Blogging Blah Blah Blah

Sorry for the infrequent posting, folks. It's ironic that when all is going well and I am very happy with the way my life is going, that I have very little to say. I post on holidays and about the kids and an occasional news story, but otherwise I'm not posting at all . Therefore, I'm taking a break from blogging again. I still read blogs every day (see my links on the left), but I'm too involved in real-life activities and no longer feel the need to sort my emotions online.

I'll even give you a general update in all areas of my life, one last time.

R and I are doing very, very well. I know I posted about thinking about breaking up with him a few weeks ago, but things have been sorted out for the better since then. Plus I was also finally able to let go of some negative emotions toward him that I had harbored for a long time. That's definitely a good thing and very freeing for me.

The girls are doing very well in school and in their after-school activities. They seem happy, healthy and well adjusted. I am very lucky. Girl Socuts is going well for both of them and Lauren is playing basketball now.

I've slowed down on the bellydancing for the past few weeks - I've been busy with other things, plus I broke one of my smaller toes, so dancing on it has been out of the question for a while. But I'll get back into it after the holidays.

Work is going very well - I've been given more responsibilites and was a stand-in supervisor while my boss was on vacation last week (more by default than anything else), but I got a personal email from the president of the company thanking my for a my diligence on some stuff, so that's good .

I've been more involved in practicing Wicca recently. Wicca has been my belief system for the past 19 years, but I haven't been very diligent in meditating, learning herbology and geology and performing rituals and such. I've studied and gathered knowledge here and there over the years and have found great local resources for various things. I've also gotten over a few fears in this area - ten years ago, when my mother called herself a "witch," it used to make me cringe, just because of the negative connotations associated with it. But now I call myself a witch with no shadows of negative feelings at all. I also think that Wicca and paganism are much more accepted in general now, in no small part due to shows like Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Charmed, Harry Potter, and the various cartoons and such that feature pagan characters and ideas. I'm still not "out of the broom closet" in a few areas - at work and in Scouts - but that's not out of embarassment on my part, but fear that other people's ignorance will lead to negative judgements of me and impact my life in ways that would be unwelcomed. Overall, I am looking forward to delving further into my spiritual path and seeing what new revelations it brings.

That has been my life in a nutshell for the past few weeks. Hopefully, all aspects will continue as they have been.

Happy holidays to you and yours!

I've Been Everywhere, Man...

Well, mostly in the South, Southwest and the coasts.



create your own visited states map

And honestly, I have no interest in visiting the mid-west, except Montana and South Dakota.

Here are the countries I've visited - doesn't look like too much like this, does it?



create your own visited countries map

I once asked my dad where all he had been with PsyOps and Special Forces while serving in the Army and presented a map. He looked at me and grinned but wouldn't tell me anything (it was classified). Then I asked him to point to a continent he HADN'T been to. He looked at me and grinned again. I looked at him incredulously and said, "You've been to Antartica?!?!" He smiled again and said, "We refeuled there once." And walked away.

My dad is Joe Cool.

Happy Veteran's Day

Thank you, James (my grandfather, above), Dad, R, and all the veterans out there (including me! :)

You all make this world a better place.

The Day After

Blogger died when I tried to post the rest of this so I'll try this again... (I have no idea why this is showing up as a hyperlink either)
Lauren has been studying Ancient Civilizations in her Gifted and Talented Language Arts class, so she wanted to be Cleopatra for Halloween (this is after deciding against a goth teen and Princess Leia), so we did some research and I made this costume for her. The cartouche on her belt even says in "Lauren" in hieroglyphics.

Thank Isis for sewing machines and hot glue guns.

Since I am a big dork and like to do themed Halloween stuff, I was a Cleopatra's Mummy. (get it? har har har)
Ashyn, on the other hand, always bucks the trend. Last year we were vampires and she was a witch. This year, we were Egyptian and she was Elizabethan (and rather rumpled after running around on the playground at school).

But I was still her Mummy.

We went traipsing around the neighborhood with my close friend and her three boys and they got lots of loot and were very happy. One enterprising dance instructor even dropped her business card into their bags along with some candy.

It was fun, but... ugh, my feet hurt.

Happy Samhain!

Bright Blessings in the new year!

Sunday Funnies

Regardless of your political leanings, this article about Doonesbury is well worth the read.

Wow.

Flattery will get you everywhere

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Ah, Fall. The time of year when we rake leaves, eat pumpkin pie, make scarecrows and dress like hookers on Halloween. It's my favorite time of year. At least until the first snow fall turns everything into a dazzling crystalline world of beauty. THAT is my favorite time of year. For about 8 hours. Until it gets really cold, and I am miserable until March. Until the first daffodils peak out of the snow. Then Spring is my favorite time of year. Until it gets really hot and I get to relax on the beach. Then Summer is my favorite time of year.

So instead of diagnosing myself with SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), I am hereby diagnosing myself with SID (Seasonal Infidelity Disorder) - I'm just not loyal to any one season.

Goofing Off

Thanks for the private sentiments, folks.

All is well - just had a bad weekend, but I'm having a great week.

And thanks to Wombat, I've been keeping myself entertained at work with this today.

I may be a simpleton, but gawd, that's funny.

Little Bit o' This... a Little Bit o' That

My weekend was... interesting.

Here it is in a nutshell:

Friday - Seriously considered dumping boyfriend.
Saturday - Performed at Fells Point Fun Festival in a Nor'easter (cold and pouring rain - which is not so fun after all).
Sunday - Semi-reconciled with boyfriend, but he is skating on thin ice.

As you can see, my weekend was so-so.

The last couple days have been better - no kiddos this week (joint custody rocks!) , bosses are at a convention, and no frantic rehearsal schedule. So I can screw off at work AND at home with no repercussions. Word.

Plus the Starbucks by my house just opened AND has drive-thru, which I hit up making my leisurely way to work at 9:30 this morning.

That makes Misha a happy girl.

No Applause, Just Throw Money

I have been up since waaaaaaaaaaay before the asscrack of dawn. Three AM to be exact.

Why?

Because I was on TV this morning.

Shaking my shit. (mouse over and click the link, then go to the right frame and click on the video dated 10/02/06. I'm the tall one on the right in red with gold coins.)

In 50 degree weather.

Brrr

Show time was 5am, but we didn't actually shoot until 7. Then another station shot us at 7:30, then the first station shot us again at 8.

Then I got to go home, scrub my face, get my children dressed and take them to daycare (schools are closed because of Yom Kippur) and drag my tired, non-jingly ass into work.

*yaaaaaawn*

Time for a Meme or two

I stole these from Lunasea.

