These are a few of my favorite things...

I recently watched The Sound of Music in its entirety for the first time in my life.  While I was most impressed with what attention whores those Von Trapp kids were (seriously it does not take 15 minutes of singing to say good night to a ball room full of statesmen) I did make a mental note to relish the little things that make me happy.  Such as....
1. The microwave at work tells me to enjoy my food when its done cooking it.  Its just a nice parting note. 
2. Seat warmers.  While I might live in a desert the scattered snow in the Valley today made me appreciate my butt warmers.
3. Holding my son on my hip and walking around but looking at him.  I love to watch him take everything in.  Its like he has never seen our couch and dogs before. 
4. Tylenol with hydrocodone to kill the ass of this thing that has been kicking mine since November.
5. Knitted scarves to keep me warm and warmer woolen mittens....

Part Dos

My PAP came back abnormal, which meant that my gynie nurse practitioner got to climb back into my cooter and perform a colposcopy. When they told me this was gonna happen they gave me a bunch of pamphlets to read. Believe me I was all over WebMD trying to find out what the hell.  Each pastel colored pamphlet was sprinkled with words like HPV and cervical cancer. And WebMD had links to Cervical Cancer and drawings of lady parts and various forms of HPV and Cervical Cancer. This scared the crappadapp out of me so I wasn’t so good on the reading AND comprehending. What I gathered was that the cells were so abnormal that no one thought I just had an infection. Apparently the cells they scraped off my cervix were so f-ed up that they wanted to BIOPSY them. WTF.

So the day of my big colposcopy had come and according to my paper work I was suppose to take some ibuprofen in order to reduce any discomfort. Out of immense fear of the procedure I took a Soma imported from Mexico. FYI – Soma is not a pain killer, it was only a muscle relaxer. Which is probably the only reason my gynie was able to get me fearsome knees apart. I must mention that I love my gynie nurse practitioner because she very calmly and very direct. She doesn’t sugar coat things or try and hug me. I know that we’re intimate, well I haven’t see her cooter, but we’re fairly intimate and she doesn’t try and force a friendship just cuz I let her in my wahyna every now and then. When we got down to business she wrenched my cooter open like a fucking garage door. She shoved a halogen lamp down there and started basting my cervix in vinegar. (No salad tossing comments here). She ended up identifying 4 areas of concern and snipped them out with what I can only imagine were little cuticle scissors! On lucky number 4 she dropped, kinda, but the edge of the specimen cup caught it. Yay! She sent the happy 4 chunks o’cervix to the lab and sent me home walking like I had a cardboard tube shoved up my wahyna . Oh, I forgot to mention the “Band Aid” they put on my cervix. It was described as mustard or Dijon mustard to more accurate looking. It would slough off in the next week. Eeeww. Well not as eeww as what slipped out of me about three days later. It would like Mr. Coffee hocked a brown loogie into the toilet. So a few days later I get the call that all is fine. Phew! Come back in 3 months for a follow up to make sure that everything is still on the up and up. Okey dokey ….see you in November! Wheeeeee!

Oh, it doesn't end there.  Why would it end there?  Silly.

How it began

This is a bit stream of consciousness and well, maybe not so entertaining, but this is my story. Fuck, its my blog so I don’t need to apologize if you don’t enjoy the writing style of this post. Click next if its so annoying. Can’t be more annoying then someone that clicks next because they can’t follow a frigging story…..

Anyways….

In October 2005, while on birth control, I didn’t get my period. I called the doctor and they said take a pee test, if nothing then take this progesterone to induce a period, no big deal. I tested negative as expected and took the little itty bitty pill for 10 days and got my period. Bought another pack for the next month and the same thing happened. I called the doctor’s office again and the nurse gave me the same protocol. I said, “Why am I taking a pill (The Pill) to make me have a period but it’s not working…????” The nurse was confused. Oh, and it’s not like this was over one phone call. Hell no, this was over a series of voice mails. When I finally spoke to a real live nurse she was the one confused. I explained that the only reason (or predominate reason at least) I was on birth control was to actually regulate my period. I did wonder why I was continuing to purchase birth control on a monthly basis if it wasn’t doing what it was intended to do. She said, “Oh that happens.” I wanted to yell in my overly dramatic Phantom of the Opera shrill voice, “Well until your stop these things from happening, these things do not happen!” But instead I made the arbitrary decision, like I do (see here), that I would just stop taking the damn thing. We were in the middle of planning our wedding so I, very logically, decided to stop purchasing my birth control and invest the $40 monthly co-pay into our wedding. That $160 savings paid for at least 2 dinners! Best laid plans my friend….

