It's 0404 on a Tuesday morning, and I can't sleep - partly because I'm coming off a 5-day migraine in which I slept a TON, and partly because, well, I never sleep at night anyway. And I've got a lot on my mind right now, so prepare ye for a massive, totally random brain dump:
I'm really trying to rev up my Jafra business so that I can promote to Manager later this year. Really bad timing, considering we're going to move soon, but the exciting part is I have K joining my team soon! On the Saturday after next, we're having a Jafra spa party at her place, complete with smelly-good foot soaks, mud masks and way more, and whatever we earn at her party is going in to placing HER first order and getting her case. She's excited, I'm thrilled, and it's going to be a great send-off for me and instantly-built clientele for her. Yay!
Oops, I just realized I have two logos in that picture. Meh. It's a two-fer.
We visited my friend Saritah and her family last week, and we're going again the last week of February - along with Jenny from the Block and her kiddos, whom we haven't seen in ages upon ages. Trés fun! I have presents for both of them, so I hope I don't forget to bring 'em. Plus, Chloë is "in love" with older son Sebastian, and Sophia is "in love" with younger son Trevor, so Saritah and I are planning future double weddings. Sophie and Trevor have even locked themselves in his closet and smooched on the cheek already! What! I have to stop playing with that cute baby up there, Tempe, and pay attention to the rest of those rapscallions!
(holy huge picture that won't let me scale it down... awesome)
We're supposed to be moving to Miami right around March 1st, and I'm kind of totally freaking out about it, because we are not even remotely ready. Still to do: clean up this house, our rental, so we can move the remaining at-least-half of our crap out of the old house, which we still own, into it; get the old house cleaned up and listed for sale post-haste; set a date for the movers to come; freakin' FIND a place to live in Miami - hello, apartment managers? Returning my phone call and/or email requests for information would be a good thing, 'kay? - and, gosh, that's enough for starters. Rob thinks we won't move in time. I'm stubborn as hell about that March 1 deadline, but I'm starting to agree with him. Cue major sad face.
Oh, and considering each of us is something of a medical marvel, once we do find a place to live, I have about 27 bazillion doctors to find and appointments to make!
I have a cold. Make that aNOTHer cold. Like, my third in 2013. Plus, I'm coming off a five-day migraine (post-publish read-through realization: oh. I told you that already. Meh. It's another two-fer) in which I did a lot of lying around in bed and not much else. With that, moving, building my business and everything else, it's like, WHAT homeschooling?! so far this month. I feel pretty shit-tastic about that. Well, we'll be making up for it by doing lots of school this summer, in between beach visits and dips in the pool.
Rob's last day in the United States Navy is on Valentine's Day! Squee! We're not having a party, since no one could be bothered to come to his 40th birthday party in August, but don't think we won't be celebrating. Horizonta---um, TMI. ;) He has been counting down the days by telling me how many times left he has to shave, cut his curly locks, press his uniforms, and so on. I think the man is excited, y'all!
Every Sunday, we have a family meeting. Someone different runs it each time, but the agenda is always the same:
1. Calendar, wherein we go through everyone's plans for the upcoming week,
2. Compliments and appreciation, wherein every person goes around and pays everyone else some C and/or A,
3. Allowance, which is everybody's favorite part,
4. Snack, which almost always involves a drive (for me) to 7-Eleven, and,
5. Fun activity, which for the last two weeks has been a gross-out contest!
Anyway, at this past Sunday's Family Meeting, my #2 for Rob was thanking him for 20 years of service to our country, and congratulating him on his terminal leave, which starts Friday. Chloë responded by throwing her arms around Daddy and sobbing happy tears. It was a very touching moment.
I have been super busy teaching coupon classes this month. So far, I have taught one at the library, 3½ "personal sessions" at various folks' homes, and taken one friend and her daughter on a shopping trip to see how I do it in real life. Total women taught so far: eight! With at least that many more to go before we move. I'm not charging much, either, so the personal satisfaction I get from imparting my money-saving knowledge and helping these women and their families out is what's really paying me. Warm fuzzies all around!
This is just a gratuitous kids-in-the-sun photo, because I like to close with an image. There's more on my mind than all this, but that seems like enough to dump on y'all for the time-being. Can ya keep some good thoughts for us that we'll be able to get out of here and move to Miami as close as possible to our self-imposed deadline? For my sanity's sake? Thanks. Much appreciated.
Fin.
I'm sick, y'all. Very, very sick. Let's just say I'm glad now that I have those Depend Silhouettes, because they're coming in very handy at the moment. To further elaborate, I have to have a flex sig on Tuesday morning to rule out stuff like colon cancer and other such niceties. To put it bluntly, I've been crapping my brains out for a week straight - I've had about 10 accidents, even (all but one at home, thank goodness, and that other one was at Walmart, of all places!) - much like my 3½-week nightmare of December 2011. I'm MISERABLE. I'm hating life. I'm crying, I'm hurting, I'm barely able to eat and am just keeping up with hydration.
It's true. It's how I'm feeling right now. Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly suicidal... I just want out of this misery!!!
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If I post again soon, as planned, it will be much more upbeat. I promise. I just really needed to get that out!
Fin.
Link up here if you're playing along today!
Link up here if your thoughts are all over the place and you think Mrs. 4444 and pals have just gotta read 'em anyway!
