was on board. In fact, it's all Izzy's been saying for 24 hours ("Izzy go bye-bye with Grandma" over and over and over).

I was so excited I could hardly stand it. I could clean house and keep it that way. I could sleep all day and stay up all night. I could sleep naked*. The possibilities of a child-less weekend were unlimited!!

And then they left. Izzy was sitting in her carseat ready to go before we even got the car loaded. She waved and blew me kisses as they were pulling out of the driveway. I lowered the garage door, walked inside and sat down. It was eerily quiet. As if a vacuum had sucked the life out of the house. Chris had mentioned the last couple of times Izzy and I have gone out of town how quiet the house gets. Every time he said it I felt a little bit of resentment stirring. As it turns out, he's right. The house gets very, very quiet. And honestly, it's unsettling.

No doubt I'll get over it in the next couple of hours. No question I'll enjoy my quiet, clean house tonight while running around naked. But the truth is, I'm really going to miss her. A quiet house just isn't the same once you have children. Sure, you enjoy it. But there is a lack of life that you just don't experience before you have kids (although, those with pets would probably understand as well). And it's a reminder that I wouldn't go back to the way it was before her. Despite what I say or my deprecating remarks, my life is so much better with her than without. And I will definitely think twice before trying to give her away to the first bidder...

* While this most definitely falls into the "too much information" category, I really grew to love sleeping naked BC (before child). Once we had Iz, I realized how much I hated getting "wrapped up" in clothes while sleeping. Yet for the first year sleeping naked was just unreasonable. You're up at all hours and getting dressed and undressed was just a pain in the ass. Once she started sleeping through the night, I then worried about the time factor in case of emergencies. Would I have time to get dressed, THEN get my child in case of a fire or zombie attack? My answer was no. And I didn't want to face those situations in the buff. Now that she's older, it's just creepy. While Chris and I have been known to 'hippy-it-out' in certain parenting situations, being naked around our child just isn't one of them. I wish I were "cooler" about this, but I still remember seeing my dad and stepmom naked in bed and how uncomfortable it made me feel as a kid. So naked time has become one of the many treasures of a childless evening...

to put a positive spin on things

2009-07-01T16:33:00.004-05:00

Since this seems to be the time for us to *lose* things (ie: money, minds, tires), I have suddenly decided that this will also transfer to weight. The timing couldn't be more perfect. We are broke, so we are going on-the-cheap with food, we are homebound so there will be plenty of time to workout, and we are cutting costs so we can sweat-out what remaining calories will be left in our 78 degree home.

Perhaps this financial meltdown is all a part of a bigger meltdown. That being my fat. All to make me beautifully in shape by my 34th birthday/Portland trip. Then (and only then) will it all be worth it. In fact, if I remember correctly, the last time I inadvertently lost 30lbs. (right before I became pregnant, of course) was due to being broke and existing on a bean and rice diet for several months. I'll tell you what, I was the hottest poor girl in the neighborhood.

So there we have it. I'm not cashing out anything. Being broke is my key to a smaller ass. And sometimes we just have to make sacrifices for what we want.

financial meltdown

2009-07-01T16:12:00.005-05:00

So my big plans for getting ahead financially has somehow morphed into just staying afloat. Honestly, I'm not sure how it happened. I probably need to audit myself or something, but it's just too damn depressing and at this point I prefer to stay in a state of denial. Maybe it was the wedding, trip out of town and car issues. Throw that on top of our quarterly car insurance payment, rising electric bills and recent surge in eating out and we are back in the poor house. Hell, even my stock is going down.

The upside is that we've been here before. We are, in fact, pros at being broke. And at least this time the bills are getting paid and there is food in the fridge. The downside is we have an upcoming trip to Portland in September, and by my calculations, that is the month we will start running back in the black. I'm tempted to cancel our trip just so we can have one month of financial peace of mind, but damnit, that's our trip. We have free plane tickets for fucks sake! So our trip down the coast may turn into a walking tour of the city. But whatever, at least it's a new city.

I truly hate this feeling. This feeling that I want to start cashing out savings, stocks, 401k's - just to have some money in the bank. I know it isn't actually as bad as it feels, but then why does it feel so bad? Seriously, at this point "happy endings" doesn't sound like such a bad career choice...

Funeral Plans

2009-06-21T01:09:00.004-05:00

I've been meaning to post this for awhile. Since the age of about 10, I've been planning my funeral. Obviously the details have changed from time to time (I no longer wish to hear Boys II Men played upon my death), but the general idea has stayed the same. Maybe this is morbid. But I'm a planner. So it would only make sense that I would plan my own funeral arrangements, right?

-------------

I don’t want to be buried in a dress. In fact, I’m not sure I want to be buried at all. Actually, I don’t care. Do whatever with me. (But if I’m buried, don’t do it in a dress. I want to be buried in Calvin Klein jeans. I look good in those. Or did, anyway.)

But I do want one hell of a funeral. A big, sappy flowery funeral. Spend a chunk of my life insurance money sending me out in style, please. It should be known that I DO NOT want an open casket. I do not want people standing over me discussing how blue and puffy I look. More importantly, I do not want people taking pictures of my dead body (a practice common in my family). No, leave the casket closed. And on top I want a big picture of my once beautiful self. In fact, I have the picture picked out already. It was taken several years ago and hanging in the hallway. I don’t give a damn if I don’t die until I’m 85 years old, use that picture. I was happy and full of life and it represents one of the happiest moments of my life (it was taken at Boykin Springs when Chris and I first started dating).

I want no fill-in-the-blank preachers speaking at my funeral. I don’t want someone saving souls. Save souls on your own time. This is MY time. My last time, in fact. I’d like for someone to step up and give me a proper eulogy. And by proper, I mean real. None of this “she was a kind and beautiful soul” crap. I mean, hopefully by the time I die I will have attained that worthy description, but no doubt I will still be “me”. Feisty, outspoken, and opinionated. And all up in everyone’s business. Mention that. Throw in the W.H. Auden poem as well. Play an incredibly sappy song (might I suggest Ray LaMontagne’s “A Falling Through”?) Work everyone into a good cry. Then, end the funeral with a good smudging. No matter what form you decide to leave me in, I’d like one last good smudging before I go.

From there, I’d like a wake. Actually, I'd really like a Nine-Night. But with everyone's busy schedules, I feel a little bad asking for that much of everyone's time. So I'll take a wake. With BBQ and liquor. Throw in a keg. From this point forward, be happy. Laugh, joke, hug, kiss, tell good stories, have sex* and appreciate the fact that you are not dead. Too many people use death as an excuse to end their own lives. I hate excuses and I hate victims. Using me as an excuse to be a victim is the grandest way to disrespect my memory. Don’t mourn me for too long because I am quite confident I am enjoying my dead self. When I was a small child, I asked my grandmother what happened when we died. Her response was that we go to Heaven and God answers all of the questions we’d ever had. I am dying (literally by this time) to find out what the deal is with UFO’s, who shot JFK and whether or not Elvis, Tupac and Jim Morrison really died when they say they did. That’s just the beginning of my book of questions. God’s gonna be busy for awhile.

