Drink, drank, drunk

Oh Alan, he's the love of my life. Together we have made beautiful memories that I hold dear to my heart--especially the drunk and hazy ones. So as promised, here is my favorite drunk Alan story.

The year was 1996...I think. Hey what do I know? I was drunk a lot too. Come on, we were young, newlyweds and childless. What else did we have to do? Well yeah, we did that a lot too. Ok, back to the story. Stop distracting me!! Since I was working at the hospital for an evening shift (3pm to 11pm) Alan decided to meet one of his high school buddies for "happy hour" after work. When I called him at home at 9pm there was no answer. I tried again at 10pm and no answer. I was starting to get really worried at that point and doing the woman thing of imaging the worst possible scenario. I also did the woman thing of calling every 10 to 15 minutes thinking that would make a difference. Near the end of my shift at about 11pm, I called again and this time he answered the phone with what sounded like "Aaaah Oooooo." I said, "Did you just get home?" And he answered, "aaa-wh-ga." My intense worried feelings switched to anger as I said, "Fine, I'm on my way home" and slammed the phone down.

When I arrived home I found him face down on the bed wearing a robe. I was able to rouse him enough to get him under the covers. I turned out the light and lay there fuming. All of a sudden I heard bad noises coming from his side of the bed. Noises kind of like the 'ack ack' of a cat with the 'gurgle huk' of a drunk guy. I sat up, turned on the light and saw him doing the heaving motions. I screamed, "Get up!! Go to the bathroom!!! Run!!" He got up, stumbled around the bed and started running toward the bathroom. I glanced at the bathroom and my brain screamed "Crap!" because the door was closed. I frantically jumped out of bed and started running toward the door to try and avert disaster but drunk guy inertia beat me out. He hit the closed door, bounced off of it and then spewed all over the door. I arrived at the door just in time to turn the dripping door knob and guide him to the toilet. While he was having his special time with the porcelin, I was busy wiping the door down and muttering curses under my breath at him.

As Alan finished up he started to giggle. He laughed and laughed and said, "I think I drank too much." I said, "You think?!" I helped him up and turned on the shower. I tried to remove his vomit splattered robe but he protested, "It's the only thing keeping me warm." I managed to wrestle it off of him and pushed him into the shower. Then he turned around and said to me, "You're mean!" (Oh my, the foreshadowing. I hear that phrase almost everyday of my life now that I have kids.) And I said to him, "Oh, you don't know what mean is! You wait until tomorrow, mister!" (Again foreshadowing, I had the motherly instinct even back then.)

I'm not as think as you drunk I am

Over the weekend we had some very good friends visiting from out of town--I'll call them Barbie and Ken. They are married and have kids the same ages as our kids. They live in another state now and so when we get together we make up for lost time. We enjoyed a long evening that included much food and drink. In fact, between the four of us we polished off three bottles of wine and several beers. After they left, Alan and I stayed up to clean the kitchen. We then went upstairs to check on the kids. As we passed by the boys' bathroom we saw a startling sight--someone had totally yakked in our sink (you know puked, vomited, barfed, blew chunks, did the technicolor yawn.) We were stunned, baffled, appalled and amused all at the same time. It was a sight right out of a fraternity party. After careful examination of the contents and volume of said vomitus we concluded that all kids were ruled out as suspects. It had to have been either Ken or Barbie. Since Ken had to drive, he didn't have more than a beer or three so we deduced that it had to be Barbie. Because there had been no attempt to clean up the mess and the fact that it was totally out of character for Barbie, we were quite shocked. When it came time to clean it up Alan disappeared, assuming, I suppose, that since I'm a nurse I was used to such things. I guess that's fair. I have seen a lot of vomit in my lifetime but I don't think one ever becomes used to it. I have learned to breathe through my mouth though.

The next morning I got a call from Barbie who confessed to the act. She was mortified and very apologetic. She explained that after she did it she left the bathroom to go downstairs to get some paper towels for clean up. However, by the time her foot hit the last step, she had forgotten. She woke in the middle of the night with the horrible realization that yes, it happened and yes, I left it in their sink! Sometimes I worry that I spend too much time with friends reminiscing instead of making new memories. But I think we just made a new memory. And I will cherish it.