So fast forward to July 2006 and the wedding is over and we’ve forced everyone to view all 362 photos of our honeymoon, minus a few videos not for family consumption. I decide that after 9 months of no periods, oh that and my annual was suppose to happen in July, I would go see my favorite gynie nurse practitioner. We She discussed the birth control options while she scraaaaaped my cervix. I held my breath and focused on the ceiling. By the by, my gynie nurse practitioner has clouds covering her florescent light panels, it’s very relaxing. I completely forget that my insides are being scraped clean with metal instruments and instead think that I’m flying. So anyways, we were gonna try something new, but I was reluctant since it didn’t seem to do much good before. Unfortunately the big C (::cancer::) thing happened and no one cared to talk about birth control with me then.

More to come.....

I am becoming my parents

So now that Thanksgiving has come and gone we can move on to my most favoritest time of the year...CHRISTMAS!  I love pretty much everything about it.  And even though there is a ton of running around and never enough money or time, I still absolutely love it.  And as I begin to introduce The Boy to the holidays I realize that I am a bigger sap at heart than I previously realized.  I am crying at random silly things (like him looking at the light up Santa Snoopy at daycare) just like my Mom and attempting to hide it like my Dad.

Let the hustle, bustle and joy begin!

Fall into Winter in Phoenix means shades of green and color. Oh, and I have a baby bean.

Donde Esta

I am sure that all of the Internet is all a twitter wondering where I have been.  All two of you.  I've been writing, but I've started writing stuff that is personal and somewhat intimate (this is not a porn site, not intentionally at least).  I am nervous about how its written and what people might think once they read it.  All two of you.  So um.....anyways, I'm here.

I have made the arbitrary decision, like most of my decisions that I need more gay friends. I did not come to this decision due to some check list.


Female friends….check


Male friends….check


Black friends….check


Latin friends……check check check (I live in Arizona)

I actually decided this because of a great respect I have for gay people. I could not imagine something that is innate and a part of every fiber of my body such as my sexuality being something that I would be afraid of telling someone, especially my parents. I equate living a life that is out and open to being the purest form of living. I am so in awe of people who live an openly gay life. To be unapologetic for whom you are and to be that assure of yourself is just inspiring to me. (Don't go off about gay people should have to apologize blah blah blah.)

As I think I have established a few times here, I’m in therapy. I love therapy. It forces me to look at who I am for reals and not how someone else sees me. I can’t help but wonder if I had born gay, would the sheer act of having to accept me for me in order to get my parents to love me for who I was would have negated the whole therapy thing to begin with…..???

So I’ve decided that I need more openly gay friends. Hopefully their self assurance and acceptance of everyone else would rub off on my and be my new therapy.

It would be more fun and cheaper than therapy at least.

Sit and stay

I have become trained by Facebook.  I feel compelled to shout out things to people in the grocery store, people in the office and fellow drivers at stop lights in order to  update them to my status.

Like….sitting at a stop light when the gas light comes on I want to yell to the people next to me “Gas Light On!!!  Hope to make it to the gas station!”  As the weather cools down and more windows are open this urge is getting bigger.

Another example…..coming out of the bath room at the office I want to yell “The bathroom spray smells like eucalyptus, 67 Wild Flowers and shit!!” Not the best of ideas…

Or while sitting in my cubical I want to shout to the ceiling “I work with idiots” but then I remember where I am and that the Internet will not protect me from job loss.

I even feel the need to make my hand look like the hand cursor in order to "like" things.  No one thumbs up from me!  You sir get a cursor finger!

