Wednesday, October 29, 2008

A funny Thing Happened in the Bathroom Today

From time to time I will repost some essays I've written on another blog I have.  Some of you may have already read these, and if so, well read them again.  This particular post was written about a week or two after Jeremy had left for Kuwait.  Elsbeth was about ten weeks old and I had moved back in with my parents while he was deployed.  

My Father and I have a strange sort of companionship and camerarederie that only resulted after yesrs of vehement dislike for one another.  Needless to say that time of my life was very entertaining.  Those of you who know my Dad can attest to that.




Ok, so My Dad finally got contacts. This presented a whole new set of problems, the major one being that he can't put them in by himself. I don't know why they let him get them. When I was 12, I wanted contacts and the people at the store wouldn't let me leave with them until I could put them in and take them out by myself. I tried for over an hour, and finally gave up and left in tears. I guess they've changed their policies.
Anyhow, he called me one day soon after he got the contacts and told me that he discovered that he had the eyebrows of Martin Scorcesse, and all these years he didn't know it because they were hiding behind his glasses and since he's farsighted he couldn't see them when he took his glasses off. He told me he was going to "shave them down". I sugessted threading, and that led to a discourse on the finer points of hair removal.
But that's another conversation. So this day, The Donald asks me to put his contacts in for him. I oblidge. I went into his bathroom and got what appeared to be multi-purpose solution. I rinsed the contacts off with it, and filled them up with it, just like I do with mine every day. As he held his eye open, I tried to put the first one in. He screamed and said "owww, it hurts". I told him if he wanted me to put them in, he was going to have to suck it up and stop being such a baby.
We decided to have him sit in a chair in the kitchen to be a better level for me to put them in. So I rinsed and filled the contact again. I tried to put it in as he held the eye open for me again. This time, he started stomping his foot on the floor and screaming, "Oh God, Oh, God, it burns, it feels like there's acid in my eye!." I told him to shut up, and cut it out if he wanted me to put them in. He said " I don't care, if it's going to hurt this bad I don't want to wear them!" And he got up and went back into the bathroom.
I started to feel uneasy as I looked at his cherry red eye, so I decided to read the bottle of solution. It was only then that I noticed that it was not, in fact, multi-purpose solution. But rather a chemical cleansing solution that the bottle warned "not to put directly into eye".
I felt so bad, and I went and told him that we needed to flush his eye. He said " I knew you were trying to kill me!", but let me rinse his eye out as I tried to stifle my laughter.
Oh well, we'll try again tommorow.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Marbles Have Officially Been Lost

A couple of weeks ago a very strange thing happened to me.  For about the past decade I have experienced some crazy hallucinations in the time that lapses between when I am asleep and dreaming and when I wake.  There, in that period, reality becomes blurred.  Because I sleep with my eyes partially open sometimes my brain will register things I am seeing with my eyes and incorporate them into a dream I'm having.  I've heard people in the room when I'm the only one in the house, heard doors opening and shutting, weird things like that.  The icing on the cake came the other day.

In the early morning hours after Jeremy had left for work, I dreamed that I was humping Jack's back.  Jack is Jeremy's very large dog for those of you who may not know.  So, there we were and I was going at it with all the frenzy of a puppy  when in my dream I heard a buzz saw.  This startled me and I woke up to find myself spooning Jack in our bed and him growling at me.  It was then that I realized that perhaps the incident had been more than a dream.  I am not Madonna and bestiality does not appeal to me, so this realization created a strong urge to toss my cookies.  I HUMPED MY DOG'S BACK.  How many people can say that they've unconsciously done that?  Believe me, it's never been on my to do list, but I am now sharing it with you.  For closure.

I've finally reached the point where I can laugh about it, but it took awhile.  As for the ungrateful dog, well, I kicked him out and from now on my pillow will have to be on the receiving end of my REM affections.  At least the pillow won't growl at me.


Oh, and I KNOW he's into me even if he rejected my advances because he's ALWAYS trying to make out with me after I eat garlic and every time I take a shower he just stares and stares.  

