Well, the changes continue around here.
First we switched from Becel to Celeb (its going very well- we have fully adapted now to Celeb), and now we are ordering pizza from Homers Pizza rather than Family Pizza. We have been going a little crazy, all this trying new things. I guess there must be something in the air. But what the heck? You've got to just throw all caution to the wind sometimes.
Homers Pizza was once on my boycot list, but the ban has now been lifted. The reason it was banned in the first place is a long and involved story, but basically centered around one employee who was fat, greasy, on the rag and ovulating. I am pretty sure she is long gone now, and I console myself that in all likelihood, she was "let go", so I am free to patron Homers once again.
The reason why I had to eventually make the switch from Family was that things were getting weird with the delivery guy. When the pizza guy comes to the door and is like "so is Payton getting over her tonsilitis yet?' you pretty much have to face the fact that you order pizza WAY too frequently, and I either need to scale back a bit or start mixing it up with other pizza places. So hence, obviously, the choice was made. Could I forego pizza? An attempt for me to boycot takeout is destined to end as badly as an attempt for me to play Slowpitch- pretty ugly. Me curled in the fetal position with a nosebleed. I always think that I can do it (forego pizza, not slowpitch). I always think "I'm not going to order take out for a whole month" but then suddenly I find myself in the kitchen trying to create a meal plan that involves half a bag of frozen peas, 3 frozen fish sticks, a jar of pickles that has no actual pickles left in it, and a box of soda crackers- the entire contents of my fridge and cupboards. So then I start to think- well, this is a battle I lost at hello. Though, I suppose I could have made my signature dish of fried pickled fish casserole....
Anyways, truth be told, the delivery guy from Family Pizza was starting to give me a bad vibe. I don't know what it was about him- like he was a nice guy- and I think that was precisely the problem right there. I don't like nice people. It's like "dude- just slide my pizza under the door and I'll give you your money- let's make this transaction nice and easy" But he was always so chatty, creeped me out. The guy even told me all about his vasectomy and everything.
And then when we were at Ruckers for Gages birthday party I got the most uneasy feeling. The pizzas came, and wouldn't you know it, he delivered them. And then the look on his face when he saw me across the crowded room, a flicker of recognition but something more- excitement, happiness, something along those lines. It was weird and it was fleeting but it was there, I'm sure of it, though I really can't understand it- I mean there I was in my rubby cargo pants, grubby Tshirt with a puke stain on the shoulder, hair carelessly pulled back in a messy pony tail, Blistex for make up and bouncing a baby on my hip. Anyways, the whole non verbal transaction lasted less than a second, I'm sure, but it left me feeling distinctly uncomfortable nonetheless. I felt somehow violated with his look that lasted just a beat too long...which is really weird.
Because usually it takes quite a bit to make me feel violated.
So then I decided to switch it up. I was like "It is so over with that dude" so now I have a new pizza guy, he works at Homers and he's sixteen with pimples (pimples must be part of thier hiring criteria, I don't know) and he doesn't unplug his IPod at all when he delivers my pizza. Cold and impersonal, just the way I like it.
Anyhoo... Homer's pizza is actually pretty good and it's only across the street from us so our pizza's pretty much there when we hang up the phone, so it's great. So ya, I guess I kinda broke up with the old pizza guy and got myself a new pizza hotty. My life is so exciting these days, it's just like a soap opera. Reminds me of my old boyfriend Jon, we met on elevator in Regina... this is a story for another day, though. Anyways, all's I'll say about that is that I screwed the pooch with that relatioship, if you can call a very short and one sided conversation a relationship- which, of course, I do.
Anyways, where was I??
OK. Let me see. Things are OK around here. My fleeting moment of guilt over bad mouthing Geoff has passed, and I am back to my usual scathing self. Every night I get up with Alex two or three times, but when morning rolls around he's like "Oh, I had the worst sleep last night- I kept on waking up, I'm so tired" like I'm supposed to feel sorry for him and be like "Oh, no. Off to bed with you then, but not before I whip you up a batch of fresh squeezed OJ and blueberry waffles" I just don't get it- how he acts so sleep deprived- because everytime I wake up with the babe he's snoring his freaking head off. Like- it literally comes off. I have to pick it up and put it back on his head. OK. I'm exaggerating. You caught me. But still. It's annoying. So then he stretches out on the couch all morning and acts like he's been exhausted from a full day of... something. It's terribly annoying. And then he finds some stupid football game to watch and becomes totally absorbed in it like he's some kind of a zombie. I'll tell him an entire story and then I'll be like "well- don't you think that the flounder WAS a little overcooked, though?" and he's like "huh- oh, flounder, ya." But at the same time he does NOT miss ONE beat of his precious football game, something will happen and all of a sudden he's on feet screaming "FUMBLE" at the top of his lungs. And then he and Gage sit around like a bunch of freaking Gomers discussing "do you think that Philadelphia can still make the Western Conference?" Like- what the hell is that?? I picture a bunch of beefy men in football gears carrying thier breifcases to the West for a conference. Kind of a funny image, so I tell Geoff and he gives me this annoyed glare like I'm the one who's being annoying.
I used to be so much like "women power!" All liberated and strong in my belief that I would obtain a college degree and this would make me- what?? A strong woman with strong beliefs with a place in the world other than the kitchen. I would enter the work force, be an equal participant in the home and at work- and I've ended up like this. With a husband that doesn't even know what a broom is nevermind how to use it, and whose idea of helping me out with the housework is picking up his feet when I sweep underneath him. And a job where I'm basically subservient to male doctors. And my only other prospect is a leering, middle aged, pizza guy. Blimey.