****I love drunk stories so feel free to share some of your own. And coming soon...one of my favorite drunk Alan stories. Which one will it be? So many choices.

OMG TMJ WTF?

My saga of woe all started last week when I decided to clean the house. I vacuumed way too much and ended up with a lower back ache. I still had to continue with my normal activities--herding children, working my shifts at the hospital and house management. So my backache started a downward spiral of self-pity. Lying horizontal on the couch is not conducive to blogging or even reading my favorite blogs. So I am sorry I have neglected you. But come on, we were on a break!!

Anyway, the weekend passed and I thought "Ok, a new week, a new beginning" but that was a bunch of optimistic crap. I ended up at the doctor on Tuesday being diagnosed with TMJ or Temporomandibular joint disorder. He thinks I am grinding my teeth in my sleep and causing severe pain in the left side of my jaw. He said it's caused by stress and then he shook his head knowingly when he found out I had two sons. So the treatment is an anti-inflammatory (isn't that the treatment for everything?) heat, soft foods and stress reduction. I almost asked him for a doctor's note to give to Alan. Sorry honey, can't put any very large items in my mouth, doctor's orders.

Yesterday while the kids were in school I spent the morning doing a jigsaw puzzle while listening to ABBA on my iPod. It was strangely soothing. Yes, I am aware that is how many mental patients spend their time. So what's your point? It helped. I am not totally back to normal but I am ready to catch up with everyone. So be patient with me, I am Temporomandibularly Challenged.

Hips don't lie

For me exercise is one of those things that I know I have to do but have never loved--much like going to the dentist, having a pap smear or performing a Lewinsky. I don't care what form of exercise I am doing, I loathe it and watch the clock until it is mercifully over. It starts in the parking lot of the gym. I am driving around looking for the closest parking spot to the door. What is wrong with me? I didn't get the exercise gene. I swear I don't think I have endorphins, I've never gotten high at the gym, dammit.

My other problem is that I have a phobia associated with working out. I can't work out without listening to my iPod but I love to sing loudly when I listen to my iPod. Though when I am singing at the top of my lungs I am always inside my house or cutting the grass where no one can here me. So as I am walking the treadmill yesterday morning I am scared to death that I am going to start screaming out, in a Tourette's like fashion, song lyrics. Can you imagine? I'm rolling along on the treadmill and all of a sudden I belt out "All my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy!" Or I'm stepping along on the cross trainer when I throw my arms up and rapping "Now just throw your hands in the motherfucking air and wave the motherfuckers like you just don't care. What's my motherfucking name? Snoop Doggy Dooooooooog. Bow wow wow, yipee oh yippe a, Bow wow wow yippee O Shit!" (I just opened my eyes to see all the gym people starting at me with shocked faces.) So you see the problem, it's just too risky.

Today I decided to change it up and take a Zumba class. It's a dance/exercise class to jaunty Latin tunes. I haven't taken an exercise class in years so at first I was quite rigid and self-conscious. The instructor was Woooo Hooooing and people were shouting out "Ya-Ha!" and "Arriba!" I'm serious, they were. Cynical me was thinking 'What the hell am I doing here?!' There was a lot of shaking body parts involved and a lot of fancy shamancy steps and then the instructor called out "Are you ready to party, ladies?! Do the Merengue step!" Oh Patrick Swayze! Help me, where ever you are!! Then the jumping started and I think I peed myself--yeah, a little bit. (Curse you Shepard and your big head!) Now she's screaming "Don't forget to breathe!" Fuck, I forgot to breathe! By the end of class I had loosened up a bit and was getting my Shakira on. I even threw out a little 'Wooooo.' I couldn't commit to the 'Hooooo' though. Maybe next class. After class, I found myself wandering in the parking lot like a freaking retard because I couldn't remember where my car was. My brain must have been oxygen deprived. I wish I had remembered to breathe!