Speaking of the weird, I’m going to make a Houdini claim as well. If I can come back, I will. I’ll try not to scare the hell out of anyone in the process. But if I can hang around spying on people, you better know I’m going to do it. If I accidently knock over a glass in the process, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya, it’s just the downside to being a ghost. Otherwise, I’ll try to check in periodically. If you randomly smell Clinique Happy, you’ll know I was there. I’ll play songs on the radio when I get a chance. All that general dead-people-checking-in business, I’ll try to do.

In regards to my "stuff", chances are I won't have much worth keeping. For the love of simplicity, do not become a hoarder in my honor. There isn't much stuff in my life that I'm attached to. A small amount of jewelry (left to Izzy, of course), some antique furniture (passed down through the family), and by that time, hopefully a pretty nice car. The rest should go to charity or be "auctioned off" amongst friends and family. Izzy's going to be an only child, so I guess there won't be anyone to fight with over my things (a HUGE plus to NOT having any more children). But so help me, if people start fighting over my things and/or money, I promise I will come back and haunt you. And not in a cute way.

As for Chris (who I’ll hopefully still be married to at the time of my departure), be supportive of him. Feed him for a while, maybe wash a few loads of clothes (he’s not used to doing it himself) and help with his general well-being. I’ve already expressed my desire that he be a widow for a year. After that, get on with it. Men generally have an easier time moving on, so don’t be angry when he brings home another woman. Granted, she won’t be me. No way will she ever measure up (I’m a tough act to follow). But as long as she has his (and Izzy’s!) best interests in mind, cut her some slack. However, if she’s a pain in the ass, I do expect one of my lady friends to have a talk with him. I won’t be here to communicate his ignorance, so I expect one of my ladies to do it in my absence. In the event he doesn't move on after a year, sign him up for an internet dating service. He's a fan of that sort of thing...

Last, but most definitely not least, Izzy. This is where I really expect the most from my friends. No matter what her age (hopefully she’ll be an old lady herself), I feel like she’ll need to retain some kind of connection with my friends. My friends will be most able to speak in my absence. My friends know best what I would say or do in any given situation. My friends know better than anyone (besides Chris) my absolute love for her. And no doubt that will need to be expressed on a regular basis for a while. As time goes by, she’ll surely adjust (for goodness sake, don’t let her pine over me and become a victim!) It will be important for my friends to stand in my place during those important or difficult life moments. I’m an only child, so she’ll have no other support from my side. So I pass that responsibility to my friends. It’s a big job, but know that I would do the same for you. Were I still alive, of course…

Undoubtedly, you think I’ve gone off the deep end with this entry. But I’ve been around long enough to know that death can really fuck people up. People don’t do or act like they should. And in my typical manner, I’m trying to micro-manage a situation that I obviously won’t be here for, yet has everything to do with me, so I want to make sure it’s done right. Call me crazy, but it’s important and I wanted to make sure I had it in writing for others to pull up in the event that things get crazy. I don’t want to have to “roll over in my grave” if I don’t need to. Just saying…

* It has been discussed in a few of my social circles the need to have sex after a tragic funeral. In most cases, people share how guilty they felt by that need. Personally, I think it’s the purest form of connection and appreciation for life, which is why we are often struck with that need. Go for it! I say. Orgasm it up in my honor!

peeing on a stick for the LAST time

2009-06-19T00:58:00.003-05:00

I woke up this morning convinced I was pregnant. At some point upon awakening, I realized I was 5 days late. And absolutely terrified. During the recent trip to Baytown I had decided definitively that I did not want another child. Chris had been pretty resolute on the subject, but I was still on the fence. I kept feeling like we should have another child “just in case”. Just in case something happened to Izzy, we needed an extra kidney, she became a crackhead, Republican or left home at 18 to become an actress in L.A. Chris did not feel like this was reasonable cause to bring another human into this world, and after a week spent with 4 children, I came to agree with him. So when I awoke with the knowledge that I was absolutely pregnant, I became a mess.

Suddenly all signs pointed to pregnancy (any woman who’s experienced this fear knows exactly where I’m coming from). My overeating. My crankiness. The horrible luck we’ve had since June 1^st. Of course I was pregnant. Of fricken course. I started thinking of my options. As my mother has told me since the ripe age of 13, I had 3 options. 1.) Give birth and love that “bundle of joy”, while watching your dreams become even harder to attain; 2.) Give that “bundle of joy” up for adoption and always wonder what happened; or 3.) Kill that “bundle of joy” (those were never my mom’s exact words, she’s pro-choice afterall, but option 3 always resulted in a far longer explanation than I’m willing to go into at this time.)

The first option was the most acceptable, of course, but also the most terrifying (especially since I realized if we couldn’t afford a pregnancy test, we probably couldn’t afford a pregnancy). I immediately decided that I couldn’t give my child up. After 9 months of dealing with it, you do become somewhat attached. That left abortion. I’m a supporter and all, but I’m also a 33 year-old married woman, not doing that bad in life. It seemed a bit irresponsible. I mean, it’s not like I have any life goals I’m trying to achieve that a child would keep me from. Besides Europe. And of course, that’s the first thing I thought when I realized I was pregnant. “There goes my damn trip to Europe. Again. Mother fucker…”

So I worried and I stressed all day. I’d go back and forth thinking, “no way I can have this child, I need to get to Europe before the Earth is destroyed in 2012.” And then Izzy would be all cute and kissy and I’d think, “how in the world could I NOT bring another beautiful, genius child into the world. We have great genes, obviously.” I was on this ledge when Chris got home from work.

Now here was my original plan: Father’s Day is on Sunday. We’re broke and I thought this pregnancy scare would totally solve the gift problem. I’d take a pregnancy test, and no matter what the outcome, I’d gift it to Chris. “Surprise!!” Either way, right? But we are too close and that always ruins surprises between us. He was home for a total of 5 minutes before I blurted out, “I’m 5 days late.” And within 7 minutes he was out the door on the way to Walgreens. He was home 10 minutes later with a pregnancy test (I have an extra if anyone should need one…)

While peeing on a stick I made several deals with God. 1.) If I’m not pregnant, I’ll become a better mother. I’ll try harder. I’ll control my frustrations better. 2.) If I’m not pregnant, I will immediately make an appointment for Chris to take care of this problem, once and for all. (He’s a good guy like that.); and 3.) If I’m not pregnant, I will go to Europe next year come hell or high water. I realized my deal with God was rather selfish, and I didn’t really offer Her much out of the deal, but I’m past the point of trying to pull things over on Her.