Three Things
Three things that scare me:
1:	Serious illness in my family
2:	Hurricanes
3:	Swerving cars
Three people who make me laugh:
1:	R
2:	Andrea
3:	Brian
Three Things I love:
1:	My family
2:	Getting in touch with old friends
3:	Bellydance costumes
Three Things I hate:
1:	Stupid People
2:	Hypocrisy
3:	Cruelty
Three things I don't understand:
1:	Most languages
2:	Japanese culture
3:	my 5 y/o when she's whining and talking at the same time
Three things on my desk:
1:	lots of tea
2:	lots of electronic parts
3:	lots of papers
Three things I'm doing right now:
1:	Goofing off
2:	Taking This Survey
3:	Thinking about lunch
Three things I want to do before I die:
1:	Learn to garden
2:	Write a published book
3:	Travel around the world
Three things I can do:
1:	Write
2:	Sew
3:	Dance
Three ways to describe my personality:
1:	Goofy
2:	Sarcastic
3:	Giving
Three things I can't do:
1:	Get rid of this dang sinus infection
2:	Drink enough caffeine
3:	Ride a bike A Survey * . . About You . . * Hair Color:: Dark brown Height:: 5'9" Favorite Color:: Midnight blue Screen Name:: Misha Favorite Band:: I have many. Right now... Frou Frou Favorite Movie:: Practical Magic Favorite Show:: House Your Car:: Ford Taurus Your Hometown:: Fort Pierce Your Present Town:: Baltimore Your Crushes First Name:: Rob Your Style:: Jeans, cute top and sandals * . . Have You Ever . . * Sat on your rooftop?: Yes Kissed someone in the rain?: Yes Danced in a public place?: Yes Smiled for no reason?: Yes Laughed so hard you cried?: Yes Peed your pants after age 8?: Yes Written a song?: No Sang to someone for no reason?: Yes Performed on a stage?: Yes Talked to someone you don't know?: Yes Gone out of your way to befriend someone?: Yes Made out in a theatre?: Yes Gone roller skating since 8th grade?: Yes Been in love?: Yes * . . Who was the last person to . . * Say HI to you?: Wayne (guy I work with) Tell you, I love you?: Rob Kiss you?: Rob Hug you?: Ashlyn Tell you BYE?: Lauren and Ashlyn Write you a note?: Mom Take your photo?: some guy downtown Call your cell phone?: Jenny Buy you something?: MiaNaja Go with you to the movies?: Lauren and Ashlyn Sing to you?: Ashlyn Write a poem about you?: Uh... dont' know if that has ever been done Text message you?: Rob Touch you?: Ashlyn * . . What's the last . . * Time you laughed?: Today Time you cried?: a few months ago, I think. I don't turn on the waterworks very often. Movie you watched?: Constantine Joke you told?: What do you call a dead blonde in a closet? Last year's Hide and Seek contest winner. Song you've sang?: Complicated Time you've looked at the clock?: 11:30 Drink you've had?: Mediocre Coffee Number you've dialed?: Rob Book you've read?: Shadows and Light by Anne Bishop Food you've eaten?: Strawberry Poptart Flavor of gum chewed?: Uh... Juicy fruit, I think. Been a long time. Shoes you've worn?: sandals Store you've been in?: Kmart Thing you've said?: asking a co-worker about whether or not to add a part to a bill of materials for field repairs so our circuit boards don't get broken. * . . Can You . . * Write with both hands?: Yes, but not very well Whistle?: Yes Blow a bubble?: Yes Roll your tounge in a circle?: Yes Cross your eyes?: Yes Touch your tounge to your nose?: No Dance?: Yes Gleek?: Yes Stay up a whole night without sleep?: Yes Speak a different language?: Yes Impersonate someone?: Yes Prank call people?: Why would I want to do that? Make a card pyramid?: Yes Cook anything?: Yes * . . Finish The Line . . * If i were a ...: rich man... ladeedadeedadeedada ladeedadeedadeedee I wish ...: I were independently wealthy So many people don't know that ...: there is a wonderful world out there I am ...: sleepy My heart is ...: content

Dance Dance Revolution

Thanks for all the b-day wishes, my bloggy babes! I <3 you!

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What is it about Fall that makes me want to bake? I have totally restocked my baking goodies and in the last week I've made Apricot-Pecan Cinnamon Rolls (sooo yummy that they were nummy), chocolate cupcakes, and banana nut bread (with apricots and cranberries). I am munching on the banana nut bread now with a cup of joe. Mmmmmmmmmm

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Started American Tribal Style (ATS) bellydance classes this weekend. I have been fascinated by that style since I saw my first FatChanceBellyDance video about 8 years ago. Here is a perfect comparison of Cabaret and Tribal written by my bestest bud Trelina:

"The movements are more-or-less the same, the arms and posture are more proud and stiff than in Cabaret but, that's not the difficult part. Here's the thing, in Cabaret, the movements tend to be smaller and faster. In Tribal, they're a bit bigger but... its muuuuch slower -"Snakey" is the word that comes to mind."

Couldn't have said it better myself. :) BUT... the slower movements require more stamina and muscle control. My shoulders were burning by the end of class, but it was soooooo cool. I'm almost finished making a fringe belt and am planning on making a coin bra for a tribal costume.

*watch Misha rub her greedy little costuming paws together*

Wheeeeeeeee!

You say it's your birthday? Well, it's my birthday , too!

Hello, my blog darlings (all 5 of you)!

Today I am another year older and officially in my mid-30s.

34

Boooooo

But, I guess aging is better than the alternative.

(think about it... I'll wait)

So Happy Birthday to me!

All I want for my birthday is chocolate cupcakes. Which I am making tonight.

Oh, this cool brown anniversary-edition coffee cup from Starbucks because it has a mermaid on it. And maybe the Post Secret book. :)

Superhero Kid

My company picnic was yesterday. It was at one of my boss' houses - and he has an in-ground diving pool. There were several children at the party and most of them (including my two, who both had swimming lessons all summer and are strong swimmers) were hanging around in or by the side of the pool. Ashlyn was in the shallow end floating on an intertube and Lauren was sitting on the side of the pool with her feet in the dangling in the water, chatting with other girls her age.

My boss and I were standing talking about 100 feet away when we noticed a commotion in the pool. An older child (about 13) was in the middle of the pool, where the water was deep and over her head. She was flailing and alternately sinking and gasping for air.

He and I started running - me jumping down 2 tiers of landscaping and him running along the grass. As I was running, I saw two kids - one in the pool pulling the drowning girl along, and one crouching at the edge of the pool, reaching for her arms. By the time we reached the pool, the girl was sitting safely on the side of the pool, coughing and catching her breath.

I looked down and saw Lauren treading water by the girl, calm as could be, asking the coughing girl if she was ok.

MY NINE YEAR-OLD was the child that jumped in, pulled her up to the surface, and then towed her to safety.

Lauren later told me that she was sitting on the side of the pool and saw her friend drowning, so, without thinking, she dove in and grabbed the girl by the waist and pulled her up to the surface. The girl was panicking and kept pushing Lauren's head underwater, but Lauren kept going and hauled her over the side of the pool and helped push her out of the pool while another little girl helped pull her out.

I am amazed that my daughter knew what to do instinctually, acted without hesitation, without even calling for help,and stayed calm through-out the whole thing.

It's humbling to be awestruck by your own child.

Erotica

I've been writing about mounting studs and nuts and screwing for the past 4 days.

Am I writing a new series of erotica? An anonymous sex blog? Letters to Penthouse? Noooo.

I am writing about how to replace a membrane keypad on an electronics unit.

Sexy.

You Give Me Fever

Lauren has been sick this week - nothing major, just a cold, but she's been running a low-grade fever the whole time and can't breathe thru her nose at all, which is making her really uncomfortable. She stayed home with R on Tuesday but now her fever is gone and she is acting normally, but still congested and has a lower appetite than usual. I always know when she's truly sick because she doesn't eat. Normally she eats like a horse - she'd eat 24 hours a day if I let her. She was up at 5am this morning, saying she had a bad dream, but honestly I think she woke up because she couldn't breathe well. Poor baby.

In the mean time, I'm desperately trying to keep every one else in the house from getting sick because a sick boyfriend and a sick 5 year-old whining at the same time would make me contemplate climbing up a clock tower and thinning out the neighborhood.

Just kidding.

Maybe.

I'm plying Ashlyn with Vitamin C and zinc and having her wash her hands on a super frequent basis. Thank god for Coldeeze lollipops. So far it's working - no runny nose or fever in sight.

When Lauren has a fever, it always makes me go into hyper-vigilant mode because both my girls had episodes as toddlers with fevers that required trips to the ER - Ashlyn had a febrile seizure (which is pretty common, but very scary to witness) and Lauren had a high fever.

How high?

105.9

One-tenth of a degree below brain death.

This is when I learned that even ER staff freak out when they see that high of a temp on a 2 year-old. I also learned that it IS ok to double dose a child with Tylenol and Motrin at the same time to keep her temp down... to keep it from killing her. This is also when I learned that getting a chest x-ray (they wanted to check her for bacterial pneumonia) of a squirming, feverish toddler is very similar to torture with medieval devices because they put her in a plastic tube to keep her still. THAT was fun.