Crucial, life affecting decisions

I am strangely at peace today. Though I was not thrilled with either candidate, I am glad it is decided. It was very exciting and hard not to get caught up in the historic aspect of the victory. And I have decided to adopt Shepard's philosophy of life which he learned in preschool--You get what you get and you don't throw a fit! So life is good and it's time to move on to more important decisions like my cell phone ringer.

I love personalized ringers. It is my greatest joy of cell phone ownership--to decide what ringer I would like for each of my family members and friends. I recently got a cool new phone and have to start from scratch with my ringers. I have already downloaded Alan's ringer--it's always been 'Sexual Healing' by Marvin Gaye. It's perfect for him but has caused some uncomfortable moments like when I was standing with the car mechanic and Alan called. I couldn't get to the phone fast enough and it kept singing "When I get that feeling, I want sexual healing..." The guy glared at me with a creepy smile and I could just read his thoughts, "Heh heh, you ain't a virgin, is ya?"

What I am stressing over now is what I am going to download as my all-purpose ringer. My most recent one was the theme song from "Halloween." But now that Halloween is over I am going to use that ringer for work. The two ringers I am considering are "Stronger" by Kanye West or "So What" by Pink. What do you think?

So after I make this most momentous decision I will move on to individuals--my mom, dad, and two sisters (they will be called JaJa and JuJu.) For my mom I was thinking 'Tara's theme' from Gone with the Wind 'cause she's a strong little southern belle. My dad will definitely have to be 'The Imperial March' from Star Wars.

I have two older sisters and they are more problematic. I used to have the theme from 'Cops' for my oldest sister JaJa because she is the grand dame of the Jerry Springer faction of my family. She has three daughters and, when they all lived together, they were very fond of calling the police on each other. When my middle sister JuJu heard my ringer for JaJa she thought it was hysterical. Good thing she didn't know that my ringer for her was 'Crazy Train.'

Decisions, decisions...I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.

I fear change

Election Day. It's finally arrived and I am so relieved. When I woke up it was raining hard. I think God is crying. But I am trying to look on the bright side--the campaign is over. I am glad that at the end of the day we will finally know our fate. It's the not knowing that makes my stomach churn.

I took the boys with me and voted. I said to Sage, "Wasn't that exciting?" and he said, "No, it was kind of boring." I had no trouble voting--no long lines or riots in the street--yet. The worst part is that, like an idiot, I scheduled myself to work this evening. I called and told them I couldn't come in bcause I would be busy burying my guns in the backyard. They didn't buy it. I don't want to go to work, I would much rather sit in front of the TV all evening torturing myself.

Whoever wins I am not going to be happy. I don't like change, any kind of change. I like my life the way it is and I don't want either guy skulking around and telling me how much I have to sacrifice. However I did find this little clip. Wow, that sounds pretty good to me too. Can't wait!

***Hey Joe Biden, stop calling my house! The campaign is over, you freaking psycho!

Stream of Consciousness Monday

I woke up this morning in the middle of a dream about trick or treating geese. I don't remember what their costumes were. Dammit! All the pumpkin muffins are gone. I spent all day Thursday baking for 2 Halloween parties, one Fall festival and one Pumpkin festival. I do not really enjoy cooking but I do like to bake. I was about to make cupcakes for Shepard's preschool party when I read an email from the another child's mother. She said, "I just finished making cupcakes for the party tomorrow!" Whore! I told her I was making the cupcakes! Now I had to think of another snack to send in. I sent in string cheese cut to look like a finger with a grape on the end for a fingernail. The teacher loved it. Take that cupcake whore!

Yay, I just discovered that my love for Joe Jonas is not a forbidden love. He's 19! Why is my body rejecting alcohol as I get older? You would think it would be used to it by now. Had a slight hangover on Saturday from the neighborhood Halloween party Friday night. Sage was a faceless phantom and Shepard a ninja. The kids fell asleep in our bed that night and we were too tired and buzzed to move them. I had to move them back to their room at 4:30 am because Shepard kept head butting me in his sleep. Then we had to be up early for Shepard's 8:30 am soccer game. One of the coaches kids puked on the sideline. Guess he had a rough night too. Shepard scored three goals. He seems to be really into soccer. Sage never was. He would gallop around the field like a horse or bark at the other team. He didn't really score goals but the coach always complimented him on his intimidation tactics.