I immediately saw that the test was going to go in my favor (it rarely takes the full 2 minutes). But because I’m not the nicest person in the world, I decided to let Chris sit on it for a little longer. It was probably 8 or 9 minutes before I let him in on it. I thought during that time we might have some serious talk on “what if’s”, but he seemed pretty unphased by the whole thing, so I let it go. When met with the news of the test, I believe his words were “okay.” (As if we didn’t already know he’s a man of few words.)

As it turns out, I’m not pregnant and I will be calling a doctor for Chris tomorrow (today as most read this). I am relieved in a way that only a woman truly knows. Europe is still on the books for next year and Izzy has the opportunity to grow up as a spoiled only child. Life is good, hopefully our luck has turned and there’s going to be one less Dawson in the world (for which I’m sure many will be grateful.) And seriously, if anyone needs a pregnancy test, tell them to call me. Because I guarantee I will not be peeing on a stick again.

opting out

2009-06-18T22:39:00.003-05:00

I'm going to opt out of the last couple of days of 30 Days of Write because I completely suck at poetry. I think, I try, I suck. And I just can't pretend otherwise.

So instead I'm going to paste the most awesome Missed Connection I've ever read. I want to meet and know the guy that wrote this, but alas, I'm a mother and housewife and I think it's safe to say I'm the exact opposite of what he's looking for. Still, props to him for putting it out there so eloquently...

The obviously intoxicated girl in class this morning - m4w - 23

Reply to: pers-yctca-1227167366@craigslist.org ^{[Errors when replying to ads?]}
Date: 2009-06-17, 10:32PM CDT

You stumbled into the classroom this morning, the sunlight in the doorway wreathing you like an angel that had been shooting tequila for eight hours.

I could only watch breathless as you seductively managed to lurch into your seat without falling down (barely). Your eyes sparkled like diamonds as you visibly tried not to vomit, and your heavenly aroma wafted over, conjuring images of a brewery on fire in my mind.

I was inspired by your rampant substance abuse, and I longed to be the one holding your hair back as your system rejected the poison you'd cheerfully imbibed. I wished I could have seen the shot glasses touch your luscious lips as you lost count of how many drinks you'd had at 5:30 AM.

My only regret was that fate had cruelly separated me from the bad decisions you made the night before. Please email me so that I too can know the joy of your company, and the excitement of alcohol poisoning at 8:30 on a Wednesday morning.

it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1227167366

30DoW - Home Sweet Home

2009-06-15T23:46:00.001-05:00

you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone

on the deck watching my plants grow

essential oils burning

not answering the phone

sleeping on my couch

rocking in chair

recycling

good friends

home

Hellcation

2009-06-14T19:05:00.004-05:00

I was so excited thinking I'd finally coined a term of my own, but after Googling "hellcation" it seems I'm not the first person whose vacation has gone completely to shit.

Before I go into Phase II of our Hellcation, here's a little side story. For a long while I've been forgetting to mention my 4th fear when the topic comes up. Zombies, cockroaches, going crazy and having car problems. Whenever a car ceases to function properly, I immediately fear it is going to blow up. This fear goes wayyy back to when I was a small child. Throughout my childhood I made dozens of trips to East Texas with my grandparents. 8 out of 10 times we'd take the back roads and 8 out of 10 times we'd have car problems that always resulted in someone having to drive out to the middle of nowhere to pick us up. When I got old enough to make the trip on my own, I always knew to never take the "jinxed route". One of those times, I was about 8 or 9 I believe, we were coming home and the van caught on fire. I have no idea what the problem was, I just remember my grandmother telling me to run in case the van exploded. So to this day, everytime I experience car problems I want to run away to avoid explosion. This is difficult, as often times during "car problems" you need someone to start the car while the other person is under the hood. I can only be that person if there is absolutely no one else around (including strangers).

So moving on. Chris and I left on Friday for East Texas. When planning our trip the "jinxed route" briefly crossed my mind, but only for a moment. As we were driving out of Dayton we passed a spot where my grandmother and I had broken down long ago. I started to say something, then quickly changed my mind. Chris prodded me and I said "I'll tell you later. But let it go for now", as I didn't want to "jinx" us. We drove for about an hour and a half through sheer nothingness (we couldn't even find a Dairy Queen) and I kept thinking "this would be a sucky place to break down." Then suddenly, we lost power. Our gauges died, our radio died, our a/c died. I panicked, Chris called our mechanic and we rolled into a Walmart as our car died a slow death. Luckily, our car died in Woodville, the most populated place we'd been through since leaving Baytown. Luckily, we made it to a Walmart. Luckily, my dad and cousin were only 45 minutes from us. Luckily, my dad knows cars. Luckily, we were not stranded out in the heat with our heat-sensitive toddler. But still I freaked. Still I cried. Still I cursed family tradition and that f'n "jinxed route".

My dad arrived 45 minutes later, bought us a battery and assured us we could make it to the ranch. I drove his truck with all the kids while he and Chris drove the car with no a/c (poor Chris had a serious sunburn and was miserable). Luckily we made it to the house. We turned off the car and let it sit for awhile. Then it started right back up. No problems. Dad said to repeat what we had done when the car started to die, so I plugged in my iPhone and the car immediately died. After my father and his friend finished with the iPhone jokes, it was decided the alternator was dead. We luckily found a mechanic who would replace it on a Saturday (while my father reminded me that if I "drove a truck he could do it and save some money") and shelled out $380 of money we did not have to fix the car. Hardcore suck.

We were lucky in many ways. I say that as a general optimist. But as a hardcore realist, this was the worst "vacation" I've ever had in my life. It cost money it wasn't supposed to cost. It was full of strife and frustration. It was hot. It was cramped. It was crowded. It was the anti-vacation, ie: a hellcation. If I never go east again, not a soul could blame me.

going dark

2009-06-12T02:38:00.003-05:00

I won't have much to say for the next few days. We are leaving for the second jaunt of our trip and headed to the ranch in East Texas. Call me a pessimist, but I don't have much hope of this trip improving during this half. Izzy is still reacting to whatever-the-hell she has (it's actually contact dermatitis that warranted a trip to the ER), and though she is better, I'd rather be putting in her a bubble as opposed to a mice-infested ranch. But whatever. In addition, I will be spending time with family that I haven't seen in over 7 years and that makes me nervous. But at least it's new family. Different family. Family that I will be able to take a break from at the end of the day. (Have I mentioned that I am over family?)