Fortunately, it turned out that she just had a secondary ear infection.

Why was it a "secondary" infection you ask? Because I had taken her to the ER two weeks BEFORE THAT because she had an ear infection (and a throat infection and the stomach flu ALL AT THE SAME TIME) and had been treated with anti-biotics then and she seemed to be well. But looks can be deceiving, because apparently the anti-biotics weren't strong enough because that damn ear-infection hung around and popped up again 2 weeks later with the FEVER FROM HELL. (That was a really fun month, I tell ya. My then-husband was stationed in Korea, too, so I was dealing with this all by myself.)

Funny thing is, those were the only ear infections she ever got.

But, man, were they doozies.

And to counter that last post...

This quiz restores my faith in myself (like horoscopes, I only believe in them when they are convenient).

And yes, I'm smiling smugly.

You Are Bad Girl Sexy

Girl, you are nothing but trouble. And that's hot. You've got the classic bad girl sexiness mojo going on. And your badass attitude makes men fear you - and crave you. Don't give into people who say to tone it down. You're perfect as is.

What Kind of Sexy Are You?

I'm a Domestic Goddess... and a Nerd

R and I had a nice, quiet weekend alone. We went to the movies on Friday and saw Superman Returns. Saturday I went shopping and Sunday we went and got hair cuts (mine was just trimmed), went out to eat and went to Best Buy and got another cable modem for the desktop downstairs.

Wow, how thrilling was that to read?

Have I settled into domestic bliss and forsaken my flirtatious clubbing days? Maybe. I used to want to go clubbing so that I could dance for hours as an outlet for my excess energy (because I am usually PUMPED UP on Fridays after work). But now that I am dancing 2-3 days a week for bellydancing, I no longer feel the urge to sweat my ass off at a club while trying to fend off drunk guys.

You know what was the highlight of my weekend (besides spending time with my honey)? Buying a new sewing machine. But at least I was sewing bellydance costumes and wasn't making curtains or something.

I'm a domestic goddess AND a nerd. Woooooooo. Sexy, eh? Not so much.

Yes, I can sew. And cook. And decorate cakes. I can make household repairs and run the grill all by myself. I'm not even scared of bugs. And because of my job field, I am quite astute technically, as well. I install and hookup and troubleshoot all things technical in the household. Not that R can't do it, but he has little patience for such things.

In truth, the only reason I need a man around is for entertainment value because, I have learned one absolute truth over the years as an adult.

Vibrators, my dear readers, can't mow the lawn.

Or open pickle jars.

Whew - I'm glad that's over

It's been busy busy busy here in Mishaland.

I had my last Brownie function last night - at a moonbounce place. There was a huge slide, a large moonbounce, a boxing ring, and an obstacle course, plus air hockey. I joined in on the fun and played on all the equipment because I am 9 years old at heart. The slide was pretty steep and fun. The obstacle course was... not good for adults over 5'6" because the obstacles were like this: /\/\/\/\. Squeezing up and down thru there just about killed me - I was racing my daughter. The moonbounce was really fun and running around it in circles was like a combination of running in the water and running in on the surface of the moon - you had to push off really hard using your thighs, but then you went flying. Must be why they call it a moon bounce, eh? I'm so smart it kills me.

*****************************

Speaking of energy and kids... have I ever mentioned before that my older daughter has ADHD? Well, she got it from me. I didn't realize I had it until she was diagnosed, which happens in most cases. When she was tested, she came back as being more on the hyper-active side than on the attention-deficit side, which surprised me. I've always known that I had a short attention span, but now that I notice my behaviors in my own life, I think I'm more on the hyper-active side, too. For example: in dance class, we will go thru a choreography a dozen times and we will all be sweaty and tired, but I will still jump up and down in place, waiting for the next go round. When the kids have some kind of physical activity, I always participate with them instead of sitting on the sidelines with the other parents - be it sports, dancing, just running around playing, swimming, etc. Part of the reason is because I want to be INVOLVED in their lives, not just watching from the sidelines, but still. I'm not in super-good shape, either. If I were to make an honest assesment of myself, I could stand to lose 10-15 pounds. I'm not a couch potato, but I don't work out. I just have ALOT of pent-up energy. I never really thought of myself as hyper-active, but compared to the other adults in my age-group, I guess I am. huh

*****************************

I ran my last round of training this morning to my company's sales team. It went well and now all the preparation and setup tasks that I've been working on for the last couple weeks are done and I can get back to my regular goof-off schedule. I'm typing in my blog and scarfing chocolate birthday cake as I speak, and I have the last book in a 3-book series to read later this afternoon. Ahhhh. This is more like it.

Of course, I'd rather be home napping or laying around the community pool (well, floating in the pool with my eyes just above the water like a hippopatamus would be more accurate) because it's one of the jungle-hot days here - the heat index is at a balmy 97 degrees.

*****************************

I am working on a "20 Things I Hate" post because I was tagged by Nikkilicious. You beeyotch. Now I have to come up with 20 things I hate. Hmm. It's funny because I'm so laid back, I rarely take time to obsess about I don't like, so I may have trouble coming up with 20 things. But on the other hand, I may get annoyed and pissed off as I write so I may end up with more than 20. I guess we'll see. I'll be posting it soon. Maybe.

******************************

And last but never least:

Farewell, Charlie. I will miss reading your take on life.

Be well, my friend.

Dinner Down Undah

R and I went out to eat with an Australian couple that he knows from work.

They were great - really friendly and outgoing. We talked for hours and I have learned 3 things:

1. Even tho Australia is a very laid back place and has good weather, I will never live in Australia. Australia is even more expensive than Maryland and they tax the SHIT out of you.

2. Love of The Simpsons by the male part of the species is universal.

3. Swear words are a lot more amusing to hear when it is said with an Aussie accent: to wit, deeeckhead and wankah.

Goldilocks and the Bear

This is too funny:

WEST VANCOUVER, British Columbia (AP) -- It was a real-life version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears -- only in reverse -- when a woman came home to find a young bear eating oatmeal in her kitchen.

The bear apparently entered through an open sliding glass door, broke a ceramic food container and started eating, West Vancouver police Sgt. Paul Skelton said.

"It sounds like a nursery rhyme, doesn't it?" Skelton said. "At least we have a health-conscious bear on our hands."

Three police officers who went to the home Thursday couldn't get the bear to budge, so authorities let the animal finish its meal.

"The bear didn't appear to be aggressive and wasn't destroying the house, so they just let it do what it was doing and eventually the bear decided to make its way out of the residence and down toward a forested gully," Skelton said. "It ended the best it could."

Skelton said bears in the suburbs north of Vancouver have been coming out of hibernation as hungry as ever but later than usual but this spring because of a heavier than normal snowpack from the winter. The report Thursday was one of six complaints police said they received about bears in the area that day.

Murphy's Laws of Bellydance

Ok, here it is (keep your pants on, Nikki):

Our performance in the bellydance show went pretty well. There were some minor goofs, but nothing major. This is a minor miracle in itself, considering there were 16 of us crowded on a tiny stage.

No one fell or turned the wrong way. No one smacked anyone else with their arm movements - we were in a chorus line, so that was a very real possibility. In fact, I scratched a lady on her face in rehearsal last week. Whoopsie.

My friend's hip scarf got tangled with another dancer's hip scarf during a turn and when they turned the other way, they both got jerked back to the center until the offending coins popped off their scarves. When it happened, my friend blurted "Oh SHIT!" which then prompted the girl in front of her to check and make sure her fake ponytail didn't fall off in the turn.

The girl behind me was nervous and even tho she knew the choreography, she wasn't 100% percent comfortable with it, so she kept double-checking the steps with me in a low whisper a 4-count ahead of time, so I was smiling and talking to her thru my teeth thru the whole thing.

I goofed a little, too. I did a shimmy walk for 4 counts instead of a camel, but corrected myself on the next turn, but I was so far to stage right that I was almost in the wings because we were arranged tallest to shortest from the outside in, and I'm the tallest, so I doubt at least half the audience could even see me anyway.