So much for the liberated woman. They just took that woman and raked her over the coals, shoved a dishcloth down her throat, plucked the pencil from her hands and replaced it with a vacuum.
But- well, here's where I wrap things up with a little saying to keep it light and funny and cute but I'm coming up empty here. Instead I'll end with a random observation. People who use the expression "finger in the dyke" really need to reconsider this expression. Even the most dryest of boring political context can not mask the blatant sexual overtones in that phrase. It just needs to be done away with.
And now an assignment: yes! And assignment!! This will cheer me up!! Try to make a sentence with the phrase "finger in the dyke" sound clean.
Good Luck.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
A Guilty Conscience
So readership has soared (when I say soared, I mean gotten off the ground- five readers now)with my recent writings about my husband. The more I point out the fallibility of my partner, the happier my readers are- and I will admit that it does make for more interesting reading than the whiskers on Alex's stuffed mouse toy (getting worse, I daresay). So with my readers giving me such positive feedback, I was feeling pretty good. But then I went to bed. And Geoff said "Thank you so much for being so good to me- you're an awesome wife."
Gulp.
And it's like 'why the hell would you have to go and say something like that?' You might better serve my purposes if you farted, rolled over, scratched your balls and snored yourself to sleep with your finger up your nose. So then I felt bad. I wonder if I would still be the awesome wife if he read my blog from time to time. Yikes.
The truth is that I do love my husband, yet it is also true that the precise reason alludes me sometimes. I do not think that- and I hope that I'm not- bashing my husband for the sole reason of discrediting him. I guess I am just venting my frustrations, frustrations that I do feel are valid. Being a woman in this society is a tricky thing-- (note to self: possible thesis title in case I decide to foray in post modernism feminist courses as some point). One has to truly really love being a mother for the sake of being a mother- because you will probably never get the respect or appreciation that you deserve. It is probably the ONLY job in the WORLD where it is acceptable to never give any raises, benefits, breaks, performance evaluations, vacation time, sick days, etc. I mean, imagine if we had a union. It's be like "Ms. Sorowski, you're three month review is very positive: you handled the baby's teething problems very well. The flu epidemic tested you, but you pulled through with flying colors- your approach to handwashing was very encouraging. Unfortunately, it seems that your meatloaf could use a touch more flavour- I would like to know what you are doing with it spice wise- it could probably stand some tweaking. But the fact that you do make your own baby food more than compensates for that. All in all, we would give you four stars out of five- four and a half if you tweak the meatloaf as per our discussion. Because of your hard work and determination, we are going to give a salary increase, 15% more room in the bed, Saturdays off and an upgrade on your toaster oven. Your work attire leaves a little to be desired, so we are allotting you with a monthly wardrobe allowance as well."
But that will not happen. I have to settle for the occasional grunt of appreciation while they devour their dinners. Actually, Payton is pretty good sometimes. The other day while I was brushing her hair she said, out of nowhere, "I have a good mom". I was like "What?" I wasn't sure what she meant, exactly. I thought maybe it was some kind of a movie or TV show- I did not know. It was cute. Moments like that make it worthwhile I guess, although the 15% more room in bed would be nice as well.
Anyways, I think I should try to ease up on my husband a bit. He's not a bad person or a bad husband. It is just a lot easier for him to blend into the background when he is home, and I sometimes think that I perpetuate that very thing. He'll ask if I need help in the kitchen and I say no, because I guess sometimes it just seems easier just to do it myself. Eventually he stops asking. I don't know. Marriage is a tricky thing as well. We will just keep trying to get it right.
Gulp.
And it's like 'why the hell would you have to go and say something like that?' You might better serve my purposes if you farted, rolled over, scratched your balls and snored yourself to sleep with your finger up your nose. So then I felt bad. I wonder if I would still be the awesome wife if he read my blog from time to time. Yikes.
The truth is that I do love my husband, yet it is also true that the precise reason alludes me sometimes. I do not think that- and I hope that I'm not- bashing my husband for the sole reason of discrediting him. I guess I am just venting my frustrations, frustrations that I do feel are valid. Being a woman in this society is a tricky thing-- (note to self: possible thesis title in case I decide to foray in post modernism feminist courses as some point). One has to truly really love being a mother for the sake of being a mother- because you will probably never get the respect or appreciation that you deserve. It is probably the ONLY job in the WORLD where it is acceptable to never give any raises, benefits, breaks, performance evaluations, vacation time, sick days, etc. I mean, imagine if we had a union. It's be like "Ms. Sorowski, you're three month review is very positive: you handled the baby's teething problems very well. The flu epidemic tested you, but you pulled through with flying colors- your approach to handwashing was very encouraging. Unfortunately, it seems that your meatloaf could use a touch more flavour- I would like to know what you are doing with it spice wise- it could probably stand some tweaking. But the fact that you do make your own baby food more than compensates for that. All in all, we would give you four stars out of five- four and a half if you tweak the meatloaf as per our discussion. Because of your hard work and determination, we are going to give a salary increase, 15% more room in the bed, Saturdays off and an upgrade on your toaster oven. Your work attire leaves a little to be desired, so we are allotting you with a monthly wardrobe allowance as well."
But that will not happen. I have to settle for the occasional grunt of appreciation while they devour their dinners. Actually, Payton is pretty good sometimes. The other day while I was brushing her hair she said, out of nowhere, "I have a good mom". I was like "What?" I wasn't sure what she meant, exactly. I thought maybe it was some kind of a movie or TV show- I did not know. It was cute. Moments like that make it worthwhile I guess, although the 15% more room in bed would be nice as well.
