tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71788582011-07-28T19:53:29.997-05:00The most venomous feminist – homey, she ain’t soft – you give her trouble, and she might cut your head off. Ice-T VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.comBlogger501100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-84821436825887018762008-06-18T11:47:00.002-05:002008-06-18T12:19:31.201-05:00

Being from California, I've always been fairly environmentally conscious; it's kind of impossible not to be in the SF Bay Area.Since moving to Texas, my habits have gradually changed for the worse. No curbside recycling in my city? Then I'm tossing cans and bottles in the trash. You say I can't recycle magazines and catalogs? Into the trash they go. It's hot outside (okay, it's always hot

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1135216994785335542005-12-21T19:58:00.000-06:002006-10-08T23:28:21.363-05:00

It really is the little things that brighten my day:Letting the Brat pick out her own clothes and sending her off to school in a white dress, purple sweater, tan lepoard print tights and pink cowboy boots.Cutting her PB&J sandwich into a heart shape, and hearing her tell her teachers that she asks me to do it that way because she loves me so much.Rolling up a newspaper to make a pretend horn and

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1135134520878295022005-12-20T20:49:00.000-06:002006-01-22T18:08:23.353-06:00

I hate to clean. Really, I do. But, I hate having a dirty, messy, cluttered house more than I hate to clean, so I'm constantly on the lookout for products/appliances that will enable me to simultaneously achieve my goals of having a clean/tidy home (or as clean and tidy as it can be with 2 kids and 2 cats) while minimizing the amount of time I spend cleaning In the past month, I've purchased a

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1131146453355205352005-11-04T17:08:00.000-06:002005-11-04T17:23:48.600-06:00

Admire these pictures of my kids:The Brat was a pink power ranger for Halloween, and the Runt was a cow. At 15.75 months, the Runt weighed in today at 20 lbs,12 oz and is 30.25 inches tall. This still puts him in the 5th percentile for weight, and around the 50th in height. The husband has gone back to offshore work, so I'm doing the single mom thing for a few weeks at a time. It has its good

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1124289856153939212005-08-17T09:38:00.000-05:002005-08-17T09:44:16.160-05:00

The depression is back. Things are generally okay at Casa K, but I'm just not invested; my patience is paper thin, and my anger is razor sharp. I want nothing more most days than to do nothing, feel nothing, just withdraw from life, from my family, from my job. It's only a matter of time before everyone around me starts suffering from the side effects of my unstable moods. And so again, I'll

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1122689266805008572005-07-29T20:54:00.000-05:002005-12-30T22:25:08.630-06:00

Just about this time one year ago, I arrived in the NICU nervous and excited. I had been told earlier that day that I would be able to take the Runt home that night. I had to take a pediatric CPR course before they'd discharge him from the NICU, and he had to pass his carseat test. When I arrived, the nurse told me that the Runt had failed his carseat test earlier, but they'd try again after

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1117851055200139442005-06-03T21:01:00.000-05:002005-06-03T21:10:55.200-05:00

That would be for "Suck Mom of the Year".The Husband is off taking his National Registry Test, so I'm home alone with the kiddos and the kitties. I had the Runt sweetly asleep (oh, the sweet curve of his cheek and the rosebud mouth) and the Brat was downstairs watching "The Incredibles" while I puttered around on-line and caught on the blogs I read (no long accessible at work. Damn firewall.).I

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1117245547108892312005-05-27T20:39:00.000-05:002005-05-27T20:59:07.113-05:00

Thanks to better living through modern chemistry, I have reemerged from the dark place I've been inhabiting for the last couple of months. It's been bad. Very, very bad. Depression has plagued me since my daughter was born; some times have been better than others, but it's always been there in the background. It's a time in my life, and a thing in my life, that I don't like to talk about much.