But these flaws were minor - I doubt anyone noticed much because the stage was full and we were staggered.

A few of the other performances went awry - the music was cut off or the wrong song was played. One girl was dancing a SPECTACULAR tribal-style dance and was in the middle of a back-bend (they take ALOT of strength to maintain because you're moving so slowly) when her legs gave out and she landed flat on her back. The audience sounded like the crowds at the Olympics: "WooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOO... OOOOHHHHHHhhhhhh!!" Ouch. But she recovered well and continued her dance, performing several more back bends without a hitch. She was awesome.

Performing with that many people is always bound to be fraught with errors, but it's mostly only the performers themselves that know anything is wrong in the first place.

Overall, it was a pretty cool experience. I wasn't nervous at all, for some reason. I was excited, but I think I was more nervous about getting ready and looking good than the actual performance. I think I've been humiliated too many times with important things to be concerned about messing up in a dance show.

Speaking of looking good, I don't have any pictures to show anyone yet. It was really dark in the theater, so most people's pictures came out dark and blurry. I'll try to locate some and I'll post them later.

The afterparty was entertaining. I ended up only have one mixed-drink because it was a long day and I still had to drive home. But I have a new word for you, my dear readers:

LOLLICOCK (a large phallus-shaped lollipop brandished by a fellow dancer after quite a few margaritas - the funny thing is, she sells them. Mostly to gay guys. heh)

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And on another dance note, I am now a co-writer on a new Bellydance blog titled:

Bellydancer's Blog (original, ain't it?)

So swing on by and give a shout!

Close Encounters of the Deer Kind

I'm posting an oldy from my archives because I am crazy busy, but I didn't want you all to think I had forgotten about you. Smooches!

*****************************************

I love all things in nature, except for mosquitoes and roaches. But the brazen deer around here get on my damn nerves. And I'm not even a gardener.

A couple of years ago, I was driving thru suburbia, on a dark residential road. All of a sudden, I see two little shiny objects floating in the air in front of my car that look, strangely enough, like eyeballs. I realize, because I am smart, that this is one big friggin' dog that I'm about to hit. Then I recognize a cute little bambi tail and it sinks in that this a DEER, not dog. So I think semi-quickly and swerve towards it's cute little ass, because - according to the local lore - this is the proper procedure to avoid hitting said deer because twitchy, dumbass deer keep running in the same direction as when you first scared the shit out of it with your headlights. Therefore it theorectically should not run back into the middle of the road that you are swerving across. So I swerve and the tricky bastard scampers off into the woods - after causing me much alarm and rubber on the road.

But what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a SECOND tricky little bastard deer! (because deer travel in gaggles to avoid bad deer hoodlums in suburbia.) This second deer ran smack into the side of my car, splatting mud and deer hair all over my car! (I could also swear I heard it say the deer version of "Holy shit!" and then "OOOF" when it ran into my car.) THEN it decides to get the hell out of the road because roads were apparently built for these weird smelly things called cars, not for deer traveling in gaggles, so it SCRAMBLES OVER MY CAR (denting the trim and breaking off the side view mirror) and into the woods beyond, where the original tricky deer bastard is waiting in the shadows. I'm sure they set about roaming freely thru suburbia once again, eating everyone's gardens.

Yes folks, I was the victim of a literal hit and run.

And to top it all off, MY insurance goes up because I had an animal collision.

Shake your groove thang, baby!

My bellydance class is having its hafla (student performance) next Saturday. I'm very excited about my first performance (as an adult. I used to bellydance with my mom's troupe when I was a kid).

But somehow, this hafla has morphed from a student performance into a gala show with THIRTY-FIVE performances that will last 3 1/2 hours.

Then all the performers are suposed to go out to a local restaurant/bar afterward, still in performance makeup and rhinestones, covered in glitter.

The othe male customers are either going to:

A. Think they died and went to heaven

or

B. Died and went to hell, surrounded by drag queens.

They Never Learn...

(aka Women are Vindictive Bitches)

Why are men so prone to getting caught cheating (and making it on CNN) ?

And why are women so vindictive about the men who cheat on them?

Now, we all know women cheat about as much as men. But men seem to lick their wounds and get over it. Women, on the other hand, usually want to RUIN THE CHEATER'S LIFE.

Exhibit A:

Granted, this fucktard looks none-too-bright, if you ask me. And impersonating a U.S. Marshal probably isn't the smartest thing he's ever done, either. But his "girlfriend" was notified by a former "girlfriend" that he wasn't who she thought he was. But instead of dumping the dumb bastard, she contacted his wife, then networked with his other former "girlfriends" online, started a website, AND contacted the U.S. Marshal Service!

Exhibit B:
Speaking of websites, there is a new website that has gained national press. What's it called? Don't Date Him, Girl. A website for outing your cheating ex-boyfriend for all the world to see.

Or better yet, Exhibit C:
How about just going straight to the source and ripping off his "franks and beans," like a Philly woman did her to husband because she thought he was cheating? But guess again... he wasn't cheating.

Yes, most of these men are dumb sonsofbitches, but I don't really think they deserved to be publicly (or physically) eviscerated.

I'm sure these women would have crucified these men if there had been large crosses and some Roman soldiers handy.

And what does this say about the women who do the eviscerating? Would any man want to date such a vindictive psycho? I think not.

In my honest opinion, I think it all comes down to competition. Men may be more competitive when it comes to sports and jobs, but women are FAR more competitive when it comes to love, sex, and other women. They want to WIN. And if they don't, some women feel that any revenge is justified.

We all know there is far more to cheating than just the sex - cheating, especially in a marriage where complications abound, is a symptom of a much greater disease. But if you can't or don't want to deal with the cheater, just breakup with/divorce him, give yourself some time to deal with it and move on. Because after you breakup, he's not your problem anymore.

Why go to such great lengths to destroy his life?

Is it an "if I can't have him, then no one will" mentality?

I really am at a loss for such extreme behavior.

What do other women think on this subject? What do the men think?

And for the record, I've cheated (on one person with one person, ever), I've been cheated on, AND I've been the recipient of one of these psychotic bitch's stalking, and none of them are pretty.

*Update*

Now this is a healthy way to deal with it. Thanks, Sven.

I need more three day weekends

I had a great weekend. Went shopping, went to the beach, went to the movies, cooked out, took naps... it was very nice. I feel refreshed and renewed.

I hope all of you had a nice weekend and spent it doing things you enjoy.

As for me, I think I need another nap.

Just call me Melly

Inspired by Trouble's post on nicknames, here is the history of nicknames in my life:

My family referred to me by my normal name for most of my life. But sometimes my family called me Shelly (I seem to remember a Squid and a Squirrel being thrown into the mix by my dad every once in a while, too). In fact, in fourth grade, I moved to Florida (the first of three moves there) and there was already a girl in my class with my normal name, so my name became Shelly that year. It took me a while to get used to it.

It also morphed into several variations there of. My grandmother came up with Shelly Bean. That is my fave, just because it's cute.

Other nicknames over the years:
Mitch (yuck)
Misha (ta-dah!)
Jake (based of my former last name)

My sister and I had fun coming up with nicknames for each other.

To make fun of each other without make-up:

Me: John Cougar Mellencamp (due to shoulder length cut with a bad perm thrown on top in 7th grade)
Her: Dee Snider or Angus Young


But my favorite all time nicknames are based off the Little Rascals:

Me: Stanky (I had some stinky stinky feet when I was 13-14, probably because I never wore socks with my Keds.)

What was hers?

Fuckwheat.

I Can't Get No... Job Satisfaction

I apologize for the light posting the last couple of weeks - I've had quite a few deadlines at work. One big one is met, one keeps changing, and a few other urgent ones pop up in between. Joy.

