I am losing my mind...

I am losing my mind. I do not mean that I am going crazy. I literally am losing my mind. As in losing IQ points. At an alarmingly rapid pace. I know this because, having nothing better to do to fill the void between working, sleeping, and cleaning, I decided to retest my IQ and compare my scores to the last time I took these tests. Now since no one but me ever reads this silly little blog of mine, I feel I can be honest. (No I will not post my actual scores, just on the off chance that someone does take the time to read my page when they surf in by accident.) I took these tests for the first time about three and a half years ago. Back then, I scored in the low (very low) genius range. Now, just for the record, I do not consider myself a "genius" as most people define it, but that is where my scores fell. I will admit that it was somewhat pleasant to find out that I am a little bit smarter than the average wife, but trust me, it did not in any way change my life. Back then I was offered membership into "The International High IQ Society." Not being one who toots her own horn, I declined. Besides, I would much rather sit around with normal people drinking a cold beer than sit in a room with a bunch high IQ having boring braggarts. But over the years I have secretly held fast to that number (my score) in my head, whenever I had to deal with morons. I would tell myself that maybe they are not morons, maybe I am just being a snooty bitch. That was how I could control my temper when the idiots around me were driving me insane. But apparently, I will soon be one of those morons, so I need to start practicing my WWE watching skills, and learn to read things like The National Enquirer and Us magazine. You see, I really am losing my mind. In a short three and a half years, I have lost in the neighborhood of seven IQ points. I am only thirty five for God's sake. Can you imagine what I will be like when I hit seventy? I think I had better start stocking up on the drool pads and Depends now. It seems as though I am going to need them. Now I am not exactly an idiot quite yet, I still score in the high "Gifted" range, but if this keeps up I will be senile before long. Let's see, seven points every three years for the next thirty five years. Oh hell, see the math is giving me a headache. Where's a pen when you need one? I used to be able to do shit like that in my head, now I need a pen and paper, and maybe a calculator and a slide rule. Okay, I did the math, and it goes something like this... you take the estimated thirty five years that I will continue to live, and divide it by the three year span between tests. You get eleven point sixty seven (okay actually it came out to be 11.6666 on into infinity, so I cheated and rounded up.) So now you take that eleven point sixty seven, and multiply it by the seven points I am losing during each of those time spans, right? So the answer I came up with is that by the time I hit seventy, I will have lost a sum total of eighty one point sixty nine IQ points. (And if I did the math wrong I do NOT want you to fucking tell me!) See, drooling on myself at that point will be the least of my worries. I won't be smart enough to remember to eat. I will be a house plant with legs. Damn, I should have joined the High IQ Society when I had a chance. That way at least when I am sitting there enjoying shitting in my pants, someone could have read the certificate to me to remind me that I was once a pretty smart gal, but hell, I wouldn't be able to understand it anyway. That's all, Goodnight.

Not as much fun as bingo....

Okay, so all my plans for this weekend fell through. And that, my friends, really pisses me off. I had planned to go to the bar Friday night with Brad from work. That was until all the guys at work heard us talking about where to go and invited themselves along. Okay, I could work with that. Yeah, it may have become a little uncomfortable me the only woman with seven guys out for the night. But hell, I can hang. And I can probably drink most of them under the table. No fou-fou drinks for this girl. Give me a Jack and Coke, and I will thank you with a smile. I was planning on getting "nicely drunk". You know nicely drunk.. it is the stage just before I get ten foot tall and bullet proof. You know, when I am happy go lucky and singing off key to every song on the jukebox. The stage when I come home and want to "chaca-chaca" all night. (Chaca-chaca is the newest term in my Spanish vocabulary. I learned it Thursday, and although I may not have spelled it correctly, I think we all get the drift.) So now we were to be a party of eight. Cool right? The more the merrier. That was until they decided that where we needed to go was The Bottoms Up, a local titty bar. Now I have nothing against breasts. (Hell, mine are better than ninety percent of the dancers around here, and mine are real.) And I could care less if some half naked girl wants to gyrate on a stage for a few bucks worth of tips, but I refuse, absolutely, to pay eight dollars a drink, for what would cost me four bucks somewhere else. If they were willing to buy my drinks all night, then fine. But since they all know damned well that I am faithfully wed, and not one of them has a chance of getting lucky no matter how much they spend on me, well, we all know how that turned out. So, I spent Friday night playing text twist until my brain refused to turn the letters into words, and I finally gave up and went to bed. I was okay with it. I had bingo to look forward to. Except now, that is a bust too. Todd's girlfriend has developed a jealous streak a mile wide. Why? Who the hell knows. I wouldn't have sex with Todd if he was the last man on earth. I wouldn't do him with your private parts, let alone my own. But apparently, she thinks that we are going to wipe all the bingo cards off the table, and have sex in front of all the little old ladies and housewives with their rows of lucky troll dolls and pictures of their dead husbands. Ugh. Some people just really fucking annoy me. So now, I get to sit here all night and watch you tube till my eyes explode, or I fall into a coma from listening to too many bad singers attempt to sing Christina Aguilar's (spelling?) latest hit. I think I would rather lay naked covered in honey on a fire ant hill. Or maybe I could watch all those new movies I have bought and never had the time or the desire to watch. Or I could play some other useless online games. Or I could take a long hot bath, actually shave my legs, and see how long I can hold my breath underwater before my lungs explode. I could mow the lawn that is tall enough to lose my youngest child in. I could wash the dirty dishes that have sat so long that it would be better if I just threw them away and bought new ones. I could give myself a manicure and a pedicure. I could go for a walk. (No, I do not jog and I never run unless I am being chased by a chainsaw wielding maniac.) I could trim the dogs' toenails. I could bake a pan of brownies, and then eat them all while they are still warm and gooey with a half a gallon of milk. Or I can sit here like I am doing and bitch about how nothing ever seems to work out the way you plan it. None of them seem like as much fun as bingo though. Damn it. That's all, Bye.

Now that is living....