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1115947729535859482005-05-12T20:23:00.000-05:002005-05-12T20:28:49.540-05:00

Is the sound of me falling flat on my fat ass in my attempts to balance work/family/home. It's been a very busy few weeks with a visit from the in-laws from hell, too much going on at work, a chronically stuffy-nosed Runt, a cold for me, a stomach virus for the husband, and a very badly broken arm for the Brat. I'm stretched so thin and wound so tight that the slighest tremor is going to make

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1114051815128712032005-04-20T20:35:00.000-05:002005-04-20T21:50:15.130-05:00

Like many working moms, my life is a constant balancing act. I'm constantly trying to balance the needs of career, home, family, and my own personal needs. If the kids are sick, work suffers, but the housework gets done; If work is frantic, everything else suffers; If I spend my weekend doing activities with the kids, errands don't get run, laundry piles up, and groceries aren't bought. If I

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1113658376614798652005-04-16T08:16:00.000-05:002005-04-16T08:32:56.616-05:00

It's that time of year at Gignormo Corp; time to define your career objectives for the year. Last week I got an e-mail from my direct supervisor - we'll call her "Jane".To: VFFrom: JaneRE: Objectives_________________________Got any?Now, I had input my objectives into the handy-dandy software the previous week and hit send, so she should have gotten them. Confused, I logged back in to see if

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1113440621870751782005-04-13T19:54:00.000-05:002005-04-13T20:03:41.873-05:00

Hey! What's that? It's moving. I'm going to catch it. Here kitty, kitty, kitty.Aha! I got it!Ohh, soft. I'm so happy I caught it!Happy, happy, happy. Look, I can shake it up and down. Fun!Hey! I'm playing with that! Where are you going?!Waaaaaa! It's gone! Mean kitty! Bad kitty! Waaaaaa!There it is again. Gonna get it. Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Aha! Got it!Waaaaaa! Brat

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1110906915551473102005-03-15T11:08:00.000-06:002005-03-15T11:15:15.553-06:00

This morning the Brat came in to wake me up and request her morning yogurt. I asked for a hug, and she responded by saying "Do you want me to get in bed and snuggle, mommy?" Oh yes, I did. There are few better ways to wake up in the morning, and most of them involve caffeine. The Runt is 8 months old today. 8.Months.Old. I have no idea where the time has gone. He's up on all fours and

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1110906488775024782005-03-15T11:05:00.000-06:002005-03-15T11:08:08.776-06:00

In Houston today, a 6-month old baby will be taken off a respirator against the wishes of the child’s mother. The doctors caring for this child have diagnosed him with a condition called thanatophoric dysplasia, characterized by tiny lungs and a rib cage too small to support life. The doctor’s believe that as the child grows, he is slowly suffocating. The mother believed her baby needed more

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1110576961602813362005-03-11T15:33:00.000-06:002005-03-11T15:36:01.603-06:00

When my friends, some of whom are just now starting to have their first children, ask me what parenting books, etc. I recommend, my answer is always "none". I don't own any parenting books, and I don't plan on purchasing any anytime soon. The reason for this is simple, I think parenting books can have the effect of causing parents to doubt themselves more than they already do. I don't need a

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1109630242466193192005-02-28T16:34:00.000-06:002005-02-28T16:37:22.466-06:00

I’ve been following the saga of Terri Schiavo loosely since someone posted a link to the Terri’s Fight website on a message board almost 2 years ago. I’ll be up front – I strongly believe that each individual has the right to decide under what circumstances they want medical intervention to cease. In the absence of their written wishes (i.e. a durable power of attorney for health care – more

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1107738579180078222005-02-06T17:53:00.000-06:002006-01-07T03:09:25.003-06:00

I hate birthdays - well, only my own. It's not that I mind getting older, I don't. That's never really bothered me. My birthday has, and always will have, sad memories for me. My father was buried on my 23rd birthday. 2 years ago, I learned at my first prenatal appointment that the pregnancy was another blighted ovum, my 3rd miscarriage in the space of 4 years. Usually, I take the day

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1107571059672018472005-02-04T20:13:00.000-06:002005-02-04T20:37:39.673-06:00

That would describe the Runt as of today. He is now the proud owner of two teeny tiny ear tubes, inserted in a hole in each ear drum to help the accumulated snot and pus drain out of his ears, thereby (hopefully) preventing the re-occurence of further ear infections. Myringotomy is a fairly routine procedure (you can see a video here), but with anything that involves the use of general

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1107465614077213372005-02-03T15:19:00.000-06:002005-02-03T15:20:14.076-06:00

It’s been 13 years, and it seems like just yesterday. We knew it would be soon. You had been only semi-conscious for days, and it was evident your organs were failing. The hospice nurse had been by earlier in the day to set up the morphine pump so you wouldn’t be in any pain. It had been a long day with your family – wife, daughters, brothers, sister, mother-in-law - gathered around

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1106774242735154302005-01-26T15:15:00.000-06:002005-01-26T15:17:22.736-06:00