But just for fun, let's make a tally of this vacation's events:

- Witness a relationship meltdown - check

- Trip to the ER - check

- Heat exhaustion at the zoo - check

- Waste 2 hours of my life watching Lost in Space - check

- Break a lamp and secretly glue it back together - check

- Dislodge a crown by chewing on a gummy orange slice - check

- Go 10 days without watching TV - check

- Go 10 days without putting on makeup - check

- Teach Izzy to swim - check

- Run from not one, but TWO cockroaches - check

- Develop an addiction to Xanax - check

- Fall in love with my husband all over again - check

- Gain weight due to an excess of fast food - check check

My 30 Days of Write has been downright depressing so far. I swear I'm not usually this much of a mess. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm a mess. But these last 9 days have been much messier than usual. In real life I've kept quite a sense of humor about it (I think...), it just doesn't seem to make it to my blog. One thing is certain, I have a whole new appreciation for my home. And things are bound to be better once I make it back to Austin (provided my cat and plants are still alive. Oh please let them still be alive!!)

30DoW - Oh, I seize it alright...

2009-06-10T00:20:00.002-05:00

This is a topic I can actually muster up the energy to write on…

My personal philosophy is clichéd and simple. “Your life is what you make it.” All of us have heard that line millions of times and no doubt we all think we believe it to be true. But from where I’m standing, very few people actually know it to be true enough to practice it in every choice they make.

To be more detailed, I am not a victim. No way, no how. You will not ever hear me playing a victim. Even when my car has broken down for the umpteenth time, I realize that it’s because I made a choice to have dinner or shop as opposed to putting it into my lame ass vehicle. Or because I partied my ass off in my 20’s and my credit had to pay the price for 7 years, resulting in a crappy car. Or because Chris and I chose life over money. Regardless, my car broke down again because of bad choices I’ve made in the past. I’m that way with every bad thing that has happened since we moved to Austin (which is when this philosophy went into full effect).

In relation to that, bad things have happened due to no bad choices on my part. That’s life. It can be a bitch sometimes. But you will never hear me whine about it. I’m too busy planning my next course of action. I’m a doer and a thinker. Not a moaner and groaner. When I finally run out of actions to take with said situation, then I simply let it go (or try like hell while lying in bed thinking up new solutions). When a solution finally presents itself, you better believe that I am hustling to make a change. If there is no solution to be found, then eventually I will let go. Turning my back on the situation all together.

It’s because of this philosophy that I live such a "charmed life". You will never find me sitting in shit bitching about how it smells. Which brings me to my favorite quote: “You would rather live in shit than let the world see you work a shovel.” My ass knows how to work a shovel. In many ways I’ve worked a shovel my whole life (as I’m sure many other successful people would agree.) I grew up witnessing some serious dysfunction. Divorce, mental and physical abuse, some crazy ideas (my uncle slays dragons in his spare time). And that dysfunction bled over into my own life and choices. I was married and divorced by the age of 23. I’m a recovering slut, pill head, pothead and quasi-alcoholic. But one day I had a true-blue epiphany. It was the day after I'd had an abortion, which literally killed my soul. My soul had been dying a slow death to begin with. But that event did it in. I was tired. I was hollow. I felt worthless, guilty, crazy, sad and suicidal. I was pathetic. And on that night, with a bottle of pills in my hand, I fell to my knees and prayed.

Now keep reading my non-believing friends. This story has nothing to do with God. Instead, this story has everything to do with Scarlett O’ Hara. In that moment when I was on my knees and praying, it came to me. This is my life. I can be whoever I want to be. I can turn it all around. I can redefine it. I. Can. Change. As God is my witness, I will never be dysfunctional again!!!

And from that point forward, I began to change. It took time. A lot of time in fact. I was still psycho-crazy for a few years after that. But the more I was able to change myself, the stronger I felt about defining my future. The more confident I became, the more I got what I wanted. I’ve never wanted much really. In fact I probably set my goals too low a long time ago (something I’m working on now, in fact.) But mostly, I wanted a healthy relationship and a happy family. Something I NEVER witnessed growing up. I could have sat around waiting for it to happen, waiting for someone to treat me right, waiting for someone to want the things I wanted. But fuck that. Screw waiting for the good to come to me. Instead I went out looking. And when I found a reasonable candidate (that would be Chris), I communicated my ass off. I still do in fact. And I’ve realized that in order to get what I want, I must give in return. But I’m a Libra, so that only comes natural.

I’ve set clear guidelines for what I want and what I’m willing to give. I’m that way in all of my relationships, in fact. It’s been said that I’m not an easy friend/wife/family member to have. That’s most probably true. But I don’t want people in my life who want easy. I want people in my life who want honesty, communication, insight and clarity. I want people in my life who are doers, changers and fighters.

This philosophy is not a popular one. I guess people think it’s selfish, arrogant or pushy. But those are the same people who resent the mostly happy, functional life I lead. Don’t get me wrong. My life is far from perfect. I’m broke most of the time, my car is still a piece of crap and I come from one crazy-ass family. I often say too much, offend the ones I love and check out at regular intervals. But those are all a result of conscience choices that I have made. I own it. And if someone doesn’t like it, they should move on. I know that’s what I would do.

30DoW - off topic completely

2009-06-08T16:09:00.003-05:00

I don't know what made me think I'd be able to write everyday. Actually, I do. I thought I'd be bored when I came to Baytown. Oh how wrong I was. I do plan on going back and writing on a few of the topics, as I'd really like to visit them and see what I can come up with. But it's just not going to be happening this week.

Instead, I need to vent.

I hate Baytown. I hate every single fucking thing about this god-awful place in America. I hate the environment (refineries, smokestacks and pollution galore), I hate the music they listen to (Nickelback and Guns 'N Roses on constant repeat at the swimming pool), I hate the people who live here (Neiman shopping bleach blond chicks with their blond-tipped buff boyfriends littering the pool with their beer cans and cigarette butts) and I hate the mentality (every small thing said creates a testosterone-driven fight). I hate that this place makes me hate.

It's been no better behind closed doors. It's an exact replica of what it was like when I lived here. A passive-aggressive, bullying boyfriend. A mom who makes excuses. And children who are beat down by the pattern. I did well the first few days. I remained quiet, reminding myself that this wasn't my life or my problems. I called Chris and my friends for support who walked me through what I should or shouldn't be saying. But too much time spent in Baytown reverts me back to the Baytownian I once was. And last night I reverted hardcore. I begged, I pleaded, I screamed, I cried. I lost.

I believe I've said it before but it bears repeating again. I know what it feels like to be the offspring of an addict. Addiction to dysfunction is just as real as an addiction to drugs or alcohol. Except there isn't a 12-step available. The manipulation, the excuses, the highs and the lows. The feeling that maybe this time will be different so you allow yourself to get caught in the loop again. And be disappointed again. It's painful. It's even more painful not to repeat the process in your own life because it takes so much work. And the resentment. Tons and tons of it on all sides.

My mother looked me square in the eye last night and said "I'm sorry I don't have things figured out like you do. I'm sorry my life isn't perfect like yours. I can't wait to see how well Izzy has adjusted to her oh-so-perfect life in 15 years. How nice it must be to be you with all the answers." Ouch. Again with me and my perfect life. Again with the guilt over my "high standards". Again with the disdain over my inability to tolerate anger and dysfunction. Again and again and again.