I think I may not be home as much as usual this weekend. It is about time, to be honest. I need to get out more. Too many hours of Text Twist and/or any game I play with Corey is just not good for the brain. Last Friday, Brad (from work) asked me to go out to the bar with him. I reminded him that being an old married woman means I should at least give the hubby some notice before going to the bar. I figured he would forget all about it, but yesterday he asked if we were on for this Friday night. I think I will go. A few Jack and Cokes will do me some good. Then, Todd (also from work, also Toni's son) asked me if I want to go to bingo with him this Saturday. It seems his girlfriend doesn't much care for bingo, and has refused to go. Again, I think I will go. Bingo is not just for the gray hairs anymore. Hell, I may even win some money. It certainly is much cheaper than spending my money playing the slots in the casino. Speaking of casinos, when I was at Ameristar last week cashing my check. (It is much closer than my bank, and is open when I get off work.) I decided to drop ten bucks in the slots on my way out the doors. (I did not win.) On my way to my favorite quarter machine, (I like the dollar slots better, but I am not a rich girl.) I passed the craps table. That looks like so much fun. One of these days I will get brave and attempt to play craps. In fact, I have added "spending a hundred dollars on one roll of the dice" to my list of things I will do before dying. I even went so far as to ask about how the game is played, and stayed to watch for about fifteen minutes. The staff at Ameristar is very helpful. Some guy in a suit just showed up, out of nowhere, and handed me a brochure with all the rules of craps. (You can't get much more helpful than that.) But back to that list of things to do. The list is not very long right now. I guess that is because I am still just young enough that I still believe I just may live forever. (Okay, I really do not believe that, but it would be a comforting thought.) So my list is not very long. It includes such things as skydiving (just once, because really why jump out of a perfectly good airplane.), swimming in the Pacific again (my father called and told me about how he had just come back from Venice Beach, the asshole), swimming in the Atlantic (I have never even seen the Atlantic ocean except on television, and really how sad is that.) , driving a car at over one hundred miles per hour (For many of you that is nothing new, but I am a good girl and always obey the speed limits. Well, almost always.), swimming with dolphins, and making love to a certain someone who is not my husband. (Now, before you get all freaked out, I will wait until either 1.) The hubby divorces me 2.) The hubby dies or 3.) The hubby and I have a life altering experience that somehow changes our entire set of morals and we suddenly become swingers and/or decide that what we really need to spice up our lives is for me to be able to have two hubby's.) I don't think that last one will ever happen, but let a girl fantasize, damn you. See not an overly long list. I think I will get to experience five out of the six at some point. I do not think I am asking for too much out of life. Just a few small pleasures. But I do think that the older I get the less likely I am to do any of these, so maybe I should just start planning them now. I am thinking I could maybe even combine some of them to get them done and over with. Perhaps, I could skydive into the Atlantic near a group of dolphins off the coast of North Carolina, where I could pick up the man who is not my hubby and drive very fast to Venice Beach stopping in Vegas to shoot some craps on the way. Wow, now that would be living. That's all, Goodbye.

The child is scarred for life...

Okay, so it finally happened. One of my children walked in on the hubby and I in the act of....um.. well you know. Well, he didn't walk in exactly. He walked to the bathroom, (which is right next to our bedroom door) and we had not closed the door. It was five o'clock in the morning. Honestly, the thought that we had to close the door just never entered my mind. Children should not be awake at five in the morning. Not even to use the restroom. I will give him this though, he was mature enough to go straight back to bed without saying a word. Of course, knowing that he had seen us killed the mood. Quickly. Now the mood has been killed by the kids before. Just never quite so thoroughly. I have had them wake in the middle of the night and cry when they were babies. Back then, I changed them, rocked them back to sleep, and returned to the hubby who was glad to pick up where we left off. But this. Well, I think I am scarred for life too. I think this weekend I will be installing a deadbolt on the bedroom door. I am just grateful that it was the hubby that he questioned about it this afternoon. I know he is almost fourteen, and we have had the sex talk a few times already. He knows that people in love have sex, and thanks to the mainstream media, he knows that people who are not in love often have sex. But I still am in no way prepared to deal with the fact that he witnessed sex between the hubby and I. The kids get grossed out by the hubby and myself kissing, holding hands, cuddling, and especially the hubby's favorite thing to do.... public groping. (Come on now, you know you have all done it sometime, anyway it is always very PG in public.) Can you imagine how disgusted he is with what he saw last night? I know you are sitting there laughing right now, but seriously, how do I discuss this with him? Or do I just ignore it unless he comes to me? I am stumped. Kids should really come with owners manuals like cars do. (They are far more complex than a six cylinder engine bolted to a frame.) I hope he isn't really "scarred for life", and I hope that the outcome of this little misadventure will be that he grows up with a healthy attitude towards physical signs of affection, and I hope that next time I think about closing the door. That's all, Goodnight.

The real implications of a "virgin" birth...

I know I have not been writing much here lately, but it is due to the fact that nothing of any real importance has happened to me. So tonight I will talk about whatever happens to come into my brain. I will start with the fact that when I was talking to my honey today, he told me about a "virgin" birth in a shark. (Yes, I am well aware that we talk about strange things.) So anyway, I decided to look into it. I remembered hearing a little blurb about something similar happening right here at our own Henry Doorly Zoo a few years back, and imagine my surprise when I found out that is exactly the story he was talking about. It seems that the birth took place back in December of 2001. They have discovered, after years of extensive research, that it was indeed a "virgin" birth. The name for the process that causes this is called parthenogenesis. (We all learn something new everyday.) It seems that there is no paternal DNA involved, so they were able to rule out " sperm storage" as a possibility. (Such as that which is seen in the eastern box turtle and the red sided garter snake.) Nor is it due to a previously fertilized egg being halted in it's development until such time as the mother is able to care for the new baby. (As seen in kangaroos.) Nor is it due to sharks being able to change sex. (As seen in some species of frogs, fish and shrimp.) It is a true miracle of Mother Nature. (Or God, if you believe as I do.) So are all the other ways of sexual reproduction, but somehow a "virgin" birth just seems more miraculous. With this new finding, it seems that Mammals are the only group (genus?) that does not have at least one species that reproduces by parthenogenesis. (Except of course, that oh so famous Virgin birth that took place approximately 2007 years ago.) It got me to thinking. We as humans consider ourselves to be the most intelligent creatures on the planet, yet we have not yet figured out how to reproduce through parthenogenesis. Now, I am fully aware that the shark didn't exactly "figure it out", but apparently through years and years of evolution (yes, you can believe in God and evolution at the same time), the sharks body has changed so that if a female spends her life without encountering a worthy male, well, then she can just have kids without one. Why haven't human women figured out how to do this yet? We all know that "worthy" males are few and far between, yet women all over the world breed with these less than worthy men in order to have the children they so much desire. I know plenty of women who later regret their choice of "unworthy" man, and spend a lifetime wishing that they could have just reproduced through parthenogenesis. (I am one of the lucky few who found an "almost worthy" man.) I am thinking that if female scientists the world over get together and start working on this little problem, we might see a reemergence of the "worthy" male of our species. Face it, men want to have sex. Women want to have babies. (The sex you have to get them is an added bonus.) If women could have babies without any male involvement whatsoever, men would have to "shape up" in order to get laid once in awhile. Think of the implications ladies. Men washing the dishes. Men cooking the dinners. Men picking up their own stinky socks off the living room floor. What an amazing world we would live in. I personally will send twenty bucks to aid in the research needed to accomplish this. Just tell me where to send the check, and I will have the hubby drop it in the mail first thing tomorrow. That's all, Goodnight.

Nothing to say....