I can’t even begin to count how many words I’ve eaten in the 4+ years I’ve been a parent. There are so many things that I swore “no way, I’ll never do that” “not my kid” only to later have to sauté those words and choke them back down. I’d like these words deep fried, please, with some salt and some catsup on the side. Here they are: “Healthy mom and healthy baby is all that matters, how

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1105988730497649452005-01-17T13:49:00.000-06:002006-09-28T21:44:44.626-05:00

I'm seriously in a rut. I work, I come home, take care of the kids, go to bed, wake up and do it all over again the next day. On the weekends, I do housework, run errands, deal with the kids, and occasionally take the Brat for a playdate, or have her friend over. I'm bored. Bored with my job, my life, my hair, my clothes, my food, everything. And the worst part of it is, I don't have the

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1103150001997034352004-12-15T16:24:00.000-06:002004-12-15T16:33:21.996-06:00

What is it about this time of year that brings out the greed in people? I have gotten served with no less than 4, yes four, new lawsuits in just the last 3 days. As if I didn't already have enough to do . . . * * * * * * * * * * * * The Runt is 5 months old today. Where in THE hell has the time gone? * * * * * * * *

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1103063111662229492004-12-14T16:23:00.000-06:002004-12-14T16:25:11.663-06:00

I'll copy a few of my on-line friends and distract with pictures since I'm too busy to blog properly.

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1102534941149126152004-12-08T13:14:00.000-06:002004-12-08T13:42:21.150-06:00

Yesterday started out as a normal day. Get up at 5:30 a.m., feed the Runt, change the Runt, administer 248932043280 different medicines for the Runt's various ailments. Get coffee, get dressed, get clothes for the Brat. B: Mommy, I don't want to wear that. I want to wear a dress. VF: Just get dressed please. We need to leave. This is followed by much whining and bickering over what

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1099510094954946562004-11-03T13:00:00.000-06:002004-11-03T13:28:14.953-06:00

"To talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- Of cabbages--and kings-- And why the sea is boiling hot-- And whether pigs have wings." Work is kicking my ass right now, and I have too many disparate thoughts about things to form them into a cogent blog entry. Runt My poor boy has his second ear infection. He just finished up antibiotics for the first one on Friday, and it, or

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1099010168154833782004-10-28T19:02:00.000-05:002004-10-28T19:36:08.153-05:00

It's really hit home for me recently how incredibly lucky I am that I have two beautiful children, and just how close we came to losing the Runt. I also acutely realize that we still run the risk of losing him. HELLP is a serious illness, and the mortality rate is as high as 25%. It can, and does, come on very quickly and can have serious consequences for both the mother and baby. I am

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1097773460196992462004-10-14T11:46:00.000-05:002004-10-14T12:04:20.200-05:00

5:30 p.m. Get home and lug two children, one backpack, one diaperbag and breastpump bag into the house. In the rain. 5:45 to 6:30 p.m. Stick both children into the tub. Brat plays while Runt gets washed. Get Runt out of tub and into jammies, insert him into crib with mobile playing while I wash Brat. Take Brat downstairs, re-heat pizza and stick Shrek into DVD. Unload and re-load

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1096923293004988652004-10-04T15:49:00.000-05:002004-10-04T15:54:53.003-05:00

In the car Operator: 911. Do you need fire police or ambulance? VF (on cell phone): I need to report a traffic hazard. Operator: Transferring you to Houston Police. Operator: HPD. What's your emergency. VF: Um, yes, I'm travelling northbound on Highway XYZ, just south of exit R, and there are a bunch of cows on the side of the freeway. There must be a break in the fence and I'd hate

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1096149475562665282004-09-25T16:28:00.000-05:002004-09-25T16:57:55.563-05:00

September 26, 1998 started out as a rainy day. Since our wedding ceremony and reception were scheduled to take place on a sail boat, it was kind of a downer. We started out the day by cooking breakfast for all the friends we had invited to the wedding. The dinner with family was the night before, and we wanted everyone to have a chance to get acquainted before being confined together on a

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1096033697947623512004-09-24T08:41:00.000-05:002004-09-24T08:48:17.946-05:00

I found this in my e-mail today: schlimazel or shlimazel (SHLI-mah-zuhl) noun Someone prone to having extremely bad luck. [From Yiddish, from shlim (bad, wrong) + mazl (luck). A related term is Hebrew mazel tov (congratulations or best wishes).] A schlimazel can be concisely described as a born loser. No discussion of schlimazel could be complete without mentioning his counterpart:

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1095974228725874692004-09-23T15:55:00.000-05:002004-09-23T16:17:08.726-05:00

I don't talk much about my work because, well, I can't. It's all confidential and stuff like that, plus, it's probably incredibly boring except to another lawyer. My job is incredibly stressful, but I have to say that on some days I just enjoy the hell out of what I do. I work in-house, so I don't have to see clients - that's not entirely true, the client is a subsidary of the company I work

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1095885627595403652004-09-22T14:51:00.000-05:002004-09-22T15:40:27.596-05:00

When I hear the word "mother" the image of a well-rested, freshly showered woman wearing a coordinating outfit that lacks spit-up or poop stains pops up for me. A "mother" is never out of patience with her children, she doesn't yell or lock herself in the bathroom just for five minutes of privacy. She doesn't offer to sell her screaming child to curious passerby, nor does she consider catsup a

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1095102045696103832004-09-13T13:58:00.000-05:002004-09-13T14:00:45.696-05:00

It finally happened. Despite our efforts to keep all such Texas type words/phrases out of the Brat's vocabulary, she's added "fixin". B: Daddy, are you coming? Me and Mommy are fixin to go downstairs. What's next? "Bless her heart?"

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1094671978511507942004-09-08T14:26:00.000-05:002004-09-08T14:32:58.510-05:00

August was a blur. Here it September already, and I'm unwillingly back at work. I miss the Runt. A lot. He's a really fussy baby, always needing to be held, and hard to please, but he's still pretty snuggly, and crying aside, I do love him. Leaving him at daycare is hard. Very hard. The Husband's car was stolen on Sunday night/early Monday a.m. According to the Sheriff's department

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1091888633277800002004-08-07T09:16:00.000-05:002004-08-07T09:23:53.276-05:00

Reasons why I haven't been blogging: 1. The Runt came home from the hospital last week; he's snuggly. 2. My mom came out from California to visit, so we've been doing the tourist thing. 3. The Brat has been, well, a Brat. I'll be listing her on eBay later this week. 4. I got bitten by a spider on the back of my leg and needed to have it incised and drained (yes, if I didn't have bad luck

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1090595012870572942004-07-23T09:36:00.000-05:002004-07-23T10:05:20.836-05:00

Fate found the temptation too much to resist apparently.  Wednesday, July 14, I had a regular OB/GYN appointment and an NST.  Due to my experience of the previous week, and noticing that my hands and face were pretty puffy, I packed a hospital bag in an excess of caution before heading off to the doctor's.  Good thing too since she took one look at me, saw that my BP was high, and sent me to

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1089762640954162782004-07-13T18:42:00.000-05:002004-07-13T18:50:40.956-05:00

Well, I did it - finally. I tempted fate and not only did I take the tags off the eeny-weeny baby clothes, but I washed them. I also hunted down the infant seat and washed/cleaned it. Last week's little episode brought it home that this baby will be here much sooner than originally anticipated, and at the very least we need to have a clean carseat, some diapers, and something for the Runt to

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1089488751671244472004-07-10T14:10:00.000-05:002004-07-10T14:45:51.670-05:00

Yes, yes, I've been absent for several days, but with good reason. The early part of the week I spent some quality time with the Husband and the Brat. With the arrival of the Runt looming, there's much to be done at Casa K, and I want to spend some one on one time with each of my existing family members before I descend into the 24/7 routine of infant care. Thursday - which is really where

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1088865572358081402004-07-03T09:35:00.000-05:002004-07-03T09:39:32.356-05:00

Conversation with the Brat this a.m. M: Brat, please don't dip your fingers in the syrup. You dip your pancakes in the syrup. B: But I want to. M: I understand that, but it's not polite to dip your fingers in the syrup, and you'll get everything all sticky. B: I'm not dipping my fingers mom, just my thumbs. M: No fingers, no thumbs. ::frantically thinking what other body parts small

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1088817624315743192004-07-02T20:17:00.000-05:002004-07-02T20:20:24.316-05:00

is the day I see 15 or so sugared up 4 year olds dancing the "Macarena" and then along to "YMCA", complete with arm movements. The few stomach muscles that haven't long since given up and fled are still aching from all the laughing I did.