I think I am a sexual psychic. Last night I had a stomachache so I told Alan it was no go. But in the middle of the night, I woke up feeling quite...um, interested. However, we have to get up so early that I didn't want to wake Alan. So I just lay there thinking those thoughts you think when all of a sudden Alan was semi-conscious and one thing led to another and--Wow! So this morning Alan said, "Did we do something last night?" And I giggled and said, "Yeah, we did!" And he giggled and I giggled again. And later I realized "I woke him up with only the power of my dirty mind. I'm like a superhero!" Giggle.

We will have years of enjoyment from Alan's Halloween costume. I am making a list of all the family members that I want to punk.

And what do you think of me? Have you ever seen a sexier Halloween costume? I am so a'peel'ing.

Happy Monday!

You don't know Jack!

We had the family pumpkin carving festivities last night. Our first pumpkin started out as an alien, then transformed into a devil then ended up as a bull. So he is a E.T. Devil Bull with tongue hanging out. That stuff on top is his brains.

The second pumpkin was Sage's idea and Alan helped him realize his evil vision. Those guys are truly disturbing. I love it!!

Happy Halloween!

Here's a present for my friend Zibbs over at That Blue Yak. Here's a treat for you that I found online--A Halloween moon.

Tales from the Mini Van

I have never admitted this publicly but I am now the owner of a mini van. It happened this summer. I am a bit embarrassed by it since I have always been a bit anti mini van. But I couldn't take the Oldsmobile station wagon anymore. Our driveway looked like that drunk Exxon Valdez captain had been hanging out there and I needed a new ride. So we went car shopping which I rank up there with bathing suit or bra shopping. Hate it!!! I didn't go looking for a mini van but she somehow found me. And when I sat in her...oh, it was magic. The mini van, she seduced me--her comfortable seats, her multiple drink holders, her 6 CD changer, her automated doors, her tinted windows, and stow and go seating--I was in love. And I have never looked back.

The car is an interesting place for a parent. Mostly it is a giant torture chamber. Forget water boarding, just try putting a terrorist in a car with my 2 boys. Here's how it would go--the terrorist, let's call him Bob, is driving along, practicing safe defensive driving when all of a sudden he hears a scream from Shepard. Sage just took his toy. Bob yells at Sage to give the toy back and Sage is saying, "Huh? I can't hear you. Shepard is screaming." So the screaming continues until Bob threatens to "Pull this car over!" Bob never thought he would say that in his life, but he was wrong. Then Sage starts to whine that Shepard is not sharing the snack. The whining continues until he yanks the snack from Shepard's hand and Shepard begins to cry again. Then Sage asks to go to the library. Bob says no because we have to go to the bank. Both kids whine because they don't want to go to the bank. Bob arrives at the bank drive thru and is in line when he hears a sneeze. He looks back in the rear view mirror to see two snot stalactites hanging from Sage's nose AND he does not have a tissue. He finds a piece of paper under the seat and hands it back to Sage who has already used his sleeve anyway. He leaves the bank and turns up the radio to hear the news when both boys ask to hear the Miley Cyrus CD. He says no and the loud protests and shouting start "Why can't we hear Miley, Terrorist Bob?! Why do you hate Miley?! I want to hear some music!!!" They are so loud that he misses the news and so he gives in and puts on Miley. So here is Bob--stuck in traffic, listening to Miley Cyrus when from the back he hears "I have to pee right now!!" Terrorist Bob will break, I guarantee it.

However, there are some quiet moments in the car. I have discovered that it can be a great environment to talk to your kids about life issues. For some reason they tend to open up more in the car. It may have something to do with the fact that I am not looking directly at them trying to invade their brains with my mother vision. I guess the back of my head is less threatening. So we have some good conversations.