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I've been grateful to have a pretty low-key week both at home with the kids and extra-curricularly, since I'm still nursing a weeks-long migraine. It's a baddy. I need to call Neurology today to get back into the headache clinic. I was supposed to call Tuesday, but I haven't even been able to bear being on the phone for five minutes. Thankfully, the children "get it" and have been pretty hushity-hush when Mom is begging for them to be quiet. All three of them get migraines, too, so they're able to empathize, sadly for them.
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Anyway. I did manage to do some extensive deal-shopping and save (even make!) a few bucks this week, but that's about all I've left the house for, other than driving a friend to work one night.
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No one's answered my Aloha Friday question yet - won't you? - so I'm thinking people either don't get the question or I'm the only such weirdo. Now that latter thing wouldn't surprise me, nor does the confirmation of it smart, but it'd be nice to know that someone out there knows what I mean and has a similar feeling!
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Oh, I know what's happened since last Friday! On Saturday, my son Jack's Cub Scout pack ran their Pinewood Derby race, and he won first place for both his Bear den and the overall pack. Woohoo! Three years running, he's taken home a trophy (or two) and headed to the District race, coming up in March. You can see his grins here, if you'd like.
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Also, that night, I took my Daisy troop - and Chloë went with her Junior Girl Scout troop - to a local museum for their environmental activities and exhibits. I haven't blogged about that yet; perhaps I will after this, 'cause I'm wide awake this early morning and yet not energetic enough to, y'know, fold the dozen or so loads of laundry taking up space over yonder. It was fun, and I think they learned a few things, but my Assistant Leader and I both agreed it probably wasn't worth the cost. Meh. Whatcha gonna do, barter over Girl Scout programs? I don't think so. But we probably won't do that one again next time.
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So that's me for the week. Usually I can blather on 'til the cows come home, but my head aches, and if I told you anything else, it would likely be a complete fabrication!
Have a great weekend!
Fin.
P.S. Oh! I've been asked about my iron transfusion last Friday. It went great! It took forever, and I was humbled as I was by far the youngest patient in there and, judging from the bald and be-wigged heads of the others, probably the healthiest, relatively speaking. It took about six hours, so I did a little knitting, a bit of chit-chatting with the nurses and other patients, and mostly, I napped. I probably snored and drooled; okay, I know I did, but I didn't care then, and I don't care now! Ah was tarred. If it weren't for the migraines, I'd be feeling like Superwoman now, I think. That infusion made a huge difference. I'm already looking forward to the next topping-off in 4-6 months. Hee! Iron-piggy, me. Thanks for your concern, askers out there! Now cross your fingers I'm able to donate blood tomorrow afternoon; I'm O-neg and feel it's my duty, but I've been deferred every time I go in for a year now! Ayee!
Link up with Mrs. 4444 if you're playing along today.
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I really only have one fragment this week: I'm still sick. It's going on three full weeks of this illness, of which I'm sure you don't want the gory details (think, intestinal blah), and I am weak and useless. I've shed many tears and am feeling quite weary, both physically and mentally. As such, it takes everything I've got just to get through the days, and I haven't been doing a whole bunch with the family. I got a brief reprieve (thank you, God) on Christmas and had a pretty decent day, but otherwise, sickkkkk.
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On that note, and really, that's all there is for me, I wish you all the very best that 2012 can bring.
Fin.
I'm not really well and feeling up to it, but I couldn't miss the last Aloha of 2011, so my question for you this week is:
When it comes to yourself, and you need to go to the doctor, are you good about going right away or do you drag your feet and wait until it's really necessary?
As for me, I'm more the latter type. I'm the first one there when it comes to the kids, but as for me, I'd rather do just about anything else than go to the doctor. 'Fraid I've been four times - and counting - with this illness, though, persistent as it is.
Link up here if you've got questions for Kailani and crew today, too.
Have a happy, and healthy, 2012.
Fin.
Hey, remember when Jack was about 3½ and I made these freakin' cute sweaters? I did a dumb thing: instead of keeping them for MY children, I sold them on eBay for way less than they were worth. I could still kick myself!
Here's baby Sophia wearing the same cabled and bobbled sweater. I know! Can you believe that's really her?! She has changed SO much since she was a baby, one can scarcely recognize her. Even her own mother. Crazy.
Here's the other one. I just did a search for them on Mary Maxim, where I originally got the kits, but they no longer seem to be available there. Shame. I mean, I still have the patterns (I think?!) and can use any yarns I want, but that doesn't help anyone else, does it?
And again, Sophie modeling the same get-up. I have to laugh, because I remember intentionally not wanting her to stand up on the chaise lounge, there, but you couldn't keep her down! The kid walked at seven months (!!) and has been on the move ever since.
Hrm, well, a quick-but-extensive search online didn't turn up an alternate source, so... that stinks. I hope they're still available somewhere, because they're super-cute, right?
Anyway. I'm still deep in the midst of my illness that's been going on since the 12th, so not a lot going on here today. I might look at a magazine or two. Exciting, right?
Fin.
Omgosh, y'all. I have been so sick this week, I have literally begged, crying and cringing, for Rob to shoot me. The jackhole refuses, God bless his soul, so here I sit, in agony, crapping my brains out, cursing the virus that's causing my amoebic dystentery malaria gastroenteritis. Or as the doctor at the ER last night referred to it, apparently mistaking me for someone stupid, the "stomach flu."