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

On Religion and Politics

It's that time of the decade again folks.  The election.  I'm sure all of you are as sick of being inundated daily with political tripe and mudslinging as I am.  And I don't even have T.V.  In this heated debate everyone seems to have an opinion, and they seem to have all the cutting remarks for those who disagree with them too.

When I began this blog I did not make a conscious decision to become apolitical, nor did I decide not to speak about my faith, although I know sometimes I slip a little spirituality into this cocktail of crazy.  The fact of the matter is, both of these things are very important to me.  And those of you who know me personally probably know which way I lean.  And I know it has surprised many of you on occasion.  

I choose not to use this blog as a platform to further my political or religious agenda, because there is no agenda. The opposite of which seems painfully obvious in some of my favorite places.  I've found that opening a discussion of this sort over the comment section of an internet blog becomes messy and isn't really a dialogue at all.  It's more a collection of monologues and hurled accusations.  I find it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  Worse than those six cloves of garlic I had last night.  

As citizens of a free and Democratic society (rights that people in less fortunate places of the world die for) it is our right to take part in the election process as well informed voters.  But it is not our right to force those views upon others or rub our opinions in the faces  of those who may disagree with us.  Although you actually do have the right do do so as provided by the first amendment.  But it is inhumane and discourteous.  And I, for one, am sick of it.

I am happy to have a discussion on my beliefs whether they be spiritual or political with anyone who chooses to do so in an engaging and openhearted conversation.  We can even debate.  But my relationships with people, regardless of their political or religious persuasions are far more important to me than the advancement of my political ideals.  I would rather invite you over for a cup of tea and talk about our favorite books and send you on your way with some cookies and a hug than open this blog up as a pedestal of political subterfuge.

That, Dear readers, is that.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Ward of the Flies

Because we happen to have a dead mouse rotting in our wall, the flies seem to be able to smell it from outside and at the slightest opening of any door, they rush in by the dozen.  The baker's dozen.  As if the smell of a dead mouse weren't enough to my uber-sensitive pregnant nostrils, we have to add nasty little poop eating, maggot laying, flies into the equation.  Here is a snippet of a conversation I had with Jeremy recently regarding this matter:

Me: Jeremy, you need to go on a mad crazy fly massacre.

Ellie: Kill the buggies, Daddy!

Me: (As Jeremy is deftly killing two at a time in mid air) I HATE flies, I HATE them worse than cockroaches.  I would rather have cockroaches right now than these damn flies.  At least roaches have the decency to run away when you enter the room.

Jeremy: Yeah, but it's that ballsiness that I kind of admire about the flies.  They got Moxie.  They'll do a kamikaze fly by right in front of the swatter.  Roaches are just chickens.  Flies have balls.

Ellie: Flies have paws

Me: Yeah, I guess you're right, but I STILL hate the flies.  And you ARE going to clean up that one you just smeared across the window right?

Jeremy: No, he's staying there as a warning to any of his buddies who dare to enter.  THIS MAY HAPPEN TO YOU.

Me: Ummmmm, you're cleaning that up RIGHT?

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Life Comes At You Fast

It's easy to become wrapped up in the insignificant details of life.  Everyone does it, or else there wouldn't be Idioms like chill out.  But sometimes it's hard to realize that's what's happening when you're in the middle of one of life's many mini dramas.  Sometimes it's hard to notice the precious toddler singing songs to her doll as she gently rocks it in her arms when you're trying to clean vomit off the floor before someone steps in it.  And you're doing this while the fridge is beeping to remind you that you left the door open and there's a puddle of water spilled across the counter top because someone overfilled the Brita pitcher.  And then the phone rings and it's your Husband who wants to discuss at length the three page list of upgrades he's planning on doing to his mountain bike, half of which you don't even understand.  And while you're talking (er listening) to him you happen to look in the mirror and realize that OH CRAP your roots are like five inches long, when did that happen?  And all the while the precious toddler is passing her time feeding and diapering her little baby doll while singing Hey Jude.