I really have nothing to say tonight. I got off work a little early (had a great night at work), went to Wal-Mart to grab something to eat, tried calling my honey (no answer), and now I am going to play Text Twist. That's all. Goodnight.

ring...ring...ring...

Just the other night I was talking to a very dear friend, and I mentioned that not only did I not own a cell phone, but that I did not wish to own a cell phone. I now own a cell phone. The hubby bought it for me. He was trying to do a nice thing, getting me the phone so I could call him on my breaks at work, and keep in touch while I am out and about living my very busy life. The thing is, part of why I live such a busy life, is that I try to get away from people. Sometimes, I just do not want to be bothered by everyone else's problems. Cell phone ownership is like asking people to call you for every little tiny bump they encounter. Hell, a home phone seems to be an open invitation to call me at any time day or night to some people. Now there are some people that I would not mind if they called me fifty times a day, however my phone rang at four forty five this morning, and the person on the other end of the line was not one of those people. It was a friend of mine, who as of late, has become extremely self centered, and who has started playing the one up game. What is the one up game you may ask. Well, it goes something like this..."I have had a very bad day at work" I say, "Yeah, well I have had a horrible week" says she. "I think I am a little hungry" say I, "I haven't eaten in three days." says she. "I am coming down with a cold" I say, "I have pneumonia and I think I am going to die" she replies. Anyway, you get the point. So imagine my joy at being awakened less than an hour after FINALLY falling asleep because.. get this.. she had a flat tire. In her freaking driveway. Now I ask you, what the hell am I supposed to do about that at four forty five in the damned morning? Apparently I was supposed to go hold her hand while we looked at the flat tire together. Or better yet, perhaps she thought I would come jack up her car, take off her tire, and put a new one on. Well I could have..I am talented like that. But, keep in mind, that I was supposed to apparently shit out said new tire, because she wasn't smart enough to buy a spare. You know, people like her give women a bad name. I am not saying that I am a mechanic with awe inspiring abilities, and I do not even do my own tune ups or oil changes, but I do know how to change a tire (And for the record ladies, it does not involve standing helplessly by your car crying until a man stops to do it for you.) I know how to check my fluid levels, and add said fluids as needed. I know how to check my tire pressure. I can jump start my own car. I can change the fuses. I can change the windshield wipers. I even once changed the alternator, including putting on the serpentine belt, thank you very much. (Oh hell, maybe I am awe inspiring.) I just do not have any clue what she expected me to do about her flat. I could have offered her my can of fix-a-flat that I keep in MY car for such emergencies, but I was a bit pissed at her not thinking about the fact that she was calling me at FOUR FORTY FIVE IN THE MORNING! I am just glad I have not given her my cell phone number, because if she had called me on the cell, I may have had to get angry. That's all, Goodnight.

My secret addiction...

Last night I promised to tell you what I thought about the movie Stranger Than Fiction. Here's the deal, if you like Will Ferrel movies, then skip this one. If, on the other hand, like me you normally must be forced at gunpoint to watch any movie in which he stars, this is a movie for you. I really enjoyed this one. He did not act like an ass through the entire movie. In fact, if his acting skills were a little better, I would have loved this movie. It had a great story, something his other movies are sorely lacking. And to make things even better it also stars the wonderful Emma Thompson as the writer/narrator. All in all I would have to give this movie my seal of approval. So, now that the movie review is out of the way, I have a bit of a confession to make. I am addicted to something. I have lately become an addict of the game TEXT TWIST. Okay, you do not have to laugh that loud. I really like this silly little game, and I find myself playing it for hours at a time. I also play Scrabble a lot, but since I do not have an eidetic memory, I do not play against anyone else. Believe it or not there are people online who do nothing but play scrabble. All the time. What a life. It must be nice to have nothing better to do than play games all day long. But if my addiction to Text Twist doesn't ease up soon, I may have to quit my job, and see if there are any Text Twist Tournaments where I can win lots of money. Somehow I don't think there are, but hey, it is a nice thought. Anyway, so I am thinking I need to hit the lottery, so I can do nothing but play games all day and all night, so if you have any guaranteed winning numbers please let me know and I will play them this Saturday. If I win I promise I will split the winnings with you, 50/50....um maybe 60/40....okay okay..I promise I will buy you a very nice Thank You card, I will send it to you while I am on vacation in the Bahamas and I promise I will send you some pictures too. For now, I am going to put in a movie (tonight's movie will be Sense And Sensibility) , a movie I have already seen (I give it a thumbs up rating) so that I can go to sleep, and hope that the phone wakes me in the morning with a 910 area code. Until next time, Goodnight.

rambling...

Had an early night at work. Good thing because I am still exhausted. Gonna eat dinner, watch a movie (Stranger Than Fiction is tonight's movie choice, I will let you know what I think tomorrow) and go to sleep. The hubby is being very sweet tonight. I am not sure why, but I will take what I can get without complaint. I need to start a load of laundry. I can't think clearly tonight, I don't know why. I miss my honey, I haven't got to talk to him in almost 48 hrs. Smitten, good word. That's all.

Back to bed...

I spent all day sleeping today. I just woke up about two hours ago. I have a splitting headache, and I still feel exhausted. I think I am going to go back to bed.

Casey's story...