Yesterday, Sage said, "Mommy, remember that time you ran over that Christmas tree? How old was I, three?" (I was driving 65 on the interstate when the car in front of me veered off suddenly to the other lane. I found myself confronted with a Christmas tree someone had dropped off of their car. With no time to avoid it, I thought I was going to wreck but my Oldsmobile ran right over it and I kept going. I wonder if that had anything to do with all that oil leakage.)

"Yes, you were three?"

Shepard asked, "How old was I?"

"Shepard, you were still in my tummy. You weren't born yet."

Sage said, "Mommy ate you." Shepard's eyes went wide.

"No, I didn't eat you! You were a little baby and you were growing safe in my tummy until you were ready to come out."

Shepard, "How did I get in your tummy?"

"God put you there."

Shepard, "How did God put me there?"

Flashback: One summer day when I was a young teen, I was watching 'The Young and the Restless' with my mom. Teenage Tracy had just found out she was pregnant. My mom turned to me and said, "You should never have sex before you are married." And that was the extent of my sexual education from my parents. That is why I vowed that I would always be open with my children about sex and sensitive subjects. Education helps make better choices. BUT, Shepard is four and he is looking at the back of my head so I did not think this was the right time to explain to my children where babies come from.

So with the question still lingering in the air I said, "Well Shepard, God was in heaven and he decided that you should be a part of our family, so he...OH LOOK, COWS!!!!"

And he turned to look and started mooing and that was the end of that.

Tattoo you?

Sage strikes again. Let me remind you of the first time Sage wrote on his brother. Will Shepard ever learn not to trust the devil that is his older brother? I think not.
This happened while they were serving punishment time in their room. Sage claims Shepard wanted him to do it which I tend to believe since, among other things, he had a pirate drawn on his chest and a volcano on his forehead. But I don't think Shepard asked for this little gem on his lower back.

Crisis over

You may return to your lives, the crisis is over. My husband has finally honored me with a comment or two. It seems he does value his whites being separated from his colors, a clean plate to eat his wonderfully home-microwaved meals, and the cute way I fold his boxer briefs into swans to leave on his pillow at night. So wifely duties are back on and it is possible that I will throw in a few extras for such lovely comments. Yes, I may change our sheets a week early this year! Do I know how to treat my man or what?!

You might wonder if I feel guilty for strong-arming my husband into commenting on my blog. And to that I say--Hellz no! If you have been reading long enough, you know I am shameless and not above whining, threats and mental torture. I learned it from my kids. Anyway, with his comment I achieved half of my personal comment best for my last post. Ha! Ok, well one of the comments was my own. So maybe a third of my personal best. I do have a dream that one day I might achieve ten comments on one post. If Jesus can reveal himself in a grilled cheese sandwich, if Britney Spears can get her driver's license back, if my husband can take time out from working (or as I like to call it, gallivanting) to comment on my blog, then I know miracles can happen. And someday, it could happen to me. Or not. It's up to you people. So will you do the right thing or will you burn in eternal hellfire? Let me know by going to my comment section. tee hee

One more thing--Hey Alan, wifely duties are suspended until you cut the grass!! ;)

**Notice**

It has come to my attention that my own husband has not commented on my blog for the last EIGHT posts. I know I speak for all of you when I say this is shocking and egregious. As you all know, comments are very important to a blog and since I need all the comments I can get, I have decided that drastic measures are called for. I am hereby suspending all of my wifely duties until such time as my husband chooses to resume supporting his wife. This is effective immediately until this crisis is over. Thank you and I, J.Hi, have approved this message.

**I'm coming after you next, sister-in-law!!!

Trifecta

My weekend was pretty fantastical! It had all the element of a perfect weekend--fall, football, and free stuff.

We attended a fall festival that was sponsored by my employer so everything was free. And my motto is 'If it's free, it's for me.' If there are more than one blowup jumpy thing at an event my boys give it five stars. Shepard declared, "That vegetable was awesome!"