Anyways, I think I should try to ease up on my husband a bit. He's not a bad person or a bad husband. It is just a lot easier for him to blend into the background when he is home, and I sometimes think that I perpetuate that very thing. He'll ask if I need help in the kitchen and I say no, because I guess sometimes it just seems easier just to do it myself. Eventually he stops asking. I don't know. Marriage is a tricky thing as well. We will just keep trying to get it right.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Testy
So, he got the snip. It went well, no complications. He is resting now in bed. Where he has been for the last six hours. I mean, honestly, I NEVER got six hours to myself to recuperate, not even when I had three kids and four miscarriages (not all at the same time, mind you. But still- it wasn't no picnic in the park). Basically, he just dropped me off at home, kissed me on the cheek with a clipped "Love you. And don't forget to get me that shaving cream I need when you're out and about today." A bit different than his leisurely day in bed. I went out and got him BK for breakfast, gave it to him in bed. I go in there every four hours to give him his Tylenol and reposition his peas. I've kept the kids quiet and have only let them go in there when he's awake. I've taken them out for part of the day. I'm cooking his dinner and serving it to him in bed. I've been liberally retopping his Pepsi. I ask him what he needs. And he's always laying there, pathetic and miserable like, moaning and groaning. It's not that I don't feel bad for him... because, of coure, I do. But... I hope this doesn't doesn't sound to weird... but I think that I'm actually jealous of him. I'm thinking "surgery's looking pretty freaking good right about now." I could do with a day lying my ass in bed all day getting served croissantwiches and codeine. But then, of course, if I'd have had surgery, things would be different, now wouldn't they? I would be in bed, all right, with all three kids because Geoff is trying to watch Football on the big screen.
Oh, well.
Anyways, the dream of the twins is not totally dead. We were informed this morning that it would take 20 ejaculations before the spermies were out of his system. According to my calculations that could take us 2 years or more. Sadly, I'm not even joking about that. I think since Lex has been born we've "been intimate" about half a dozen times. And those 6 times all together probably accounted for less than five minutes of my life. I'm hardly complaining about that, though. These days I'm so tired and exhausted- I can't even take the time to brush my teeth. The last thing I would want is a night of passionate love making. Usually I approach the subject the same way I would approach getting a booster shot. "I know I'm due for this now, so I'll just look away and it will all be over before I even know it." I guess that's bad to say it that way, but when I go to bed at night the only thing I want to do is watch Seifeld reruns (I never get sick of that show). If this is my sexual prime than I'm in big trouble down the line.
But we'll worry about that later.
Not only has my husband been driving me crazy, the children are also wearing me down. Honest to God, you cannot say or do ANYTHING without a full out interrogation. I put a package in the microwave and this is suddenly the most interesting thing. "What are you doing, mom?" "I'm putting chicken in the microwave" - you wouldn't think you would have to state the obvious- but you do. And then they're like "Why?' "Because we're having chicken for supper"
I go to the bathroom. I'm out of the room for two minutes and they're all over me like hounds. "Where did you go?"
"To the bathroom"
"Why"
"Because I had to go the bathroom" (stating the obvious)
"Poop or pee?"
I mean there is NO privacy in this house. NONE.
Even last night I was changing the sheets on my bed and Gage (11) came in my room and asked what I was doing. "Changing the sheets" I replied. He's like "I hate to even ask... but why?" I was like "It's not what you think- the cat puked on here" but thinking about it later I should have told him something else- something that might make him reconsider sticking his nose in his parents bedroom.
A thousand inane conversations like this all day every day and you start to answer the questions in a shrill, high pitched voice. And then the kids go "Holy mom, settle down. We can't even ask you a question." And even Geoff is no better. He's like "Testy today? That time of the month?" And then that's supposed to be a joke, I guess, but of course, I don't laugh and only offer a dirty look in response, and then Geoff's like "I'll take that as a yes."
Sometimes you feel like just popping them one square in the freaking jaw.
But I have good coping mechanisms and a good support system.
The Chardonnay I keep in the fridge.
Oh, well.
Anyways, the dream of the twins is not totally dead. We were informed this morning that it would take 20 ejaculations before the spermies were out of his system. According to my calculations that could take us 2 years or more. Sadly, I'm not even joking about that. I think since Lex has been born we've "been intimate" about half a dozen times. And those 6 times all together probably accounted for less than five minutes of my life. I'm hardly complaining about that, though. These days I'm so tired and exhausted- I can't even take the time to brush my teeth. The last thing I would want is a night of passionate love making. Usually I approach the subject the same way I would approach getting a booster shot. "I know I'm due for this now, so I'll just look away and it will all be over before I even know it." I guess that's bad to say it that way, but when I go to bed at night the only thing I want to do is watch Seifeld reruns (I never get sick of that show). If this is my sexual prime than I'm in big trouble down the line.
But we'll worry about that later.
Not only has my husband been driving me crazy, the children are also wearing me down. Honest to God, you cannot say or do ANYTHING without a full out interrogation. I put a package in the microwave and this is suddenly the most interesting thing. "What are you doing, mom?" "I'm putting chicken in the microwave" - you wouldn't think you would have to state the obvious- but you do. And then they're like "Why?' "Because we're having chicken for supper"
I go to the bathroom. I'm out of the room for two minutes and they're all over me like hounds. "Where did you go?"
"To the bathroom"
"Why"
"Because I had to go the bathroom" (stating the obvious)
"Poop or pee?"