Yesterday was my daughters' Birthday. They turned twenty four, nine, and would have been nine. We did not do anything to celebrate it yet. We were saving that for tonight, since I had to work yesterday. Tonight we will grill burgers, eat cake and ice cream, open gifts. I will smile, and laugh, and we will play music and dance. Tonight I will watch a movie, or read a book. When the lights go out, and every one else is sleeping, I will cry. A friend told me last night that I should not cry for my lost angel. My friend said I should be happy that she is in heaven. I am not happy about that. I will never be happy about that. I am still angry with God. Angry that I can not celebrate this day wholeheartedly. I am thrilled that Alicia and Corey(Corrine) are growing up. But I am angry that I do not get to see Casey(Cassandra) blow out candles. I got to see Corey take her first steps, knowing that if Casey was here, they would have been taking them together. I got to put Corey on the bus for her first day of school. Alone. When she was little Corey would point into the mirror and say "Casey". She was five before she finally stopped associating her image with her sister. I have never understood the bond that exists between identical twins. But I know that Corey still feels Casey's loss profoundly. Casey was only two days old when she passed away. But never before or since has anyone or anything affected our lives so completely. I am a little fuzzy about all the details of the day the twins were born. I remember bits and pieces, kind of like a movie from a B director. I remember going in that morning for a scheduled C -section. The mood euphoric. There really is no other word I can think of to describe it. It had been a long and difficult pregnancy, and even though the girls were coming early, we knew everything was fine. I had been following Doctor's orders. I had been watching my blood sugar, getting plenty of fluids, and plenty of rest. I had been faithfully taking the medication to control my contractions which had started only three months into the pregnancy. I had been getting ultrasounds every two days, and non stress tests everyday as ordered. I had been getting weekly injections of a steroid that would help to speed the development of the babies' lungs because we all knew that premature birth was imminent. At about six in the morning the doctor preformed an amniocentesis. (For those of you who do not know, that is when they insert a needle roughly the size of New York into your stomach, and withdraw amniotic fluid.) The tests all came back great. The babies were ready. Their lungs mature. Everything was peachy. All my friends and family had taken off of work to be there. Even the hubby's ex-wife (she is a good friend of mine now ((long story)) ) was there to help celebrate the birth of our babies. Everything looked like sunshine and smelled like roses. I went into surgery smiling and laughing. I made jokes with the anesthesiologist and the nurses. There were dozens of people in that little surgical room. Each baby about to be born had to have a number of nurses available. I had two nurses, an anesthesiologist, my OBGYN, and his assistant. The girls had a pediatrician, and she had her assistant. The hubby was there, to hold my hand. I remember laughing as the doctor made the incision. I felt no pain, it was more like a light tickle. Everyone was smiling because I was laughing. I was so happy that I would finally be able to hold my babies. "Twin A born at..." I remember the doctor saying. Then he called her by name, "Cassandra." I had named the babies the day I found out we were having twins. Corey and Casey. The names would work whether they were boys or girls or one of each. When we learned the sex of the babies, the names became Corrine and Cassandra. But I will always think of them as my Corey and Casey no matter what the birth certificates say. After he said her name, the doctor's face became somber. He handed her off to a nurse, who took her to the pediatrician immediately. The pediatrician started working on her right away. She was standing behind my head over my right shoulder. I remember the mood changing so quickly. Nobody would say anything. But I could see it in their eyes. I demanded to know what was wrong with my baby. I remember trying to turn around to see what was going on, but I was paralyzed from the chest down from the spinal epidural. I remember the tears in my eyes. I remember the tears in my hubby's eyes. And in the doctor's and his assistant that had been with me through every step of my pregnancy. And then for me the lights went out. The hubby had instructed the anesthesiologist to knock me out, and so he did. When I woke up a few hours later, everyone was crying. Doctors I didn't know came in and used words I didn't understand to explain to me what was going on. I was groggy, and just wanted my babies. My OBGYN came in and sat down on the edge of my bed. He told me that things did not look good for my sweet Casey. When she was born she was not breathing. At first they did not know why. Everything had looked so good. The pediatrician worked on her and had called in a more experienced doctor to help. After a long time they finally were able to revive her. She had needed a blood transfusion. She had been born with only about a third of her normal blood volume. It was caused by something known as Acute Twin To Twin Transfusion Syndrome. But by the time they figured it out, and got enough blood in her to get her heart pumping again, the damage was done. She needed special care that they could not provide at the hospital we were in. She was to be life-flighted to University of Nebraska Medical Center. The more experienced pediatrician, a wonderful man by the name of Dennis Jones came in the room. He quickly asked me if I would like him to preform a Baptism of my baby girl before she was transferred to the Med Center. "Yes", was all I could get out. I was in shock. How could everything have gone so terribly wrong. He rushed back out of the room, and returned a few minutes later with a whole host of nurses and technicians followed by this tiny little baby in a huge incubator. She didn't look sick. Except for the oxygen tubes and the heart monitors, she looked perfect to me. They wheeled the incubator next to my bed and allowed me to touch her tiny hand for the briefest moment, and then they were gone taking her away from me. The hubby and most of the family followed her to the hospital, leaving me with Debra, the hubby's ex and my best friend. I felt so lost. So confused. Surely God would not let anything too terrible happen to this beautiful child. I have not spent my life in a convent, but I have always striven to be a good person. Surely this kind of hell was only for bad people. I sat there in disbelief. They brought Corey in to me and placed her in my arms. And God help me, when I looked into her perfect healthy little face, I did not want to be holding her. I wanted my Casey too, and Corey alone would never be enough. I asked my OBGYN, another wonderful man by the name of Norman Ferrer, when I would be going to University Hospital. He told me that it was not hospital policy to transfer healthy mothers and children to other hospitals. I let him know in no uncertain terms that this answer was unacceptable, and that I wished him to bring me the paperwork which would allow me to leave the hospital against medical advice. He reminded me that Corey was not going to be released from the hospital, and they would not allow me to sign her out, regardless of my personal choices. I then decided that I would leave Corey, who was very healthy, in the care of the fine doctors and nurses at Mercy Hospital, and come back to get her when I could. All the time I was thinking about how the powers that be had never come up with a contingency plan for just this kind of situation. Doc Ferrer asked me to give him a few minutes to see what he could do to help. As soon as he left the room I had Debra start packing my bags. I was going to be with Casey, and no power in Heaven or on Earth was going to stop it. Debra had just packed my last items when Doc F came in and told me he had arranged for an ambulance to come and pick Corey and myself up and transfer us to the Med Center. He had made arrangements with University for a room which was positioned closest to the NICU. The catch was that only a few hours after giving birth to almost sixteen pounds worth of babies, and a vertical Cesarean, I was going to have to get up of my own power, and walk to the ambulance, where I would then have to be able to get myself into the front seat. Because Corey was in an incubator, there was no room in the back for both myself and the medic that would be attending to her. I told him that would be no problem. I started getting out of bed, when he asked me where I was going. "Out for a smoke.", was my answer. Now I know this is not a thing most people would expect, but anyone who smokes will understand that during times of extreme stress, a cigarette is what we automatically turn to. The Doc told me that I was to sit my ass back down and smoke my cigarette right there in my room. "Just open the window." Four cigarettes later the medic finally showed up with the ambulance. He walked into my room pushing a wheelchair. I climbed in and we were off. About halfway to the exit, we were chased down by a nurse who explained that I had to return to my room because in all the chaos I had not been given my RhoGAM shot. I remember standing up in the middle of the hall, dropping my underwear, hiking up my gown, and bending over for the shot. The nurse seemed appalled by my behaviour. She refused to give the injection in the hallway. The medic took the needle, gave me the shot and told her to go away. When we got to the ambulance, the medic helped me into the front seat. I remember it hurt like hell trying to get in there, and he kept apologizing. The ride there seemed to take forever, and I honestly do not remember getting there. I was still in a bit of a drug daze. I went straight to the NICU to be with Casey. She was in an incubator that was tall, so I had to stand to see her. I remember that I was kissing her and stroking her, and talking to her. I could not tell you who else was there. For me, at that moment, she was the whole world. Finally, I recall, a nurse came in and told me I had to leave. She said I was pale and sweating and they had to check my vitals. She told me Corey would not take the sugar water they were trying to give her. She refused the formula, and she needed fed. They took me back to my room, and Corey started breastfeeding like a champ. I remember it was dark outside. I remember that people kept coming and going from my room. My sister had called my father in California, and he had a flight scheduled out the next night. My mother called, and told me she wanted to wait until a "happier" time to come and see us. I told her that her granddaughter was going to die. She still would not come. I remember a nurse came in to change my IV bag and empty my catheter bag. I assume she gave me something to make me sleep, because the lights went out again. I woke up the next morning hoping it had all been a nightmare. But when they brought in my breakfast, and then only brought in Corey to nurse, I knew better. There were beautiful flowers and balloons in my room. But only one bassinet. I nursed Corey until she fell asleep and called for the nurse to take her back to the nursery. I used a pillow to hold my stomach so that I could get out of bed, and I walked into the NICU. I knew things were not good. When I saw my baby she was on a ventilator. She had tubes in her nose, down her throat, and leads coming from her chest and head. She was swollen from the medicines they were using. The nurses could not look me in the eyes. The doctors spoke in whispers to each other. Some other parent had left a crib medallion of Saint Jude on her incubator. Someone else taped up a saying by Mother Teresa. Even with all this my mind refused to accept what my heart already knew. I was mentally making plans for taking my girls home. I was trying to convince myself that they could fix whatever was wrong. Medicine is so advanced these days, certainly they can fix this tiny baby who looks so perfect. But they called a family meeting with us that morning. They told me things I can not now remember. But I remember that the gist of it was that my baby was lost to me. They said there was no brain activity. They had called in a specialist, one of the best in the world to consult, and the consensus was that there was no hope that she would ever regain any kind of conscious thoughts. I remember questioning their opinions. I wanted third and fourth opinions. They told us that she would never breathe on her own. That she would never again open her beautiful blue eyes. That she would never feel my caress. She would never taste my kisses. They talked to us about removing her vent, and letting her go. I could not wrap my mind around it. Then the room got fuzzy, and I woke up in bed. I remember going back into the NICU. They had put a chair next to her for me. Debra stayed with her round the clock, so that she would never be alone, not for one moment. The hubby and I sat holding her little perfect hands, and we came to the decision that the kindest thing we could do for our sweet baby was to let her go. That was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. The hardest decision I have ever made. It is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. I remember going back to my room and crying. I wanted to hold her. But because of all the equipment I had not been able to yet. A nurse came in from the nursery and bitched at me about being gone from my room so much. She said Corey was hungry and what kind of mother was I to be gone so much? Luckily Doc Ferrer had come by to see me at that time, he was able to explain. She had known nothing about Casey, all she knew was that I had one baby. The baby photographer came into my room later that day with a form for me to fill out to get pictures done of Corey. I signed the forms and told him I wanted the pictures done with both girls together. He said that would not be a problem. He came back a few minutes later saying he would not photograph Casey with all the machines attached to her, but he had taken pictures of Corey alone. I told him to fuck off and get out of my room. My sister brought my son who was five at the time to see his sisters. He did not understand. He wanted to hurry and bring them both home. He kissed Casey on her belly which was one of the few available spots on her body that was not attached to something. We dressed Casey and Corey in their "coming home" outfits, and took pictures of them together. I sang her the song that I had been singing to them since I first knew they were coming. "Mommy loves me this I know for my mommy tells me so, I love her and she loves me, I'm the worlds cutest baby. Yes mommy loves me, yes mommy loves me, yes mommy loves me, my mommy tells me so". The hubby read her a bedtime story. The only one she would ever get. I spoke to her and breathed in her smell, so that I would never forget it. I stroked her cheeks, and kissed her feet. I counted her fingers and her toes. Over and over and over. I forgot to eat. I forgot to feed Corey. Sometimes, I forgot to breathe. I would stand by her side until I felt I was going to pass out, and someone would come and make me leave. I am pretty sure I was secretly being drugged by my doctors. I would lose track of time. At some time that night I went to sleep holding Corey in my arms. I remember a nurse coming to take her from me, and I got very angry. She left her with me that night. I woke up the next morning dreading the day. We were waiting for the arrival of my father before taking her off the vent. We wanted him to get to see her first. When I went to the NICU, they had moved her to a private room. It was filled with family and friends. There were elders from my church there to give her a blessing. Nurses came in and out silently, checking monitors, and cleaning tubes. we all skirted around the issue of what was coming. My head still would not accept that this was actually happening. I kept trying to convince myself that something would change. That the doctors would say there had been a mistake, and she would be alright. We somehow ended up back in my room. Probably I had to feed Corey. My sister was on her way back from the airport with my father. The nurse came into my room. Her face was blank to me. She told us that if we wanted to hold her and have her off the vent before she passed we needed to do it soon. Her organs were starting to shut down despite all their best efforts. Her little body could not hold out much longer. My father arrived, and we were all back in that tiny room with my angel. He got to kiss her once. They let my husband hold her for the first and last time. I never want to see that kind of despair in his face again. I would gladly give my life to have never seen that kind of anguish in him, ever. They wrapped her in her blanket, took her tubes out, and placed her in my arms. For a short time, I held both my girls, together. Then they took Corey from me, and I held my lil Casey as her tiny heart stopped beating. I was kissing her, and telling her it was okay to go. I told her that I would be okay. I promised her that I would see her again someday, and we would chase butterflies together. I remember the warmth of her. I remember the weight of her in my arms. I remember the smell of her hair, and the taste of her skin on my lips. Oh God, I want my baby. I miss knowing her. I see Corey growing into a lovely young lady, and I feel this huge empty spot in the pit of my stomach. I see people in the store with twins, and I go home and cry. I had such hope for my girls. I wanted to see them grow up, and get married, and give me grand babies to love. I guess I will have to wait awhile longer to see my Casey again. But knowing that the day will come that I get to be with her again doesn't make today any easier. I am bawling now, and can barely see the keyboard. I need to go to bed and cry the rest of these tears. But I just needed to tell someone, anyone about how special my Casey was. I wanted someone else to know her name. And to remember her.