We arrived home in time to see our football team lay the smack down in OT and win the game. Very exciting. In fact when we went to a neighborhood event later in the evening, one little girl said to me, "I heard a lot of screaming in your house earlier. What was going on?" Yeah, when my team is on, I am a screamer. I get very emotional. Sometimes I scare Alan. But what's new?

Sunday we made our annual trek to the Pumpkin patch. I always get the best pictures at the pumpkin patch. So now that we have our pumpkins, the Halloween preparations are complete. Yes, we all have our costumes--the boys started planning their costumes in August. Alan and I always dress up for our neighborhood party. The neighbors are already trying to get out of us what we will be this year but they will not break me!! They might get it out of the boys though--they are weak.

Gas money to get to pumpkin patch: $15

All you can carry pumpkins for one price : $20

Saying to Alan, "Just hold on, wait, don't move,

I've got to get your picture, ok smile, come on, smile! : Priceless

Everything I need to know I learned on South Park

So these are my choices. Really?! I usually do not delve into politics on this blog because politics is just too icky. When you visit J.Hi I want to you leave feeling warm, euphoric and safe like you just went back and visited your mother's womb--yes, please, come and float in my amniotic sac and be nourished by my placenta. Mmmmm, isn't that nice?

I don't want you feel like you have been thrust out in the cold world all wet and screaming with people telling you what to do and getting all up in your shit. However, the subject is on my mind, people! You feeling me? I know you are thinking about it too. You watch TV or read the paper with that frustrated helpless feeling. You look at your neighbor and wonder if they feel the way you do or are they a complete idiot--they are probably the latter because anyone who is not smart enough to turn off their outside floodlight at night so it shines right in my face when I am trying to sleep can not be trusted to vote the correct way. Damn idiot neighbor!!! You also are probably checking what you say around others because you don't want to come off too religious or too elitist or too racist or too communist. You might be sitting quietly by at a dinner party of friends when all of a sudden you are blindsided by a political lecture and urged to "do the right thing" and vote for their candidate (while you are rolling your eyes inside your own brain.)

So I call SHENANIGANS!!! Shenanigans on both of these candidates. Watch this clip and just replace the carnival workers for the government/politicians and you will know how I feel. They are both going to take us to the same place, but one is the tortoise and one is the hare. I am going to vote but I am not going to let them limit my choice. I feel like just slitting my wrists and bleeding all over the ballot in protest. Wouldn't that be cool? Maybe I could be famous like Joe the Plumber! Or I might just be put away for awhile to "rest."

I will vote my conscience--and it won't be for you know who or the other one either. I will vote and then I will go home and continue doing the things I enjoy doing like watching reality shows, eating Cheetos on my sandwich, shooting guns, attending gay weddings, spanking my children, having irresponsible sex with my husband, praising Jesus, listening to Satanic heavy metal music, recycling and using any damn kind of light bulb I damn well please. I'm an American and I am free to do it--for now anyway.

Countdown to Halloween

Three weeks and one day until Halloween!!!!

Are you scared?!

Ain't no party like a J.Hi party

Yesterday was my birthday and I am now solidly in the late 30s category. Ack! Getting older isn't really bothering me yet. Although I am a bit worried about my labia. I had a co-worker once who was about 15 to 20 years older than me. She said that as she got older her labia began to drop and I have been freaked out ever since. So I said to Alan, "Look at my labia."
"Wha? Huh?"
"LOOK AT THEM!"
"OK OK, I'm looking."
"Are they dropping?"
"No, they look fine."
"Measure them."
"WHAT?"
"You heard me. Get the ruler."
"Your labia are fine. They have not dropped."
"Thank God, safe for another year."

So here are some things that were great about my birthday...

1. Bacon--2, count them, 2 slices of bacon, bitches
2. Naked nap
3. Birthday money and guilt free shopping with MY birthday money
4. Sage played "Happy Birthday" on his guitar for me
5. My mom made me a blackberry cobbler even though she had to hunt around town for blackberries
6. When my 20 year old niece said, "You look really good for 38!!" hee hee
7. All of my email, blog and Facebook birthday wishes (Awwwwwww)
8. Tame family party with little to no drama

There weren't many, but here are a few things that disappointed me about my birthday...