What?!! I could've picked a worse picture! And trust me, Google Image has them. I'm being nice, here. And I'm feeling particularly cranky, so you're lucky. Imagine how sore my, uh, yeah. Let's move on, here. You've all been there.
(Why am I suddenly craving a bean burrito from Taco Bell? Gross.)
So last week, we had an early Christmas at Great Wolf Lodge. Trip Numero Tres, that would be. The last time was two years ago, but this time, we went because we got an incredible homeschoolers' discount. Yeah, buddy. It pays to skool yer kidz at home. Even if you occasionally get sick and that edumacation consists of, "Please go clean your rooms. Or break something, I don't care. Just leave me alone." Okay, so that exact conversation didn't really take place, but essentially, we have taken this here week off from scholarly pursuits. Can you blame me? I mean, I've single-anally upped the stock market index for all things Cottonelle.
Anyway. I thought you said we were going to discuss Great Wolf Lodge, not my arse? Oh, that was me. Because, you know, I do all the talking here, and you sit and read. That's how it works. Ah. Now apparently I think you're stupid. Well, you are here and not reading Perez Hilton or something. I mean. c'mon.
I think I'm going to just publish this one and then start a whole new one for the actual trip after I've had a chance to disinfect my brain from the havoc that is being wreaked upon my bowels at present, m'kay?
You're welcome.
Fin.
Since this guy:
has been freaking me out since Thursday with his possibly having had a stroke or several (hi, two ER visits later and we have yet to have him see a Neurologist, grr), I've been what you might call "productively unproductive." Huh? Welp, instead of doing (mostly) what I ought to do, like school the chillens and clean the house and sech, I've been spending the time trying not to be One Big Worrywart by being crafty instead. Crafting helps soothe my frazzled nerves and so, in this case, I gave myself a free pass to do whatever it was that I needed to do.
Firstly, I was determined to conquer this beast, which all of our girls - including the little 5-7-year-old Daisies - were supposed to have made at our encampment last weekend, but which proved to be next to impossible for just about everyone (including us adults). Chloë massively impressed me - and, I think, several of the other Leaders there - by reinventing the wheel and coming up with her own successful way to do it, but even then, it wasn't "right," as the directions given were confusing and, well, it turns out, just wrong. Since we had several 2-L bottles in the recycling bin, I decided to take another whack at it, and behold! Once you follow the dang directions, it's really not too bad. And it looks kind of cool, so I ended up making, like, five. (Hey, it was nerve-soothing, remember??)
Ignoring the background, and the fact that I couldn't get off the entire Coke label, I think it turned out pretty well. I filled it with glass beads and water, then went outside and snipped what may be my last lily of the year to snap this picture. My mistake was leaving it there alone. Half-hour later, I went into the kitchen, and I found our two wee kittens had battered the flower and drunk all the water they could reach out of the vase. Cats!!
Ah, but they're so cute and sweet and innocent when they're sleeping (not unlike the kids, eh?), it's hard not to forgive them and just laugh it off...
I was enjoying the craft so much that when I ran out of 2-L bottles, I decided to try making one out of a much smaller and more rigid SoBe LifeWater bottle. That took all my strength to cut! But, I rescued what was by then left of the flower and think it turned out mighty purty with some blue glass beads (I almost typed "glue blass" instead, as I am the queen of Spoonerisms). Right?
I then turned my attention to making my SWAPS ("Something Whimsical Affectionately Pinned Somewhere") for my Outdoor II (camping) training session that I was supposed to be at, well, right now. (After the Rob scares, I had to cancel my attendance, but I didn't know that at the the time.) So what's this jumble of mess?
Since our group's chosen Patrol name, with the overall camp theme was "Under the Sea," was the Sassy Sharks, I came up with this SWAP(s) first: A Sassy Shark intentionally pinned to the TOP of the crocheted chain. Get it? Sharks are apex predators, at the top of the food chain? Yes? You see? C'mon, it's jeenyus. Okay, okay, whatever, I liked it.
This was the second set of SWAPS I worked out. Up close:
A baggy containing a little card reading, "Make no bones (get it? Get it? Sharks have no bones! I'm so damn clever) about it, we Sharks sure are Sassy!" with another sassy, dancing little shark clip-art photo, and some frou-frous thrown in there for extra sass. I wanted to make a third set of SWAPS, but time was running short, and I still needed to make our Patrol's name tags, for which I was responsible.
A lot of Google Imaging, printing, cutting, laminating, and badge-attaching later, and my name tags were done. I was SO proud of them, and that's probably the one disappointment I had about not going camping this weekend; "that" being able to explain to each of our participants why I assigned them the sharks that I did. So, you'll have to sit through while I explain them to you, 'cause someone has to know the truth of the matter.
Top, L to R: Hard to see, but N was our "Ghost Shark," because she was absent for our initial training and planning session, so we only had her in spirit. J was our Hammerhead, because they're one of the few sharks that really school in groups and they're quite dominant, and I got the sense that J was a real team player but also a natural-born leader-type. See?
Middle, L to R: S was our Wobbegong, one of my favorite sharks, because she struck me as gentle and shy, like these more docile fish. D wanted to be the Great White, and I forget why, but I gave that to her. She had a strong personality as well, so it seemed fitting, anyway. And, my Assistant Troop Leader, Miss D, was our Patrol Leader, a.k.a. the group cheerleader, so I made her our Megamouth Shark. Get it? Like she had a megaphone to cheer us all on with? Ha. I kill The Me.