Untitled...

I was just reading through my last few Blog entries, and was asking myself why I have been letting all the small stuff get me so upset lately. The answer did not become apparent until I happened to notice the date on my latest entry. It is now the 12th of June. That means the 15th is just around the corner. Which means the 17th is not too far behind. The 15th will be my daughters 9th Birthday. Her Birthday is always such a bittersweet day for me. I love her so much. But some days, especially on her Birthdays, it is hard for me to look at her and not cry. I wish I could just be happy on that day. But I can't. I will plaster another big smile on my face and fake my way through it until I can crawl into bed away from her eyes,and cry myself to sleep. There won't be any big party this year, which might make faking it a bit harder. When we have big parties, I can often disappear for an hour or so without anyone even noticing. Or if they do notice, they are kind enough not to ask me about it. But this year, because of every one's work and vacation schedules, there will just be a few of us. Disappearing from a party of ten is a lot more difficult than from a party of thirty or more. Anyway, if I seem a little bitchier than usual for the next week or so, I beg your forgiveness in advance. If you do not hear from me for a few days, or see me popping up on IM, it is okay. I will be back when my heart has a little healing time. For now, I just want to sleep. Goodnight.
P.S. For anyone wondering what the hell I am talking about, refer to my post http://thediaryofanangrywhitewomaninamerica.blogspot.com/2007/05/this-time-of-year.html written in May 2007.