Fall Garden

One of the many pluses of living in Arizona is that there are 2, count'em 2, growing seasons.  So after some research, cuz that what I do, we planted our first garden.  Other than a half-assed attempt at basil on the window sill, I haven't grown something you can eat.  Hope our green beans, carrots and cucumbers actually grown and are edible.  I know, I'm asking a lot of my somewhat green thumb.

Mighty List

After reading about the Mighty Summit I found this and it is wonderful.  I will start my own!!

Its Friday afternoon and there is roughly an hour left of the work day. I have no big plans for the Friday night nor do I have big plans for the weekend, but I can’t WAIT TO GET OUT OF HERE! I’m literally entering the same information into the screen repeatedly in hopes of appearing like I’m doing something.




When they stop valuing what you do; you stop wanting to add value.

After my 29th birthday I gave myself the present to go to therapy. I knew that there was a discrepancy between the person I thought I was and the person people saw me as. The struggle between these personas eroded relationships in my family and tore apart friendships. It had taken its toll for years and I was finally ready to try and do something about.


I had been told by my mom, my sisters, my best friends, and that bitch self-talk that I am the reason for so many of these problems. If I just “got a better attitude” or if I didn’t “have such high expectations” or if I wasn’t so mean or angry or mad at whoever; then all would be ok. It was all somehow my fault. Three fucking years later I’m still being told that I have too high of expectations of people or that I’m angry or mean or mad or have a bad attitude. The thing about therapy is that it’s not an antibiotic that you take a course and what ails you is gone. It takes practice and reminders and implementation and reminders and practice. It also takes and a small core of people that see me as how I see me and reminds me that I’m not that horrible person that others make think I am. If you’ve ever been there you were probably surprised at whom that small group of people were. Surprising even more to me is that as my life has changed for the good that small group got smaller. It’s like some people didn’t want to deal with the real me, the one that was good. Did they like the one that was mean to people and a bitch and mouthy and hurt inside and cried when no one was around? To be fair though, I have rebuilt some friendships and I have strengthened others. I have the damn common sense now to see which relationships I should invest in and which I should let go…err……well, sometimes that is.

And sometimes I can mentally tell people to fuck off. I can say fuck you, fuck you and fuck you and especially fuck you, because if these people choose to see something that isn’t there because of their own issues than that’s their loss. Then they miss being part of my life. And I am fun! And I’m caring and thoughtful and funny. In fact, I can be fucking funny. (Ego isn’t a bad thing if you’ve never had one.)

Othertimes I don’t know how to let it go when friends and family that have been a part of my life and make me who I am have rejected me and don’t want to be a part of my life. And that’s how I feel when you don’t call me, seek me out, or have any general interest in my life. I feel rejected. I feel abandoned. Its probably not healthy but I never said I was done with therapy so get off my back.

Anyways……

Three years later, I struggle daily in keeping that person that I know I am to be in the forefront and not fall back into the person that people think I am. It is hard and it hurts and its work, a lot of work.

New found freedom....where?

So The Boy started crawling full speed.  He is pulling his little body up on everything and hitting his big ol'head into everything.  Its wonderfully terrifying.  The Husband made a comment the other day about having a new freedom now that the boy is crawling.  He didn't feel that he had to be in constant supervision of him.  Ahh, its like he got a little chuck of his life back......yay....

Is he kidding me?  I feel like I can't pee without coming back into the room to find him juggling knives with his hand in the DVD player and a toe in the electrical outlet.  And since everything goes into his mouth and we have two dogs, he has a constant goatee of slobber and hair.  His knees are either bright red from the crawling or black from the crawling.  I can't help but feel this intense need to mop every day but no intense energy to back it up.

Attempting my Photoshop skillz...eh???

So change it is acomin'.  I'm not sure how or when or where or pretty much anything about it other than this gut feeling that something has to give.  It started with complete boredom at work and has snowballed into a big pile of "I don't wanna" that has impacted all of my life.  But apparently apathy gives way to change right?