I mean there is NO privacy in this house. NONE.
Even last night I was changing the sheets on my bed and Gage (11) came in my room and asked what I was doing. "Changing the sheets" I replied. He's like "I hate to even ask... but why?" I was like "It's not what you think- the cat puked on here" but thinking about it later I should have told him something else- something that might make him reconsider sticking his nose in his parents bedroom.
A thousand inane conversations like this all day every day and you start to answer the questions in a shrill, high pitched voice. And then the kids go "Holy mom, settle down. We can't even ask you a question." And even Geoff is no better. He's like "Testy today? That time of the month?" And then that's supposed to be a joke, I guess, but of course, I don't laugh and only offer a dirty look in response, and then Geoff's like "I'll take that as a yes."
Sometimes you feel like just popping them one square in the freaking jaw.
But I have good coping mechanisms and a good support system.
The Chardonnay I keep in the fridge.
Friday, January 2, 2009
A little loco
Well, if ever I had the desire for a fourth child... I now have one. A big, balding, baby with a preference for TSN and mid 80's Sci-Fi Movies. His name is Geoff.
Into our second week of both staying at home, and things are getting dicey. Like, yesterday he says he's going to make me breakfast in bed today. So I waited in bed until 10:15, waiting. No breakfast was forthcoming, and I had all the kids in bed with me. I went out to the living room to see what he was up to. Sleeping on the couch. So I went into the kitchen and made a big production of making breakfast, and he was like "well I was going to make you breakfast" and I was like "well, SweetiePie,- it's almost lunch time now." And he was like "well, what??its ten o'clock." (You have to say that in a dumb voice) I was like "10 is the new 12, OK??" I mean, to think that I had all the kids sequestered in this TINY room, under the pretense of breakfast in bed, while he slept his big fat, snoring, head off on the couch?? So I served him breakfast on the couch, as some sort of a passive agressive assault which TOTALLY did not work in my favor at all, I realized when I was all splattered with bacon grease and had egg yolk in my hair and he was sitting there with a big, dumb grin on his face, watching MASH and shovelling bacon in his mouth. I think I am going to have to stop with the passive agressive attacks, as they never seem to work out in my favor. Like the time I slept on the couch to teach him a lesson and ended up stuck to a leather couch with a dog sleeping on my legs and a cat on my face, while he was stretched out in bed, probably having the best sleep of his life. And when I do the laundry he's all like "Oh, you should have told me there was laundry- I could have done some." And I'm like "Ya, cuz only I have super secret laundry spy power to determine whether or not there's laundry-- I mean, it's practically invisible to the human eye- it's only overflowing the bathroom and bedroom.
Idiot.
I try to take this all with a grain of salt. We're married. Til death do we part. All that BS.
Anyways, the holidays were good. We spent our time out at the lake, which was a nice change of pace. There was one rather untoward incident that had me in the bathroom a bit more than I would have liked following two home made rum and egg nogs. God. I thought I was never gonna get off the toilet. But I decided, all in all, it was all good. Some people pay good money for a good cleansing purge like that.
So now we are settling into a routine. I was watching Dateline tonight about "Orgasmic Labour", something which I have little stock in. There were these women on there, talking about- well I won't go into it. You get the gist of it, I'm sure. But I just couldn't believe it. I just think back to my labor- I mean, you couldn't GET more un-orgasmic than gripping pain, blinding contractions, burning, ripping, tearing-- I mean, you would have to be a seriously sadisctic mother F to get off on that shit. Like, I don't know. And then they had a story on surrogacy, and I became really interested. I TOTALLY want to become a surrogate now. Jackie Care- this does NOT mean you. I was thinking of like a really sexy, cool pair of gays with loads of cash and a posh flat- maybe some of those guys from Queer Eye?? I've always wanted gay friends... they're just so trendy, and their flair for drama is so endearing. I MUST have a gay friend. I shall start attending... what... Bette Middler movies??? Broadway Musicals?? Where would be a good place to start?
Oh, ya, and I got a new printer--- Sorry, this entry doesn't flow that well- but you'll have to learn to deal, my life these days has left me a bit frazzled- trust me, if you could see me now- my look is slightly reminiscent of Gilda Radner. But anyways- Geoff, AKA the Devil, got me a printer for Christmas, and this time he didn't cheap out- it's really nice- Scanner, photocopier, photo printing thingy, police scanner, GPS device. Well, OK, not the last two. But it is nice. So I have been spending a lot of time down in my basement (which is basically totally torn apart right now, by the way- work is going slowly) printing off query letters and stuff like that. There are 5 agents left in Canada to try regarding my novel, Having Grace. I am planning on sending my stuff off to them sooner rather than later in a mass, last ditch effort to actually move forward with this writing thang I have going on. My short story is not coming along so well at this point- I just need to find out from which angle to approach it from. Anyways, there is nothing so wonderful as mailing out a fresh query letter. The hope is high then. It gets less and less day by day, until you eventually realize that they're not going to respond, or you recieve your newest rejection letter. Anyways, right now the excitement is high. I am hopeful that one of these agents will be THE one.
I have to believe that it will happen eventually... otherwise, what do I have to look forward to??
Laundry, four kids, black mold in the basement, unemployed... the list goes on.
Oddly, I am not unhappy though.
Just a little bit loco.