Our parent's generation was coined the "Me Generation". How right that description was.

30DoW - Putting today in a bottle

2009-06-06T02:46:00.004-05:00

My energy has been sapped lately, so instead of staying on topic I was going to write about Izzy's time capsule that we've been working on and have every intention of burying sometime this year on our ranch in East Texas. But I just read Chris' blog and I am actually speechless on the matter. There is nothing I could say that could come even close to what he wrote. So I will just stand behind that entry and leave it at that.

Instead, I'd like to relay my very eventful day. Let this be a snapshot that goes into the time capsule, as it were. For those who haven’t been following along, Izzy and I are staying with my Mom in Baytown, a town east of Houston where I grew up. My mom and her boyfriend/ex-husband recently moved into an apartment together (much to my chagrin). She just had what was supposed to be the last of 5 surgeries in a year (she found out yesterday she needed “just one more”), so Izzy and I came down to visit, along with my Aunt and 12-year-old cousin from Mississppi. This, in addition to my mom’s boyfriend/ex-husband’s 2 grandkids, ages 9 and 13. Oh, and two small yappy-ass dogs. It’s an apartment-full to say the very least.

Now let me stop for a second and explain my usual day in Austin. It always starts early, Izzy makes sure of that. But if I’m honest, the day doesn’t actually start until around 10am. That’s when we get out and about to do our activities (library, park, shopping, whatever). We both eat lunch around noon, take a nap from 2-4:30, dinner at 6:30 and in bed by 8pm. It’s routine, it’s structured, it’s quiet and more times than not, I’m in control.

Baytown, it should be mentioned, is the exact opposite of Austin. It’s dirty, there are no trees, everyone is driving leased trucks or SUV’s, people think recycling involves tires only, in fact, the only thing green in this town are the stoplights. And as it turns out, my visit here is becoming the mirror image of our lives in Austin.

I wake up at 7am to a 69-degree apartment. There are people everywhere. Floors, couches, and blowup mattresses. This morning we went out to the pool for the first time by 10am. Guns N’ Roses “Appetite for Destruction” was playing (on repeat) for at least 2 hours before we headed back in for lunch. Making lunch was like an Excedrin commercial. I was tripping over dogs and kids in the kitchen, the boyfriend/ex-husband was angry that I wasn’t paying enough attention to him, the TV is blaring Paula Dean, we eat and then back out to the pool. Kids fighting, screaming, running, falling, coughing. Dinner, rinse, repeat. We come in for the last time around 9pm. It’s an assembly line by now. Pile the swim toys by the door (comprising of 3 large innertubes, 1 small swim ring, 1 pair of floaties, 3 boogie boards and 1 wagon carrying 3 pairs of goggles, 2 snorkels, 2 balls and a Backyardigan figurine), throw the towels and bathing suits over the banister on the patio (at which point my Mom always makes a comment about how the neighbors will judge) and stand in the shower assembly line. By 10:30 everyone is showered and wanting “snacks”. Which means more dogs and kids in the kitchen arguing about what everyone else is eating. Then we watch a movie that everyone talks through until the toddler is curled up in a corner sucking her thumb actually begging for “nite-nite” (the 2 previous attempts do not work due to “snack” sugar highs). By 2am the apartment finally hears silence. By now, I have realized that silence is an actual sound. In fact, after 3 days of the same routine chaos (with 2 more to go), it is the most beautiful sound in the world.

I realized at around 5pm today that I had become delirious. A trip to the store needed to happen and I was the only one up for the job. The two older kids wanted to come so we loaded up and went for it. At one point they started fighting in the store and I lost my temper and yelled like a crazy lady. I turned and saw myself in the pharmacy mirror and realized I had no makeup on, my clothes were a mess and I was standing in the grocery store at 5pm on a Friday in my hometown. And I did not give a shit. It was a major turning point for me.

It’s all been so truly insane, I had to get it all down here. On the upside, we’ve spent so much time in the pool Izzy has learned to swim in 2 days time (with floaties, of course). She was timid in the water on Wednesday, but by yesterday evening she figured out that she had better get in the game or she was going to have one lame ass time. Now she gets “in the loop” of going in on one side of the pool, leisurely swimming through the chaos of kids to the other side, only to do it all again, and again and again (for hours in fact.) I’ve enjoyed the time spent with my mom and aunt and the kids have been fabulous when they aren’t all arguing about the most mundane bullshit. I am however now thanking God that I was an only child and have decided to share that gift with Izzy (seriously, I treasure silence far too much to have another child. I think the decision has finally been made once and for all.)

And once I get back to the calm, green, quiet of Austin I am going to try to never complain again. I know it’s a stretch, but I’ve never appreciated my life “before” as much as I do now. I know there’s a lesson in here… I just hope to hell I don’t forget it.

30DoW - First assignment FAIL

2009-06-03T23:48:00.003-05:00

This morning I was writing on today's assignment and was rather impressed with my creativity. But then I had to walk away to make our trip to the Dirty Bay, and then I walked in to chaos soup and now I'm just not feeling it. And while I feel somewhat bad about it, I'm still writing today so all is not lost in 30 Days of Write.

I do have this to say in regards to my day: Time marches on but things stay remarkably the same. If silence is golden, then I am obviously tarnished silver, but this time I'm going to work on becoming at least a cheap 9-carat gold. I'm certain I'll never make it to 24-carat, I'm not driven enough for that kind of silence. I'm going to end with the good 'ole Serenity Prayer, because that will be my motto for this entire trip...

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and the wisdom to know the difference.

A-fricken-men.

30DoW - Because zombies lack dignity...

2009-06-02T15:01:00.002-05:00

I’m going to slowly step away from zombies. And violence, blood and gore. Because as my friends and family know, that shit freaks me out beyond repair. So in keeping with my writing style (I will break from it during this 30 days, I swear) – I’m going for a more romantic “iconic historical cluster.” I would like to bring back the Victorian Gentleman. Let the male generalities begin…

While I’m a fan of equality and women’s rights, somewhere along the way it seems we killed the Gentleman. I wish morality, dignity, loyalty and intelligence would make a comeback with men today. Not in a conservative Republican way, but rather in quiet subtleties. I long for strong men. Not physically, but mentally. The kind of men that put more into reading us women, noticing the small details and making mental notes. While I love men and their egos, it would be nice if they were able to shed their egos for the sake of productive communication when necessary, as opposed to us women having to carefully step around their paper-thin confidence. Men with passion who stand up, take charge and fight fair. I’m not looking to be slapped across the face (seriously, don’t even try it), but I’m also not looking to dominate.

