Dammit, Freud

See? He's dreaming about me, too....


Last night I fell asleep *quite* content. Had a terrible dream in which my husband confessed to having "girlfriends" throughout the course of our marriage, and his insistence that this was not going to abate simply because I was displeased.

Woke up, almost smothered him.

Went back to sleep and had the most pleasant dream featuring Brandon Boyd.

Apparently, my ego and id both hate me.

And to make me feel better about that, I will keep this picture handy all day to compliment the many, many incubus songs that are playing here at my desk.

Enjoy.

Ready, Aim....

Apparently my husband has amazing aim (or stupendous luck) when we're in Oregon, IL. One time, we went fishing, and I was walking down the trail toward the river with the kids, and he was probably 25 feet behind us walking with his brothers. He does a practice cast off with his fishing pole, and the bobber (is that what it's called? The red and white floatie balls?) goes flying off his line at the very moment that Isaiah turns around to face them. It comes flying in a big arc and WHAPS Isaiah right in the forehead.
Then yesterday, he was playing around with his brother's golf clubs and (thank god) wiffle golf balls, when he decides to putt right in my direction (you see where this is going, don't you?) and THWAPS me right in the cheek with a freakin golf ball! If there hadn't been children there, a) I'd probably have started to cry and b) I'd have beaten him to death with the golf club.

That was the second time this weekend I wanted to beat him to death with a blunt object, actually. Saturday night, after my awesome sister in law's party wound down, I was dead on my feet. While there were still a few people around the camp fire, Hubs included, I retired to my tent in the Martinez ShantyTown of tents. Let me just say that isn't the most comfortable place in the world, so it took me some time to fall asleep. A little while later, I hear Smokey the Bear out there raking the camp fire to put it out, because he's paranoid about that kind of thing. So it's the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere, and I've just been woken up by this terrible sound. As he kept going with it, all I could think was, "I'm going to get up and beat you to death with that rake if you don't stop it. Right. This. Instant"

That said, we actually had a really wonderful weekend (my violent tendencies not withstanding)

And the Most MisInterpreted Comment Award Goes To ...

New blog format - best part first!

Spoken by a male co-worker in the elevator - "And you know what else are delicious, salty balls of goodness?"

As I laughed so hard I gasped and quite literally stumbled out of the elevator, he adminoshed me for having a dirty mind, when all he was talking about were sardines. Back story, we were discussing fish and shellfish (and my aversion to both) when I amended my usual stance to say that I'd had veggie spring rolls at a friend's house, and they were topped with roe, and I found it to be delicious, salty balls of goodness.

Do Not Try This At Home

Let me just begin with the best part, then I'll explain. Besides, I know you appreciate knowing upfront whether reading this post is worth your time.

10:30pm, my son walks into the kitchen and asks why I'm standing at the counter with my hand in a bowl of milk.

Cause it's what all the cool kids are doing, of course. OR, the more likely reason, was that I'd read an old wives tale that says that milk neutralizes the capsaicin in jalapeños. Which I'd sliced and diced for dinner with bare hands, as I'd done a hundred times before with no problem. But this time, this mutant chili caused my hand to start burning.

And when I say burning? I mean I thought the skin was going to blister. I thought the pillow I laid my hand on would surely burst into flames. I thought, "Holy shit! This hurts!" and then "Sonofabitch when is this going to stop?" right before "Ohmygod seriously? It was just a stupid pepper!" followed by "Hey, this would make a funny blog post."

Obviously masturbation was out.

So off I went to the interwebs, to find suggestions for relief. Milk, sunburn gel, body powder and hydrocortisone are all worthless, people. I went to bed praying the skin wouldn't melt off my hand before morning. Telling myself that surely this is all in my head, and then turning on the light one more time to make sure there weren't freaking char marks on my skin.

Today, there's a little tingle there. But zero evidence of the insanity that was going on there just a few hours ago. I'm seeing some serious potential in the jalapeño as biological weapon idea.

Mother of the Year

Yep, that’s me. Allow me to set the scene…

Sunday night, close to midnight. Vampire movie playing in the background. R rated, of course. Isaiah and I had been playing Go Fish for what felt like forever. As we wrap up yet another game, I announce a change. I’m tired of Go Fish, I say. Hey, both of you can count to 21, we’re playing blackjack.

Then, to make it interesting, I let them place bets with their allowance money. I’ll have you know that I was the dealer, so I didn’t take anyone’s money.

Today is my Tattoo Debut at work. The first time I wear a short sleeve shirt and wait to see what happens. Although, last week one of the partners noticed some ink poking out the bottom of my sleeve and asked about it. When I said that I usually keep them covered, she told me that’s silly, I don’t have to hide them. Ooohkay, so now I’m not. Let the fun begin.

Time Flies

Whoa, so apparently I've forgotten I have this bloggy thing here. It's not the only thing I've forgotten lately. There have been many important things which have fallen through the swiss cheese like holes in my brain in the last month or two. But you know what I never forget? First Friday, because I have priorities, people. School assignments may fall off the list of things in my consciousness, but girl's night, never.

Speaking of school, I'm officially a senior! Of course, being A Woman of a Certain Age, it strikes me as almost necessary to note that is senior as in, rule the school, not as in 55+ and gets a discount at Denny's. Two more classes down, and what feels like a million to go, but I'm on my way.

So what have I been doing for the past month that I've neglected my dear blog? Let's see.... finished (mostly) the kitchen remodel from hell. In fact, just last night we put up some more cabinets, and it turns out, that's harder than it sounds. OR I'm an idiot. Whatever. Wrote some crazy long smarty pants paper about education and did some lab assignments (including the dissection of a fetal pig) which I will never, ever, ever think about again as long as I live. Spent time hanging with my boys, who are still the smartest, most charming and handsome boys I've ever known. Inherited my department at work, world's fastest pseudo promotion because everyone else quit. Yep, I think that sums it up.

The Joys of Raising Boys

This morning, while I was doing my usual morning rush thing, Isaiah asked me where the paper bags are kept. As I told him, I asked why. He said, "I'm going to make my lunch. I don't want you to make it. I don't want you to have so many chores."

And so he did. He made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, wrote his name on his brown bag, and packed it.

Afterwards, he gave me a kiss and asked if that helped me.

Not only did that help me, it made my day. That was the sweetest thing anyone's done for me lately!