Into our second week of both staying at home, and things are getting dicey. Like, yesterday he says he's going to make me breakfast in bed today. So I waited in bed until 10:15, waiting. No breakfast was forthcoming, and I had all the kids in bed with me. I went out to the living room to see what he was up to. Sleeping on the couch. So I went into the kitchen and made a big production of making breakfast, and he was like "well I was going to make you breakfast" and I was like "well, SweetiePie,- it's almost lunch time now." And he was like "well, what??its ten o'clock." (You have to say that in a dumb voice) I was like "10 is the new 12, OK??" I mean, to think that I had all the kids sequestered in this TINY room, under the pretense of breakfast in bed, while he slept his big fat, snoring, head off on the couch?? So I served him breakfast on the couch, as some sort of a passive agressive assault which TOTALLY did not work in my favor at all, I realized when I was all splattered with bacon grease and had egg yolk in my hair and he was sitting there with a big, dumb grin on his face, watching MASH and shovelling bacon in his mouth. I think I am going to have to stop with the passive agressive attacks, as they never seem to work out in my favor. Like the time I slept on the couch to teach him a lesson and ended up stuck to a leather couch with a dog sleeping on my legs and a cat on my face, while he was stretched out in bed, probably having the best sleep of his life. And when I do the laundry he's all like "Oh, you should have told me there was laundry- I could have done some." And I'm like "Ya, cuz only I have super secret laundry spy power to determine whether or not there's laundry-- I mean, it's practically invisible to the human eye- it's only overflowing the bathroom and bedroom.
Idiot.
I try to take this all with a grain of salt. We're married. Til death do we part. All that BS.
Anyways, the holidays were good. We spent our time out at the lake, which was a nice change of pace. There was one rather untoward incident that had me in the bathroom a bit more than I would have liked following two home made rum and egg nogs. God. I thought I was never gonna get off the toilet. But I decided, all in all, it was all good. Some people pay good money for a good cleansing purge like that.
So now we are settling into a routine. I was watching Dateline tonight about "Orgasmic Labour", something which I have little stock in. There were these women on there, talking about- well I won't go into it. You get the gist of it, I'm sure. But I just couldn't believe it. I just think back to my labor- I mean, you couldn't GET more un-orgasmic than gripping pain, blinding contractions, burning, ripping, tearing-- I mean, you would have to be a seriously sadisctic mother F to get off on that shit. Like, I don't know. And then they had a story on surrogacy, and I became really interested. I TOTALLY want to become a surrogate now. Jackie Care- this does NOT mean you. I was thinking of like a really sexy, cool pair of gays with loads of cash and a posh flat- maybe some of those guys from Queer Eye?? I've always wanted gay friends... they're just so trendy, and their flair for drama is so endearing. I MUST have a gay friend. I shall start attending... what... Bette Middler movies??? Broadway Musicals?? Where would be a good place to start?
Oh, ya, and I got a new printer--- Sorry, this entry doesn't flow that well- but you'll have to learn to deal, my life these days has left me a bit frazzled- trust me, if you could see me now- my look is slightly reminiscent of Gilda Radner. But anyways- Geoff, AKA the Devil, got me a printer for Christmas, and this time he didn't cheap out- it's really nice- Scanner, photocopier, photo printing thingy, police scanner, GPS device. Well, OK, not the last two. But it is nice. So I have been spending a lot of time down in my basement (which is basically totally torn apart right now, by the way- work is going slowly) printing off query letters and stuff like that. There are 5 agents left in Canada to try regarding my novel, Having Grace. I am planning on sending my stuff off to them sooner rather than later in a mass, last ditch effort to actually move forward with this writing thang I have going on. My short story is not coming along so well at this point- I just need to find out from which angle to approach it from. Anyways, there is nothing so wonderful as mailing out a fresh query letter. The hope is high then. It gets less and less day by day, until you eventually realize that they're not going to respond, or you recieve your newest rejection letter. Anyways, right now the excitement is high. I am hopeful that one of these agents will be THE one.
I have to believe that it will happen eventually... otherwise, what do I have to look forward to??
Laundry, four kids, black mold in the basement, unemployed... the list goes on.
Oddly, I am not unhappy though.
Just a little bit loco.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Joined at the Hip
So yesterday was Geoffs first day off from work. Was it as bad as I feared. Hell yes. First of all- they had this Dateline Marathon on on TLC, which of course I really wanted to watch. But no. Football was on. So we had to watch that. It was so stupid. Finally football was over. But then what does he do?? He finds the stupidest movie to watch- Jurassic Park 3- and proceeds to watch that- while Christmas Vacation was on! I watch that movie EVERY Christmas, and Christmas just isn't Christmas without those crazy Griswalds. And what does he do for chores?? Nothing- except for to go behind me after I've already loaded the dishwasher and load it back up again- PROPERLY this time and makes a big huff while he's doing it. Like- OK, I know nothing about loading that dishwasher except for the fact that I'm the ONLY person who's ever loaded it during the entire time that we've lived in this house- which is over four years now. He has the nerve. But I decided to let it go. It's Christmas, why get into a big row over something trivial like that??
And Christmas- another bone of contention. Every time the children pick up thier presents and shake them to try to guess what they are-- and they have guessed some of them- he gets all riled up, like "why can't you guys just leave things alone?" Like: Hello, they're kids- it's what they're supposed to do. And he's like 'back in my day we NEVER did that'. And I'm like- ya, back in your day you didn't get your Christmas presents until your Adopt-A-Family donors dropped them off. And then you were in a foster home and probably got a lashing and a bowl of broth on Christmas, so I don't think we want to hold the children to your standards, do we? Like, let's let them be happy. I know it's a novel concept, but do you think you could try it??????
