So...you come here often?

Crappity Crap Crap

2006-05-16T04:56:00.000-07:00

Remember that horrible drug problem I had with Meth?

Yeah. Neither do I.
But Walmart apparently does.

Lee buys Claritin-D 24 each month from BJ's ( costco, sams... a bulk store). This week, we went in for the monthly drug run and they were out.

I told him I would pick it up from Walmart after the gym today.

So....after said gym trip, I walked into Walmart ( actually, I kind of slinked into Walmart, I kicked my own ass at the gym today) I went up to the pharmacy counter, and asked for a box of Claritin-D

I realize they are behind the counter now because of the horrible Meth addiction sweeping the nation. I live in a quiet little country town, which is apparently the best place to cook Meth. It's a horrible drug and an even worse lifestyle.

Lee and I are addicted ( no pun intended) to the A&E show, Intervention. Almost every week, they show a person addicted to Meth, and showcase their story.

So, I don't mind getting drugs behind the counter, I'm in no hurry. If it's going to save some 16 year old kid from blowing his own hand off in a Meth lab, I'm all for it. I do it for the kids really.
Part of this behind the counter thing, is that you have to give your liscense as well. So I handed it over ( I'm kind of proud of this one, the picture isn't too shabby) and she typed away my information ( with one finger, letter-by-letter) ( I mean L-E-T-T-E-R-B-Y-L-E-T-T-E-R) (ok, now I'm in a hurry)

She filled it all out, looked at me and said, "You've exceeded your limit of pseudoephedrine this month."

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked

" You can't buy Claritin until the end of the month. According to government regulations, you are only allowed a certain amount a month, and you're over it."

I racked my brain, I never buy Claritin, Lee always pays at the store. And a month ago, when we were sick...Lee went to Walgreens to buy Dayquil...What was she talking about?

"OK....thanks?" I walked away and called Lee. I don't think I have even bought Claritin in my life, seriously.

And then I remembered.

My wallet was stolen in December, right before we moved.
Sh*tCr@pG#DD@M!T!!!!!

Could that be it? Is someone using my identity to buy drugs? So thats it, I have no end of this entry, I'm asking you, who do I call to find out?Because this is my luck, that something will go wrong, and Iwill have to pay for it.

What do I do????

Happy Mothers Day

2006-05-14T20:07:00.000-07:00

At 4 o'clock this morning, I was reminded what it means to be a mom.

I could hear Isaac on his monitor sniffling, coughing and crying. I went in his room, and he was sitting up, chewing on his duck and trying to wipe his nose. ( and by trying I mean, he puts the back of his hand up against his nose, and wiggles his fingers. It's waaaay too cute, and an instant crowd pleaser)(Unless that crowd was having her incredible Benjamin Brat beach scene dream at said 4 o'clock)( then it's only a little cute)

I picked him up and he immediately gave me a hug, and it was a good one. It was one of those hugs where if his arms where made of clay, they would wrap all the way around you twice. He nuzzled his little head in between my head and my shoulder, sniffled and sighed.

We sat down and rocked and I thought, "Its 4 a.m. Happy Mothers Day"

There are times when I am so tired, so busy, that I forget who I am, or was before the baby. I know I was someone different, I just can't remember who. There are nights I lie in bed frantic, thinking of how I'm going to make A connect to B, and if it's going to affect Isaac. I worry so much more, now that I have the responsabilies of two people.

I look at our friends, with no restraints, pick up and move across country, have a conversation that doesn't involve teething, or diapers. They can go out to dinner after 8, or stay out until the sun comes up, sleep all day and do it again. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't envy them on some level.

I do.

But then there are mornings like these, where I realize that I am someone's entire world. That by a little hug, he feels completely comforted and he knows it's all going to be all right. There are nights where Lee, Isaac and I can just lay in bed and laugh at our feet wiggling in the air. Or enjoy, and I mean, really enjoy, a bath, enjoy it so much that not only your hands, but your elbows are pruney too. Things like an empty plastic bottle, or a napking laying around are adventures to Isaac. Things I've never looked at, are suddenly so relevant.

There are those things.

When I fall into bed some nights, exhausted and decorated with baby food, wondering when the last time I shaved my legs, read this month's Cosmo, called my best friend, had sex, bought a pair of shoes...I forget how lucky I am.

I needed an early Mothers Day morning to help me realize that I don't need a Mothers Day to be the luckiest person in the world. Isaac and Lee gave me a sweet picture frame with a collage of pictures dating back to day 1, and it's beautiful, but honestly, I didn't need it. All I needed were my two boys by my side to make any day, not just mother's day, amazing.

P.S. In the middle of writing this, Isaac crawled on his hands and knees across the room for the first time. Now thats a Mothers Day present.

Today I've learned

2006-05-02T17:05:00.000-07:00

Today I've learned...

that when you wake up before your son does, he'll sleep until 10 o'clock in the morning. Just to spite you.

that when you leave chicken out on the counter overnight, instead of putting it back in the freezer like you planned, it thaws and leaves a red tinted liquid all over your counter (that is just....a joy to clean up)

that when he lays down on the floor and sucks in, he can creep underneath the sofa in the five seconds that you're not looking.

that I can make the UPS man stutter when I open the door while he's picking his nose.

that our gardeners smoke pot in my backyard on their lunchbreak.

that when I'm outside on the grass, finishing a painting, the spriklers are just bound to come on.

that Isaac likes to eat doodle bugs.

that organic soy chocolate milk is pretty damn close to heavan, however, the white milk...tastes like melted crayons.

that my grumpy old neighbor scratched his balls while he thinks no one's looking. (haha! take that old man)

that Isaac can fit 10 toes and a couple of fingers in his mouth.

that TomKat had a TomKitten, and yet...I still don't care.

that someone sold my information to telemarketers, and I'm now getting calls on my cellphone. ( and they learned what a complete bitch I can be)

that procrastinating while writing my final writing assignment for class will lead me to write a journal entry

Ya'll come back now ya hear?