I was thinking school but don't know if I have the time to devote to a Master's program.  It might be a a physical change so we're getting a bootleg of the P90X program.  The Husband is totally excited about it and I'm just...well....please refer to the apathy above.  Its not that I'm not excited but I just wanna fast forward to the end of the 90 days.  To that point when everyone will be A-MAZED at the complete and total change in my body and how I can suddenly wear (and afford) Prada and Ann Taylor - not outlet! 

I'm making the effort in one area and I'm hoping like hell that the effort that I've made will work.  In the mean time I'm crossing all appendages in an effort to will all good fortune into the one proverbial basket of eggs I am waiting on.  So that I don't jinx its I'm not saying anything but say a little prayer with me Internet people that this works. 

Formal Complaint

Who do I have to kill to get more walnuts in my butternut squash ravioli lean cuisine?

Got Nothang

So I actually have time to sit down and write something witty and inspiring and noteworthy.

I got nuttin.

But that brings up a thought that I have been mulling over lately.  I am "friends" with the receptionist at my office on Facebook.  Its not that we have anything in common other than our employer, but she requested...anyways!!  Point is, she post things all the time and I know that it ain't English and it ain't Spanish.  Its like Ebonics but a higher level of Ebonics.  For example.....

"i liked the ice-cream we had last nite! lol.. i cant wait to receive ur invites their effin hilar! esp da girl 1's i cnt stop crackin up!btw i absolutely luv the purp dress-we have such good taste ;D"

The spell checker inside of me is having a minor fit and the curl of my upper lip and double roll of my eyes totally conveys my irritation at the complete hatchet job this post has done to the English language.  This is our future?  I mean I am all about expressing ones elves, but is there something wrong with expressing it on correct language???  Little caveat - I am not an English major or even close to it (Marketing woot woot) but that only proves that even an idiot with a Marketing degree can do a better job than this.  But wait, am I old and this is the cool young hip thing to do?  Did I miss the boat and now we just spell things phonetically? Is this laziness or evolution?

Watev...effit, this mofo is outtie! 

Stratergerize

So we're getting ready to take the first flight with The Boy.  I really feel the need to strategically plan the entire event to ensure that all aspects are properly handled.  I really don't want Southwest Airlines to think that my homemade squash baby food is some how a bomb or show up without the car seat. 

Asides from busting out the little army men to reenact the boarding of the plane and the subsequent unloading and car rental experience, I am super duper excited to get the big fat F out of here.  I haven't felt like I needed a vacation in so long. 

Without a Cape

It is strange how life continues after someone dies.  There is a surreal reminder, like a buzz in the back of your brain, that he is gone and will never (fill in the blank) again. 

My husband lost an old friend this week.  It was shocking to hear of his passing. Also, it was a reality check that we are mortal, Superman without a cape.  I believe my husband is plagued with thoughts of what he could have done differently, and I can't stop thinking about the family and what about his boys.  We move on with our daily lives, thankful that it wasn't either of us, but still with that buzz reminding that the world is a little less now.

But I did call my sister crying (hysterical I'll admit) with a message, if you are ever in that dark of a place in your life that ending is the only solution, call me.  I don't know what I will do, but I would rather try to do something than be the one left behind.

Sleep With One Eye Open

So life has been out of control busy. Work has blown up, much like it usually does, but this time I’m pretty much in the center ring juggling balls with a big fat smile on my face 'cuz everything is gonna be aww-rite! The Boy turned 5 months and started actual real live people food. I spent an entire Saturday morning making my homemade baby food in little ice cube trays, but now I need to make more. Apparently he likes to eat at every meal.  My sister bought a 100 year old HUD home that required daily phone calls about the purchase and the less than happy response from 50% of our parents. The day care arrangements we’ve had must change soon 'cuz I'm confused on a daily basis which house I'm going to.  In fact I almost just drove him to the office one morning.  I’m trying to figure that all out. We’re planning a vacation which will require flying with a baby. Have I mentioned that The Boy is our first?? I have no idea what I’m doing or when I’m doing it for that matter. My husband had out-patient surgery which left him unable to help out around the house for a little bit of time. Now I get random text complaints of his pains that ail him.  I’ve fought with pharmacy for drugs and consultants for answers. I’ve worked late nights at the office and early mornings with The Boy.   And I keep going....Sir may I have another?