Just two prison inmates doing their best to make MEAN faces and intimidate the warden

Sometimes I have to stop and say to myself, can't it wait?  And often times it can.  One of the hardest things about being a Mother is learning to juggle the responsibilities of taking care of your family and the home while managing to find time for yourself.  It's never easy.  But I have found some things that have helped me along the way.  Being organized is a huge help in keeping your sanity.  I have designated days of the week for laundry and cleaning the house as well as free days specifically geared towards fun with Elsbeth.  But I still have to be flexible.  So far this pregnancy hasn't been very easy and I've felt sick alot and this means I've been forsaking my normal domestic routine.  I tend to turn into Mommy Dearest when this happens.  I blame my own Mother for setting the bar so stinking high.  No one has ever seen her eat, but we've all seen her endlessly busy herself around her home which always looks and smells wonderful.  

Lately, I've been beating myself up mentally over the fact that my house didn't look like a Martha Stewart photo shoot.  And then I heard a quote and that quote was, No on ever sat on their death bed and wished they had ever cleaned their house more.  That struck home for me and I decided to cut myself some slack.  The next few months will be the last time that Ellie is an only child and I've made it a point to spend alot of time with her, talking, playing, reading, and imagining.  Because even if there wasn't another baby on the way, she will never be two again and I don't want to lay on my death bed and wish I had played with her more.  Does that mean that she gets a free pass on helping clean up?  No, teaching those kind of responsibilities is good parenting, but I have chosen to no longer let those details run my life.  If the dishes sit in the sink and extra twenty minutes while we dance to some music on the radio, so be it.  They'll still be there when we're through.



She danced with Elmo for a long time  before he began to laugh and ruin her fun.  She would try to straighten him out while yelling, ELMO CUT IT OUT!  To which Elmo would giggle and say, Give Elmo a break PLEASE!

These small moments, when I stop to really let them sink in to my soul, are the fulfillment of dreams I've had since I was a little girl.  Here we are, standing in my home, with my husband, my one point five kids and two dogs.  When did I grow up? Because on the inside I still feel like a sixteen year old.  Ahhhh, if only my butt felt that way.  Don't let the moments pass without your notice and your involvement,  because before you know it, they'll be gone.


Here she comes, running full speed
Annnnnd she's intercepted with a big hug from Mommy
Now I'll teach her the ancient art of finding four leaf clovers.  If I can before she manages to rip all the grass out of the Earth.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

A while back I wrote about the uninvited guest to our house.  It was a rat that ended up dying outside of our front steps.  I don't believe he ever made it into the actual house  because he was too busy hoarding poisonous dog food in the garage.  Lesson kids: Greediness just MIGHT kill you.  At the very least it can ruin the global economy.

After the rat died, I put the notion of pests out of my mind and began to focus once again on trying not to throw up while stuffing my face with crackers every five minutes.  And then there came the lovely Saturday evening when Jeremy and I were watching The New World.  We had paused the movie so he could take the dogs outside and I was left alone in the dimly lit basement lying on the down feather bed on the floor with a blanket.  I thought I saw something streak past me and looked around for a spider near my covers.  I didn't find anything so I attributed the streak to my visual "floaters" and residual tracers from the good 'ol days.  I laid back down  and snuggled into the feather bed thinking what a hot John Smith Colin Farrel made when I noticed something in my immediate field of vision.  

Sitting on top of the covers on top of my stomach, looking right at me was the smallest, cutest mouse I have ever seen.  Under normal circumstances I would at least have flinched but his adorableness had a paralyzing effect on me and all I could manage was a weak Awwwwwwwwwww.  And then he darted away under the chair.  I ran outside to tell Jeremy about the mouse and when he came inside the hunt began.  We managed to catch it a couple of times but he jumped what would be like the equivalent of the rodent version of the Sears Tower to escape each time.  Finally we caught him in a box and tried to figure out what to do with him.  