2006-05-02T17:00:00.001-07:00

Last weekend, we were sitting with Lee's grandmother and her friends. They were telling us about Lee's grandpa when he was in the Army. His old friend, who was also in the army, was trying to explain to us why their group was so tight. "We were all from New York, its different, I don't really get along with other people, especially not these damn southerners."And then his wife pipes up and says," Ya'll"( in a mocking tone) I mean, that just sounds so stupid!"

Lee and his parents both looked at me with knowing grins. I just sat there and bit my lip because this was not the time nor the event to get sassy.

But I like being from the south, I don't know what she was talking about.

We have a different outlook on life.

We always know the weather, hot, humid and more hot

We write thank you notes,

we never wear white shoes before Easter or after Labor Day,

We glisten, never sweat,

We always know people's names (Honey, Darlin' & Sugah)

I'd eat grits and bacon everyday if I could,

Our religion in Football

We know the real joy of summer is wide brimmed hats and strapless dresses,

It's either fried, hunted, buttered or breaded,

We wouldn't be caught dead with bad hair or bad manners, but you may catch us with a bad boy from time to time,

We drink Coke and sweet tea, and eat dressed sandwiches,

We keep our enemies charmed, and our friends are our family.

While there are some days when I think I am the only democrat down here, I wouldn't give it up if youpaid me. So they can take their comments and "shove 'em where the sun don't shine!"

Bless their hearts

2006-05-02T17:00:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to yell.

And I'm not going to get all political....

but why,

why,

when there is a war going on, continuous protests, a babbling idiot for a president and his quickly diminishing staff, immigration concerns,and a gas crisis that is crippling our entire nation,

why,

is Paris Hilton's most recent break up one of the top news stories on CNN.

Why?

You know, I broke up with Randy Lopez in 7th grade, his dad was the general manager at the local UPS store. I wonder if that made the headlines then?

Ready.

2006-03-22T07:38:00.000-08:00

At the end of January, I decided to start looking for my biological mother again.

In the state of Louisiana, there is a process to go through. You must register in the "Louisiana Adoption Registry" as either the adoptee ( me) or the parent. Once your application goes into the registry, they can do two things:

1. match it to your biological family, notify you that a match has been made, and then instruct you to go through the mandatory counseling required to make a reunion, or...
2. let your file sit there until there is a match made.

I couldn't apply for the registry until I was 18. When I turned 18, I struggled with the decision to do so, and in the end, I only applied to the agency that handled my adoption. I never went to the state because the agency, Catholic Charities, told me no one had made an inquiry as to my adoption.

That was devastating.

I've struggled with my adoption, and for no good reason. I was adopted by an incredible family. I've never wanted for anything, and all in all, I think I've turned out o.k.

So why is this so hard?

At the end of January, I decided to grow a pair, and applied to the state registry, kind of the end all of adoption. I needed some additional information that I didn't know off the top of my head, so I had to go to my parents. That's even harder. My parents have always been very supportive of me searching for my biological mother, but letting them know that I was doing so again...is just hard.

Then came Valentines Day, and Lee proposed.
The whole thing was put on hold.
A week later, I saw the papers, and finally sent my dad an email asking him some questions.

"May I ask why?" was his only response.
So I dropped it.

A week later, my mom called me to talk about it. I hate talking about it, it makes it real.
I know they think it had something to do with the wedding, but it doesn't. It has to do with having Isaac.

I love him more than I can imagine, and more than that. I know he is 100% me, and for some reason, I just want to know what my 100% is, or why.

I finally mailed everything off, and stored it in the back of my mind.

Last week, I saw a special on VH-1, where DMC found his real mother. He made it look so easy, an hour long special, and plop, his biological mother was sitting next to him.

Can my special be that easy?

What would I even say?

My mom kept telling me that I had to be prepared. Lee said the same thing. How? How do you prepare? I can't explain it to someone who isn't adopted, but there is no "preparing" for the letter, or for the reunion.

You just do.

If I only had two words to tell her, they would be "Thank You". After being pregnant for nine months with Isaac, there is no way I could have given him up. He was as much a part of me, as I him. She was so self-less to give me up, and at the age of 16, many of us aren't that strong.

So Lee and I got home from Disney World last night, and there was a mountain of mail waiting, most of it crap. But there was a letter from the Louisiana Dept of Social Services.

And my heart dropped.

It was so thin.

"We regret to inform you that we have no match at this time with any of your biological family."

No match. She's still alive, she's just not looking for me.
I'm right here though, and I'm still looking for her.

I just wish the feeling was mutual, because this time it hurts so much more, like devastation and rejection at the same time. It's quite the punch to the gut.

I guess I wasn't ready.

How many times can you say Yes?

2006-02-15T10:53:00.000-08:00

So Valentines Day last year, I shocked Lee and told him that he was going to become a dad.
Last year had enough excitement to last us a few years, so between that, and finances, we agreed to have a very low-key valentines day.

I made paper towel roses, and cooked my best chicken legs.
I even made Lee a "Happy Arbor Day" card.
( we promised not to do too much for valentines day, but we didn't say anything about Arbor Day)

Of course he made a really sweet card, that pales in comparison to mine, and he even got Isaac to hand it to me.

So after dinner, I put Isaac down for a nap, and we sat down to finish our bottle of wine. Lee lit some candles and said he had one more thing.

One more thing! We promised low key, and he promised it was.

He brought out a book he made of printer paper and construction paper, then binded it with ribbon. It was the story of us.....

and it began...