Bottom, L to R: I made myself the Nurse Shark, because I was our Patrol's elected First Aider (which makes it suck even more that I couldn't go! Hope no one gets any boo-boos...). The next one was a Chimaera, which I LOVE because it belongs to AD: The overall camp trainer, she gets a name tag from EVERY Patrol to keep for her collection. So why a Chimaera? Well, they are related to sharks, but not really sharks, for one, and for another, in mythology, chimaerae are thought to be able to change themselves into different things, and since she gets to be part of all the Patrols, technically, she's changing roles depending on which one she's with. Love it? I do!! Our Patrol Trainer, C, is a runner, so I made her our super-fast Mako Shark. And last, but not least, A, the oldest (by far) in our group, was the now-extinct but long-lived Megalodon Shark. Heehee.
Yup. I'm proud of these and hope everyone was able to figure out their sharky identities without my help. Am I a nerd? You betcha!
Once I finished that, I was still distracted by my fretting, so I turned to the one guaranteed nerve-calmer for me: needlework. The knitting project (my Sparkle! dress), I deemed to be at a point to stressful to get the job properly done, so I switched tactics and started a pretty doily (Ravlink) instead. (PDF here) I was so glad to finally finish those 10 flowers last night! After about six, I was bored of that. But sometimes, a little tedium is just what the doctor ordered, so that was okay, too.
Last night, I worked on the center of the doily, a fast work-up, and am now at the point where I'll switch colors again (this is actually a light mint green, if you can't tell from the pic; click to embiggerate, as usual) and start attaching the flowers. I can't wait and will jump into that as soon as I finish this post!
And finally, I made the creamed corn at which my teen cooking class balked,and since I was so exhausted from my ongoing Hell Week, I gave them a pass and let them have Study Hall instead, agreeing to make the four (nope, three, since one student did agree to make the rice dish, so I sent her home with the ingredients for that) side dishes on last week's cooking agenda myself and report back to them. My report? Utter deliciousness, and I have since engulfed about 2/3 of the dish. Rob's pronouncement? "Ugh.That is all you." Fine by me! Yum!
Today, I'll make up the other two dishes and show you those, later.
Have a swell week!
Fin.
Link up here if you need to get some crap stuff off your chest today, too!
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This has been a week of injury, pain and crisis for Team Odette. Wanna hear? Good, because that's pretty much all I've got to share right now.
Sunday, 6yo DD Sophia slammed her hand in the van door. Cue major crying and agony, as her hand swelled up to double its regular size and turned 15 shades of red and purple. So we drove home from where we were and then Daddy took her to the ER for X-rays. Thankfully, nothing was broken, but as there were a half-dozen booboos on the outside, too, they bandaged her up to high heaven and sent her home with Tylenol and Motrin.
(P.S. She's fine now.)
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Monday, Chloë had her braces put on by the kids' dentist, Dr. C., on the top row of teeth. None for the bottom. She's been practically howling in pain ever since, whining and complaining that everything is poking her in the cheeks and gums, it's too tight, yadda yadda yadda. As her mother has had them twice, and her Daddy once, she's at least got sympathetic parents. And lots of yogurt in the fridge so she can eat.
(P.S. I had to make a special stop at Dr. C.'s office on Wednesday for more wax already. I asked her to use it a little more sparingly, huh? 'Cause I can't be driving down there every two days for more, y'know?)
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Tuesday, the third day of crying in pain, Jack's own dental pain became so bad that we had to take him in to Dr. C. at night on an emergency basis. He had to keep his staff there late and everything, to treat the poor boy. Turns out, he had an abscessed tooth, which they immediately extracted (it was a baby tooth, fortunately). The poor kid is prone to cavities and has about eight right now that need filling under general anesthesia, so we're trying to get that taken care of at the Naval Hospital.
(P.S. He's fine now, as long as we keep him dosed on the same Tylenol/Motrin schedule as Sophia's hand required. His only complaint now is, "It feels weird where my tooth was." Well, yeah, duh.)
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Wednesday, I was shopping at Wally World cooking classes in the wee-wee hours of the morning. So maybe I was a bit tired when I got back home at 0400 and started taking bags out to bring into the house.... I use canvas bags as much as possible, this trip being no exception, and have a number of drawstring ones. Well, I thought I had the canned-food bag right-side-up, but apparently I didn't, because as soon as I lifted it out, PLUNK-DUNK-PLUNK-PLUNK came out all the cans - plus a 68-oz bottle of olive oil - onto the toes of my right foot. I said a lot of bad four-letter words and ran into the house to check things over. Not unlike Sophia, there was blood, swelling, redness, and pain involved. I was pretty sure I broke between 1-3 of those toes.
(P.S. I still am, but since I can walk, and there's not a lot they do for broken toes other than confirm it and dummy-tape them, I've done nothing for it but take the occasional Tylenol. I'm beginning to think we should buy stock in that company, eh?)
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Thursday, my husband came home from work acting funny. Not his usual self. That, combined with unusually high blood pressure (he's usually healthy as a horse, fit as a fiddle, you get picture), a horrible puking migraine that gave him residual headaches every day since, and a few other symptoms, had us driving back to the emergency room as soon as our Girl Scout meeting ended. A few tests later, we found out that the CT-scan showed several spots which indicated he'd possibly suffered a mini-stroke!