For those of you who don't know, I am a technical writer. (Yes, I know you're choking in your caffeinated beverage right now - I know it' a scary thought to know that I write for a paycheck after reading my blog.) I write software manuals , and yes my docs are like the ones you get with a new computer or PC component/device (see, I broke out the technical jargon on you), but you, the end-user, would never see my technical prose. It's for corporate customers only. But I would LOVE to write for a gaming company. How cool would it be to write:

In 2E 864, the Redguards of Hammerfell rose in rebellion against the Imperial administration of Provincial Governor Amiel Richton. The Restless League, led by Cyrus and Iszara -- brother-and-sister agents of the province's hereditary rulers -- destroyed the Imperial fleet in Stros M'Kai harbor and routed the Legion garrison. With Admiral Richton dead, and Stros M'Kai in rebel hands, Emperor Tiber Septim was forced to sue for peace on terms favorable to Hammerfell. (from the Codex of The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion)

as opposed to:

This equipment has been tested and found to comply with the limits for a Class A digital device, pursuant to Part 15 of the FCC Rules. These limits are designed to provide reasonable protection against harmful interference when the equipment is operated in a commercial environment. This equipment generates, uses, and can radiate radio frequency energy and, if not installed and used in accordance with the instruction manual, may cause harmful interference to radio communications. Operation of this equipment in a residential area is likely to cause harmful interference in which case the user will be required to correct the interference at his own expense. (From the installation document I am currently working on.)

(Stop drooling and stabbing yourself in the eyeballs from boredom... I'm done.)

If I worked for a gaming company, I could live in a fantasy world LEGITIMATELY instead of it being considered SCREWING OFF. Of course, no ones knows I screw off as much as I do because all my work is correct and done on time. But still...

So excuse me while I wipe up the drool from my keyboard and get back to formatting.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Golddigga

In the car this morning:

Me: (singing badly) I ain't saying she's a golddigga, but she ain't messin' with no broke n****s...
Lauren: Mom, what's a golddigger?
Me: Uh...
Ashlyn: (being helpful) If she's a golddigger, she's a PIRATE!!

(DUH!)

She looks so sweet and innocent in this picture. Hopefully, she won't be a golddigga.



If she does this a few more times (kindergarten, elementary, middle, high school and college), then she won't be.



Sing it, Kanye!

Dear Mama

My extended Mother's Day:

Monday, May 8th: my Brownie troop gave me a peace plant and a card. Awwww.

Friday: The girls gave me cards and a necklace and flowers - that they made a couple hours earlier. They couldn't wait until Sunday.

Saturday: R took us all out to dinner.

Sunday: I woke up to Lauren declaring that they had let me sleep in for 2 hours and 23 minutes (it was 9:23 am) and that it was time to get up and eat the breakfast they made for me:



(read: a paper plate with Reeces Puff Cereal on one half and and Strawberry Frosted Mini-wheats on the other with a cold left-over pig in a blanket plopped in the middle with a glass of milk) YUMMY! Then they stood there and watched while I choked down a few Reeces Puffs and said, "MMMMMMMMMMMMM! This is so good! Thank you SOOOOOOOO much!" They were so pleased with themselves. It was so cute. Ashlyn asked me for the rest of the day if I had eaten all of it and I said of course I had! (ahem)

I am totally dreading losing my sweet, eager-to-please little girls to teen angst.

Our original plan was to have a picnic outside (we usually do on Mother's Day) after Lauren's soccer game, but the ex got the soccer fields confused and by the time we figured out where we were supposed to be, it was raining. So we trekked back home and had a picnic on the living room floor instead with sandwiches and chips and cookies and fresh roses from the only bush I haven't killed with my Black Thumb of Doom. Plants beware!

Speaking of plants, I sent my own mom a gardenia bush for Mother's Day - it's her favorite.

I realize I haven't written much about my mom on here, except a few mentions here and there. Sometimes I don't know what to say about her. I think I will leave my thoughts on her to a forthcoming post.

I hope Trouble, Nikki, Cinn, Virenda, Lena and CMHL had a happy Mom's Day!

Breakup Babe

It's here! The Breakup Babe book is here!

This is THE first blog I stumbled upon, many moons ago. I was so enraptured by the Babe's breakup, relationship recovery, and dating ups and downs that I read thru more than a year's worth of archives in 2 days. I could totally empathize and laugh along with the various man-happenings in her life. Plus, she's even a tech writer for a software company, like yours truly.

Now the book based on her blog is available thru Amazon.com! Yay!

Little known fact: this blog is the blog that inspired me to start my own blog.

(How many times can I put the word "blog" into a sentence?! Three! Three times! Moowhahaha!)

So go now! Reserve your copy today!

Ah... That's Better

Well, my internet at home is still down. While it is highly annoying, it has also been kinda cool because I have my boyfriend all to myself with no distractions because the exhusband has my girls this week.

I played hooky from work yesterday, so R and I slept late, watched tv, and hung out all day long... naked. It was great. No where to go, no place to be, nothing pressing to deal with. Aaaahhh.

We finally got our rears in gear and went to the 10 PM showing of Mission Impossible 3. Nothing very original, plot-wise, but it had some breath-taking special effects.

It's back to the grind today - I'm back at work and R has to work the next 3 nights in a row. So we're back to only seeing each other for a couple hours a day until Saturday. Booooo

But our little mini-vacation was just what we needed.

Who needs Calgon?!

Be vewy vewy quiet... we're hunting the puwple faiwie!

I'm tired and grouchy today because I got no sleep and got into an argument with R this morning. Add to that, it is Monday and chilly and raining. And to top it all off, my internet connection was down at home ALL WEEKEND LONG and is STILL down.

Excuse me while I foam at the mouth for a while.

*drool snort howl convulse drool*

Ok, that's a little better. On with the story.

*********************

Many a child has wondered.. what do fairies do? I found out this weekend.

Fairies traipse thru the woods. Tra la la la

Fairies chase bubbles (while Fairie Mama runs around them snapping pictures).

Fairies plop down in the middle of a field to swill lemonade and fairie punch and devour french fries and blooming onions that will result in very stinky fairie poots later that evening that make little fairies giggle while holding their noses.

Fairie mamas also inhale frozen mochas and welcome the brain freeze because a caffeine rush is so desperately needed.

Kind strangers take pictures of fairies while they are still and disheveled, yet unsuspecting (well, sort of).

Lastly little fairies get disappointed (while Fairie Mama is highly annoyed) when they can't find the purple fairie with big wings to give them a prize that was promised to them at the entrance gate by fairie employees. Grr.

And lo, what is this group holding signs next to the entrance after a quarter mile walk from the parking fields? Why, it's right wing religious zealot muggles protesting a Fairie Festival! Huzzah! What's that you say, kind sir? That I'm going to hell if my young daughters and I play dress up for a while? That is very rude, kind sir, to try to scare my children. And I tell you as much and make you feel ashamed, as you should have. Double Grr.

And little do you know, you would get your comeuppance later that day, for when we left, I spied that you had stepped into a magical fairy ring... of hostile adult fairies and police.

Twinkle twinke, baby.

Whassahappenin', hot stuff?

What to write... what to write...

Should I tell you about the bellydance workshop that R and I went to last weekend? That would end up being a yawn-inducing list of "first we did this... then we did that..." and without any of you actually having been there (with the exception of the faboo Trelina) and without pictures... nah. I will note that I saw a guy semi-belly dance for the first time. He was dressed as a Pharaoh and danced to "I Wanna Be a Bellydancer" by the Red Elvises (very cool) and could actually roll his belly. I was tres impressed.

Should I tell you that this weekend, my girls and I are taking a jaunt into faerie world at the Faeire Festival and I am a total dork because my girls and I dressing up, wings and all (and all at my urging because I never really matured beyond the age of 11)? I might even post pictures as evidence of my dorkiness, if I remember to take the camera and remember to take any pictures.