This is nothing new. I KNOW! I just want a little sympathy every now and then. But I get asked, “Why haven’t you written on your blog? Are you bored with it?”

I will kill you in your sleep Juanito.

LOOKY HERE!

I have archives!  Holy shit!

I'm sorry?

The last thing you want to hear when your gynnie sits down in front of your propped up legs getting ready to do your PAP..."That's a bright green!"

Combo of fear/shock/disgust and then realization she meant my toe nail polish.  Yes, it is bright, isn't it?

Enjoy the Silence....

It's a quiet Sunday afternoon....for the most part.  I think my house is quiet, whispering would be the only form of talking permissible, but since everyone but me is napping that's not a problem.  There is the hum of the a/c which is a constant in the Valley of the Sun starting in like April/May and goes until October.  But that's the white noise of summer here, like crickets and cicadas are in other parts of the States.  The dryer is going so there is the muffled click and clack of little snaps and zippers from the baby clothes that are almost ready to be folded.  There is the rhythmic crank of the baby swing that will lull my baby to continue to sleep for hopefully another hour.  God bless the swing.  The occasional clicking my dog tow nails on the tile that is then followed by the grunts and groans of them finding a comfy spot to sleep....which is apparently my bed.

I have a hundred other things to be doing right now, but I'm tempted to join the dogs on my bed, while my husband naps on the couch.  Its not what I should do, but damn it feels good to be a gangsta.....

Friends

I have some really great friends.  They are supportive and funny and smart and most of them are always there when I need them.  Some have been around of years and others only a short while.  We make a point of being there for each other.  I could go on and on like those emails that everyone gets (and sends, admit it!) but that's not the point of this post.

I wasted a lot of my youth and my 20s using my best friends as  a form of counseling.  But as I have grown up and actually started paying for my counseling I find that some of my so-called-friends are fair weather.  Some are selfish.  Some need therapy as much as I do. 

So how do you handle friends that aren't who we want them to be?  If we sit back and allow them to be who they really are, what do we do when we're suddenly not a part of who their life.

Thoughts

If a meal is made from scratch is it better?  More elegant?  Higher quality?  So are my mac and cheese and peanut butter gourmet???

My aching bacon

This is a vicious cycle. I hurt. All over. 

I woke up this morning feeling like I had been beaten by big ugly ogres in the middle of the night AFTER drinking an entire bottle of 3 Buck Chuck. So natural deduction is that I had become sedentary after having The Boy. All of my muscle have atrophied and the simple act of moving hurts. So I assume that working out would alleviate this, right? Well how the fuck am I to get motivated to get into plank position and then downward dog when it fucking hurts to get up off the couch??? Riddle me that Fat Man. (Yes I know its Batman, but Fat man seemed more "punny"..heehee) BUT - I did it. I sounded like a fucking porn with all the heavy breathing on the floor and all but I queued up a yoga program on On-Demand and breathed my way through a pounding head and charlie horses in the arches of my feet. We'll see how it goes to night.

Bring it on ogre bitches!

Words words words...

I have been told by my therapist (and when he tells me things I try and listen since I pay him money to tell me things) that I put a lot of weight into words. And I know this to be true. I think that there is the right word to explain a lot of things. I just need to figure that word out. And I will tell you that you are wrong if I don’t think that you’ve used the right word. Its snotty probably. But I know this to be true.

Road trips…

I love road trips. I love the packing up and the anticipation of a new adventure. But mainly,I love the conversation you have on road trips. Its typically forced because the silence is ypically filled with tvs, cell phones, internet and other distractions. Road trips force you to stop and look around you and talk to the person next to you. I fell in love with my husband during a road trip so I might be partial. There are some people, though, that hate road trips. They want to get to point B in as little time as possible. I often wonder what they are hiding that could be found out on a road trip.

I also love to see some of the stuff that you would never see if you flew. We live in some beautiful country. Nature does some amazing things. Just when one stretch of road seems mundane, let the seasons change and there is something new. We drove a chunk of highway that we’ve driven numerous times before but usually in the dead of summer. This time, in the beautiful month of May, I saw 500 different shades of green while the trees were coming back to life. Breath taking.