(P.S. !!!!!! Yes, I am super concerned. I want him to go to the neurologist, like, yesterday.)
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Also Thursday, I was supposed to go to the Onco-Geneticist for counseling to see if they would do the breast cancer screening test on me, based on my family history of it. I mean, they're going to do it, but this was my intake appointment. I totally forgot about it, so I didn't go. Hopefully, I won't get a $50 missed appointment bill. Ugh.
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Friday hasn't quite started yet, but things are already looking interesting: I'm seeing my prescribing shrinky-dink in the afternoon, and I have the following symptoms to share with him (and no, I'm not to copy my husband, lol; I think these are all/mostly medically-induced): sudden and severe occasional stuttering; muddled thinking and inability to do things I can normally do; the front of my tongue curling so that I talk funny, which I can't stop no matter how hard I try; more visual hallucinations; acting "drunk" according to my husband; and, tremors in my right hand. Awesome, right?
(P.S. I have to go camping again for Girl Scouts this weekend. I totally don't want to go. I'm tired. It's been a rough week. Think good thoughts for me out in the woods, will you, please?)
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That's all I've got. Nothing Halloween-y, as we didn't Trick-or-Treat, or pass out candy, or decorate, or anything. This is not our usual custom, but the kids had 10 days (ten!!) to get their rooms clean, and they didn't do it, so they had it taken away. Le sigh.
Hope you all had a better week than we did, and here's hoping to a better one ahead for us!
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Fin.
Link up here if you're fragmentin' along with Mrs.4444 today!
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I've taken no fewer than three naps today. I've either turned into a cat, or I'm sick. Guess which. (I don't have whiskers, if that helps.)
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Last night, I went out with one of my girlfriends for a mystery shop at a bar. I told Hubs I'd be be back in an hour and a half to help clean the house. Well, I strolled in 3½ hours later and felt fine about it, since I'd had more and harder laughs in that time than I'd had in ages. Love my Jenny From the Block! When I brought her home, we sat in her drive for at least another hour, "saying goodbye." I love having good friends like that, and the fact that she lives close by doesn't hurt, either.
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Just before that, our sister troop's leader and I ran our annual Girl Scout Rededication ceremony with both her Junior and my Daisy troop, plus one Investiture for my new little Daisy. It was lots of fun, and my Daisies did GREAT remembering (and reciting, by themselves) the short Promise, and the Law, which is rather long. I handed out tissue packs for all the moms, because sometimes you cry at these things, and patches that the girls have earned in the last few months. This time, I made them into little books. Now, I have to get sewing and ironing, to get my girls' vests up to date!
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Co-op is going FABULOUS on Wednesdays. If you're new here, or just forgetful, we're in our second year of homeschooling, and we go to a co-op for Christian Military Homeschoolers on Weds. I teach three cooking classes, and sometime, I'll get around to posting what we're actually up to in there, but I've gotten nothing but great feedback from my students and parents. One girl, M, comes into class saying, "Hello, favorite teacher!" which, you know, gives me a bit of an ego boost. My kids love it, too. Chloë frequently exclaims, "I wish Co-op was every day; it's so fun!"
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When my son died, my MIL gave me a necklace representing each of my then-three children, with Robby as an angel. Then Sophia was born, and she took it back to have a new dangly child added. Well, a few months ago, I took off the necklace for one night, to wear something else (I almost always wore this one), and it disappeared. Earlier, my husband told me to turn around and close my eyes. As soon as I felt him reach around my neck, I knew what it was. "YOU FOUND IT!" I squealed. He's my new favorite husband. ♥
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I have to get up way early tomorrow morning for three different back-to-back Girl Scout-related events. Seriously? From September thru June, it practically takes over my life. Oy. Is it wrong to be looking forward to Summer for that reason...?
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That's all I've got for now. I'd probably tell you a hundred other things, but I have Sick Brain and CRS. Have a great weekend!
Fin.
You see this picture?
Well, it makes it look like the coccyx, or tailbone, should curve inward, toward the middle of the body, doesn't it? Mine doesn't do that. At least, for all appearances, it doesn't. It seems that it juts out, and it has become more and more prominently, uh, jutty, the more weight I've lost.
Now, I'm not the most active human being, at least when I'm home, and I spend a good portion of my time sitting down in my little comfort zone. I haven't felt well this past week or two, so I've been sitting more than usual.
I guess that was enough to do it. My tailbone poked straight through and is now sticking out of my body.
Okay, okay, I made that up. But I do have a pressure sore from my jutting coccyx, and I had to go to the emergency room to have it treated today.
Here's me in the exam room:
Except, I was lying down on the bed, making sure my curtain completely covered the doorway each time. What else is there to do?! When you've got a sore in your "butt canyon," as my friend Jenny From the Block made me burst out laughing by saying today, you pretty much gotta bend over and spread 'em. Not the best hour I've ever spent in my life.
So the nurse packed my butt canyon sore full of squishy bandages, for maximum comfort, and now I have to sit on a 'roid pillow or other comfy cushion for the rest of my life, if I don't want this to worsen or recur. Awesome. I've been advised numerous times, including by the ER doc again today, against having the coccyx shaved down. I guess it's a pretty nasty surgery to have and from which to recover, and really, when you think about where they'd have to go in from and all the things they could run into while they're in there, I'm guessing they know what they're talking about.