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1088703717890672632004-07-01T12:38:00.000-05:002004-07-01T12:41:57.890-05:00

Look what the cats dragged in for me the other day. Much to my dismay, they didn't bother to kill it for me, so I had to do the dirty work myself. It wasn't a pretty sight when the vacuum cleaner started spitting out bits 'o roach - an antenna here, a leg there, a wing over there. I hate bugs.

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1088532782533250782004-06-29T13:05:00.000-05:002006-01-25T14:48:19.140-06:00

*TMI warning* My pregnancy complaints to date include: Heartburn 'Rhoids Skin tags Cankles Insomnia Cellulite (okay, this isn't entirely pregnancy related) Congestion Dizziness Headaches A lovely sebaceous cyst (you guess where) and now, the morning sickness that passed me by in the 1st trimester has reared it's ugly head.

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1088376109702976962004-06-27T17:27:00.000-05:002004-06-27T17:41:49.703-05:00

I have a reputation around various internet forums for being a "meanie". Hence the "venomous feminist" sobriquet. This reputation tends to carry over into real life (or maybe vice versa) as well. While I do nothing at all to dispel this reputation, and have a tendency to encourage it, I am at times dumbfounded by it. One of my oldest and best friends threatened to make me post a "performance

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1088089089547781632004-06-24T09:50:00.000-05:002004-06-24T09:58:09.546-05:00

I interviewed a new pediatrician last week. Her name is Bambi. Seriously. Who in the hell names their child Bambi, other than perhaps a deluded deer? Do you think Dr. Bambi's mom looked at her sweet little infant and thought, "hey, she'll grow up to be a stripper (or a cop who will murder her ex-husband's new wife), so I think I'll name her Bambi - after all, she couldn't possibly grow up

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1088088617275807192004-06-24T09:39:00.000-05:002004-06-24T09:50:17.276-05:00

Yesterday was just nuts. I think I got more work done Tuesday and Wednesday than I have in the preceeding several weeks, just trying to get things tied up so I wouldn't be overburdening my co-workers - all of whom are insanely jealous that I'll be spending the next 5 or 6 weeks as a couch potato. Things I need to do today: Balance the checkbook and pay bills Make a Target run to pick up

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-108795971235901562004-06-22T21:33:00.000-05:002004-06-22T22:01:52.360-05:00

Give me an R! Give me an E! Give me an S! Give me a T! What does that spell? Sanity! Okay, really, my wonderful OB/GYN put me on bedrest for the duration of my pregnancy. Now, this doesn't mean I acutally have to stay in bed 24/7 - that would make me crazy - but it does mean that I don't have to go back to work until, say, Octoberish. There are good reasons for this reprieve from the

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1087347660492490242004-06-15T19:45:00.000-05:002004-06-15T20:11:50.513-05:00

Let me start off by saying that I don't like bugs. At all. Doesn't matter what type, how harmless they are, etc. I don't like 'em. They're icky. I don't want to see them, and I sure as hell don't want them touching me. I live in Southeast Texas which seems to be the equivalent of the garden of Eden for most varieties of insects. Bugs just love it here. It's hot, it's humid, there are

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1087170722713921982004-06-13T18:39:00.000-05:002004-06-13T18:52:02.713-05:00

Happiness can be found in a $.49 bag of doughnut holes. You CAN be a princess if you get sprinkled (with what, I don't know) and jump into a princess storybook, but you must be wearing a mermaid costume or a princess costume. Frozen lemondade turns you into a pink pony, when it doesn't turn you into a ghost. Making endless batches of chocolate vanilla pancakes is a fabulous way to spend the

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1086998794197936122004-06-11T18:46:00.000-05:002004-06-11T19:24:07.686-05:00

I am not at all what you'd call the introspective type (yeah, there's an understatement), so I'm not quite sure what I plan to do with this blog. Anyway enough of the existential crap, on to the babblings of today. Why all the fuss about Ronald Reagan? I mean really, a national treasure? Since when? He was an adequate president, but really nothing to write home about. He's done zippo since

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7178858.post-1086114517457095822004-06-01T13:23:00.000-05:002004-06-01T13:28:37.456-05:00

How in the hell did it get to be June already? Today was the Brat's first day at her new daycare. In the car, she told me she was going to be scared, and walking in she was a bit clingy, but once I got her settled with some breakfast, she was all smiles and waves, and bye-bye mommy. I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted. I'm killing time today waiting for my OB appointment. Had

VFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10745798097138427556noreply@blogger.com1