I'm not putting every page up, but it was cute.
I got to the second to last page that read,

and by the time I got to the last page

Lee was already on his knee with the ring out.

And I thought last year's Valentines Day was more excitement than I could handle...

Jungle Feverish

2006-02-02T16:16:00.000-08:00

I had one of those horrifying dreams last night.
The kind where you wake up and you believe whatever it was really happened.

I've always wanted to buy really ugly clothes, and audition for one of those make-over shows where they throw out your entire wardrobe, and offer you money and guidance to buy a spanking new one.

In my dream last night, I made it. I got the old clothes thrown out, the new clothes on my back, and then they sent me to get my hair and make-up done.

that's where the shit hit the fan.

I've loved my long hair for as long as I've had it.
I said that I was voted best hair in high school, but upon further research, I found out, I wasn't, I'm not sure I was even nominated. Even more reason to prove myself in the awesome hair category.

So in my dream, I was in the hair section of the make-over, and I said the only thing you can't do is cut the length. Cut the length and I cut off your pinky. That, and I'll put a horses head in your bed.

I turn around and...My hair was short. SO short, and I cried, and stormed out of the doors, and wound up....On the field during the Super Bowl...

Anyway, I woke up horrified, and then realized, it was true.Not the Super Bowl part, the other part. I did cut my damn hair, I voluntarily signed up.

I look like Joanie did when she married Chachi. And we all know how that ended up, Chachi ran off with Pamela Anderson and her Baywatch bathing suit.

Great. More stuff to complain about.

That's all I have been doing lately, is complain.
I feel the words escape from my mouth, and I cringe.
But I just can't help it. I'm not very happy, and I think the main problem is...

I'm just not giving anything a chance.

It's all new, and it's not familiar, so I rebel.
Well....not so much rebel as just whine and complain, and cry in the bathroom at night.
It's a lifestyle choice really.

My other lifestyle choice?

Slow, messy and exhausted.
Isaac's teething has come to it's pinnacle. He woke up on the hour, every hour last night. Around three, he woke up with fever.

You and me both buddy.
Not only that, but he had pooped right out of his diaper.
Ah.... just what I wished for, hot warm baby with clingly poopy substance weighing him down.

So I brought him into his room to change him. When I have to do mid-night changes, I put his tiny sunglasses on him to shade his eyes from the light. Then I opened the diaper that run-eth over.

While I was elbow deep in crap, I looked up, and I saw a big toothless grin underneath his goofy sunglasses, and sweaty hair.

And suddenly the poop was moot, the kid is cute and he's all mine.

If he wasn't, this story would have never escaped my mouth.

However, when I woke up this morning, I was exhausted. I think I slept for a second.
I walked into the kitchen , made some tea, drank it, and then went to put my tea cup in the...
in the machine that....

the machine that holds utensils and cleans them...

I put my teacup in the dish cleaning apparatus.

Oh, I couldn't even remember what the Dishwasher was called. I realized that I also couldn't remember how to spell my name, so I went back to bed.

For twelve minutes.

I miss sleep so much.

Ah....what else.....?.....

Oh yes, my son loves Oprah.
Even through her recent flaws, he stands, well...he sits, with support, by her side.

I began folding clothes during Oprah, and laying Isaac on the bed. Once, I tried to pick him up, and he started crying. So...I put him back down, and his head turned towards Oprah.
I picked him up,
he cried.
Put back down,
turned to Oprah.

Lee laughs, he thinks its funny.
Until the other day when he came home from work early, and right around 4, as if on cue, Isaac started to cry.

"Oprah's on" I explained.
And I took Isaac from his father, and placed him in front of his first lady love.
Oprah.
I think I should get a car out of this.

You're not going to believe this

2006-01-19T22:06:00.000-08:00

Lee and I have this wonderful litle screened in back porch.

That we never ever use.

So, this past weekend, Lee decided to put his foot down.

"We're going outside tonight, we're going to use that porch."

So we did, and we brought along a bottle of wine.

It was nice, we sat and we talked, and we drank. And then we drank.

Since it's been almost a full year since I've drank, I woke up and wanted to immediately kill the tiny baboon that was jumping on my brain. I felt horrible.
Of course, Isaac chose that day to scream as loud as he could.

I was crippled. Like Bea Arthur auditioning for a starring role in Baywatch, I knew I was way outta my league. I promised god never to do that again, if she would just take away the horrible ugh that was ontop of me.

So two days passed by, and I still felt dizzy when I stood up, or moved too fast. I was still sick, and even worse, my super sense of smell was back.

Before I found out I was pregnant, a whole new world was opened to me.

A world of new smells. And I hated it. I could smell everything. People's breath, even if they were a safe distance, the meat counter at the market was horrific, and the worst was public bathrooms. I soon found out I was pregnant, and this was just part of the package.

This past week, we got our new sofa in. And I could smell it.
For two days, I could smell it.

"I think my super sense of smell is back" I told Lee one night.
"Are you pregnant?" He asked me immediately, almost accusing me.
"No. No I can't be, the pill?" I told him.
" You were sick for all those days, and now your smell..." he trailed off.
"The pill" I reassured him, "and that damn bottle of wine last week"

But I started to wonder, and fret, and then full on worry.
I can't be pregnant again, I just can't.
Money and figures started to swarm and stack up in my head. We don't have another room in this house! How could we decorate a room for a girl and a boy?We'd have to buy another crib, a double stroller, not to mention it's probably a girl, knowing my luck....all the clothes. Think of all the clothes, because, people don't send you gifts for the second baby, especially not if you just hit them up 9 months earlier.

Oh my god, if I am pregnant, then I got pregnant in December...like with Isaac. I vowed to act like a nun every December to come, and I continued to worry. We just can't do this now, what am I going to do?