So, fun times ahead.
Are those Eeyore hemorrhoid cushions? Hello, Christmas is coming!
And thus ends the post about my poor, sore hiney. Hope you enjoyed it.
Fin.
I'm going to make a long story short:
The kids all went to camp this past week. Chloë was gone from Sunday thru Friday, while the Littles were gone only Wednesday to Friday night. I planned to use the time to deep-clean my disaster of a house. I was highly motivated. It needs it badly, and I intended to get down on my hands and knees and scrub every square inch.
Well, that didn't happen.
Oh, they went to camp all right. I have no pictures, because I suck, but they all seemed to have had a great experience this year. There's not much to tell: they did camp stuff, like swimming and field games, arts and crafts, and learning new songs. What you would expect to hear, that's what I'd probably tell you.
But I didn't get to clean this monstrosity. I didn't lift even the tiniest pinky.
Why?
Because I got freakin' sick instead. The kids were all sick for the prior couple of weeks, so it was inevitable, but that didn't make the timing any less sucktastic. Indeed, they're still getting over their various colds, while I am still in the no-voice, nose-running-like-a-faucet, clogged ears thick of it. I've been quite miserable, and I haven't hesitated to let anyone who wanted to listen know it.
Not many people wanted to listen, so I'm telling you.
Of course, when I'm sick, the house gets even worse than usual. So right now, it's probably the worst, most icky I've ever seen it, and I would like to torch it right down to the ground and/or run away.
Barring that, which I can't do now that I've said that, I'm going to ride out this misery and then come back fighting, to get this house ship-shape. I have to say, though, that I'm disappointed the time when all three kids were gone for two whole days was wasted by me sleeping on the couch for about 27 hours straight. I needed it, but dang.
Aside from resting and more resting (and endless nose-blowing), I've been making stuff for my Etsy shop. I have been stash-busting through my scrapbooking supplies, since I've gone digital on our family books, making cards, tags, and other what-have-yous that you can check out here. If you're interested, use the coupon code "SCRAPPY" to get free shipping on any goods from the paper section of my shop.
I've made a few cards to send out to real people I know, too, like my friend Erin who's gone and gotten engaged, to my total and complete delight. She and her afianced man-friend received this one:
... Hm. I appear not to have taken pictures of it, or if I have, they are gone? Weird. I'm sure I did. Maybe she'll send me one of it to show you later. :D
Also, tomorrow my father will turn 69, and as I feel safe in that he won't be reading this post, I'll show you his card:
You might recognize it if you already peeked at my shop, since I listed it there as well. He's an enormous Elvis fan, so when I found this on a card website, I had to "scraplift" it, as we say in the scrapbooking world. I don't know what card makers say, since I'm a n00b, but I'm sure it's similar. Or maybe it's frowned upon and I'll get busted down a peg or two. Either way, it's already in the mail, and he will like it, so that is that.
There's another card winging its way to another person who reads this blog, maybe, so I can't show you that one just yet. I'm not claiming to be all good at this or anything - I'm just starting out in the card-making venture - but it sure is fun and addictive! I'm having a blast. And I sold a set of six cards this morning on Etsy, so I'm legit, right?
Welp, that's the gist of what's been going on this week. Camp. Sick. Cards. Oh, and endless litterbox cleaning. I've managed that, at least, because if I don't, the two kittens pee and poop wherever the hell they feel like it, and you know what? I can't have that. Groooo-ooooosssss.
So back to work for me. Check out my shop and "favorite" it if you haven't already, please. I check that stat frequently, obsessively, and the number rarely changes. You'd think I'd stop.
Have a great weekend, y'all!
Fin.
P.S. I lied. I do have two pictures of freshly picked-up Sophia from camp:
"I'm hungry. I'm starving. I'm STARVING...," she whined.
Apparently not as much as she was tired, because this was her within five minutes. She slept more after the hour-long drive home, too. I should send her to camp more often!
And here's an enormous grasshopper that I'm showing you just so I can file it away in July pictures. It jumped on my desk and gave me a start! I called Rob over to rescue me from it, or it from me, depending on your viewof things. Thing was HA-YUGE. He's going to use it as fish bait.
Lately I've had several orders come in for You Take The Cake! - which is GREAT except for one very big problem: It's like, 900º out there (and in here), and we currently don't have air conditioning. We have a fan. That's it. You know what doesn't like heat and humidity? Buttercream frosting. You know what cakes are made with, lotsa times? Buttercream frosting. I've had to turn down a few jobs, or at least not pursue them, but I did take on some orders this week that I thought I could fill.
This one, above, was for a gentleman who was helping plan the baby shower for his wife and their first child, a little girl. She had mentioned petits fours to him, so he wanted to get some for her. We settled on 80, for 30 guests. He mostly left the rest up to my discretion, but he mentioned that his wife liked pink and green. So here's the breakdown:
40 Vanilla cakes + 40 Chocolate cakes
Of those, 20 were pink fondant, 20 were white, 20 were green, and 20 were chocolate - 10 of each cake flavor.
Of the vanilla cakes, half were layered with rich buttercream, while the other half were layered with hazelnut chocolate creme.
Of the chocolate, a third was the buttercream, a third was the Nutella (duh), and a third was homemade key lime curd, which turned out to be outrageously delicious. (I have more of that on refrigeration and will be looking for a good usage of it soon!)