Just rambling...

I really do not have much to write about today. I spoke with James, my plant manager about my getting three points for mistakenly calling the wrong number. He said he wanted to help me. He took me to head of personnel, a guy named Hal. Hal basically told me to "deal with it." Needless to say I am not too pleased with that answer. James however was very nice. He said he wished he could do something, and he did attempt to plead my case. Oh well, I guess I will just chalk it up to the fact that the company has such a high turnover rate that they just do not give a shit about the individual anymore. All my points roll off when I hit ninety days. I just can not be sick, or have any emergency between now and then. I will keep you posted.

Since I really have nothing else to talk about other than the fact that I missed yet another call from my Sweety, I have decided I will stick with today's movie theme and give you a list of...

MY PICKS OF THE TOP TEN MOST ROMANTIC MOVIES EVER MADE

1. An Affair To Remember (Who doesn't love Cary Grant?)
2. Braveheart (yes Braveheart...he did all that he did because they killed his wife, remember)
3. Pride and Prejudice (The newest one with Keira Knightly)
4. What Dreams May Come (Robin Williams goes through hell, literally, to be with his wife)
5. Memoirs Of A Geisha (A Beautiful story of a young girl who falls in love but is unable to act upon her feelings)
6. Anna And the King (One of my all time favorite movies, and one of the most heartbreakingly romantic.)
7. The Lake House (Stars Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, do not let that stop you from seeing this truly romantic picture.)
8. Ever After (Drew Barrymore is Cinderella- all girls love Cinderella stories.)
9. Marty (A sweet film about two lonely people who find happiness together)
10. And last but certainly not least..The Bridges Of Madison County (Filmed here in Iowa, Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep, I know what you are thinking, but trust me.. romantic.)

Okay, well maybe they aren't the most romantic movies "EVER MADE". But if you want to get lucky with your lady, play a couple of these, I promise it will work. (Well, I only actually Guarantee that they will work with me...but give it a shot.)

Worth a watch...

I spent a large part of this weekend watching movies. There were alot of them I had not seen before. I buy them, and then do not have the time to sit and watch them. So I had some catching up to do. Here are some that are worth a watch.

1. A Simple Curve
2. King Rat
3. Children Underground
4. Cabaret
5. Paris When It Sizzles
6. Marty

So next time you have nothing to do, rent one, and let me know what you think about it.

P.S. A friend of mine asked if I watched any movies this weekend that were not worth watching. Answer...YES. You can safely skip these.

1. Sublime (uncut)
2. Brick

Yes, I own these movies, but now that I know they suck, I may use them as gifts for people I do not particularly care for, or drink coasters. Which ever need happens to arise first. If you want to know more movies worth your time, just ask me. I am always glad to give a recommendation.

Just my lucky day....

I said I was going to go to bed. I guess I lied. Oh well, shit happens. I got to watching some trailers for some new indie films. There are a couple I want, so I decided to buy them. Of course, as is par for today. No luck. Apparently they can not be bought anywhere. (They are called "Away From Her" and "Waitress".) Just my luck, I tell you. So I decided to look for an old favorite of mine that I used to own on VHS many moons ago. Yeah well, strike three. I guess I am out. Oh, it is for sale all right. Only problem is that they are only for sale for region two DVD players. Region two covers Europe. South Africa. Japan. Oh, and do not forget Egypt. So in order to watch this wonderful movie, (It is called "Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence" if anyone cares.) I have three options. Option one- I can move to a region two country and start a new life. Option two- I can spend four hundred and fifty dollars (roughly) to purchase a region two DVD player. Or, Option three- I can hack into my DVD player (after purchasing the kit to do it) and change a computer chip that will convert my DVD player into a region two player. Of course if I do this, I will no longer be able to watch any of the approximately two hundred DVDs I already own. I give up. This time I think I will really go to bed. I will try to wake up on the other side tomorrow, because today was just bad. Goodnight.

Not today...

The hubby and I just had a fight. It was the same old shit, just a different day. It always starts the same way. We are sitting around enjoying ourselves with friends, when out of the blue he says something that makes me look like a complete ass. I won't get into the details. There is no point. It is just that he only tells one side of what is happening. The side that makes me look like an ass, but has himself looking like the victim of my bitchiness. If they only understood the depth of the issue. The part that shows why I do the things I do. But to tell all of that would make him look bad, something I do not wish to do. So I generally bite my tongue. Not today. Today I admit, I kind of just lost it for a minute. I forgot all about my friends rule of "No fighting/yelling in my house." I yelled, and ranted and raved, and the hubby had the nerve to then say to me, "If you want to behave like this, just take your ass home." So I did. The hubby then followed me, about two minutes later. He walked in the door and said "Are you done now? Come back over and hang out with us." Now this left me with a very bad taste in my mouth for two reasons. First, because he had started all this shit in the first place. Second, because after having humiliated me in front of our friends, I was now expected to return because HE wanted me to. Not a fucking chance. Not today. So now I am going to start some dinner, take a shower, and make it an early night. Hopefully, I will be asleep before he gets home. I just do not want to deal with him anymore. Not today.

Bored...

I have been too tired to write much the past couple of days. No one reads what I write anyway. Not even the hubby. Ya know, I think I will go do some laundry, clean my room, and wash some dishes today. My house is nasty. You would think the hubby could do something other than just cook dinner. But he generally does cook. Last night he and my son designed a strange concoction. It looks disgusting. I mean really nasty. But it tastes pretty damned good. I am glad I tried it. I almost didn't. I didn't want to because of what they decided to name it. They called it "vomit and spuds". Not attractive I know. But again, pretty tasty. Well, that's all. I am going to clean now.

The job that almost wasn't...