I thought all night long. I imagined the phone call to my mom, I imagined the "thud" I would hear when she hit the ground. I imagined being all mantee-like and pregnant again trying to pick up Isaac. I imagined taking my maternity clothes out of the attic and having no dust to wipe off of them.
This just couldn't happen.

Not yet.

The next morning, I flew out of bed and got dressed.
And then laid back down and took a nap, I was exhausted. After all that imagining, I only got around 4 hours of sleep.
So then I woke up again, grabbed Isaac and ran to the drugstore.

I picked up a pregnancy test, nail polish, a card, and vitamins...nice array.
When I got home I set up shop in the bathroom. It was just 12 months earlier that I was doing the exact same thing in a bathroom in New Orleans.

Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into?

I took the test and this time, I had to wait four minutes. Four mintutes feels like four years when your waiting on something like this, only this time, I had something to distract me. My FOUR month old child, who was eating my hair and drooling down my shirt the entire time.

Ding! My phone told me it was time.
I put Isaac down so that I didn't drop him on the bathroom floor, (see, I'm a good mom) and walked in.

I said a quick..."It's not the end of the world if it's a yes, it's just a little early" pep talk, and I looked at the test.

Well, Jesus was an only child too, and he didn't turn out so bad.

A girl can dream

2006-01-17T21:57:00.000-08:00

I have the coolest, most amazing new phone.
And no one calls me except my mom and my boyfriend.
At least I know I have two fans, how lame is that?

No one calls anymore. They're all afraid to wake the baby.
But do you see this?

and this...

how about this?

don't forget this...

"Why can't you take his fingers out of his mouth?"

I can't. He's teething. Teething=putting anything you can get your hands on into your mouth"
I was checking my email earlier, and I caught him trying to eat the corner of my laptop.

It's insane really. And it's killing me. I feel like a week ago I popped him out.
I do.
But I remember every minute of it.
And he's so big already. I don't know where it came from.

I'm just waiting for him to ask for the keys to my car.
( that's never going to happen. He won't want to drive my car, I don't even want to drive my car)

So I was just joking before. I'm not so lame. I made a few friends here ( in Florida) and it was about time. I was about to start hanging out at the grocery store just to have some adult conversation. It takes a long time to make friends, I realize that. And I'm pretty sure they're normal, I don't think I'm joining any kind of cults, but seriously, even if I was...it wouldn't be so bad. They have kids, and they are around my age. Two similarites? Good enough for me. As long as they're not huffing paint and drowning kittens, I'm happy. I'm really not hard to please these days.

Anyway...

Thanks to this,

I have a terrible headache, I need about 11 tylenol and a full night of sleep.

We both know I'm going to get neither.

Once upon a time in a city called New Orleans...

2006-01-02T18:47:00.000-08:00

I never actually grieved over Katrina. I was too busy being pregnant. I cried the first week and numbly watched CNN for a straight two weeks to follow, but I never let it hit me. I was too mad.
After going home and seeing the small portion that I saw, I feel like I can finally grieve. And I am, just in quiet. My friend sent me this, and I love it. I've read it every morning since she sent it to me, and I wanted to share it with you.

Enjoy.

The following was written by Boysie Bollinger, a friend of ours who is the CEO of one of the state's largest shipyard operations, and a widely regarded civic leader. An Interesting look at the times of New Orleans.

There's not a working clock in this entire city. This morning I went on my walk and the big clock by St. Patrick's Church on Camp said it was 2:30; as I walked on, the Whitney clock said it was 11:15, and by the time I hit the French Quarter a clock there told me quite firmly that it was 6:00 o'clock.

I'm not really surprised at this - New Orleans has always had a problem with time.

Time is not linear here; this is a city where people live in two hundred year old houses, have wireless Internet and use 600-year-old recipes while singing 60's songs to their newborns.

Time is more of a mental game in New Orleans...you can pick the year you liked the best and stay in that year for the rest of your life here and no one says a thing. You can talk about your great great grandparents as if they were still alive and talk about your neighbors as if they were dead, and we all understand. Time marches to it's own drunk drummer here.

This morning as I walked into the Quarter on Chartres, a woman ran out of a cafe to greet me, "Hey dahlin" she yelled as she hugged me, "Where ya been?" I looked at her and realized it was one of the exotic dancers from one of the smaller establishments on Chartres; over the years I'd become friendly with several of the dancers as I would take my morning walk. We'd smile, wave, and exchange pleasantries. This morning I realized that even though I had said hello to this woman three times a week for four years, I didn't know her name. I smiled, hugged her back and told her how badly I felt that I never knew her name and she laughed "Dahlin, you know my name, it's Baby!" Time to laugh out loud.

Twenty minutes later as I walked up Royal from Esplanade on my way out of the Quarter, a dark sedan stopped in the street right by the Cathedral and all four doors opened at once. I was twittering with curiosity when the driver hopped out, ran to the other side and escorted a smiling former Ambassador (Lindy Boggs) out of the car. Before I could stop myself I'd yelled out, "Hey Lindy, good to see ya!" Mrs. Boggs, accustomed to such raffish behavior smiled and yelled out "Hey yourself" as she waved, laughed and headed to church, surely thinking it's time to pray for better manners for the likes of me.

We're dealing with a lot of time issues these days,
time to meet the insurance specialist,
time to call FEMA,
time to put out the refrigerator,
time to get a new refrigerator,
time to decide whether to stay in New Orleans or head elsewhere,
time to register the kids for school,
time to sell the house,
time to buy the house,
time to find a job,
time to leave a job,
time to figure out the rest of your life.