He was obviously not full grown and we felt very bad about putting it outside to be killed by a cat or an owl.  So what brilliant idea did I come up with?  I decided we should keep it an make it our pet.  I would love him and pet him and squeeze him and name him George.  And because Jeremy is sometimes as insane as me, he agreed.  I'm telling you, the powers that this mouse held with it's cuteness were unshakable.  I rushed over to Petsmart to get a tiny cage for this mouse whose young life we had so benevolently spared and we put him in his new home.  Most people would have taken the fact that the mouse escaped from that cage several times in the first ten minutes as a deterrent from keeping him.  Us?  Nah, our solution was to just duct tape the hell out of the cage and wait till morning.


Well, morning came and with it came the revelation that we had one very good escape mouse on our hands.  It took me sicking Fairway on the trail of Baby Mouse as Ellie named him to find him.  NEVER underestimate a Pomeranian with only one eye.  Jeremy caught him again under the bookcase and this time we put him outside, with only minor feelings of regret.  He was mostly forgotten about and we got Ellie a Chinese Dwarf Hamster that kind of resembles a mouse to fill the void in her tiny heart left by the abandonment of Baby Mouse.  It worked and she named him Toodles.  And then we came home from the store one afternoon and she ran over to the window lifted the curtain and exclaimed, Toodles!  

OH GREAT, I thought, another escape artist!  But when I went upstairs to check his cage, Toodles was there fast asleep.  He is one lazy bastard.  When Jeremy came home a little while later we were talking in the front room and I happened to look down at the floor.  Just what do you think I saw?  BABY MOUSE!  Not even batting a tiny eyelash at his ballsiness of coming out in broad daylight.  And then I noticed that he had left some mouse droppings under the desk, and that's about the point that my inner Queen of Hearts reared her scepter of death and decreed, "OFF WITH HIS HEAD!"  When that failed to get the reaction I desired, I switched to Mr. Burns and said in my most sinister voice, "release the hounds".  

The hounds chased that mouse down to the laundry room in the basement where we almost caught it right before he made a flying leap into a small space behind the drywall.  "Well, he's in the walls now, Jeremy said, we'll just have to wait for him to come back out.  I'm sure he will." That was about a week ago.  On Friday I went to the basement to do some laundry when I was overcome by a putrid smell.  I thought maybe it was just Jeremy's socks and then I realized that it was coming from in the wall and that it smelled just like the time my hamster got lost under the sink when I was eight.  Sometimes it really stinks that scent is the closest sense tied to memory.  Poor Hammy, there was nothing left but some fur and tiny bones when we finally found her.

When Jeremy got home I took him to the basement where he accused me of creating that smell.  In a very unladylike way.  I told him that if I were going to lure him into a cloud of flatulence, I would certainly wait until he was asleep and then hold his head under the covers.  Thank you, Urban Dictionary, for teaching me some awesome tricks.  After some inspection of the basement, Dr. Sherlock Hayes informed me that he had deduced that Baby Mouse had made his way as far into the wall as the circuit breaker box where he was then electrocuted and is now stuck and obviously decomposing.  I asked Jeremy of there was anything we could do to get it out.  He replied that if we had a tiny camera, some fiber optic cable, and a set of pincers he could perhaps rig something to tunnel inside the wall.  I informed Macgyver/Bill Nye that that would be impossible and wasn't there anything else?   Well, outside of punching a hole in the wall, he told me, there really isn't anything we can do other than wait.  

So Dear Readers, we have been waiting.  Every day I think the smell can't get much worse, and every day the smell proves me wrong.  I have tried lighting candles, matches, and covering my face with a mask; nothing works.  This is my punishment for showing mercy to a living creature and sparing it's tiny life when everyone else yelled, KILL IT!  In the end it died anyway didn't it?  As an aside, this is just how much I love the show The Office.  I braved five straight hours of smelling a decaying mouse corpse merely feet away from my nose to catch up on season three.  THAT IS HARDCORE.  And the fact that I'm pregnant means I have the nose of a bloodhound.  

So if you think you had a bad day, just remind yourself that Jillian has a dead mouse in her wall right next to a vent and that means that the smell is being carried throughout her house.  Do you feel better now?  Good.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Hot Hot Date Update

As most of you probably know, last Saturday Jeremy and I were treated to a night of complimentary babysitting that afforded us the opportunity to have a real "date" night.  