Should I tell you about my various cats over the years (inspired by reading Nikki's post about her cat yesterday) and the funny stuff they did? About my first cat, Munchkin, who ran across the street (that she was deathly afraid of) to fetch me because she just started going into labor and was totally panicking? Of course, she ended up having her kittens on my bed and then ate the placentas (she must be related to Tom Cruise). Or how about Calvin, who bitch-slapped a guy (that I didn't like but was out on a date with as a favor to a friend) who tried to kiss me? He died last year, at the ripe old age age of 16 (the cat, not the guy). But how would you like to be the guy who got shut down by some chick AND her cat? heh

Should I talk about my constant over-use of parenthetical phrases?

How about this post's title, which has nothing to do with anything I actually wrote about? Can you guess the movie from which it came and the character (not the main one) who said it? Here's a hint: the main character gets felt up by her gandma in a non-lascivious way.

That's got you thinking, doesn't it?

Charlotte's Web

I was surfing Amazon.com looking for books that my 9 y/o daughter might enjoy this morning and I came across this review of Charlotte's Web.

This was my favorite book when I was about her age and I even named a stuffed animal "Wilbur." My Wilbur was a bear that had such short ears that it looked more like a hamster, but I loved him dearly, warts and all.

This review is just so touching and heartfelt, I had to share it.

*****************************

A spider upsets the bacon-makin', March 9, 2005

Reviewer:

Amanda Richards

I don't want you people getting all mushy, thinking this is a happy little children's story about loveable animals in a barn.

The character of the title is of course, a spider (you wouldn't expect any other creature to spin a web, now would you?). On closer examination, Charlotte is a rather big, hairy, spider - a barn spider, or garden orb web spider of the species Araneus Cavaticus. If I could show you a picture, you'd see that pretty as her web might be, and as good hearted as E. B. White makes her, she's quite horrid looking. Plus there's that whole capturing insects to drink their blood thing.

She starts out with the noble goal of saving the life of a little runty pig named Wilbur, and succeeds in making suckers out of the human population, obviously no geniuses themselves.

Then there's Fern, the little girl who makes like Pocahontas and stops her father from taking an axe to Wilbur just because he's a little stunted at birth. She remains a main character, considered slightly dotty, because she talks to the animals. She spends most of the story in the bottom of a barn, under the cow pens, next to the manure pile. Now there's a child destined to become a vet, or at least an animal psychiatrist.

The moral of the story is that if you want to eat ham or bacon, or bite into a nice juicy pork chop ever again, you'd better start getting rid of the spiders.

***********************

My only comment is this:

I need her recipe for pork chops because the only way mine ever come out "juicy" is when they are smothered in gravy.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm... gravy.

"You're going to a HOOKER bar?!"

"No no no. A HOOKAH bar."

What kind of girl do you think I am?!

The type of girl that - instead of frequenting hooker bars - would go some place to smoke up with a bunch of college kids and watch a half-nekkid girl dance to funky music?

Why yes, I AM that type of girl!

Besides, aren't "hooker bars" actually called "hotel bars located around convention centers" in polite society?

Sheesh.

A couple weeks ago, I wrangled my bestest bud and fellow bellydancers, Trelina, and her co-worker, Kristina, into going to a hookah bar to see a tribal-style bellydancer perform.

I'm not sure what I was expecting for my first hookah bar, exactly. I assumed this picture was of the "cool" seating, and there would be a bar on the opposite wall and assorted tables and chairs. Makes sense, since the place is called a hookah bar, so I was expecting an actual BAR.

Not so much.

The place was a hole in the wall. Really. See the long bench and few tables? That is about all there is, minus 2 small tables with wooden folding chairs on the opposite side. The whole place was about 40 feet long by about 15 feet wide. Hmm.

They had a small menu with a few beer and wine selections, but it was great food. The atmosphere was totally laid back and the wait staff was attentive and helpful. That was good.

The bellydancer was not-so-good. Being the whole reason I wanted to go, I was kinda disappointed. She was rather unprofessional - she came in and plunked down by her friends and smoked and talked and didn't start her show until HALF AN HOUR after the posted start time... (and that was only after I politely asked the waitress WHEN THE FUCK she was going to start her show). But she was a young college-age girl. Whaddayagonnado? Her dancing was ok as well. Good technique, but it was a little boring. She had no props - no zils, no veil, no sword... nothing to make anyone say "wow" besides horny college kids, which the place was full of. I'm sure she was an erotic goth-ish fantasy to them.

All that being said... smoking a hookah is pretty fucking cool.

The shisha (tobacco flavored with fruit molasses) was sweet and smooth and I even got a little buzz.

Of course, I'm not a smoker, so that may be why.

I found out there is another hookah bar that is much closer to my house (the place above was an hour away), and they have bellydancers, too. Woot!

I think I may have to buy a hookah to have at home, just so I can look as cool as this.

Yeah, baby.

Anyone know where I can get 3 pairs of those lovely lavender tasseled elf slippers so that I may look glam whilst puffing my pipe?

Bad Habits

I'm in a list type of mood this week, so here's another one.

Bad habits I need to work on:

~Capitulating to avoid a fight.
~Procrastination (when I really should be doing something, like at work)
~Laziness (when I really should be doing something, like at work)
~Daydreaming (when I really should be doing something, like at work. hmm.. I see a theme developing here)
~Worrying

Bad habits I have no plans to change:

~Drinking alot of caffeine
~Cursing (fuck you! :)
~Being lazy on weekends
~Daydreaming (any other time)
~Drinking occasionally
~Smoking occasionally


What are your bad habits?

Fucking A

First seen on Trouble's blog and just carrying thru a theme from Nikki, here is an article from Ben Stein as posted in the American Spectator on Tuesday.

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Dear Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, National Guard, Reservists, in Iraq, in the Middle East theater, in Afghanistan, in the area near Afghanistan, in any base anywhere in the world, and your families:

Let me tell you about why you guys own about 90 percent of the cojones in the whole world right now and should be damned happy with yourselves and damned proud of who you are. It was a dazzlingly hot day here in Rancho Mirage today. I did small errands like going to the bank to pay my mortgage, finding a new bed at a price I can afford, practicing driving with my new 5 wood, paying bills for about two hours.

I spoke for a long time to a woman who is going through a nasty child custody fight. I got e-mails from a woman who was fired today from her job for not paying attention. I read about multi-billion-dollar mergers in Europe, Asia, and the Mideast. I noticed how overweight I am, for the millionth time.

In other words, I did a lot of nothing. Like every other American who is not in the armed forces family, I basically just rearranged the deck chairs on the Titanic in my trivial, self-important, meaningless way.

Above all, I talked to a friend of more than forty-three years who told me he thought his life had no meaning because all he did was count his money.

And, friends in the armed forces, this is the story of all of America today. We are doing nothing but treading water while you guys carry on the life or death struggle against worldwide militant Islamic terrorism. Our lives are about nothing: paying bills, going to humdrum jobs, waiting until we can go to sleep and then do it all again. Our most vivid issues are trivia compared with what you do every day, every minute, every second.

Oprah Winfrey talks a lot about "meaning" in life. For her, "meaning" is dieting and then having her photo on the cover of her magazine every single month (surely a new world record for egomania ).This is not "meaning."

Meaning is doing for others. Meaning is risking your life for others. Meaning is putting your bodies and families' peace of mind on the line to defeat some of the most evil, sick killers the world has ever known. Meaning is leaving the comfort of home to fight to make sure that there still will be a home for your family and for your nation and for free men and women everywhere.

Look, soldiers and Marines and sailors and airmen and Coast Guardsmen, there are eight billion people in this world. The whole fate of this world turns on what you people, 1.4 million, more or less, do every day. The fate of mankind depends on what about 2/100 of one percent of the people in this world do every day -- and you are those people. And joining you is every policeman, fireman, and EMT in the country, also holding back the tide of chaos.

Do you know how important you are? Do you know how indispensable you are? Do you know how humbly grateful any of us who has a head on his shoulders is to you?

Do you know that if you never do another thing in your lives, you will always still be heroes? That we could live without Hollywood or Wall Street or the NFL, but we cannot live for a week without you?