I realize the “new woman” has really thrown the men for a loop. We are educated, we work, we carry heavy boxes. And in many ways it seems the men have just given up. Retired to their rooms to get high, play games and live off their parent’s money (I’m going to extremes, but you get the point). They feel unwanted, unneeded and generally out-of-place, so they check out. Instead, I wish they’d just man-up and keep up. Be stronger. Be smarter. Pay attention. Bob and weave for fucks sake! Sorry, that was an unnecessary tangent.

Perhaps I have a romanticized view of the Victorian Gentleman (it’s a pretty safe bet, in fact). But that version is what I long to replace the zombies. Men who stand up straight, have a dignified air to them (despite their social class) and love ballroom dancing. Because ballroom dancing is much more enjoyable than chopping off heads, if I do say so myself.

30DoW - Telling ya something good

2009-06-01T23:18:00.002-05:00

Part 1 – What do I want to get out of this 30 Days of Write Exercise? Good question. Yet another commitment? One more thing to feel guilty about flaking on? No and no. I’m going to go with discipline, creativity and style. That’s what I hope to get out of it. I’d like to write more often and hopefully expand into a more creative style.

Part 2 – About my life as a writer… Well, first and foremost, I love to use ellipsis more than anyone else on this planet. Perhaps because I feel that none of my thoughts are ever really complete… On a more personal note, I’ve fancied myself a “writer” since I was in elementary school. In fact, I wrote my first (of many) novels in the 3^rd grade (and by novel, I mean a whopping 8 pages long). I was boy-crazy, so Romance was the obvious way to go. It was about a new boy in town who both irritated and challenged a young, strong girl (modeled after myself, of course), and the slow manner in which they fell in love (to the envy of all the other girls in town). I was a regular fricken Nora Roberts. By the time high school came around, my discipline was out the window. I chose social over academic, as is fairly obvious in my writing style. However, starting around that time, I began to keep a journal (I grew to hate the term “diary” as it sounded far too juvenile for my very serious self.) In my mid-20’s, during a whirlwind of changes, my journal was the one place I was allowed to be who I really was. Without judgment, without criticisms, without censorship. At that time I also began writing poetry. That venture was both exciting and embarrassing, so I will speak of it no more. Once the internet came along (which I immediately fell in love with), I naturally merged the two and my love of blogging began. I’ve been blogging regularly since March of 2004. I’m glad for it, because I’m able to go back and see my progression as a woman, wife, mother and friend. I’ve come a long way, and I might not have realized it without the detailed documentation to look back on. My hope is that this 30DoW exercise will help me step out of my personal style (which has been all about me) and re-open the creativity I once had. However, please know that at the height of my creativity, I sounded a hell of a lot like Nora Roberts. I don’t have a War and Peace in me. So set your expectations low and you just might enjoy what you read…

cleaning out the anxiety

2009-05-31T16:43:00.007-05:00

Nothing (not even good drugs) helps cure anxiety like a clean house. Sundays used to be our cleaning day before Izzy. Once Izzy came, we only cleaned when we had to (ie: people were coming over). It occurred to me that might be one of my many problems. My space was a mess, therefore I was a mess. So today we washed cars, picked up the yard, washed tons of clothes and cleaned house. And already my mind is feeling so much better...

In addition, I'd like to add one of my favorite things. While working outside today I realized (yet again) how terrible the mosquitos are right now. Swarms is probably a good description, even if it over-stretches the truth just a little. They are so bad that no matter how much you cover yourself in Cancer-enriched Deet, they are going to find the one spot you missed and bite you all over there. And when that happens (and it will), I have found the very best stuff to stop the itch and swelling. Seriously, the very best. And it's available for cheap at your nearest drugstore:

again with the anxiety

2009-05-30T00:10:00.003-05:00

I've been experiencing anxiety again these last few months. Nothing so severe as when we were living in Baytown, but it's returned nonetheless. I first noticed it after I had Izzy a couple of years ago. But I was such a mess with postpartum, I couldn't tell up from down or black from white. Eventually I stabilized, but a low level anxiety stayed with me. Honestly, I noticed it more when I was high. Sucks, seeing as how being high is supposed to relieve anxiety. And for so long I really enjoyed getting high. But eventually I got to the point where I couldn't even smoke without really freaking out. So, I stopped smoking.

The anxiety abated, but again, only for a short while. It came back full-force during a trip to East Texas. Perhaps it was all the weird conversations. Perhaps it was being away from Izzy. Perhaps it was the stone-cold silence upon going to bed. Either way, it returned and has made itself a part of my regular routine. So much so, I finally decided to seek medical help (that story to come).

Anxiety is defined as "a psychological and physiological state characterized by cognitive, somatic, emotional and behavioral components. The components combine to create an unpleasant feeling that is typically associated with uneasiness, fear or worry." And in my case, disturbing thoughts and images that get stuck in some crazy-ass loop and refuse to go away without some hardcore meditation and rhythmic breathing. It always signals it's arrival by making me feel as if I'm going up on a fast elevator. And then come the loops...

So I went to see a doctor. I waited for an hour before being shown to my small room. I waited for another hour before I started to experience said anxiety. Small rooms for long periods of time can do that to an anxious person. So the doc. finally comes in and I'm explaining my symptoms while giving a very detailed medical history (essential to her notebook computer she was constantly writing in). I explain that I'm not a pill-popper. I'm not a druggie. I can deal with the anxiety, but it's just become so much work that I'd rather have a shortcut. She suggests several alternative therapies (tapping on certain pressure points being one of them) as well as a 12-step program. "Thanks," I say, "but I'm really short on time here. I'm leaving town, will be in a high anxiety situation and really need some help. I'll try all of that when I return" (knowing damn well that I won't be enrolling in any 12-step any time soon). After refusing anti-depressants and turning down some "experimental medications", she finally gives me a prescription for Xanax. Only 12 pills of the lowest dosage. And a demand to return in 30 days. Which of course, gave me anxiety. (Only 12 pills? Do I look like an addict? What if it doesn't work? What if it gets worse while I'm out of town?) As Chris mentioned, I could have done it in less time and for far cheaper in certain areas of town.

I can imagine the pills will be gone by the end of my 2 week trip to Baytown. A small apartment with 1 recovering mother, 1 passive-aggressive boyfriend, a small toddler, an outspoken aunt and 2 rambunctious kids is nothing if not anxiety soup. Add to that a family reunion where I haven't seen anyone in 9 years. Hello elevator ride.

In more encouraging news, I feel like I've finally sorted out what's causing the anxiety. Like my last years in Baytown, I am somewhere I do not necessarily want to be. I am handling situations I don't want to be handling. I'm spending a lot of time committing myself to others. My cup is running low, and has been for quite some time. Starting in July, I'll be working to mend that. But that is the surest relation to my anxiety now and my anxiety of 7 years ago. And really, it makes perfect sense. Our bodies have weird ways of managing stress and apparently mine is tired of managing it. My mind is rebelling. And it's time to put myself a priority. Orrrr, I can push it until I finally get own intervention and 28 days of rehab (oh the joy!)