And then this morning I was reading the paper and I saw this Royal Albert China set for sale- Spring Roses- only $1900!! I really wanted it but then he was like "No- two thousand dollars for some bleeping plates, that's bleeping bleep". He doesn't even know that that's like so cheap for Royal Albert and we really, really need it in case we ever have any fancy company over. So then I gave up on that idea. And then I saw on the front page a cat that was really, really cute and needed a home for Christmas and I was like "Oh, Geoff, but we must get this cat!!" and he was again with the bleeping- which isnt' actually beeping but a bad profanity that I won't put on here because it could be seriously offensive to some people. Like- he doesn't even care about the homeless kitties at Christmas. OH, I would just love to get a few and bring them home and put them in the childrens stockings. Imagine the joy on Christmas morning- assuming of course that the cats survive the night. And then I saw that there was a snowboard for sale- mint condition!! I really wanted to get it, because I've always wanted to try snowboarding and with all the snow we've been getting lately it would be the totally perfect thing to beat the winter blues!! But he was like "No- you've never wanted to try snowboarding. You don't even like to go outside to start the car." And I was like "You're calling me a liar?? Well I won't have it!" And then he took the newspaper away from me.
Who knew he woke up in such a grumpy mood??? God.
So then we were watching TV and an infomercial came on for a scooter that you could qualify for a free assessment, and I really wanted to go for it. And then he gets all mad, saying that I dont' need a scooter for Gods sake, but I was like well, I don't really need it but it would sure be nice for like shopping downtown and stuff like that. I took down the number but he ripped it up. Said I should just forget the whole thing.
Men sometimes. They just don't understand.
Anyways, as you can see, things are not going well.
I'll just skip forward onto other matters. The basement is coming OK. We picked the carpet samples- pretty much exactly the same as what we had to begin with- turns out it's pretty low end stuff to begin with and we don't have much choice. I've tentatively picked the paint color- Nature's Mist- it's like a light sage green color. They are working on the drywalling now and will wrap up tomorrow. Then, after Christmas the painting will commmence. Early January the carpet will go in. Things will wrap up soon after that. I'm excited for the new basement. It has also been a good oppurtunity for us to go through the basement and get rid of a lot of the junk that we have down there.
And finally, one more observation of mine. John and Kate plus 8 is a good show. People like John and Kate. That was all well and good. But then they've started up this new show, this 17 kids and counting with this Duggar family. And now I think it's just getting really carried away. Because this family is really crazy and weird and all thier kids names start with J and the mom looks like she's strung out on coke and hasn't had a hair cut since baby number three (which might very well be the case), I mean the whole thing is just weird. Like- since when do we reward people with the semi celebrity of their own TV show because of their own idiocracy?? Like- the mom must be pushing 50 by now. Give it up. Let it go. Go to the freaking mall and pet a kitten if that's what makes you feel good, but your baby days should be over. So, that's how I feel about that.
And petting a kitty at the mall really does work. Makes you feel all happy inside.
I should activate my Petland card again.
I'll talk to Geoff about that later.
And Christmas- another bone of contention. Every time the children pick up thier presents and shake them to try to guess what they are-- and they have guessed some of them- he gets all riled up, like "why can't you guys just leave things alone?" Like: Hello, they're kids- it's what they're supposed to do. And he's like 'back in my day we NEVER did that'. And I'm like- ya, back in your day you didn't get your Christmas presents until your Adopt-A-Family donors dropped them off. And then you were in a foster home and probably got a lashing and a bowl of broth on Christmas, so I don't think we want to hold the children to your standards, do we? Like, let's let them be happy. I know it's a novel concept, but do you think you could try it??????
And then this morning I was reading the paper and I saw this Royal Albert China set for sale- Spring Roses- only $1900!! I really wanted it but then he was like "No- two thousand dollars for some bleeping plates, that's bleeping bleep". He doesn't even know that that's like so cheap for Royal Albert and we really, really need it in case we ever have any fancy company over. So then I gave up on that idea. And then I saw on the front page a cat that was really, really cute and needed a home for Christmas and I was like "Oh, Geoff, but we must get this cat!!" and he was again with the bleeping- which isnt' actually beeping but a bad profanity that I won't put on here because it could be seriously offensive to some people. Like- he doesn't even care about the homeless kitties at Christmas. OH, I would just love to get a few and bring them home and put them in the childrens stockings. Imagine the joy on Christmas morning- assuming of course that the cats survive the night. And then I saw that there was a snowboard for sale- mint condition!! I really wanted to get it, because I've always wanted to try snowboarding and with all the snow we've been getting lately it would be the totally perfect thing to beat the winter blues!! But he was like "No- you've never wanted to try snowboarding. You don't even like to go outside to start the car." And I was like "You're calling me a liar?? Well I won't have it!" And then he took the newspaper away from me.
Who knew he woke up in such a grumpy mood??? God.
So then we were watching TV and an infomercial came on for a scooter that you could qualify for a free assessment, and I really wanted to go for it. And then he gets all mad, saying that I dont' need a scooter for Gods sake, but I was like well, I don't really need it but it would sure be nice for like shopping downtown and stuff like that. I took down the number but he ripped it up. Said I should just forget the whole thing.
Men sometimes. They just don't understand.
Anyways, as you can see, things are not going well.