Could we maybe, while dealing with all those time issues, take a minute and remember? Remember that there was a time when all of this was different, there was a time when slaves were sold in the Napoleon House, a time when Mid-City was considered the country, a time when people staged sit ins downtown, a time when there was no McDonald's or Wendy's or even Popeye's, a time when the Quarter burned, a time when people spoke French or Spanish, a time when the Opera House was open, a time when this was all uninhabited, a time when your refrigerator worked, your house was whole, your neighborhood wasn't flooded and your city wasn't defined by a Hurricane.

More than any other city in this country, this is a city defined by the quality of the times people have had here. Maybe it's because it's a port city, maybe it's because of the food, maybe it's because of the heat, but this city remembers everyone who has ever lived, loved and laughed here. People visit us because they can feel the difference as soon as they get here, they can feel how time is honored here, in the time to craft our houses and the time to make a roux. They can feel that the city holds all of our memories, our joys, our sorrows and our triumphs. That any time spent in New Orleans is kept in the breath, air, water and sky of New Orleans.

What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but what happens in New Orleans changes the city and its people, minute-by-minute, day-by-day, year-by-year, so that we can't help but live in the past, present and future.

Time will tell what we will end up looking like, how strong the levees will be, how many houses will be repaired, but we will tell time how strong the people of New Orleans are, how deep our commitments to each other are, and that sometimes the best stories are the ones we write for ourselves.

Once upon a time in a city called New Orleans......

Tagged

2006-01-02T18:13:00.001-08:00

Ah, I'm exhausted. I've had so much fun the past two weeks. Christmas sprinkled with Hanukkah was great. We got so many cool gifts. Moving into a house right before a gift exchanging holiday, is the only way to go. That or get married, but that's a whole other story.

I've got a lot to say, but I can barely keep my eyes open ( that's not true, I want to go watch Madagascar, but I can't type and watch TV at the same time. However, I can chew gum and walk. I'm not a complete moron)
However, Lacey tagged me, and it's taken me forever to get around to it...So here goes....

"These are the rules of the game: The very first player chose a topic. In this case, the topic is FIVE WEIRD HABITS OF YOURS. You must then write a journal entry listing those weirdness you possess~as well as the rules of the game. Then, you select FIVE PEOPLE TO TAG and link their names/blogs in your entry. Go to their journals and leave a comment informing them they have been tagged by you and to read your journal to see in what way they have been nailed! Those five then MUST (note that I insist upon it!) write an entry listing their weird habits and tag an additional five people."

1. I have to shave my legs before going to bed everynight. If I wanted to lay in bed and feel hairy legs, then Lee and I would sleep in a Queen sized bed instead of a King.

2. I always think that someone is watching me. Either through the window, or a hidden camera. I think about it all the time, especially when I'm doing something embarrassing like picking my nose or fighting off a wedgie.

3. Sometimes the sight of mayo makes me gag, and almost throw up.

4. When I was little, my dad told me that you can't sleep in your bed with your feet facing towards the front door of your house. I have no idea why he had this superstition, but I still don't.

5. I'm scared of elevators because I once got stuck in an elevator with a couple of co-workers. Dennis Hopper connected a bomb to our elevator, and we would have died if Keanu Reeves hadn't rescued us. I thank god to this day that he was there. Ok, so maybe that isn't really my story, but I am scared of elevators. I blame Dennis Hopper. And Tara Reid of course.

( I'm supposed to tag someone else here to do this, but I'm too tired, so if you're reading this, do it. I know who you are. Do it. I'm serious, do it.)

Hey-oh!

2005-12-28T09:39:00.000-08:00

So Happy Holidays.

Lee and I are in the middle of our celebration. We went to New Orleans to celebrate Christmas with my family this past weekend, and the coming weekend, we are going to his parents house to celebrate Hannukah. This two holiday thing...not too shabby, I highly reccomend it actually.

This past weekend was so much fun. We got up at the ass crack of dawn, ( read= 3:00 am) to get to the airport. I was so scared of Isaac flying. I just knew that he had been a perfect baby for too long, that this would be his downfall. I pictured us walking on the plane and him just screaming. Screaming for the entire trip. I felt it coming. And to prepare, I lost sleep worrying over it.

Well, he came through like a heavy weight champ. Not only did he not cry once, he wasn't awake the entire flight. Some guy sat down in front of us, rolled his eyes and told his girlfriend, "great, there's a baby behind us." I wanted to kick him, but I harbored my Whitney Houston-like aggression and just sat there and took it. Isaac was an angel on the flight, it was the guy in front of us who should have been taken out back and shot. He got up literally five times on a hour and a half flight, and then he kept putting his seat back, and forth....I should be cannonized as a saint for not saying anything to him.

Our next flight we sat next to a really nice lady who was also from New Orleans. Right when we got over the city, you could see everyone leaning over to look out the window. The city was covered in blue. Blue Tarps covered rooftops and I just stopped looking. This was going to be hard, I knew it. I overheard the woman sitting next to us tell Lee, "Prepare your minds and hearts, it's pretty hard to see." Prepare your minds and hearts, and the words just kept repeating in my head. I bit the inside of my lip to keep from crying because I wasn't going to do it. I wasn't going to let this trip get off on such a sad start.

However, when we landed, I saw that wasn't really an option. Katrina has plagued the entire city. It's in everyone's conversations, literally. The news, the papers, the people are all haunted, changed. Its hard to explain, and hard to stomach. We stopped at a restaurant to eat lunch, and they handed us a paper menu. Even the food has been changed. Restaurants aren't even open, and if they are, they are serving smaller menus because they just can't get enough people to work.