Sharing the Love

2009-05-20T03:13:00.000-05:00

:::censored:::

2009-05-19T00:57:00.004-05:00

I have recently started a bad habit of writing blogs and deleting them. I'm not sure if I like my newly imposed self-censorship or not. Perhaps it's a sign of all around self-censorship, for which I would be much grateful (as would many others, no doubt).

Oh well. As long as I'm on the right side, I guess it's worth it.

on Mother's Day

2009-05-10T14:17:00.003-05:00

It is not at all unusual to hear me talking about how motherhood sucks. I don't think it sucks for me any worse than any other mother, but motherhood hit me at a time when Mom's were constantly parading their happiness and perfect little kids about, and like most other choices I've made, I took the road less travelled (the one where Mom's were being honest about things like painful breastfeeding, sleep deprivation, a loss of identity, television addiction and Postpartum Depression).

But today, because I slept late, woke up to the smell of bacon and a beautiful daughter yelling "happy mother's day!", I'd like to write about the other sides of motherhood. I must admit, I'm honestly at a loss for words when it comes to the joy. Not because I don't experience it, but because I'm obviously more articulate with bitching than appreciation. But I'm going to give it a go anyhow.

First, I need to take a second to thank God (and Chris' sperm) for giving me a girl. I have no idea what I would have done with a boy. The honor of raising a strong, thoughtful and responsible young woman is not at all lost on me. I look forward to everything that has to offer (the joys AND the frustrations). But for now, she's just our little Izzy. Our little Izzy who loves ants and spiders and doodle bugs. Who loves going bye-bye, eating M&M's for dinner (when Dad isn't around, of course) and having a grown man named Eric as a best friend. Our Iz, who loves singing, dancing and playing with PuppetShow (her name for a Sonic the Hedgehog stuffed animal). God graced me with the most beautiful, funny and feisty kid possible, because He obviously knew this motherhood thing was going to be tougher than I imagined.

Motherhood is pure joy. Don't get me wrong, it's also pure frustration, pure insanity and pure heartbreak. But first and foremost, it's joy. It's a joy that is not easily explained by a cynical amateur writer, because it is so overwhelming and heartfilling.

I used to laugh at my own Mom because she was a "crier". Sad movies, news reports, articles of heartbreak would send my Mom down the river of tears. I'd constantly tell her to "toughen up, that's the way the world is." But since giving birth, I am now a "crier" as well. Grey's Anatomy kills me every f'n week. I recently realized why that is. Motherhood opens you up. It opens your heart in a way that is unexplainable to others. You cannot be a good mother and keep your guard. You have to feel. You have to be empathetic and sympathetic. It's essential to motherhood. And it's hard to turn that off at the end of the day, so you end up crying at reports of other hurt children, dying parents, loves lost or whatever else Shonda Rhimes might throw at you for the week. And while crying absolutely drives me nuts, I'm starting to accept that it's a side-effect of good mothering. It represents an open heart.

I recently read an article on why mother's deserve a day. And it's true, we deserve breakfast in bed, clean houses, cards and flowers. But the truth is, if you are practicing conscious mothering, the payoff is there every single day. The joy of watching your child see their first doodle bug, discover how "very, very pretty" night is, or feeling things in a way you've never felt them before. Motherhood has the power to transform you into a better woman. Stronger, smarter and more capable of love than anything else in this world.

My ears are ringing.

2009-05-09T04:25:00.001-05:00

Is it possible that I've run out of things to say?

scary angry

2009-04-30T16:12:00.002-05:00

This year one of my obsessions is our yard. I've worked really hard planting a garden (and all that involves from start to finish), planting flowers in the flower beds (ditto) and planting some grass (ditto again). When we moved in, we figured our yard was once a pretty place. There were remnants of flowers, trellises, flower beds and the like. However, the last tenants here were blind crackheads (literally) so it's safe to assume they didn't put a huge priority on yard work.

Anyway, this morning I was admiring the Nasturtiums that were just starting to sprout (an edible flower). I planted them from seeds and I cannot begin to describe the amount of satisfaction I receive when seeds actually sprout (success!!) This afternoon, Izzy wanted to play out on the deck while I was doing kitchen-duty. No problem. But later, as I walked around the deck doing my routine satisfaction walk, I noticed that every.single.one of my Nasturtiums had been pulled out of the dirt. Every single one. I was absolutely furious. Izzy had already picked all of my baby tomatoes last week and this was enough to throw me over the edge. I seriously had to talk a walk around the yard to prevent from beating her.

This is harsh and I know it. But already this child takes too much from me. My sleep. My cleanliness. My need for organization. I love her. God knows more than anything else in this world. But as any grown adult knows, we often want to hurt the ones we love. And today, while staring shocked at my aborted Nasturtiums, I wanted to hurt her. I've replanted them and gained my perspective. They are only plants. She is only 2. It's not that big of a deal. But bless my poor angry soul, I am looking more forward to getting out of town this weekend than a happy mother should be...

simplify, simplify, simplify

2009-04-30T03:09:00.003-05:00

Since the beginning of mine and Chris' relationship we have always lived on the edge financially. We've always seemed to live paycheck-to-paycheck no matter how much we've made. Since moving to Austin, we've grown much more responsible and moved up the financial ladder (albeit slowly). Since having Izzy, we've gotten even better, throwing a large chunk into 401K, setting up an ESA for Izzy and putting money from every paycheck into savings. Over the last 3 years, we have all but cleared our credit reports (minus college loans, but who the hell counts those?) Hell, in the last 3 months, we've even become stockholders.

But these days, even those grand improvements are not enough. I need more simplification. I want to get rid of stuff, cancel more things and save even more. In fact, I feel an obsession coming on. Starting in June (because May is already booked solid), I've decided I'm going to start selling off our stuff. We have too much crap around here. The best houses I've walked into are houses that are clean and simple. We do not live in that house. And already Izzy's toys are taking over around here. It's starting to drive me insane.

In addition to selling off stuff, I'm going to really put our finances under the microscope (again). I already know the cable is going to go. I'm a slave to the television and it's unhealthy and irritating. In addition, we are going to learn to survive in the heat. Chris and I have never paid attention to the thermostat and it shows every month in our electric bill. We have a programable thermostat and it sits on "Hold" at a steady 73 degrees. That is not a conservation make. Also, we are going to stop buying fast food completely, and instead go out for dinner every payday. That's the plan anyway.

Already I'm super conscientious about waste. I'm a serious recycler, take my bags to the grocery store with me 80% of the time and have gone "green" with more than even I thought possible (ie: The Keeper). But I need to take it to the next level. I need Izzy to grow up differently than I did. I need her to be conscious about spending, waste, conservation and keeping things simple. And the only way I can ensure that is to make sure we live that way as well.