I'll just skip forward onto other matters. The basement is coming OK. We picked the carpet samples- pretty much exactly the same as what we had to begin with- turns out it's pretty low end stuff to begin with and we don't have much choice. I've tentatively picked the paint color- Nature's Mist- it's like a light sage green color. They are working on the drywalling now and will wrap up tomorrow. Then, after Christmas the painting will commmence. Early January the carpet will go in. Things will wrap up soon after that. I'm excited for the new basement. It has also been a good oppurtunity for us to go through the basement and get rid of a lot of the junk that we have down there.
And finally, one more observation of mine. John and Kate plus 8 is a good show. People like John and Kate. That was all well and good. But then they've started up this new show, this 17 kids and counting with this Duggar family. And now I think it's just getting really carried away. Because this family is really crazy and weird and all thier kids names start with J and the mom looks like she's strung out on coke and hasn't had a hair cut since baby number three (which might very well be the case), I mean the whole thing is just weird. Like- since when do we reward people with the semi celebrity of their own TV show because of their own idiocracy?? Like- the mom must be pushing 50 by now. Give it up. Let it go. Go to the freaking mall and pet a kitten if that's what makes you feel good, but your baby days should be over. So, that's how I feel about that.
And petting a kitty at the mall really does work. Makes you feel all happy inside.
I should activate my Petland card again.
I'll talk to Geoff about that later.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Upheaval
The other day I was sitting before the computer and I noticed that my feet were getting kind of wet. Damn kids was my first thought, as it often is. I thought "yah- they spilled something down there or were wearing their boots down here." Typical of them. Didn't think too much of it. Next day I'm back on the computer and it's still wet. So I get down on my hands and knees and crawl underneath the computer desk. The carpet reeks. Its all wet. I don't know where it's coming from. So I start pulling everything away from the wall and the exact words out of my mouth were "Houston we have a problem". The baseboards were compelely warped and the wall behind it was like buckling- it was all moldy and disgusting.
Merry Freaking Christmas. Here's your gift. Water damage and black mold.
I was really sickened and saddened, but a few phone calls later and I was feeling a bit better. As it turns out, it's covered by our house insurance. So we've had contractors in and out, but basically we're talking a full basement remodel. Ripping walls out, ripping carpet out, new paint job. The bathroom needs to be gutted- so new sink, new lino, new shower. We are excited about the basement remodel- although I think it is going to be a major inconvenience in the short term. Not fun. I am thinking of going really neutral with the colors- a really pale sage green color for all the walls and a beigy kind of carpet. We are hoping to list our house within the next two years, so I will choose the colors bearing that in mind. So that is my life right now. Even as I am typing this there is a heavy duty industrial fan blowing loudly in my ear. Nice.
Everything else is coming along. Christmas is on it's way and I am less stressed now. Just about all done our shopping, the Christmas parties are over with, Gage's birthday is over with. Most of the hustle and bustle is behind us, now we just have Christmas- which should actually be relaxing because we are planning on spending it at the lake this year. I am hoping it is nice outside so that I can take the kids toboganning and ski dooing. And when I say "I can take them' what I mean is that my parents can take them. I don't really want to stand outside in the cold. Not really my thing.
Only a few days left and Geoff will be off for the winter and we will be officially joined at the hip. I am hoping that I will be able to do some writing then, we will see how it goes. He has been off for the last three days, and things have been OK, except for few minor things. For one, he apparently has never heard the words "spray and wash" before. Alex was having bare bum time on the floor on a blanky and did what he always does- decides to take a number two. What I usually do is pick him up and bath him. Once he is bathed, I pick up any affected clothing or blankets, rinse them out in the bathroom sink, spray and wash them and then promply launder them. What Geoff does- wipes Lex with a wet wipe, puts a diaper on him, throws everything in the laundry as usual. Which was not a pleasant surprise when I stuck my hand in there to grab stuff to throw in the laundry. It's just like they say- if you want anything done right you have to do it yourself.
Merry Freaking Christmas. Here's your gift. Water damage and black mold.
I was really sickened and saddened, but a few phone calls later and I was feeling a bit better. As it turns out, it's covered by our house insurance. So we've had contractors in and out, but basically we're talking a full basement remodel. Ripping walls out, ripping carpet out, new paint job. The bathroom needs to be gutted- so new sink, new lino, new shower. We are excited about the basement remodel- although I think it is going to be a major inconvenience in the short term. Not fun. I am thinking of going really neutral with the colors- a really pale sage green color for all the walls and a beigy kind of carpet. We are hoping to list our house within the next two years, so I will choose the colors bearing that in mind. So that is my life right now. Even as I am typing this there is a heavy duty industrial fan blowing loudly in my ear. Nice.
Everything else is coming along. Christmas is on it's way and I am less stressed now. Just about all done our shopping, the Christmas parties are over with, Gage's birthday is over with. Most of the hustle and bustle is behind us, now we just have Christmas- which should actually be relaxing because we are planning on spending it at the lake this year. I am hoping it is nice outside so that I can take the kids toboganning and ski dooing. And when I say "I can take them' what I mean is that my parents can take them. I don't really want to stand outside in the cold. Not really my thing.
Only a few days left and Geoff will be off for the winter and we will be officially joined at the hip. I am hoping that I will be able to do some writing then, we will see how it goes. He has been off for the last three days, and things have been OK, except for few minor things. For one, he apparently has never heard the words "spray and wash" before. Alex was having bare bum time on the floor on a blanky and did what he always does- decides to take a number two. What I usually do is pick him up and bath him. Once he is bathed, I pick up any affected clothing or blankets, rinse them out in the bathroom sink, spray and wash them and then promply launder them. What Geoff does- wipes Lex with a wet wipe, puts a diaper on him, throws everything in the laundry as usual. Which was not a pleasant surprise when I stuck my hand in there to grab stuff to throw in the laundry. It's just like they say- if you want anything done right you have to do it yourself.