I played hooky from work last night. I was exhausted from lack of sleep because of the early morning trip to the airport. When I got home from the airport, I did not have the luxury of being able to crawl back in bed. The two oldest kids had dental appointments. By the time we got them there, I was so tired I felt sick. (I guess the older I get, the less cool pulling an all-nighter is.) I called in sick to work at nine in the morning. I knew that without sleep, I would be totally worthless. Here is my mistake. I did not take the time to find the file that I was given during my orientation. I cheated, and I called the number to security that was on my caller ID. (I had called home from the phone in our security office at work just the night before.) So I decided to take the easy way, and call the security desk to ask for the call in number. They gave it to me, no questions asked. That was their mistake. I called in and got a recording. It went something like this. "Thank You for calling the (insert company name here) call in line. Please leave your name, supervisors name, department, phone number where you may be reached, and reason for calling in today....Beep." I did just that. I left everything they had asked for. And feeling confident that I had done my duty of informing the company of my impending absence a minimum of two hours ahead of my shift, I went to bed. And I slept. I got up to use the restroom. And then I slept some more. The phone woke me at nineteen minutes after five in the evening. It was someone from my company. Well, sort of. See my company has a few locations. Two of them sit on one property. Apparently they share more than just the ground they sit on. Apparently, they also share the same outgoing phone number from their respective security desks. They do not however share the same incoming number. Nor do they have a joint call in line. I did not reach the plant I worked for when I called. I reached it's sister plant. I informed the wrong plant of my absence. My plant thought I had not called. As soon as I was told of my mistake, I called the right plant. I explained what had happened to my supervisor. I do not think she believed me. When I got to work today, I went to speak to a woman in personnel, she is usually quite kind and helpful. Not today. I was informed that with no proof that I had called in, my absence was to be treated as a "no call/no show". I would receive three points for this offence. I immediately contacted the other plant, and told them of my predicament. A very kind lady there told me she would be happy to inform "our" people that I had indeed called. In fact, she would fax over a signed document to attest to it. Problem solved. Right? Wrong. I was told that I had made the mistake, and now I had to live with it. This seems woefully unfair to me. I almost quit. Right then and there. But to quit means to admit defeat. (Something I have never been good at.) I just couldn't do it. Tomorrow I will get to work an hour early. I will plead my case to our plant manager. I have been told he is a kind man. We shall see. I may quit yet. But first I will exhaust all options. If treating employees this way is company policy, I will inform them that I no longer wish to be part of their company. I hope they do the right thing. I did the right thing. I made a mistake, but I did call in as per instructions. When I realized my error, I promptly attempted to fix it. I freely admitted the fault that lies with me. What happens next will be their move. But I have been known to contact CEO's in the past when things were not running smoothly with their companies. I may just have to do it again. I will let you know what happens.. Goodnight.

Laugh with me...

I have just spent an hour or so laughing my ass off. Join me. http://hellboundsmoker.blogspot.com/ This guy is hilarious. My lil blog is just silly random thoughts of the day. This guy is comic genius. Enjoy.

That's all...

I just checked my GeoVisitors button, and think it is kind of cool. In the last twenty four hours, this page has been visited by someone in Italy, Turkey, Thailand, Mexico, Kansas, and the most important one, North Carolina. I am sure that all but one just kind of surfed in, and no one has signed the guestbook, or left a comment. But still, it is nice to know that more than one person knows my little blog exists. That's all.

The father I do not want...

I just got back from Eppley Airfield. I took my father because he had an early morning flight out to Los Angeles. He will be gone for just over three weeks. Thank God. I love my father, I am just tired of him living here. He has a whole barrel of issues. He is an alcoholic/addict. The addict side being much more prevalent these days. He does not use at my house. He knows better. I would call the police on him myself. I will not risk my children for anyone, not even him. He makes life here unbearable sometimes. He is much too harsh with my children. I find that rather odd considering that when I was a child, for the year or two that I lived with him, he took no notice whatsoever of what I was doing. Back then we kids had very few rules. And no consequences to breaking the few there were. But now, my children get yelled at by him for the slightest infraction. I find myself having to remind him that this is MY home and MY children, not his. I do not enjoy doing it. It causes even more tension, but my kids do not deserve that kind of treatment. I find the more he is here, the less I like him. I love him. I guess that is more instinct though, than earned. His presence also causes a strain in my marriage. Not because my hubby wants him gone and I do not, (The hubby is the one that told him he could stay again.) but his just being here does not allow for much intimacy. It is hard to cuddle on the couch with thoughts of romance when you know you might be interrupted by him at any minute. A closed bedroom door does not seem to indicate to him a want for privacy. The phone rings at strange times. And strangers come to my door at odd hours. They generally only do it once though, I must admit. I have a habit, good or bad you must decide, of rather forcefully informing people that it is MY phone and I do not accept calls after ten P.M. except for three reasons. The reasons I list are Amputation, Coma, or Death. And when strangers come to my door, they are greeted unhappily by me and my rather large and vicious looking (she would not hurt anyone unless I was in danger) dog. I am not polite. It is my house. I do not have to be. I will not lie to cover for things my father has done wrong. It is not in my nature to lie. I force him to live with the consequences of his actions. He doesn't seem to ever learn the lesson though. He does not work, and supporting a full grown man capable of holding down a job is getting quite old. When my Grandmother sent him the plane ticket, I was shocked to see that it was round trip. Granted both his daughters, and one of his sons live in this area, but he really has nothing to come back to. How long does he think I should be his keeper? You would think he would get tired of living life the way he does. Being a sponge. I would be terribly embarrassed to have to live off the kindness of one of my children, yet he has done this off and on, mostly on, for almost nine years now. I have kicked him out of my home numerous times. He always comes back eventually. Why we keep taking him in is a mystery to me. I guess it is because I have visions of him sleeping under a bridge, or being found dead in an alley that makes me do it. My head knows that that wouldn't happen. He can be very smooth when he wants to, and would find a way to survive. But my heart imagines all kinds of horrible outcomes to my turning him away. I have now supported him for six years longer than he ever supported me growing up. I do not owe him anything. I need to find a way to make him be responsible for himself, and not have the guilt that comes with the "tough love". I will figure it out. Eventually. But for now I plan on enjoying my family without him here. I will play music and let the kids dance til the wee morning hours with no fear that he will start whining. My daughter will be able to sleep in her own bed again. And I may get "romantic" with the hubby on the coffee table this weekend. In general, we will be the family that we are best at being. One that does not include my father.

My happy day...

Today I woke up too early. I don't know why, but I did. I hopped online, and had a nice surprise. My "cyber-boyfriend" was online. (There now I called ya that.. lol.) It was a good way to start my day. (insert my huge smile here.) Then it got even better. He called me. Now for those of you who do not know better, you are probably thinking poorly of me right now. It is not what you all are thinking. Get your minds up out of the gutter. He is my friend. A very good friend. We have been chatting online, off and on, for about eight or nine years. Wow. Eight plus years is a long time. Anyway, we have been buddies for a long time. I love him. I am not in love with him. Big difference. I could be, if things were different. But, they aren't. And I am not. The last time I heard his voice, was right after 9/11. Then I lost track of him for a long time. Far too long. So hearing his voice today was wonderful. We didn't talk about anything really important. We almost never do. I just enjoy his company. I love his mind. The way he thinks. The things he says that make me laugh. The way he calls me a "turd." The way we share music, and he listens to my strange choices. (Even when he doesn't want to.) He works alot. So do I, so we do not get to talk much. But he reads my blog faithfully, even when no one else does. And he sends me offlines to let me know he thinks about me. And I feel blessed to have him in my life. (And, YES, I did write this only for him.) Goodnight.