But as this road trip winds down and we’re about an hour and a half away from our house that has our 2 dogs waiting patiently on our big, soft bed and my four month old is bawling his eyes out and making himself choke from crying so hard and my back feels like shit from sitting cramped in the back seat and the sun is pouring through the window and is baking the side of my face and I kinda have to pee but we're too close to stop now........I am thinking that we should look into the frequent flyer miles.

New Day New Perspective

From the moment my feet hit the ground in the morning I'm going. I feel like that Minute to Win It game when they have to keep all the balloons in the air, but instead of 60 seconds it's forever. I know that this is how it's suppose to be and I willingly signed up for this. I know that this is what thousands of women do, day in and day out. Sometimes it hits me and knocks me flat on my emotional ass. Last night was one of those nights. I'm sorry I take it out on you.

I'm No Expert But....

We have one of those Couple friends. You know those friends, where Party A or Party B of a set was friends with Party A or Party B of the other set prior to the coupulation. And now that we’re all paired up we must then be all friends together. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t be friends with my couple friends individually but there is usually a stronger bond with one party and not both. So anyways, my husband’s friend got married to a chick we’ll just call Poopy Pants for reasons we don’t really need to divulge here. So Poopy Pants has had many transitions of personal development in the few years that we’ve known her. She started off plain like oatmeal and then morphed into a Biker Chick (complete with the title of Old Lady)and then Mary Kay Lady (sample basket in the spare room) and now she Super Mom of 3. I have no problem with anything of this because she is relatively a nice person and has the best of intentions.

My beef is that she posts all the time on Facebook and she can’t spell. This might sound judgemental, but here is the part that gets me.....she has made the decision to home school her children. Yep, like chewing tin foil huh? She has decided that despite her lack of college education, she is the best option to mold her children’s minds. Despite years of training and education for teachers and knowledge of classroom management and early childhood development and learning methodologies she and her reasonably intelligent husband believe that she is the obvious choice for her providing the building blocks of intellect in their children. She doesn’t know the difference between there, their and they’re or you’re and your or allowed and aloud. So what else doesn't she know? Math? Science? HIstory? Oh, good Lord.

Now for her next persona....The Professor!

Paperclips

Why do you use so many office supplies? Why is it necessary to use whole stickies to protect the top of a rough draft letter from the possibility of marks left by paper clips. Why do you have to use 3 paperclips to hold together a 6 page document? Are the pages alive and need to be restrained?? Why do you require three 15 minute phone calls to 2 different people in order to draft a form letter? Just fill in the goddamn blanks like we told you to. You know that line that says ADDRESS? Well take a fucking leap of faith and put the ever-lovin’ address there.

Its only Monday and I should not want to kill you over your inability to keep a consistent font size until maybe Wednesday. We’re not expecting that you work miracles here, we’re just hoping for some remedial intelligence that would allow you to do the entry-level job you fucking get paid to do.

Getting It Out and Down

I’ve been contemplating writing a blog. So I started just perusing other blogs and found that apparently you can only have a blog if you’re a mother of a baby or toddler, scrapbook, knit, sew, crochet (pretty much any craft-like ability is acceptable as long as you display your talents on said web site) or want to share coupons. I guess I fall into anyone of these categories. But I decided that I want to write about something else. So the natural next question is what do you want to write about? I don’t know. Stuff. Stuff I think is funny. Someone else might find it funny too.

My first step is maybe just to write. Can I get my thoughts out of my head and into words and then get those words in to sentences and have it all come together to convey something to someone reading.

I don’t know but I’m gonna give it a shot. Let me know how I'm doing.

How It Began

I have some funny thoughts. I always feel the need to share them with people near me. This has gotten me into trouble many times. This has gotten me and the other person into trouble. Let us not talk about the infamous Thing One Thing Two shenanigans of 2001. Needless to say, I don’t learn my lesson. My therapist even says that I need to work on not saying everything out loud. So here I am contemplating a blog. I am pretty thickheaded.