Lee and I dropped my parents off at their office, and we drove to their house. We passed houses with red X's showing how many dead bodies had been recovered, or white X's showing that the house had been evacuated. We saw a house that used to be a two story building, but the top story had caught fire. The first floor still stood, and the tops were charred, there was a boat in the driveway that had also caught fire. No one had touched it since. It was unbelieveable how many places are still covered in debris. We saw a boat on the median of a busy street. It's hard to look at, so after we got to my parents house, we didn't leave until we were going to the airport again.

Christmas morning was amazing. Having a child, you see the world through his eyes, all over again. It's all so new. Isaac, Lee and I all raked in some pretty good gifts. I didn't expect anything really. My parents paid for our trip there, that was all that I could ask for.

As hard as it was, I needed to be there for Christmas. So much has changed this year, I feel like my whole life has been flipped upside down, and that I had no control over any of it. I adore my friends and family more than anything in the world. Being surrounded by them was really all I wanted for Christmas. I'm so happy that it happened.

Now, I just have to get back to putting our house in order.....

Who? What?

2005-12-22T11:54:00.000-08:00

I have a million reasons NOT to be online right now, but yet...Here I am.
I'm so good at procrastinating, it should be my job.

So what's been going on since my last (temporarily insane) post?
So much.

We moved into an incredible home. I've got a million ideas on how to decorate it, I just lack the time and money. But I'll get there. Our white walls stare at me everyday, but for now, I'm just staring right back at them.

Isaac started teething. No sight of teeth yet, but all the signs are there, and boy....Are they fun.

I completely horrified Lee by showing him that I know all the words to the "America's Funniest Home Videos" TV show. But then he horrified me right back by showing me the next day that he knows all the words to the Golden Girls theme. So we're even....Almost

I attempted to get Christmas Cards out. I spent two hours one day taking pictures and setting everything up. Then...I blinked my eyes and it was Dec 22 already and I still have nothing done. Maybe next year. So thank you to everyone who has sent me a card, if I weren't such a slacker, I would be sending you one right back.

I started my Christmas and hanuk...AHEM, started my HOLIDAY shopping, um....Oh, yesterday. Its hard to get into the holiday spirit when it's 85 degrees outside. Wearing flip flops doesn't translate into December weather. Now....If we had actual seasons, like winter, I would have gotten everything done in October, when it started snowing. Lee and I had the great Santa Clause debate. Since he grew up celebrating Hanukkah, he never had Santa, and thinks its a B.S. tradition. I can't imagine not having Santa, in fact, I kind of started to cry when he said he didn't want to celebrate with Santa. So I win, Santa it is. I promised Lee that he will learn to love it and I think he already does.

We attempted to go to Lee's Holiday Party for work. We got all dolled up, and his boss convinced him to bring Isaac, since we don't have a sitter yet. Lee was none too happy about it, he was tired and just wanted to stay home. But I needed it. He doesn't understand that I need other adults to talk to, or that I almost pass out with excitement when the man behind the deli counter starts a conversation. I was all excited for adult time, with adult conversation. Really...I was just excited to shave my legs and throw on some make-up. We were there for about an hour when Isaac decided it was time to go. He began to freak out, so...out the door we went. It was fun while it lasted.

And now...I'm packing to fly back to New Orleans for a few days. I feel like I've been drinking. I have no idea how to feel about it. While I have never been so excited to go home before, I'm also trying to brace myself because it's not the city that I remember. The airport we're flying into is the one that was set up as a makeshift hospital after Katrina. I can't imagine how many people died there. My dad wants to drive around and show us the city, but I just don't think I can. Not yet. I want this trip to be remembered as a happy one. It's Isaac's first Christmas, and the first time that my friends will meet him. Although, I am curious.

Now that this is the most boring entry I've ever read, I'm going to end it.
I have to finish packing, finish shopping ( yes, there's still more) and stare at the white walls some more.

For the love of prada....

2005-12-09T12:52:00.000-08:00

Oh I can't take much more....

I'm having such a crappy week.
Besides the wallet drama, AOL closed my account, without letting me know, and this morning...

some lady hit my car.

I need this, I really do. Anything else?

I had just parked, grabbed my purse and was about to get out of my car when I felt, BUMP.
I looked in my rear view and saw either an elephant, or a Lincoln Continental, and seriously...Who needs a car this big? Why don't you just drive a yacht.

Do you hear that? That's anger in my voice. Mommy needs a drink.

I made sure Isaac was still sleeping and got out of the car.
There, getting out of the driver seat, was a woman who can only be described as old.
Her glasses were about as thick as my thighs, and her hair looked like a purple birds nest.

"WHAT'S GOING ON BACK HERE?" she yelled like I was the one who was 95.
"You just hit my car crazy." I said in a flat voice.
"Well I don't have time for this, what where you doing back there?"
"Parked, I was parked, this is a parking lot is it not?"
"Well, I don;t have time for this, I can't call the cops."
I looked at my bumper. Screw it.
"Yeah, fine." I agreed, it was just a scratch, I didn't have time either.
"IT WASN'T MY FAULT" she yelled.
"Yes, It was, and I DON'T CARE." I yelled back. I was at the point of patience where I just wanted to take her teeth out and throw them at her. " Can you please move your car? I have to get my stroller out."

I then realized that if I had been behind my car getting my stroller out, I might not have legs anymore. And it was too much. Between the stress of moving, my stolen wallet, AOL, and post partum hormones, I lost it. And I started crying in the parking lot.
"I didn't see you back there, you shouldn't drive such a small car." She said with the right amount of smug in her elephant driving voice.
"SHUT UP YOU BITCH. YOU JUST HIT MY CAR AND I HAVE AN INFANT IN THERE." I was screaming, but I was crying, so I sounded crazy. Like.....Jesse Spano crazy.