Darelle

Last night I was looking, sadly, forward to another night at home. I was going to clean a little. Read a little. Watch a few movies maybe. The hubby was off helping a friend find a leak in his roof and patching it. It was me, the kids, and my father who has yet again moved in with us when his last relationship went sour. I had just come home from going grocery shopping. I was dreading a boring evening ahead. I heard a loud roar from a car outside, coming down my street. Then the car stopped in my driveway. It was my nephew and my brother-in-law. I ran outside to hug my nephew. His name is Darelle, and I haven't seen him in ages. Of all my nieces and nephews on my husbands side of the family, he has always been my favorite. But he was a hard child to love. He was full of anger at all adults. He was full of anger at life. My husband and I took him in numerous times, when his mother would kick him out, or abandon him. I did my best with Darelle. I loved him without being loved in return. I made rules, and tried to get him to follow them. But he was not my child which he often pointed out to me. I worried about his future. I talked to him, constantly, about life and how it would treat him if he kept screwing around the way he was. He didn't believe me. He made life with him unbearable. His anger got even more out of control. I finally had to ask my brother-in law to take him, because I was concerned about the effect the constant turmoil was having on my own children. I cried for weeks knowing that I had become just one more adult who let him down. I didn't see Darelle for a few years. Then I was told he went to prison. He was caught in a stolen car. His younger cousin had stolen it and lied to Darelle about where it came from. They were just cruising around, being kids when they got pulled over. Darelle took the fall to keep his younger cousin out of jail. When I heard what happened, I was angry. Angry at the life Darelle had already had to suffer, and angry that he would be so stupid as to go to jail for someone else's crime. About two years ago, Darelle showed up at my door. He had been out of jail for more than a year. He was driving a decent car, and had money in his wallet. He had been working the same job for more than six months. He looked healthy, and relatively happy. He said he couldn't stay long, but that he had stopped by to thank me. I didn't know what he meant. He said he needed to thank me for loving him despite all his mistakes. He said that he knew that no matter what he had done that he could always show up on my doorstep, and I would make room for him. He said that rarely in his life did he feel loved like that, before or since. He told me that he did not blame me for asking him to leave when I did. That he knew he was out of control back then, and if the situation were reversed, he would have done the same for the sake of his kids. I asked about why he would go to jail for someone else. He explained that he thought his cousin had learned from his mistake, and that he felt his cousin had a better chance in the world than he did. He said he was afraid that jail would ruin the cousin for good. He also said that it was the best thing he ever did. He did not like jail he said, but it changed him. It helped him to grow up, and see that he had been wasting his life being angry. He has changed his life since then. Last night we went to the casino for awhile. Darelle, my brother-in-law and I. Eric won a few hundred, I won twenty bucks, and Darelle lost. He didn't get angry. He smiled and said he did not play any money he did not intend to lose. That was very grown up. We went back to my house, picked up the hubby and hit a bar in Omaha's Old Market District. It is called the Dubliner. Nice bar. I will never go there on a weekend night again. It was so crowded with college kids I could barely breathe. We had to scream for service. And the Jack and Cokes were too small. The hubby drank a few beers. (Guinness and Murphy's.) Eric drank the same. Darelle had one. He said he couldn't have more because he was driving. It sucked for him, but it was a very grown up decision. We had a nice time. I forgot how funny all the men in my life are when they all get together. I laughed so much that night that I was sore the next morning. I am so glad to have Darelle back in my life. They are supposed to come over for a barbecue next weekend. I can't wait.

A smile...

Tonight, I smiled. It was a long hard night at work tonight. I did a job no one else wanted to do. It wasn't that it is so awful. It is just that you walk. Constantly. For eight (or more) hours. I am exhausted. I realized tonight, that I really need to lose this baby weight. The baby is three now for God's sake. I also realized, I smoke too much. That pack and a half a day is killing me. I came home worn out. My back hurt. My feet hurt. I was cold, and wet. I was just going to check my email while I ate, jump in the shower, and call it a day. I started doing just that. But then a friend Instant Messaged me. She didn't say much except "Hello" and "Goodnight", but it was what I found while I was trying to get the computer to put her I.M. on top that made me smile. See, I had been missing someone. Someone who always brightens my days (or nights). And while I was trying to pull back up Paula's I.M., I noticed that I had about eight offline messages from the person I have been missing. No, they weren't still online. No, we didn't get to talk tonight. But just knowing that they are there, and they are thinking of me, while I think of them, well that is good enough for tonight. It made me smile. And that smile is something I have really been needing lately. Thank You Sweetheart. I miss you. I just wanted you to know how much. (They know who they are. The rest of you reading this...it is none of your business..). Goodnight!

I am sorry if I have neglected you...

I am sorry if I have neglected you. That's what I told myself today. I have been working so much lately. And trying to divide the rest of my time between my family and my friends. I often hear myself saying to them, that I am sorry I have neglected them. I feel bad if I am not always available when they need me or just want me for something. I feel bad taking a bath that is too long. Or wanting to be left alone to read a good book, or watch a good movie. I almost always make myself available. Friday, for example, I went to bed sometime around 3:30 am. When I fell asleep I could not tell you. But the alarm went off at 7:00, because I agreed to go to court with a dear friend who is having some difficulties right now. By the time we got home, I had just enough time to change and leave for work. No leisurely cup of coffee. No "Good-Morning America". Just up, dressed and running. Over the weekend I admit, I indulged myself a bit. I created excuses to stay home, and do nothing. The problem is this. Why do I feel the need to create excuses? What is wrong with me just saying "No."? Why do I feel bad if I do not want to do something someone else wants me to do? I seem to have fallen in to a habit of taking care of everyone around me. The hubby calls me "The Saviour of the World (One person at a time.)". What I want to know, is when is it my turn to be saved? Lately, I feel like I am drowning in everyone else's shit. And to be honest, I need hip-waders for my own. How can I help everyone else, when my own mind seems to be failing me? I could de-stress my life. I know how it can be done. But I don't think giving away my kids, killing the hubby, and burning down the house is a very good answer to my problems. (But it is okay to fantasize from time to time right?) I feel like lately, I am giving away so much of myself, that there is nothing left for me. I just wonder sometimes, how much more I have to give. I feel lost somehow. Drifting. Sad. I wonder if all the people I love, love me enough to notice, before it is too late. I wonder if they will see that I NEED too. I wonder if they will give back, and fill up my empty spaces, as I have tried so often to do for them. I hope so. I hope they catch on soon. Before my strength and my will abandon me. I apologised to myself today. I promised myself that my next day off will include a HOT cup of coffee in a mug, not a paper cup. A long hot bath, until there is no hot water left in the water heater. A good book. A short nap. A good movie or two. Maybe a long phone call with a friend not quite as needy as the ones I have been with lately. Maybe someone who lives far away, and doesn't want anything from me but my company. Someone who can make me smile. I miss smiling.