We are on our knees to you and we bless and pray for you every moment.

And Oprah Winfrey, if she were a size two, would not have one millionth of your importance, and all of the Wall Street billionaires will never mean what the least of you do, and if Barry Bonds hit ninety home runs it would not mean as much as you going on one patrol or driving one truck to the Baghdad airport.

You are everything to us, as we go through our little days, and you are in the prayers of the nation and of every decent man and woman on the planet.

That's who you are and what you mean. I hope you know that.

Love, Ben Stein


************************

Rock on, Ben.

Horse's Ass

This is something I got in email a while ago and I found it interesting. It popped into my head today (I have no idea why) and I thought I'd share.

*******************************************

When you see a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, there are two big booster rockets attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These are Solid Rocket Boosters, or SRBs. The SRBs are made by Morton-Thiokol at their factory in Utah. The engineers who designed the SRBs might have preferred to make them a bit fatter, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site. The railroad line from the factory had to run through a tunnel in the mountains. The SRBs, therefore, had to fit through that tunnel. The tunnel is slightly wider than the railroad track. The US standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet, 8.5 inches. That's an exceedingly odd number.

Why was that gauge used? Because that's the way they built them in England, and the US railroads were built by English expatriates.

Why did the English build them like that? Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and that's the gauge they used.

Why did "they" use that gauge then? Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools that they used for building wagons, which used that wheel spacing.

Okay! Why did the wagons have that particular odd wheel spacing? Well, if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels would break on some of the old, long distance roads in England, because that's the spacing of the wheel ruts.

So who built those old rutted roads? The first long distance roads in Europe (including England) were built by Imperial Rome for their legions. The roads have been used ever since.

And the ruts in the roads? The initial ruts, which everyone else had to match for fear of destroying their wagon wheels, were first formed by Roman war chariots. Since the chariots were made for Imperial Rome, they were all alike in the matter of wheel spacing.

So the United States standard railroad gauge of 4 feet, 8.5 inches derives from the original specification for an Imperial Roman war chariot. Specifications and bureaucracies live forever. So the next time you are handed a specification and wonder what horse's ass came up with it, you may be exactly right, because the Imperial Roman war chariots were made just wide enough to accommodate the back ends of two war horses.

So, a major design feature of what is arguably the world's most advanced transportation system using Solid Rocket Boosters was determined over two thousand years ago by the width of two horse's behinds.


*************************************************


Now a disclaimer: I have no idea if this is true. It may be an urban legend, but it sounds plausible to me.

Then again, I may just be a horse's ass.

Little Known Facts

Yes, folks, it's time for a meme! For those of you that know me personally, you know alot of these, so just sit there and look pretty.

~ I have ADHD.
~ I am a Chinese linguist.
~ I can say "I love you" in 15 different languages.
~ I can pop my shoulders, wrists and hips out of joint at will.
~ I was legally blind in my left eye when I was little.
~ My pinky finger was severed when I was 2 (but it was sewn back on).
~ I've never been hospitalized for anything but childbirth.
~ I've been all over the world, but never to Canada or Mexico.
~ I am afraid of heights to the point that I get vertigo (I didn't discover this until I went to the Grand Canyon - talk about bad timing!).
~ I pierced my nose by myself when I was 13 (this was 1985, folks. I was alternative before alternative was cool)
~ I didn't start driving until I was 21.
~ My sister and I spoke a made-up language when we were teenagers (no, we aren't twins).
~ I've met and hung out with Bono (he's short) and the rest of U2.
~ I can take apart anything you put in front of me and put it back together in working order - and I mean ANYTHING from a circuit board to a crocheted bag.
~ I won a disco contest when I was 7.
~ I spent half my childhood in Germany.
~ I waddled in front of Yasser Arafat's motorcade when I was 9 months pregnant.
~ I've marched on Washington and ended up working security (totally not on purpose) in an abortion rights rally in 2004.
~ My sister and I sound identical on the phone.
~ I can't ride a bicycle.

What are your little known facts?

Selective Memory

I am so guilty of a typical "guy" thing.

I have a selective memory.

If what you are talking about isn't interesting or weird to me, chances are I am nodding politely and thinking about coffee.

And my rote memory skills? So so so bad. Unlike most girls I know that can throw arguments back into their boyfriends' faces months and even years afterward, I can NEVER remember conversations word for word. I can remember the gist of the conversation and how it made me feel but what was actually said? No clue (unless what was said was unexpected or funny).

I have a very-detail oriented job, so I make check lists and take copious notes so I have something to refer to. Circuit boards? Printer mechanisms? Software versions? Yawn. When someone at work starts babbling at me I always grab my notebook or open my email so I know what the hell they are talking about and I don't just give them a blank stare and start drooling. Because that would be really pretty and professional.

I think my brain likes to fuck with me. When I am trying to learn something new, I only seem to remember the action (or whatever) if it is different or stands out. Therefore, I mostly remember how to do things in the wrong way because that's what I remember.

Tie my shoes? backwards

(my right-handed mom tried to teach me how to tie my shoes for months. The time it stuck was when my left-handed dad showed me. Therefore, my bows are always upside down.)

Bellyroll? backwards

(no clue how I fucked this one up. But I did. It's not WRONG per se, but opposite of the way everyone else first learns.)

Play the finger cymbals? backwards

(instead of playing with one dominant hand, I alternate between my left and right hands being dominant, which makes it more difficult to change patterns when the music changes. So now I have to re-teach myself using a dominant hand.)

I'd be a spectacular brain in an alternate universe.

But as things are now...

I want coffee.

Labor of Love (really long post)

On March13th, 1997, I was one week from my due date, sitting at my desk at work.

My office was full of older middle-aged men and here I was, a 24 year old woman and 9 months pregnant. They were like a bunch of worried mother hens - it was quite cute and endearing. My supervisor (another middle-aged man) poked his head in my cube "Are you ok? Your water hasn't broken or anything, has it?" he jokingly asked. "Not yet, Wayne!" I shot back.

About an hour later, I felt the urge to pee YET AGAIN, so I waddled to the bathroom in the hall. When I pulled down my pants and panties, I noticed they were wet. Not much, but a little. Hmmm...

I knew this could be my water breaking... and I was having Braxton Hicks contractions, but I had been having those since I as 6 months along. I was still a week from my due date and this was my first baby... there was NO WAY I was going to be early. I decided to check again later.

(The day before I had wiped off what looked like a bunch of snot - with no blood. I had no idea this bloodfree mess was the "bloody show" and birth was imminent. I was a dumbass.)

So half an hour later, I checked. And they were even more wet than they were before - and I had dried them off and put on a panty-liner. Hmmm...

So I mosied up to Wayne's desk. "Uh, Wayne... I think I need to go. I think my water broke a little." He jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over. "Are you ok? Are you having labor pains?" I assured him I was fine and that I may be wrong, but I thought I needed to be checked out by my doctor anyway.

I called and met my husband at home. We called the hospital and told them what was going on and they told us to come in so they could check me. But since I felt perfectly fine, we took our sweet time. We straightened up the house. C did the dishes while I took a shower and shaved my legs. We finally hit the road and went to the hospital.

When we got there, I still felt fine. No labor pains, no more leaking than there was before. A nurse came in and put me on fetal heart monitor and a contraction monitor and did a litmus test to see if the fluid was just pee or amniotic fluid. He said he'd be back in a minute. My husband and I talked about what we were going to do for dinner that night, because I still felt perfectly fine and was expecting to be told to go home when the nurse came back.

Dumb. Ass.

The nurse came back in and smiled and said he hoped I brought my bag because we were having a baby! And I was indeed in labor - contractions were 3-5 minutes apart! I was dilated 2-3 cent. and 100% effaced! And since I didn't know how long my water had been broken and the chances of the infection increased exponentially as the minutes ticked by, I was being put on pitocyn (labor inducer/intensifier) and IV penicillin too!