Lowered Expectations
I have heard it said that the best place to meet a man is in the supermarket. I spend a lot of time in the supermarket, not looking for love, but doing far more mundane things like buying diapers and food and such. But whilst doing so, I have often wondered if anyone has ever met their soul mate during a supermarket encounter. Because all of the supermarket encounters that I have ever had have made me really skeptical. Recently, there was a man in front of me at the check out aisle. A hefty man, maybe say in the three to four hundred pound range. And his cart is filled, no overflowed, with 12 Packs of Pepsi (not Diet Pepsi- just Pepsi- rather bold of him I think, but I daresay that he may be rather advanced in his obesity for Diet Pepsi to make any difference at all), Smokies and Doritos. Like, I am not talking about a pack or Smokies and a bag of Doritos. I am talking about a cart overflowing with just these three items. And I'm like- either he's hosting some kind of a children's wiener roast for the neighborhood co op- or he came by his weight problem honestly. And as a nurse, I'm kind of worried about this guy when he gets home. Hello heart attack. It's like- Dude, if that's what you're buying then at least throw in a pack of Aspirin to hold off major heart damage until the paramedics can get to your house. Anyways, he must have seen my quizzical expression, because he offered me an explanation. Poker Night. And he goes on to tell me how he has to stock up on supplies for Poker Night because he lives out of town and yada, yada, yada- the price of gas nowadays (the price of gas- what an original conversation peice there) being what it is you can't drive in and out of town every week because his car only gets x amount of miles per the gallon, which translates to x amount of dollars per trip. And I'm thinking- damn those people who stole my wedding bands. And he's talking and talking and talking and I'm like- you know what, didn't want to hear your life story there Smoky Breath.
And then another time, I was buying lettuce and some guy comes along and he's like "ya, did you see that? The price is up again." And I looked at the sign with the price- because I never look at the sign- I know that lettuce is in around the dollar range and that's good enough for me. $1.38 the sign says. So I was like "well, isn't that usually what it is- around a dollar" And he was like "well, ya, but that's what I mean- it's gone up thirty eight cents." And I was like "oh." I mean, I can do the math, but it's just that it seems to me like such a minuscule amount of money that it's totally inconsequential. But he's like "you have to want a head of lettuce pretty bad to pay that price" and I was like, "I guess", but I didn't really know what to say. It was bizarre. Like, I mean, if thirty eight cents is going to blow your grocery budget then you're in deep shit my pal. I would suggest taking up a paper route or something. Anything. Frick.
So such encounters have led me to an idea for a book- "Shopping for Love" in which a young woman purposely peruses grocery stores to meet men and encounters similarly disapointing results. But then, I thought, realistically, it could be hard to stretch that out into a four hundred page book. So then I decided to write it as a short story. I am working on it now- it is coming slowly as I find it hard to write a frigging word these days that isn't a grocery list, but I am planning on submitting it to magazines and hopefully can be published in that arena first and maybe, maybe that will help me get my novel published. If I can give some kind of credentials that I've been published before. And at first I was thinking of like Cosmo or Vanity Fair, but now I'm like- you know what- who cares? I dont' care if it's published in some obscure Swedish magazine. I'll just change all the names to Sven and Johann. Whatever it takes to get my name in print. So I've lowered my expectations that way. I guess that is the real world. Success won't come all at once but from a series of smaller successes. I hope. I don't know. I just tell myself that to stave off self pity and self loathing and desperation and self mutilation.
Well, either way it probably won't come down to self mutilation.
I am scared of needles and that, need I remind you?
But ya. Those are the plans.
And then another time, I was buying lettuce and some guy comes along and he's like "ya, did you see that? The price is up again." And I looked at the sign with the price- because I never look at the sign- I know that lettuce is in around the dollar range and that's good enough for me. $1.38 the sign says. So I was like "well, isn't that usually what it is- around a dollar" And he was like "well, ya, but that's what I mean- it's gone up thirty eight cents." And I was like "oh." I mean, I can do the math, but it's just that it seems to me like such a minuscule amount of money that it's totally inconsequential. But he's like "you have to want a head of lettuce pretty bad to pay that price" and I was like, "I guess", but I didn't really know what to say. It was bizarre. Like, I mean, if thirty eight cents is going to blow your grocery budget then you're in deep shit my pal. I would suggest taking up a paper route or something. Anything. Frick.
So such encounters have led me to an idea for a book- "Shopping for Love" in which a young woman purposely peruses grocery stores to meet men and encounters similarly disapointing results. But then, I thought, realistically, it could be hard to stretch that out into a four hundred page book. So then I decided to write it as a short story. I am working on it now- it is coming slowly as I find it hard to write a frigging word these days that isn't a grocery list, but I am planning on submitting it to magazines and hopefully can be published in that arena first and maybe, maybe that will help me get my novel published. If I can give some kind of credentials that I've been published before. And at first I was thinking of like Cosmo or Vanity Fair, but now I'm like- you know what- who cares? I dont' care if it's published in some obscure Swedish magazine. I'll just change all the names to Sven and Johann. Whatever it takes to get my name in print. So I've lowered my expectations that way. I guess that is the real world. Success won't come all at once but from a series of smaller successes. I hope. I don't know. I just tell myself that to stave off self pity and self loathing and desperation and self mutilation.
Well, either way it probably won't come down to self mutilation.
I am scared of needles and that, need I remind you?
But ya. Those are the plans.
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