This is us on our honeymoon in the Caribean.  Notice Jeremy's tan.  A tan the color of which I will never attain.  And I am the Italian one.  The irony.

Lauren came over around five and as soon as Ellie relized that Oh, here is a new person whom I can boss around and manipluate into giving me candy, she quickly forgot the people who she sometimes refers to as Mommy and Daddy and we made our exit.  I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before but Indian food is my fovorite food on the planet.  I could drink bowls of curry sauce while bathing in hot chai.  So, that being said, Jeremy picked a well reviewed place in Bethesda for our dinner.  My being in "the family way"  did put a slight damper on things because I enjoy getting a bit tipsy with my Husband when we're out together.  I feel less inhibited when I goose him in front of others.

This is me goosing Jeremy just as Niki snaps the picture.  Poor Jeremy has decades of that to look forward to.

 He, on the other hand, was presumably relieved because the probability of my causing some type of scene was drasticly reduced.  

Dinner was delicious and both of us ate so much that we were uncomfortably full while walking to the theater.  It was so nice to have a conversation that didn't involve a list of toddler activities accomplished for the day or a run down on bodily functions that involve the "potty chair".  No, we talked about much more adult things like the crumbling of the US economy and how we might all be living out scenes from The Grapes of Wrath before too long.  On the bright side, I noted, a new trend called the "Depression Diet" craze may begin.  Everyone will be so thin from the shortage of affordable food we'll all look like Angeline Jolie or Christian Bale in The Machinist.  Please note that the depression diet is nowhere near as extreme as the "Auschwitz Diet" which I DO NOT endorse.  It has proven fatal.

The second portion of our date involved wading through swarms of hormonal teenagers, and I think I broke out in acne from the sheer osmosis of it all.  The sexual tension made me very uncomfortable as did all the braces and blinged out cell phones.  Who, WHO gives a preteen a cell phone?  But I digress.  The movie we ended up choosing was called Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist.  It. Was. Awesome.  If you're into Michael Cera.  Which I am.  I won't go into the film too much other than to say that I felt a pang of sorrow that my party till the break of dawn days are over.  I patted myself on the haunches and said, "Well, Ol girl, we did have a good, long run now get yer ass out to pasture and start making babies."

Here is a photo of many people who did not authorize me to post their photos in the internet.  We had all been drinking.  Those were the good 'ol days.  Unfortunately I don't remember large portions of that night.  I am told I was very entertaining, and all at my own expense.  Imagine that.

 See the movie, it is heartwarming and funny and the soundtrack is really amazing.  If you're into mainly obscure, off beat indie artists.  I am, see my profile.

We laughed and chatted about the film as we walked back to our car arm in arm.   When we got home and after Lauren left, we made threats of a sexual nature about what was in store for the other party once teeth had been brushed and clothes changed.  And then we did what any good, married couple does after 11 pm, we got in bed and instantly passed out with legs tossed over one another like a litter of puppies.  Ah well, there's always Sunday morning.


Monday, October 6, 2008

Out 'O The Mouth of Babes

A hot, hot date update is on it's way for tomorrow, but for today I am simply going to serve you a slice of homespun horror straight from the toddler's mouth.

As with most parents I know, the usual procedure for curing little boo boos and bumps is a kiss on the spot and a quick recital of "all better".  Elsbeth has even taken to healing our wounds this way and it is probably the most precious thing I have ever experienced to have her rush over when I suck in breath at the pain of some minor thing like a hang nail.  She'll cock her head and ask with a look of pure concern, "You OK Mommy?"  After I explain the situation, she'll say, "I kiss it" lean over give a sloppy, open mouthed "MMMMAH" followed with a loud and very certain, "All better Mommy, OK?"  And, magically it is better, albeit very possibly covered in two year old slobber which usually contains some tiny fragments of either a chicken nugget or macaroni and cheese.