She looked me like I had just thrown her teeth at her, got in her car and I guess drove away.
This is going to be a good story for her to tell her friends. I just gave her like 10 minutes of entertainment at any holiday party, the crazy crying girl with the tiny car.

See Tom Cruise? I do need drugs.
You f'ing moron.

Oh Crappy Day...

2005-12-07T12:33:00.000-08:00

I'm giving up.
It's only 3:30, but I'm giving up.

I woke up this morning before Isaac did, so I ran downstairs to get an orange.
Well, I got red instead.

I stepped on a piece of glass in the kitchen.
I should have known then, stay in bed.

So, after I wobbled my way back upstairs, fed Isaac, and bathed him, we got dressed, and left the house.

I stopped at Walgreen to buy a bow. I wanted to go down
to the ocean and take some pictures of Isaac for our Christmas/ Hanukkah ( Hanu-mas) card. ( I know, I know, it's almost the middle of December, and I'm just thinking about this, wanna hear something even worse? I cheat on my taxes, now you really have something to scoff at.)
Ok, so anyway, as we were leaving walgreens, I took Isaac out of his stroller, bent down and put him in my clown car ( READ= 2 door Saturn, my parents didn't love me enough to buy me the other two doors). As I backed out of my car, I saw some shady looking guy standing being Isaac's stroller.
what's this howdy-doodie-mother-fella doing? I wondered.

"Oh. Sorry." he mumbled, and walked away.
Creep. I thought. But as I put Isaac's stroller in my trunk, I thought...I'm missing something. I felt, lighter....

We went to the beach, and turned right back around when it started raining.
I got home, unloaded the car, and realized why I felt like I was missing something.
I was.
My wallet.
That son of beesting took it.

I had it on the back of Isaac's stroller, and didn't even think about it.
I thought of all the things I had in there, that I might need....
"license, insurance card, Isaac's insurance card,my credit cards, my precious Neiman Marcus card, a coupon for free popcorn at Target..."
then I thought of all the things I want...
"A letter from my friend Kelly from high school, a letter about my real mom, pictures, a coupon for free popcorn at Target."

I had enough.
I started to cry, Isaac started to cry...It was a disaster
I did what any grown woman would do.
I sat on the floor and ate some cheese while singing "This little piggy to Isaac"
Don't laugh, it was good cheese.

So I called Lee, told him, called my mom, whined to her, called my credit card company, told them, and then called Neiman Marcus and met the biggest bitch I have ever talked to, maybe.

"Neiman Marcus credit options, how may I help you?"
"Hi, I um, well, I had my wallet stolen this morning, so I want to close my card, but I haven't used it since March, and my balance is at zero, so I'm not sure if it's even still open, can you check?"

Now, I know this was a lot to handle, but I assumed she could do it. I assumed wrong.
"What?" She asked brilliantly.
I explained it to her again, she typed away and said this.
"You live in Florida."
"yes"
"We have a Neiman Marcus in Boca Raton."
".....I know, do I have to go there to do this?"
"No, I was just telling you. Why is your credit line at zero? Do you not want to shop with us for a certain reason?"
As on cue, Isaac started to cry.
"haha, hear that? That's my reason"
"So you just have your card for show?"
"Excuse me?"
Was she calling me a credit fraud?
"You really don't use your card."
"NO, I use it plenty, too much, even. I just haven't used it since March, because I haven't worked since then."
"I'm just going to close your card. I doubt they'll send you another since you chose not to shop with us anymore."
"NO I....You know what? Fine, what's your name?"
"Thank you for calling Neiman Marcus, have a Happy Holiday.

Oh I sure will, I'm just not sure about Isaac.....

Is that my ass or a butterball turkey?

2005-12-04T12:20:00.000-08:00

ALRIGHT!

I get it, it's time to work off the baby weight.
I did a very good job of losing every last pound, and quickly I may add.
However, I'm still squishy.
I still have bingo arms.

BINGO ARMS?

Yes, hear me out. When I was MUCH younger, like 7 or 9, I used to go to Bingo with my grandma on Saturday nights, (hate the bingo, love the grandma)Anyway, I was surrounded by elderly women who wore earrings made of crafts, and shirts decorated with puffy paint, women who would play fifteen bingo cards at a time, keep up with all of them and still have time to talk about the lottery, women who brought their own personalized bingo markers. Once a game, some innocent woman's dream would come true when she could raise her arms up in the arm, wave them wildly and yell , " BINGO!!! BINGO!!"
Now...See those skin flaps waving wildly underneath the arm? Those fleshy curtains are called bingo arms.

And I've made it my goal to lose them.

On Wednesday, I started doing yoga again. Not really again, since I've never done yoga before, but I think that's a really chic thing to say ( "I've recently begun doing yoga again")
On weekdays, at six in the morning there is a great yoga show called, "Inhale". There's snag number one in my "lose the baby squishy"plan. My sleep is precious. I'm not getting up earlier than I need to. Thanks to modern day inventions, my cable box records it for me.

Back to the plan. So... After Isaac woke up, and I did a few things around the house, I felt ready to dive right into yoga. How hard could it really be? I'm flexible, I've danced professionally for more than 19 years of my life, this should be easy.

Looking back on it, I started with a sucker in my mouth. That was probably mistake number one. Got it, no more suckers. So, I was totally into it, and during commercial breaks, I jump roped. ( I know, how serious am I?) After about 35 minutes of yoga/jump roping, I realized that the towel I was using as a yoga mat was sticking to me.

Gross, that's how sweaty I was. But it was fun. I can't find time to get to the gym, consistently, I needed this sweaty grossness. I need a steel toe boot to kick me in the bee-hind and get me into motion.

Lee, Isaac and I are making a trip to New Orleans for the first time since we moved in May.
So, I have to work my tiny tushie off to get back into shape.
This way, when I get off the plane, someone, anyone can say, "Wow, you look great"
and I can say, "What? This ? Please" and shimmy away.