The petits fours were oodles and oodles of work. If I'd known how much, I might've charged double! I will remember that in the future. They turned out bigger than I wanted them to be, but I could've easily controlled that. I chose to go with it, and after staying up all night, what, Thursday night, baking the cakes and filling them, I froze them and then spent Friday alternating between making up and dipping them in their various fondant coatings, and working on the baby blocks cake the client also wanted for the main cake, spelling out the baby's name.
As far as the petits fours, I asked my husband over and over if they looked okay, and over and over he said they looked great, very professional, blah blah blah. This man also tells me I have a sexy body, which I clearly do not if you have ever seen me in the nekkitude, so I accepted his assertions only with serious dubiousness. I mean, really, do they look okay?!
Once those were finished, nestled on their foil-covered boards and boxed, I kept them in front of the fan so they wouldn't turn into so many goobly gobs of pink and green poo, and turned my attention to the block cake.
Oh, the block cake. It should have been SO easy. Really, blocks? What's the trouble, bubble?
That damn humidity did a serious number on my buttercream. It just would NOT set. And my cakes, apparently they didn't like the barometric pressure in the house or something, because they kept crumbling in my hands. Which necessitated using MORE buttercream-as-glue to put it back together, and Oh, My Gosh, I literally sat there and cried when I saw that it was not just going to come together.
Other than my Topsy Turvy Cake Wreck (did I ever blog about that? It was fugly, but a fun practice effort), this was the hardest confection I think I have ever tried to put together.
I frantically emailed the daddy and told him of my predicament. He told me, take your time, and let me know if there's anything I can do to help. I retorted something like, "Yeah, bring me a stiff drink," or some such unprofessional inappropriateness.
Long story short, Mr. Client arrived while I was still tearing what's left of my hair out over the blocks cake and weeping in my buttercream, toting a bottle of rum and a, well, a very sexy smile. Rob was asleep upstairs. Whatever. He could have come down at any time and joined us, and we certainly didn't try to be quiet.
We raided my shot glass collection (as he laughed at my Ocean Breeze one, but hey, if I've been there, I want it represented in an inch and a half of two-dollar painted glass), and he poured us each a shot. Woo. I haven't done shots since college, maybe? Or maybe I have, but nothing so burn-y and wow-ee. You know that kind. They were nothing to him, but to li'l ol' me, they were quite the thing.
Of course, being post-gastric bypass, one shot and I was done. Toast. Positively inebriated. So you can imagine how I felt after five. Yes, five. I'm not proud. But it was fun.
In the end, he decided he couldn't accept the blocks cake, because it just didn't work out. And I didn't blame him, because really, it just didn't work out! I'm embarrassed to show you, but of course I'm going to, because that's all you want from me right now:
No, the "N" didn't really lean over that far; it was the angle of the picture. And no, it's not gasp-worthy or anything like that. But it's really, really not terrific.
Honestly, though, I did the best I could under the circumstances. And like Mr. Daddy (that sounds dirty, hee) said, "It's just a cake." He was very chill about the whole thing. You know I was waiting for him to leave so I could pop eleventy-five anti-anxiety pills, which I did, because it was all very stressful.
So in the end, while we did those five shots, I mashed up the cake and made him set up little bitty boxes. I turned the blocks into little cake balls, using the leftover pink fondant from the petits fours, and decorated each with a little pink florette. I told him he could toss those out the window on his way home, use them at the shower, or whatever-the-hell, but just take them to make me feel better.
And so he did.
Fin.
P.S. I'm making him cookies for his birthday in a couple of weeks, and you know I can kill some cookies. And he promised I haven't lost his business. So it wasn't a total cake-tastrophe. Oh. Did I really just go there? I think I did.
P.P.S. Totally forgot: He said the petits fours were a hit at the shower. So yay. I'm not a total screw-up!
So the other day, I snagged a free $25 gift certificate to Awful Arthur's Oyster Bar on General Booth Blvd, from one of those daily deals websites. Didn't cost me a thing, so knowing that Rob loves him some oysters, I nabbed that puppy. Did he want to go for Father's Day? He did. So last night, for dinner, we went there for the first time.
Things started out not terrific and got worse from there. Smokers lined the main entrance, which put me in an instant foul mood. I'm sorry, but it's gross, and I hate breathing it in and thinking of my children doing the same. Plus it gives me a horrible headache. Then there was a live band playing mostly metal covers, which isn't my thing, but so what. They were much, much too loud, though, and the kids kept putting their fingers in their ears. I thought it was amusing, so I didn't make them stop. The band wasn't that great, either, but again, so what, we weren't paying for the show.
The five of us were seated right away at a four-top, so Chloë had to sit at the end of a table. There were six- and eight-tops available, so in my head I wondered why we weren't seated at one of those... until a poker team came in and started setting up at those two tables. Ah. Poker. I see.
We ordered shortly after we were given our menus, which wasn't at first because who knows why, and then we proceeded to wait more than 40 minutes for our food. I ordered a Diet Coke and was given a Diet Pepsi, with no warning that it wasn't what I had ordered. Hello, Diet Pepsi tastes like toothpaste. It is bad. I asked, "Is this Pepsi?" She affirmed. "Oh, yeah, I can't do that, sorry. I'll just have some water." She smiled and brought me some water with lemon. With lots of seeds in it. Usually, I think, they take out the seeds. At least, they should. I sucked one up in my straw. And swallowed it. Maybe I'll have lemons growing in there.