Oh yeah, and I need to quit smoking. Because smoking breaks ALL of those rules. But that can't come until I have everything else in order, and in keeping with always providing deadlines for myself, the end goal for smoking cessation is December 31st. This will be my last year of addiction. Period. The end.

SpongeBob causes cancer

2009-04-28T14:28:00.003-05:00

Okay, okay. SpongeBob himself does not cause cancer. But his bubble bath sure could. First let me say that I know bubble bath isn’t good for you. It can cause UTI’s and skin irritations. But Izzy likes her bubbles and I was tired of flying through the good stuff to make the bubbles happen. I looked for bath crayons and they are harder to find than one might imagine, so we ended up with bubble bath. I wanted some Mr. Bubble because that’s what I liked as a kid until I ended up with UTI’s and then Mr. Bubble was no more. But Izzy took one look at SpongeBob, freaked out with desire and so in the basket he went.

I came home and googled the ingredients, and sure enough, there are “cancer causing agents”. Plus there is formaldehyde. Which is gross, but whatever. Apparently that’s the way bubble bath rolls. Anyway, it contains Sodium Laureth Sulfate (it’s the second listed ingredient, in fact) and that particular ingredient (which is in everything if you look) has been known to cause an “increased incidence of cancer in controlled animal studies”. Nice.

So the question now is “will I go ahead and bubble it up for Izzy?” For now, yes I will. I’ll use up this ONE bottle. But only because in addition to bubble bath, I also bought a $12 (rather small) bottle of sunscreen (instead of Banana Boat) because I know that the cheap kids sunscreen is really bad for kids. So I figure the two will cancel each other out.

In the event that you’d like to stop worrying about the pig flu and find out what’s really killing us (slowly), feel free to check out this website: http://www.cosmeticsdatabase.com/index.php

You can thank Jessica for killing the love of your favorite products. Or, you can say “screw it, I want to be looking good in my Ultima II makeup when I get hit by that car….”

martini's and self-discovery

2009-04-26T16:11:00.005-05:00

Last night I got gloriously drunk on apple martini's. Several times I remember thinking "why don't I get drunk more often?" Until towards the end of the night when I was lying my head down in the bathroom sink trying to "get myself together". Even still, it was quite enjoyable. Until this morning when I was awoken by my beautiful daughter yelling "WAKE UP MOMMY, WAKE UP!" Luckily, I have a fantastic husband that took morning duty all weekend and I was able to sleep until 11am. The smell of pancakes and bacon rose me out of bed, which is when I realized why I don't get drunk "more often". Hangovers suck. The hangover headache and lethargy I can completely do without. Granted, a martini hangover doesn't suck as much as a red wine hangover, but regardless, all hangovers suck. I understand how people become alcoholics. They need to drink just to get through the hangover. Ugh...

Once I was finally up and around, I talked to my cousin-who-is-like-a-sister, Chelsea. The conversation quickly turned into a psychotherapy session and at one point I suggested that she needed to do some serious soul-searching. "Is there a book on that?" she asked. I laughed, thinking that surely there was, but it defeated the point of "self" "searching". But then I realized she had a point. If you are starting at square one, which at 21 you most definitely are, how do you even know what to ask yourself? So I told her I'd do some research and get back to her. And because I am an internet research queen, I found exactly what I was looking for:

Self Discovery Questions

As I was arrogantly reading over the questions (thinking I had all the answers, of course), I realized I am probably due for some self discovery. I haven't done any true soul searching in about 10 years, and seeing as how we change and constantly evolve (or we should anyway), I'm thinking it's time I sit and answer some of these questions myself. And me being who I am (a girl who lacks the ability to keep anything private), I'm going to use my blog for that purpose. I'm going to bare my soul for all the internet world to see. Granted, I will still be posting about the hilarious goings-on of Casa de Dawson, but in addition I'm going to try some self-imposed psychotherapy as well. This should be fun...

Keeping on...

2009-04-24T17:35:00.005-05:00

I've wanted to start posting a few of my favorite things online and since this is my most favorite thing right now, I thought I'd start with it. It's been a hot topic between me and the girls for quite some time and now that I've used it for the second month I am loving it more and more.

It's called The Keeper. It's a feminine hygiene cup that is better for both you and the environment. I won't get into the details because I know there are guys reading this that are holding their heads in their hands saying "whyyy? whyyy?" But for the life of me I don't know why it isn't more popular. Once you get the hang of it, it's genius!

So please ladies, check it out. If you decide to try it, feel free to send me any questions. It's different and there are definitely some tips and tricks involved. I was lucky to have a small support group that helped me get started and answer whatever questions I had. For those of you living in Austin, it's available at Ecowise for the same price you'd pay if you had to order it online with shipping.

Hi worm. I love you.

2009-04-21T12:17:00.002-05:00

So I've been meaning to start blogging on here but life has been getting in the way. Now, sitting out on the back deck watching my strange child, seems to be as good a time as any to get started. And we'll get started with what is actually going on out here on the back deck.

A few minutes ago, I was sitting here watching Izzy play in the sandbox. I knew the sandbox was nice and clean, as I had spent over an hour last week scooping out leaves and dirt with a cat litter scooper (a rather genius idea!) So all of a sudden I hear her say "awwwwww...." and she slowly climbs out of the sand box holding something carefully in her hands. Through the yard she walks, affectionately talking to this unknown object, carefully walking up the stairs and stopping right at my face. "Look Mom," she says, "it's a worm." And there between her fingers was a little green worm. A little green squished worm, I should add. "Ohhh Izzy," I say. "Please put the worm down, I think you killed it." She shook her head "no" and held the worm to her shoulder where she rocked it back and forth and patted the hand holding the poor squished thing. At that point, a friend of mine called. I relayed the story to her, horrified that Izzy was babying this thing. "Taunya, you need to be creative," Sarah said. "Go get a blanket for the worm and put the damn thing nite-nite. Grab a piece of toilet paper or something. Geez..." Of course. Why didn't I think of that.

So I grab a piece of toilet paper and we put the worm nite-nite. Izzy is patting it and I realize the poor little thing is still alive. Squirming for it's life. I think it's time to act fast, so I make a move for it. Izzy beats me to it by putting the bottom of a cup on it. This time, it's squished for real. I try to pick it up with the piece of toilet paper, only to upset her tremendously. "Fine," I said. "Take it back to it's Momma in the sandbox. It really misses it's Momma." "Okay." She says, carefully picking it back up, holding it to her shoulder and slowly walking back down the stairs. But first, she thought it should take a few joy rides down her slide. At that point I just decided to go with it. After a couple of rides down the slide she picked the worm up, walked it back to the sandbox and sweetly said "Hi worm. I love you." before tossing it back into the sandbox. She turned around and said "all done Momma". Well the worm definitely is, that much I'm sure of.