Yesterday we walked to the grocery store to pick up a quick dinner and while we were walking through the aisles Elsbeth says in her loudest EVERYONE LISTEN TO ME BECAUSE I AM THE QUEEN voice, "My Pee-Pee hurts, Kiss it"  A shocked Jeremy who happened to be holding her practically chocked as he said, "Ummmm, no Ellie I don't think so."  Meanwhile, I made a mental note to try that line at a later and more appropriate time.  

When Ellie realized that that hadn't worked, she moved on to, "My butt hurts Daddy, need to kiss it make it better." This time I had to laugh as I nervously glanced around looking for people who I might tackle that were possibly calling child protective services.  Fortunately it seemed that no one had noticed.  This event raises the issue that perhaps it is time for Mommy and Daddy to stop the frisky (fully clothed) shenanigans in front  of the kid.  Or maybe I should stop letting her watch the Elmo's Potty Time video in which the words Pee-pee, poo-poo, and butt are mentioned at least once a sentence.  It's like Cinemax for preschoolers.

I was always the parent that much to the chagrin of most of my friends advocated freedom to be "nekkid" in front of your kids.  Why my Mom and I still walk around in our birthday suits when we're getting ready.  I thought this was normal until recently when my Mother in Law and Sister in Law gagged at the mention of that.  Since then I have been conducting an informal survey of my friends which goes something like this, Do you ever see your parents naked (the parent of your gender) and how old were you when this stopped if it doesn't happen now?  

I just happened to grow up in a very free environment in that regard and I seem to think I turned out OK, you know except for those few years after high school which I like to refer to as "The Lost Years".  I always advocated this same type of freedom as a family, but now I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't something to the prudish nature of Victorianism.

What say you, Internet?  Am I overreacting?  Is is just a "kids'll say the darndest things" moment or do you think that our tendency to be nude around the kid is having a Freudian effect on her tiny psyche?

Friday, October 3, 2008

Green Experiment Update: You Weren't Expecting That Were Ya?

NOTE: If you don't care to read this whole post, please skip to the end and read the question I have posed to you.  I would love to hear your feedback.

When I proposed the Green Experiment it was with a dreamy head full of romantic ideas.  Such is often the case with my fantasies and sadly, real life seldom often lives up to them.  It is easy to have a drastic plan in theory but it is not so easy to implement that plan to the "T" without making adjustments for reality.  So here's what's been going on.

When I came up with the idea of  this experiment I assumed we would be living within the city of D.C. where everything that I would need access to would be within walking or bike riding distance.  Although our military housing allowance went up dramatically when we moved here, it still wasn't enough to afford us a large enough place within the city.  A shoebox with a view?  Yes, but I'd rather not listen to Jack lick his balls all night, so we opted to live just outside the city in a much larger place that was affordable.

The area I live in does afford me biking access to many of the things a person may need in daily life, post office, dry cleaners, grocers, pharmacy, and liquor store.  Sadly, the last one will not be frequented by me in the next several months.  I take advantage of these by foot or bike on an almost daily basis and  in that regard my life has changed drastically.  But, a car is still needed for me occasionally, especially with another baby on the way.  Jeremy, on the other hand, has really impressed me with his dedication to our plan.  Almost every day he bikes about three miles to the metro, while it is still dark out, and then takes the metro to work and bikes back in the evening.  

In the big picture I would say that my bike has become more like an extension of my body than a method of transport.  I am more fond of it than my beautiful piece of fine German engineering, and when Ellie and I are riding somewhere by bike, no matter what depths of a foul mood I may be in, biking seems to magically erase it.  I have come to the conclusion that it is impossible to be angry while riding a bike.  Although I bet that guy Puck from The Real World could manage it.

This experiment was about more than bicycling though, it was about changing our lifestyles overall to emphasise activity and togetherness, particularly not togetherness in front of the TV.  Not having cable TV was at first a very hard thing for me to come to grips with.  I used to leave it on as background noise and was known for my hardcore Law and Order addiction.  It took several weeks before I could walk downstairs and not reflexively reach out my hand to turn it on.  We made a conscious decision (Prompted by the example of my Aunt) not to put it ( It is a HUGE 50" plasma beauty) in the main living area.  By purposefully doing this we made the main living area a Library of sorts and it is used for reading and playing together as a family instead of being used as a plopping ground for butts in front of a Television.