Surprise!

You know all those shows where they show the mom walking the halls and taking a shower to ease the pains of labor? Yeah, I wasn't allowed to do that. But I didn't mind. I was comfortable. I was just sitting in the bed, hooked up to monitors and the IV, watching TV. I could feel the pressure from the contractions, and see my stomach tightening into a hard little ball every few minutes, but it still didn't hurt. I knew pitocyn was supposed to make your contractions 3 times as hard and more painful then normal, but it didn't seem to be hurting me. I didn't need pain meds. All those other women are wimps! This was easy!

A couple hours later, a doctor came in to check me and said I was 6 cent. dilated, but that the baby's heart rate was dropping a little with each contraction which is normal in most cases, but they wanted to put in a fetal scalp electrode to monitor her heartrate better. Ok! No problem!

The doctor bent over to insert the electrode and splllooooooooooooooosh - the rest of my water broke. All over him. (I peed on him when I was pushing later, too. Poor guy.)

And whhhhhhhhooooooooooooa nelly! Where the %&@%$#!!!!! did all this pain come from?

Apparently, the amniotic fluid CUSHIONS the contractions and when it is all gone, the pain takes over. And BOY did it take over.

I curled into a fetal position and clamped onto C's hand for dear life. I puffed and breathed for all I was worth. I clenched my teeth. I wimpered. And then I asked for an epidural. I puffed and breathed and clenched my teeth and wimpered some more. And some more.

Until FORTY-FIVE minutes passed.

FINALLY the anesthesiologist strolled in, with his little red cart in tow. Then the nurse announced that I was dilated to 10 cent., and the anesthesiologist strolled right back out. @&%$#!!!!

The nurse told me to sit up and push. I sat up and pushed as hard as I could. Right as I felt something tear, the nurse yelled at me to stop pushing and to try not to push anymore.

Then about 15 people ran into the room.

The baby was in distress - her heartrate plummeted from 140 bpm to 60 bpm when I pushed which only meant one thing... the cord was wrapped around her neck and each push made it tighter. She may be strangled to death by her own cord if they couldn't get her out immediately.
A nurse stuck her hand between my legs and held the baby's head in to relieve the pressure of the cord from around the baby's neck. The doctors tried to use the suction cup on her head to pull her out as I pushed, but it was too slick from my blood, so it wouldn't stay attached. Then they grabbed the forceps. Normally the doctors give you an episiotomy to accomodate the forceps, but I had already torn so much that they didn't need to. But as they inserted them into my vagina and around her head, I felt myself tear some more. They told me to push one more time while they pulled. They delivered her head and saw the cord was wrapped around her neck not once, but TWICE.

So they unwound the cord from around her neck and suctioned her mouth and nostrils and delivered her the rest of the way. But there was no crying from my baby. She was blue and limp. They carried her over to the incubator and started to work on her.

And, Thank God, she pinked right up and started wailing.

I have a picture of her with about 5 pairs of hands working on her - rubbing her down, listening to her heart, etc., and her little face is crinkled up and she looks PISSED. It's so cute.

I, on the other hand, was still a mess. I had a 3rd degree tear, meaning I had torn from the vaginal opening all the way up to my cervix and almost all the way thru the vaginal wall to my rectum. The forceps tore up the sides. I spent the next 45 minutes getting stitched up on a local anesthetic THAT NEVER TOOK EFFECT - I felt EVERY stitch.

THAT was fun.

But... all is well that ends well.

I found out there is such a thing called the "husband stitch" (ahem) and healed very well.

The baby, Lauren, was fine, minus a black eye from the forceps. She took to breastfeeding like a pig in a trough.

And the result is the lovely girl you see in the post below. She just turned nine on Monday.

She was worth every stitch.

Happy Birthday, Laurenia!

I was going to write Lauren's birth story for all the world to see, but it is rather long and gory and semi-scary. Suffice it to say she was blue.

But I'll post that another day and we can all share our birthing horror stories.

Today, I just want to say:

Happy 9th Birthday, Lauren!

Thank you for introducing me to how wonderful motherhood can be.

You are my heart of hearts.

Just call me Cheetah

This sounds like R and I, minus the hungry Congolese villagers.

Say, "Nacho Cheese Enchilada!!"

The whole time I was trying to take this picture, the three of us were giggling and I kept telling Lauren to close her mouth because she loves to leave it open like Fozzy Bear during photos for some weird reason and Ashlyn always makes googly eyes.

I was finally able to snap this one while Ashlyn and Lauren were both actually looking at the camera and smiling, but what you don't hear is Lauren saying, "Nacho cheese enchilada!" as I snapped.

I had just wiped ketchup off both their chins.

And neither one of them is wearing pants.

At least Lauren's mouth was closed.

I know it's a little fuzzy (took it with my phone), but I just love this picture of my girls, as much for what was going on "behind the scene" as in front of it.

A Craigslist Valentine's Day

I know I already spewed forth my venom about Valentine's Day a week ago
(which was quite nice, actually. R and I had a nice dinner, a movie and great sex.)

But this guy has it bad. I'd feel sorry for him if I wasn't laughing so hard.

8 things I hate about valentine's

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8) Lame message hearts. The only thing worse than feigning gratitude when you hand me three hearts with “Be Mine”, “You Stud”, “So Hot” is falsely complementing you on your third grade creativity. After that, I have the pleasure of choking down these delightful little confections that taste like a combination of elementary school chalk and baseball card chewing gum.

7) Overpriced Dinners. Thank you for bumping up your prices by $25 for the pleasure of eating your attempt at realizing your culinary dreams. Mmmmm… love that odd lemon/foot flavored cream sauce you doused on the new potatoes. Did you use dill on this flank steak you are passing off as veal? That makes you a real chef. This should go well with that moldy tasting boxed cabernet you’re serving at the reasonable price of $9 a glass. P.S. nobody likes FLAN!!

6) valentine Cards. Thanks sweety, I’m glad it took you 10 minutes to decide between the Whinny the Pooh card that said “You’re my Honey” and the Tiger Card that said “Your Terrifficccc!”. I want to poop on your head wasting 3 dollars.

5) DeBeers commercials. Oh DeBeers, You most bastards of the Belgium families. Congratulations on raping the people of South Africa, exporting all the wealth to Europe, and artificially inflating the price of diamonds by restricting the supply to the market. But why stop there you ask? You didn’t. You successfully launched a marketing campaign that has ever women in America believing that a not so rare carbon-carbon stone is the incarnation of love itself. Thanks for securing my dates disappointment when her gifts are wilted roses, dusty chocolates, and… an overpriced dinner. Diamonds are Forever?? Fuck You is Forever too you waffle-slinging assholes!!

4) That damn guy who goes overboard. Guess what dude, those years of being a neglectful father and husband or the affair you had with your coworker won’t be forgiven simply because you bought this girl a tennis bracelet, sent 100 roses to her work, and hired a wandering serenade for the night. The only thing your accomplishing is making the rest of us look bad. BTW- she’s sleeping with your best friend.

3) Valentine’s Night Sex. I just spent 4 hours pretending to enjoy the evening, I am half cocked on bad wine, and my stomach is turning because of that awful dinner and shitty candies. I am in no mood for athletics. It doesn’t help that my penis is on DEFCON 5 and about to blow any minute because you stopped having sex with me two weeks ago to make this night “special”. The most you can hope for is two minutes of awkward half pumps and that I don’t fart on you in my sleep as I try to digest all that nastiness.

2) Singles Parties. Hmm… two choices of girls here. The really drunk chick who wants to tell me about her shitty ex, or her fat friend who couldn’t get a date for the life of her. Hey Betty, here’s a tip, that bleach job you did for the hair on your upper lip glows underneath the black light. No I do not want to do a body shot off of you, you yeti.

1) Its my birthday god damn it. I either have to spend it with some needy girl who wants me to treat her like a princess, or all my bitter friends who don’t have a date for valentines day.