Let's see, what else... while we waited, we each visited the rest rooms. Nothing sticks out in my head about those, so I guess they were fine, except we had to do the hokey-pokey around the sticking-out poker tables to get there, which wasn't awesome. The kids played with the soft-tip dart machine until Sophia started climbing the board to get the darts out, and I had to put a stop to that action. They were quickly becoming BORED and STARVING and CRANKY. Really, just what you want in three kids at a restaurant. Where was the food?!!
Meanwhile, the whole time, I'm posting on Facebook about the damn smokers going in and out of the main only entrance and parking themselves RIGHT THERE, so that we still had to breathe in their godawful odors the whole time anyway. Seriously, there has to be a law. Oh, wait, I looked it up. There is. Unless there is a separate entrance just for non-smokers, it is illegal in Virginia to smoke standing outside the entrance of a restaurant or other business. I didn't find what the distance was, but I bet I could now that I'm not on my iPhone, with a little due diligence.
Finally, the food came. Well, everyone's did except for mine. They gave Sophia Jack's burger and Jack Sophia's grilled cheese. Whining ensued. I smiled and switched the plates. (Competent servers know who gets what without auctioning off the plates or, like this, just setting them down wherever the feck they feel like it.) She asked me, "Do you need any silverware?" I smiled and said, "I... need my food." She walked off kind of huffily. But hey, it's not like anyone said to me, "Your sandwich will be right out," or any such thing. And I did smile. Nicely, I might add.
After another 7 or so minutes, my broiled crabcake sandwich was put in front of me, with all manner of produce piled on top of it. I unpiled the lettuce, and the onion, and the tomato, and found.. a very burnt crabcake. Was it fried? No, it was broiled. To oblivion. The server came back after another half-century, and I pointed out my extra-crispy crabby patty. I don't know what I said, but it was something like, "I... I'm not happy with this," in my apologetic tone. I can behave, you know. And I still was.
She agreed. I mean, how could she not? Picture a dog turd. It looked like that, only with flecks of green on top. Very dark, kind of La Mush, and not shaped terribly well. She asked if I wanted a fresh batch of onion rings or just the sandwich remade. I said I didn't care. I was starting to be a grump.
Meanwhile, it was 35¢ chicken wing night, like every Sunday according to the sign, so we had a half-dozen hot ones for Rob and a half-dozen salt-and-vinegar ones for me. With Ranch dressing for dipping. Now those were good. No complaints there. Actually, they were really good. So they get some things right, apparently. And Rob's oyster po'boy was just right, too. Let me point out the other good things: Yup. Nope. That's all I got. Oh, well, and the prices were great, and the kids' meals were okay. Except none of them would eat theirs. Except for the fries.
I tried the fries. They were... not good. Not one speck of salt, which, to me, is a must in a fry that's Frenchly made, and when I salted them, it wouldn't stick to them, either. WTF. I'm sorry, McDonald's is gross and all, but they make some damn good fries. Other restaurants should emulate their greasy, salty tastiness. That is a good fry. Fries that are all dark and hard and NOT salty are not good fries. And that is the whole truth and nothing but.
So I'm waiting for my crabcake sandwich to come back out, watching the poker players disappear out the front door every 30 seconds for a cig (honestly, why not just move the tables out there, since you're spending most of your time there anyway?) and finishing off the vinegar-y wings of deliciousness. The repeat dish was finally brought out, at which point I just asked for a box. Still nicely. I was just full. Of wings.
Everyone else was just about finished, since they weren't eating much anyway - except Rob, who was plum full of oyster po'boy like he likes to be. I said, "No dessert" and for once got nary a complaint. Apparently I wasn't the only one who wanted outta there.
Finally, my boxed meal and the check were brought out. I politely informed the server that they were in violation of Virginia's anti-smoking laws and that I would be following up with them to make sure they came into compliance. I made no mention of who I was or why that job was up to me, but she got all bitchtastic about it and sputtered some things sarcastically that I couldnt' hear because of the too-loud suckilicious band playing on the other side of the restaurant. I just knew, from her expression and the bit of tone I could catch, that it wasn't so nice.
We got our boxes, and my camera and purse, and I paid the tab. Which wasn't much, thanks to that certificate that had brought us there in the first place. I even left a rather respectable tip. And then we walked to our van.
When I turned around to take a picture of the entrance, the one or two smokers had turned into ten or twelve, lined up and giving me the finger with their eyeballs!
That picture is the only one that turned out clear, because as I snapped away, they all ran and hid, back in the restaurant, which made me cackle in a rather malicious way. I hate inconsiderate smokers. I really do. You rarely run into a considerate one, but I appreciate those that are.
And so we left and went home to have our Family Meeting, which went swell, thanks.
So... how was YOUR day?
Fin.
P.S. For the sake of this review, as it were, I just went in and tasted a couple bites of the crab cake. It LOOKS much better, but it's so orange with Old Bay seasoning that I didn't have high expectations for taste. I was right. It's got so much seasoning and fillers that I could not even taste the slightest bit of crabbiness. Not one bit. I'll stick to Uncle Chuck, the fishmonger down at the Farmer's Market, thanks.
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