We DO reserve Friday nights for pizza, coke, and a movie  and it has become something of a family ritual which we all look forward to.  We pull out every down feather bed, comforter and pillow that can be found in the house, and after everyone has eaten, we make a pallet on the floor and watch a movie.  Sometimes Friday's involve two movies, one for family viewing and one for the grown ups to watch after Elsbeth has gone to bed.  And NO it's NOT porn you pervs.  Recently I've been getting some really weird indie flicks from the library (THEY'RE FREE!).  

Overall, I feel that these changes have been made consciously and we have shifted into them gradually and seamlessly as opposed to the drastic lobster in boiling water approach I had imagined.  And that's OK.  Our lives are without a doubt more healthy, more active, and our time as a family is better spent.  And that's about it on that.

On another note entirely, A Dear Reader Lauren Robinson is so graciously baby sitting Ellie tomorrow night so Jeremy and I can have a date night.  And please don't worry I know her from outside of this blog.  I am not in the habit of picking internet strangers to watch my child.  We're planning on doing dinner and a movie.  Since I no longer have TV; I have NO IDEA what movies are out or what even looks good.  So, I need some suggestions.  What is the best movie you have seen lately?

Thursday, October 2, 2008

The Uninvited Guest

A few weeks ago both of our dogs became violently ill from both ends  and because we live in a home with no yard it was impossible for me to predict when these bursts of bodily upheaval would occur.  So even though I was taking both of them out every twenty minutes or so, sometimes I would still miss an accident. ( DEAR GOD PLEASE DON'T LET MY LANDLORD READ THIS) Because of this unfortunate circumstance, in the end they were relegated to the deck that has small gaps in between the boards.  OH THE HUMANITY!  This meant that in between taking their sick asses outside I was washing the deck with bleach water and trying not to murder them both in the name of disease control.

After three days of this I started to get worried about them and then a light bulb went off in Jeremy's and my head collectively (because together we ARE one giant superhuman brain).  Perhaps it wasn't a virus but the dog food!  So we switched foods and within a day both of them were well again.  Guess where this food is made Dear Readers?  Stuck?  Need a hint?  It's made where all the poisonous things are made.  CHI to the EFFIN NA.  But I'm not even going to get started on my thoughts about that.  Cough* They're trying to kill us and our four legged friends! Cough* Cough*

We put the tainted dog food bag in the garage with the intention of returning it to the store.  The weeks wore on and it was forgotten about.  Not long after that I was outside getting the mail when I spotted a RAT running across the parking lot.  As gross as it was I didn't think much of it and attributed it to the fact that we live right by a strip mall with several restaurants that have large garbage bins outside.  And then a few days after that we found that same rat dying in front of our door step.  He looked pitiful and as much as I realize that rats carry many diseases and were responsible for the spreading of the black plague, I still don't like to see any living thing suffer.  So I was about to get Jeremy to do the 'Ol "Off wif is head" just as a purely compassionate act of course when he gave up his little ratty ghost.  He was disposed of and forgotten and I assumed that someone had poisoned him.

Last night we were giving the garage a much needed cleaning and reorganization.  In the process of moving boxes that had been stacked against the garage wall Jeremy would find piles, large piles, of dog food with scattered rat crap.  And I don't mean crap as in little rat hairbrushes or little rat shoes, I mean rat POOP!  We were collectively astonished that the rat had managed to carry so much dog food to these hiding places.  I was just waiting for us to discover the nest of tiny, hairless rat babies which I would have been unable to dispose of and would have had to raise to be civilized rat folk.  Thank the Lord that never happened.  But in the process of cleaning this food and poop up, guess what conclusion I came to?  Still stuck?  THE POISONOUS DOG FOOD ALSO KILLED THE RAT!  And boy was I glad that I had quit giving it to my dogs when I did.  The remainder of the bag went away with the garbage truck today to kill more rats or homeless people that may be rifling through the dump in search of edible things.  Do I feel bad?  Yes, but I also feel like pointing a finger, one finger in particular, at the country who keeps sending us tainted goods.  Why, they're even killing their own people now.