1. Not enough time to shop with MY birthday money
2. I still had to do dishes, laundry and scoop cat litter
3. No half-naked men to carry me around on a royal birthday litter so my feet wouldn't have to touch the ground
4. Tame family party with little to no drama

So here is my birthday rap...

I'm 38, I'm a bad ass ho
My labia ain't swinging low
At an all night party I'm known as Speed Racer
Drinking liquor and beer with a Maalox chaser
Rollin' down hard with my birthday wishes
Fuck you all, I'm 38 bitches!

**Just so you know the last two lines were written by Alan because I was stuck. Yes, I am appalled too. I didn't know he was so gangsta.

A Sage moment

Sage asked, "Do you ever wish you had a girl?"

I replied, "No, never. Never have I wished that I had a girl."

Sage, "Why?"

"Because I love my dirty, smelly, crazy boys."

"Don't forget disgusting" Sage said.

"Oh yeah, disgusting too."

Then I added, "I love everything about you, just the way you are....... although you could talk back less."

And with a devilish grin, Sage said, "In your dreams."

Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't

Here's my problem with blogging. I know I should blog more often, probably everyday. However, it's all about integrity. I cannot put something out there that I don't think is up to my high standards--maybe not high so much as moderately high or low to moderately high--yes, that's it, low to moderately high standards. I have to be inspired to blog and my day to day life sometimes is not that inspiring. You people really don't want to hear about my endless battle with laundry--I wash the clothes, I dry the clothes, I put the clothes in the basket, I am too tired to put the clothes away, the cat pees on the clothes in the clean laundry basket, I wash the clothes, I dry the clothes...

You definitely don't want hear about how my eyes had an allergic reaction to my contacts and how they were all bloodshot and drunk looking. And how I had to wear my nerdy glasses for a week straight and I hated it. But my friends at work thought I looked sexy and called me "The Naughty Librarian."

I do not want to bore you with stories about Alan's ring rash--it's on his wedding band finger so he cannot wear his wedding band for the week while it heals. And how I'm totally fine with that even though I will be having him followed while he is not wearing it. (I'm watching you, Alan!) We are considering tattooing a ring on his ring finger so this won't be an issue in the future. And when I say we, I mean me.




And I am absolutely not going to blog about how at a recent neighborhood party I ended the evening looking like this...

'Cause that would just be embarrassing.

There are too many things in my life that just aren't worth mentioning--like how my bathtub was filled up with water, sand, and dirty Legos for a week before Sage cleaned it OR how I cannot afford any home improvement right now so I just move furniture and pictures around to pretend that I have new stuff OR how I know I will never be thin because my gym is right next to a Mexican restaurant and while I am working out I smell the food and fantasize about Chimichangas OR how I secretly practice talking like Heidi Klum because she sounds so fricking cool Or how I think pumpkins are sexy.

I refuse to blog about these nothings. I only want to blog about somethings. So I am stuck waiting and waiting for those somethings--those interesting somethings--to happen. You will know when they happen becaue then I will blog. But until that time I will just have to remain silent. I'm out!

The art of killing the mood: Chapter 2

As the rain of Hanna poured outside, Alan and I were snuggled up in the bed starting a little storm of our own. Apparently hurricanes turn Alan on. Actually, so do blizzards, heat waves, partly sunny days, partly cloudy days, isolated showers, and scattered showers. And don't even get me started on areas of high pressure. Weather, all weather turns him on.

As Hanna raged outside (or whimpered really--I've seen thunderstorms worse than you, Hanna!) the mood inside was serene and sexy UNTIL...Knock, knock, knock.

Sage calls, "Mommy, Daddy!"

Alan said, "Yes, Sage. What do you need?"

Sage, "Shepard said God!"

Alan, "Well, please tell him to say Gosh or Goodness."

Sage, "Ok"

Dang, foiled by the Ten Commandments! Didn't see that one coming.