The only problem is that my thighs, abs and arms are on fire since my yoga stunt. I'm going to take it a little easier tomorrow. I'm not the nimble little minx that I used to be.

For once, I'm serious

2005-12-01T08:13:00.000-08:00

More than 25 million people have died of AIDS since 1981.

Africa has 12 million AIDS orphans.

By December 2005 women accounted for 46% of all adults living with HIV worldwide, and for 57% in sub-Saharan Africa.

Young people (15-24 years old) account for half of all new HIV infections worldwide - more than 6,000 become infected with HIV every day.

Of the 6.5 million people in developing and transitional countries who need life-saving AIDS drugs, only 1 million are receiving them.

In the US...

It is thought that more than one million people are living with HIV in the USA and that more than half a million have died after developing AIDS.

At the end of 2004, the CDC estimates that 415,193 people were living with AIDS in the USA

Of these,
35% were white
43% were black
20% were Hispanic
1% were of other race/ethnicity.

Of the adults and adolescents with AIDS,

77% were men.

Of these men,
58% were men who had sex with men (MSM)
21% were injection drug users (IDU)
11% were exposed through heterosexual contact
8% were both MSM and IDU.

Of the 93,566 adult and adolescent women with AIDS,
64% were exposed through heterosexual contact
34% were exposed through injection drug use.

More than half a million people diagnosed with AIDS have died in the USA. Nearly three-quarters of these people did not live to the age of 45.

In 2004, the age group 35-44 years accounted for an estimated 34% of HIV diagnoses, 39% of AIDS diagnoses, and 37% of deaths of people diagnosed with AIDS.

( Taken from http://www.avert.org/ )

December 1, is World AIDS Day.
Stop AIDS. Keep the Promise.

AIDS was never a real disease to me, as ignorant as that sounds.

Other people contract AIDS, I thought, people in third world countries, or people who use dirty needles.

I was wrong.

AIDS is a disease that doesn't discriminate. You can contract AIDS vaginal sex, anal sex and even oral sex.

It's not picky, it's rampant, and it's deadly.

Earlier this year I lost a friend to AIDS, and I didn't have to.
There are ways to prevent contracting the disease.

AIDS isn't picky,

so you should be.

ALWAYS use protection. Get tested.

Testing is anonymous.

Don't wait until you, or a loved one is affected, because, according to the statistics, someone you know already has the HIV virus or has progressed into full blown AIDS.

Its real.

Its here.

do something.

Listen Lady....

2005-11-22T09:07:00.000-08:00

With Thanksgiving just a few days away, and my family on there way to visit right now, and the thought of 13 people at one dinner, I've got a lot to do.

Yesterday I was running around getting things done.
I stopped at a store to buy some fruit for Lee, and used my credit card to purchase it.

On the back of my credit card, instead of signing, I wrote, "Check ID".
Normally, no one even looks at this, which makes me really excited for the inevitable time my credit card gets stolen or lost. I'm sure the person who takes it will have no problem stocking up on Twinkies, tube socks, cheap beer, a slinky and plenty of naked lady lighters, or ...whatever it is that credit card thieves buy when they steal credit cards.

But oddly, yesterday, the cashier looked at the back of my card, and asked to see my ID.
Whenever I get carded, I gladly hand it on over with a stupid smile.

"This isn't you." She growled, and as a side note, this lady was old. Very old, she looked like she could have died three days ago.

"Um.....what?" I asked. Was she kidding? Granted, I know I look like an escaped felon in my liscense picture, but I just took the picture in June when I moved here.

"This picture...doesn't look anything like you."
"Um....yes it does."
"Does not"
"Uh-huh!"

The lady behind me chimed in, "Look, she just had a baby, I'm sure she looks different."
I glanced at Isaac. He had almost his whole fist in his mouth and a pretty obvious booger hanging out of one nostril.
Thanks for the help son.

Besides, I don't know what her reasoning behind that was, it's not like my face was pregnant.

"Ok, I don't have any other form of photo identification, are you going to sell it to me or not?"
If I were using someone elses card and ID ....I definitely wouldn't be using it to buy 7 dollars worth of fruit.

I'd use it to buy lots of naked lady lighters.

"Ok" She scanned my card through," but next time bring in your real ID"

"Ok, I'll bring my real ID, and you bring your real teeth."

I can't wait to go back tommorrow.

Yes Ma'am

2005-11-20T16:58:00.000-08:00

Lee and I went to get our haircuts this weekend.

Ugh, as usual, I don't want to talk about the outcome, however, I made a huge discovery.

"I think Lisa should be my friend." I told Lee when we got home.
(Lisa being our hairdresser)

"She can be your friend. " Lee answered back, but was looking at me like I had four boobs.

*sigh* " I want her to be my friend because she says stuff like, 'Oh you are so funny' and then stops cutting hair, holds her chest and finishes laughing." I tried to explain. "I want her to be my friend, follow me around and tell me how funny I am. Everyone wants a friend who tells them how funny she is, or how pretty she is, or, 'Oh Kathleen, you look so skinny today, you should eat more chocolate today."

"You don't want a friend, you want a "yes man"

"Fine, when I get famous, I want a yes man to follow me around, or a yes woman, I'm not sexist, someone to wash my hair every morning like they do in the salon, and a wipes warmer in every bathroom." ( we have a wipe warmer for Isaac, and I....am a little jealous to be frank)

"uh huh" Lee answered back. I knew he was now wondering about those four boobs I mentioned earlier.

Four boobs and a wipe warmer.

Yes Ma'am

Here I go again on my own

2005-11-17T06:52:00.000-08:00

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