My solution?  Buy local; buy locally organic if possible.  Eat food as unprocessed as possible, believe me it tastes better.  If you have a baby, don't let it chew on toys from China, give it a stick from a tree or a chicken leg.  In all seriousness though, let's be conscious consumers because when it all boils down, I'm just not ready to die, or get food poisoning.

Oh and the dog food?  It was the Iams in the green bag.




Wednesday, October 1, 2008

On Pregnancy and How it makes Me Crazy

Dear Dudes Who Read This Blog,
I'm sorry that I had to get pregnant and ruin whatever humorous quasi sexual posts you may or may not have been looking forward to.  But wait!  All hope is not lost; stick around because in the second trimester I REALLY get weird.  You may have to suffer with me through these next several weeks as I bemoan my hormones and recount all the painful ways a baby can interfere with ones digestive system (that subject can be a personal favorite) and I may or may not tread into the waters of my previous labor experience.  It will all depend on the amount of sleep I've been able to snag the night before.

Sincerely craving sorbet,
Jillian

NOW, on to today's post.  For whatever reason during the end of my last pregnancy Jeremy seemed to think that I was funnier than the love child of Jack Black and  Will Ferrell.  I think it may have had something to do with how many octaves lower my voice registered and when I would laugh he would crack up saying I sounded like Gus the fat little mouse from Disney's Cinderella.  So because there was no getting my svelte figure back in the midst of that, I obliged and became the funny chubby kid for a few months.  When all vanity is lost, one must laugh at ones self, and that's what we did.  I became the entertainer always poking fun at my situation.  

Some of my most memorable experiences include:
The Magic Eight Fetus:  This game requires at least two players (one of these should be pregnant, preferably in the last trimester) the non pregnant player(s) ask the pregnant player questions about their lives, future, love interests, etc and the pregnant player will then vigorously (but not  vigorously enough to induce labor) shake their Magic Eight Fetus (stomach) all around and divine the answer from the position on the fetus's body parts.  These answers will be something to the effect of: To be certain or Check back later, or my personal favorite, You will surely catch scabies.  If the other party(ies) object to that answer, dismiss their objections with a blase wave of your chubby fingers saying that,  "The Magic Eight Fetus has spoken, Now BEGONE."

Another very exciting game to play (and Jeremy's personal favorite) is Pregnant Hard Rock Air Guitar:  This game involves the very pregnant player reenacting some classic rock songs in her best Gene Simmons face complete with nasty tongue and Kiss boots.  A black cape earns her extra points.  It is particularly essential to become the character and the pregnant woman should do her best to make her unborn fetus proud with her unmatched prowess at some killer air guitar moves.

This next move is not recommended for the faint of stomach.  It is called Attempt to Out Eat Your Partner:  In this game the pregnant woman and her partner should declare how many pieces of pizza each will eat and then the pregnant woman will attempt to eat more than her partner thereby displaying her intestinal fortitude and proclaiming herself Queen of the Piggies.  But should her partner dare call her a piggie, the pig- I mean Pregnant Lady has every right to sit on her partner until he begs for mercy.

There are limitless opportunities to keep ones self entertained while waiting for the baby to come and as the months go by I will share more of them with you.  I shall leave you with my three favorite songs from my last pregnancy, please enjoy.





If you have ever seen The Silence of the Lambs, you will probably get this next video.
WARNING: This song contains some serious potty words including the dreaded "F-Bomb" so if you are my Mother, one of her friends, or a member of my church or extended family, I suggest you do not listen to it.  But if you chose not to heed my warning, don't say I caused you to sin you dirty little sinner.



This song displays one of my favorite Paul Mccartney traits and that is his ability to make one song feel like several songs in the way that he changes the music. *Sigh*